<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005</id><updated>2008-11-08T16:31:30.370-08:00</updated><title type='text'>doodle thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'>Thanks for dropping by. You are welcome anytime. Leave a note and let me know you are there.</subtitle><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/blogger.html'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/blogger.html'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>255</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-2077151568422821950</id><published>2008-10-29T21:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-29T22:32:53.966-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thelma's in Houston</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/Thelmas_1-759624.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 203px;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/Thelmas_1-759617.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/velma_thelma-709007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/velma_thelma-709004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So, I'm walking along the long aisles at Quilt Market trying to digest all the new fabric that is coming out this season when my cell phone rings. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Shawn! We're on our way to Thelma's to have lunch, ya wanna join us? It's just a few blocks from where you are!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Sure!"&lt;/span&gt; I said,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; "I'll meet you outside of Door C!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;And within minutes, we were pulling up to the curb across the street from Thelma's Bar-B-Que.... &lt;/span&gt;a few short blocks south of the George R. Brown Convention center at 1020 Live Oak. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"This is a restaurant?"&lt;/span&gt; I asked. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Are ya sure?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I didn't see any signs indicating it was nor did I see any signs of people. It looked as though it was deserted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Sure it is! I've eaten here lots of times before!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slowly opened up the screen door and the three of us walked inside. The bright autumn daylight blinded my eyes for a moment before adjusting to the darkened diner. It was anything but deserted. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Families with small children. Couples and friends and people eating alone. All laughing and talking and eating... looking up on occasion to watch the TV that hung in the corner. I followed my eyes to the outline of the interior paint which the painter had painted the walls around the TV. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;This is what I love about the South. Finding wonderful little neighborhood dives and then opening the door, walking inside and wrapping your heart around the magic of it all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you happen upon downtown Houston, do yourself a favor and drop into this lovely place... where the food is not only delicious, but you walk away feeling the love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Truly a magical place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Pictured above: Velma and Thelma&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/2077151568422821950/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=2077151568422821950&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2077151568422821950'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2077151568422821950'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/10/thelmas-in-houston' title='Thelma&apos;s in Houston'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-4961620331117724147</id><published>2008-10-20T20:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-20T20:43:09.480-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Turn it down!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;This morning, I was in a hotel lobby carrying a large transistor radio and it kept blaring the voice of Sheri Lynch from the syndicated radio morning show &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.bobandsheri.com/archive/audio.cfm"&gt;Bob &amp;amp; Sher&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.bobandsheri.com/archive/audio.cfm"&gt;i &lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;. And people all around me kept telling me to turn it down as Bob and Sheri were actually there in a conference room broadcasting their radio morning show &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;LIVE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; and I was interrupting their signal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I was beside myself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;First of all, I didn't know how to turn it off ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt; there didn't seem to be a volume or power control anywhere on it&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; ... and secondly, I didn't know why I was carrying such a large radio around with me in this day and age of ipods.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Can you turn down that blasted radio!?!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;The man shouted at me!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I quickly sat down on one of those large chairs in the lobby trying to muffle the noise with my sweater. A young girl runs over to help me find the volume switch. She can't find it either. Everyone is staring at me. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;"Shut off that radio!!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I opened my eyes and saw the ceiling of my bedroom. I rolled over and stared at my clock radio with Sheri Lynch still talking away and saw it was 8:10 am and Lisa was picking me up at 8:25 for another long day at work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;Nothing like waking up in a panic realizing I had overslept nearly an hour.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;All my days are melting into one as we work around the clock for the upcoming International Quilt Market this weekend in Houston. As soon as I come up for air I have some stories to tell.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/4961620331117724147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=4961620331117724147&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/4961620331117724147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/4961620331117724147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/10/turn-it-down' title='Turn it down!'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-3886462831419436385</id><published>2008-10-02T06:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T12:01:19.536-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wee Hours</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/serene-725406.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/serene-725395.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is Garbage Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it is early in the morning. I like to call them &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the wee hours&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is quiet and peaceful this morning in my neighborhood except for the trucks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BEEPbeepBEEP .... their sound is difficult to miss. I open up the blinds and peer out. I see a lady in her robe walk out to the walk, bend over and pick up the morning paper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She would be so surprised to know that I am awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know without a doubt I have surprised Mollie, my adorable cat. She thought I got up to use the bathroom, so she waited on my bed for me to return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Surprise!" I told her as I hurried down the hall toward the kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I woke up 2-1/5 hours earlier than usual because instead of working overtime after work, I will work overtime &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;before work. &lt;/span&gt;I have a friend visiting me. And we have dinner plans tonight. I worked overtime a couple of nights ago and we missed our evening plans on account of it. I feel happy for my quick-thinking solution for this evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel giddy and alert. My mind thinks I'm going on vacation. My eyes keep looking for my suitcase. Surely I am going somewhere really fun because why else would I be awake when the moon is still up?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Surprise!" I tell myself. "You're going to work!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems the earlier one wakes up, the less there is be distracted by. So I got ready in record-speed. I watered my potted plants. I watered the boxwoods. I threw out the garbage. I chatted with my nextdoor neighbor taking her dog out for a walk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Shawn! What are you doing awake so early?!"&lt;br /&gt;"I'm going to work extra early and putting in my overtime in reverse!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She nods. I don't think she understood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is peaceful. I love the mornings.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just like I love tidy, uncluttered homes.&lt;/span&gt;  But I know only too well it's just like keeping a clean, uncluttered home. I will never be natural at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this cute animation. It's called &lt;a href="http://www.fiendishmonsters.com/extra/okMUSIC.html"&gt;The Ok Book&lt;/a&gt;.    I wish I had written and animated this.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/3886462831419436385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=3886462831419436385&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3886462831419436385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3886462831419436385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/10/wee-hours' title='The Wee Hours'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-8489933504151993842</id><published>2008-09-26T08:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-26T14:15:21.341-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My To Do List</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/todolist-795588.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/todolist-795585.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Remember a few weeks back or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;maybe it was a couple of months ago&lt;/span&gt;, when I was so thrilled by my newly organized clean house? Everything was neatly put away and the house was so clean, I didn't panic when someone dropped by unexpectedly or asked to use my bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved this feeling of calm that went through me and I was determined to make this my new reality!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was then, when my next door neighbor and her friend dropped in to see my newly updated kitchen.  She was so taken back by my clean, uncluttered home &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(it was her first time she ever walked into my house, so she thought this was normal for me)&lt;/span&gt;, and was so inspired, she took two days off to clean her house and emptied two carloads of junk to the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Good Will&lt;/span&gt;!  The friend she was with told me later that she went home and kicked her house!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVED it&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;and yet, I have to admit, I did feel a wee bit &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;highfalutin&lt;/span&gt;. It did look a bit staged... as if there was a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For Sale&lt;/span&gt; sign up and an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Open House &lt;/span&gt;was about to begin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see by my list (and so far the list is up to 23 things to do by tomorrow afternoon), I have somewhat fallen back into my old ways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First it was the small things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Leaving the newspaper and a few bills on the kitchen table.  (&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'll put it away later....&lt;/span&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not putting away the three magazines I took outside with me in the backyard to read-- &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;er, thumb through&lt;/span&gt; -- and then left them on the kitchen counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The clothes I folded from the dryer sat on the living room coffee table because I was in the middle of watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Big Brother&lt;/span&gt; and forgot to hang them in my closet during a commercial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cat food that dropped from Mollie's dish eventually adhered to the floor, so I left it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The quick impromptu cleanings just before someone dropped in, was quickly tossed into the garage and now I need to clean &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is now nearly back to where it once was, although the closets are still in good organized order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit it: The task of putting everything away where they belong does not come naturally to me. (and probably the reason why the closets stay so clean).  Neither does the determination in keeping my sink sparkling clean. And my aim is still slightly off when I throw my worn clothes across the room hoping to land in the hamper. How hard is it really, to walk over and place the clothes in the actual clothes hamper than leaving them all laying on the floor around it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, I never use the word "highfalutin".  It came to me in a sudden moment and I think it's a pretty cute word so I used it a few paragraphs above. But it's not really me.  In an honest moment of confessing to you that I was feeling pretentious with my neighbor and her friend while showing them my neat and tidy house, I felt &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pretentious&lt;/span&gt; again using that fun, cute word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm not apologizing, but just wanted to let you know. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to clean the house. . . .</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/8489933504151993842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=8489933504151993842&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/8489933504151993842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/8489933504151993842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/09/my-to-do-list' title='My To Do List'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-7463582811061833632</id><published>2008-09-20T00:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T12:38:08.492-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you hear me?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have been so quiet lately. I don't know what it is or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why&lt;/span&gt; that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like my heart and my head has gotten disconnected. I go through the motions throughout my day, and I get things accomplished, but I don't feel truly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;there&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm present but I'm not focused. It's as though my thoughts are someplace else, but the truth is, I'm not thinking much of anything. I imagine inside my brain, it's just a lot of interstate highway without much traffic. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I think deep down inside, in my core - spirit - soul, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;where my brain operates without words&lt;/span&gt;, I am asking myself &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what I was born to be&lt;/span&gt;. What I can do to leave my mark in this world long after I am gone. I know I will never have kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So. What will my kids be? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fabric&lt;/span&gt; is a great child. The fabric I have designed can live on years after my life is over. It's the same with the children interactive rugs I've created. There is a lot of creative stuff inside me that still wants to come out. I still want to write a book. Or two. And I daydream of starting back my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;comic strip&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I need to feel more empowered to do these things. I need to have a &lt;/span&gt;healthier, stronger core and ego surrounding my talents. I've always felt that I was the kid who stands halfway down the court in a one-point-behind basketball game and just as the last bell rings at the finish of the game, I loft the ball high up in the air and it's on track to reach the basket.... and the entire crowd is moved to silence holding their breath as they stand to see if we win or lose the game.  The ball hits the rim and it spins around and around and around ... I look out and and everyone appears to have stopped into slow-motion..  and if this were a movie.. the ball would &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;fall in&lt;/span&gt; ... but it's real life... and the ball circles the rim another time or two.. and then .... &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;spills out&lt;/span&gt; and bounces a few times down on the court, losing the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm good enough to picked for the team. But not always &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good enough&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Someday I will be.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That sure is a tricky word, isn't it? Even toxic. When you're a kid, the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someday &lt;/span&gt;is the worst word in the English language. Even when you get older... the word &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someday &lt;/span&gt;isn't a good word because you know that &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;someday&lt;/span&gt; is probably never going to happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;"Can we go to Disneyland?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;"Not now, but someday..."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Everyone's got a someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like buying a home up in the hills overlooking Dry Creek Valley in Healdsburg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; someday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Or adding a bathtub and shower in the master bathroom. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;These &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;somedays&lt;/span&gt; are like a placeholder name to put something off. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;When I was a young girl I fell in love with &lt;a href="http://www.defranco.com/"&gt;Tony Defranco&lt;/a&gt; of the musical group &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Defranco Family&lt;/span&gt;. I saw this photo on the inside cover of Tigerbeat while waiting for my mom to buy our groceries at Luckys and was instantly smitten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/tonydefrancothen-708140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/tonydefrancothen-708133.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I wrote Tony a fan letter and he wrote me back hoping I can see them perform that summer at Magic Mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Can we go!? Can we go!!?"&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe. If not this time around, we will take you someday." &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I eventually had that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;someday &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;about 10 years ago&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The Defrancos sang at the first &lt;a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/leifgarrett/articles/story/5921040/the_past_is_now_for_rhino_records_retrofest"&gt;Retrofest &lt;/a&gt;in Santa Monica. I believe it was the first time they performed since the 70s. I flew down there, stayed at the LAX Hilton and went to see them in concert the following day. It was a little disappointing. I was no longer the little girl who had the crush on Tony. The music sounded amateur. I felt a tinge bit embarrassed sitting there in the small audience. But I always wanted to see them in concert. And was thrilled I accomplished one of my &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;somedays&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to enjoy this journey in my life. I don't want to sit on the side lines waiting for that someday to potentially never happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I just need to reconnect my brain and my heart back together again. To focus back in. To rediscover what new project I can work on that will bring me my joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess for now.. i'm experiencing the quiet before the storm. The rest before the race. I got my shoes tied and I'm ready to embark on whatever it is that draws me.  &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Or what I draw out. I truly am.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;So bring it on.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/7463582811061833632/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=7463582811061833632&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7463582811061833632'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7463582811061833632'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/09/can-you-hear-me' title='Can you hear me?'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-3739452611843094523</id><published>2008-09-14T11:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T12:01:52.853-07:00</updated><title type='text'>banana pops</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/bananapops-758354.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/bananapops-758305.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Pick a hand! Pick a hand!"&lt;/span&gt; she said as soon as I opened up my front door. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was giddy with excitement with two hands hidden behind her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;"The left one," &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I said before changing my mind. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;"No, the right. The right! No... no. The left! Make it the left!"&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched her for a moment, while her shoulders bounced up and down shuffling between hands before pulling out a frozen chocolate covered banana for me. She wasn't wearing her usual makeup and her hair looked almost like schlack to her head.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;As I extended my hand to accept it from her, my eyes rivoted to her dark cave-like smile.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She caught my eye contact and quickly slapped her hand up to her mouth. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"I've been violently ill with the flu and threw up my teeth this morning. I had one hand grabbin' onto my hair jus' like this to hold my hair up and I had this other hand flushin' the toilet and I jus' wasn't quick enough to grab my uppers before they swirled down the drain!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then smiled an upsidedown smile to show me her unhappiness.  When I saw a few lower teeth just barely sinking up above her gums, I suddenly felt like I was about to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;get ill&lt;/span&gt; myself. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Pick a hand!"&lt;/span&gt; She shouted again. "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pick a hand. Nuthin' but a hand!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;From her other hand, she pulled out the yellow box. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;"After you eat my delicious treat, you're gonna wanna make yer own, so here's a gift!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;She was a neighbor I hardly knew.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I barely said the words: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thank you&lt;/span&gt;" before she got a worried look to her face, cupped her hands to her mouth and ran toward her home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched her run down the sidewalk as I closed the door.  I took a deep breath and felt ashamed for what I was about to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took one look at the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;chocolate covered banana and another at the box and I knew only too well, not to hold on to something I knew I would never eat. I tossed them both away. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gift-giving. It's really in the timing. Had she felt well, I wouldn't have thought anything about eating the banana she had handed to me. But now, I wasn't able to get past the thought of even keeping the box. Except to snap this picture of it that looks like perhaps the shelf date has expired years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/3739452611843094523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=3739452611843094523&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3739452611843094523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3739452611843094523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/09/banana-pops' title='banana pops'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-553955171330979203</id><published>2008-09-10T21:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T11:19:05.775-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pavement Picasso</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am sure you have all seen the brilliant chalk artwork that Julian Beever has created on pavement since the mid 1990s.  His drawings create the illusion of three demensions. I am in awe each time I see his work and I think you will be, too. This beautiful wonderful creation drawn only in chalk on a street that will be washed away in time and if not caught on film, it would be gone forever. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You can view a video on youtube of him at work &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfn8Dz_13Ms"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/2-795677.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/2-795672.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/3-780857.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/3-780766.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/4-759181.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/4-759178.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/5-744949.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/5-744946.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/6-733387.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/6-733384.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/7-716352.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/7-716349.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/8-700691.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/8-700688.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/9-786908.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/9-786890.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/10-769045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/10-769042.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/11-746547.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/11-746544.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/12-728135.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/12-728133.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/13-799869.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/13-799866.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/15-780390.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/15-780387.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/16-762046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/16-762043.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/17-741975.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/17-741970.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/19-709221.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/19-709218.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/20-776932.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/20-776929.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/21-756351.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/21-756349.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/22-761433.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/22-761430.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/23-735908.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/23-735904.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/25-718863.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/25-718853.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/26-799733.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/26-799721.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/27-739248.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/27-739239.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;(Sorry. I don't know who to give the photo credits to, as I received this in an email).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/553955171330979203/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=553955171330979203&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/553955171330979203'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/553955171330979203'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/09/pavement-picasso' title='The Pavement Picasso'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-2351628355155117285</id><published>2008-09-01T22:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T11:46:56.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Such a beautiful labor day weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/today2-791302.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/today2-791297.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/today1-748147.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/today1-748121.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Labor Day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I really live in a beautiful place.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;From playing beach volleyball for two hours on the beach to a late lunch under the giant redwood trees, it was an awesome day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And yesterday I invited friends from our old work place Mattel™ for an all-day barbecue party.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel good. Sleepy, yes, but I feel good. I am enjoying my summer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I feel I'm heading in the right direction. Inviting friends into my life. Even new ones. My house is now in order and so is my yard. I'm now ready for some fun. And some conversation. And play.  And it's happening.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/2351628355155117285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=2351628355155117285&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2351628355155117285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2351628355155117285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/09/such-beautiful-labor-day-weekend' title='Such a beautiful labor day weekend'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-8203949299727732421</id><published>2008-08-30T22:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T22:33:22.710-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Running for president?</title><content type='html'>Why not. Do I have your &lt;a href="http://www.inews3.com/content.php?id=536861776e207c28646f6f646c656769726c292057616c6c616365"&gt;vote&lt;/a&gt;? &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;:O)&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/8203949299727732421/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=8203949299727732421&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/8203949299727732421'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/8203949299727732421'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/08/running-for-president' title='Running for president?'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-8647328048589071310</id><published>2008-08-25T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T10:22:55.674-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling the calm....</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The weeds in my yard are now gone and the fertilizer has done its job and now my grass is back to being green. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;A clean orderly yard is so calming to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;In the past few months, something has been shifting inside me. I don't know why I am feeling this urgency and desire to take care of my home and yard, but I feel it. And I'm obeying this inner tug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ever since I got my kitchen updated, I've had this yearning to declutter my home. I'm &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Zen-ifying&lt;/span&gt; it so to speak. It seems to be taking a long time as I'm only doing one closet at a time... and then one room at a time. Each day I am being more and more mindful of what I keep and what I throw away. By throwing out&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; the clutter, I've noticed the clutter in my head is also being cleaned away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Usually this sort of tossing things out overwhelms me. But now I'm learning to discover it's reward: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Peace of mind. Clarity. A place of calm&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am really experiencing that simplicity is where my heart feels most calm.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have also noticed that since i became aware of my need to have my own personal time, I have attracted that more into my life.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am no longer coming home from work to a looming deadline. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I had such a lovely weekend.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I worked on my house and yard quite a bit but I also enjoyed the pleasure of spending time with friends and family.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I didn't do any freelance work this weekend and that is the magic word.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No free lance.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without it, I concentrated on what I already have. My home. My yard. My family. My friends. My &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;true&lt;/span&gt; treasure.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I woke up feeling really happy today. It was like an excited happy, like the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;last day of school&lt;/span&gt; kind of happy. Like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree&lt;/span&gt; happy or like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;being in love &lt;/span&gt;happy.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I feel extraordinary happy and believe I'm exactly where I am supposed to be in my life right at this moment. I am on the right path. And I feel that something wonderfully unexpected is about to happen to me. That probably really sounds crazy. And maybe it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; crazy. But I'm crazy happy and keeping my eyes open for the magic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/8647328048589071310/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=8647328048589071310&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/8647328048589071310'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/8647328048589071310'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/08/feeling-calm' title='Feeling the calm....'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-2470353115810750842</id><published>2008-08-17T22:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T13:27:31.812-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The home I grew up in</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/childhoodhome-786418.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/childhoodhome-786414.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I grew up here.&lt;br /&gt;This is the home where old famous people used to pay their visits.  &lt;a href="http://morningnoonandnight.files.wordpress.com/2007/08/ford_model_t_henry.jpg"&gt;Henry Ford&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/american_originals_iv/images/thomas_edison/thomas_edison.jpg&amp;amp;imgrefurl=http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/american_originals_iv/images/thomas_edison/thomas_edison.html&amp;amp;h=759&amp;amp;w=550&amp;amp;sz=144&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;start=1&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;tbnid=64drS5GvwJ3Q_M:&amp;amp;tbnh=142&amp;amp;tbnw=103&amp;amp;prev=/images%3Fq%3Dthomas%2Bedison%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den%26sa%3DN"&gt;Thomas Edison&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;a href="http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.parks.sonoma.net/images/famousjack.jpg&amp;amp;imgrefurl=http://www.parks.sonoma.net/JLStory.html&amp;amp;h=317&amp;amp;w=279&amp;amp;sz=33&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;start=5&amp;amp;um=1&amp;amp;tbnid=mhSi5wxCEgAnsM:&amp;amp;tbnh=118&amp;amp;tbnw=104&amp;amp;prev=/images%3Fq%3Djack%2Blondon%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26channel%3Ds%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26sa%3DN"&gt;Jack London&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;a href="http://www.ffrf.org/day/img/0307_burbank.gif"&gt;Luther Burbank&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was built in 1850 by John Hendley who became a doctor in early Santa Rosa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was nine years old and moved into this house, I automatically believed that the reason I lived in such an old estate was because I was going to be famous as well and people from all over the world would come to my childhood home and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tour&lt;/span&gt; it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It didn't hurt that my childhood home was decorated in antiques.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/diningroom-799213.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/diningroom-799210.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I ate my french toast here every morning. And I enjoyed hamburger helper casseroles for dinner nearly every night. And later, in the early 1990s, I learned to hang wallpaper in this room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it was a year after we moved in, when an old lady and her son &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;who was also very old&lt;/span&gt;, drove up our driveway one morning. They walked up to our door and in her thin, frail voice told us that she grew up in this house from 1898 - 1908 and before she died, her wish was to come back and visit her childhood home. And she did. She came from the state of Washington.  She gave us a photo of the front of the home from 1906.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember her eyes &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;danced&lt;/span&gt; as she walked through the different rooms &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;remembering&lt;/span&gt;. In the library, she paused for a moment and said that she had signed her name from a diamond on one of the window panes as she stood out on the cellar door. She leaned and walked closer to the window and there it was. Her signature &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;still&lt;/span&gt; remains there with the date 1908. Her eyes welled up in tears as she pressed her fingers against her childhood signature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few years later,  another woman drove up the driveway and knocked on our door. She lived in our house in the 1930s. She told stories of her horse named &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Red &lt;/span&gt;who she kept down in the stables where our horses were then.  The sign &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;RED&lt;/span&gt; was still hanging up in the stable and we gave it to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had horses, rabbits, ducks, geese, sheep, a goat and a pig and numerous dogs and cat at this house. We rode our honda 50 and honda 70 mini bikes around this property and it really was a wonderful home to grow up in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I moved away when I was 19 but I actually returned and lived here five years ago for a couple of months in between selling my town house and moving into the home I live in now. I slept in the same twin bed I slept in as a child, though now in a different bedroom; the mattress &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so old &lt;/span&gt;that it was&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; old&lt;/span&gt; when I slept in it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;as a child&lt;/span&gt;. My lower back hurt each morning from awakening. But, I am grateful for those few months living back with my mother and returning back to my roots.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its an enchanted home. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mother still  lives here and we come here for dinners there at least every 10 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And one day, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(regretfully) and hopefully,&lt;/span&gt; it will be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;a long, long time into the future&lt;/span&gt;, before the house will become empty and the lights will turn off for the last time, and I can tell you when that happens, I won't be able to bear to ever drive near this home again. My heart couldn't bare it. It is my home. My family. My life. Who I am and what I am is because of this house and what happened in these walls as a child. And someday when it becomes empty... my heart will break into a million pieces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Welcome to my childhood home. If you come to visit me, I'll take you here.  You'll love my mother and I promise you an experience you won't forget easily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just wish I had another 50 years to enjoy it. And maybe I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;PS: My bedroom windows growing up was the two windows to the right of the house and the one window on the side of the house upstairs.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/2470353115810750842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=2470353115810750842&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2470353115810750842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2470353115810750842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/08/home-i-grew-up-in' title='The home I grew up in'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-6910815323656398146</id><published>2008-08-04T23:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T07:42:46.754-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's just another doodle thought</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/arealview1-760416.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/arealview1-760413.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Are you ever sitting in a plane and you look out your window and wonder where everyone is? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love it when we're flying low and about to land and I can peer down at all the swimming pools in people's backyards. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But where are all the people? Why don't I see a guy mowing his yard or a woman walking her kids to the park or the mailman delivering mail. Where are all the kids swimming in their pools or riding their bikes? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see cars and buildings and homes and parks but I never really see actual people. From a certain distance, entire populations seem to just get swallowed up in thin air. Their cars remain, but they don't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it an earth repellent safety mechanism to keep out curious peeping UFOs wondering if there are living beings on earth? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ohhh the things I think about while laying in bed when I should be sleeping....</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/6910815323656398146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=6910815323656398146&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/6910815323656398146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/6910815323656398146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/08/its-just-another-doodle-thought' title='It&apos;s just another doodle thought'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-3118587611168561387</id><published>2008-07-20T21:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T20:18:28.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm  poolside in Houston.  .   .</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/poolside-714287.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/poolside-714281.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's 9:00 tonight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And we're lounging around on pool floaties and enjoying this gorgeous night. The home overlooks Memorial Park in Houston. A tropical storm is about to hit here in a few days. Dolly is her name. It's all over the news. But now it is calm. I have a few mosquitoes bitting at my ankles. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on vacation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My camera battery is dead so I'm taking this picture off a wonderful mac pro laptop with the built-in camera. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really love vacations. I feel so creative. I am working on a line of fabric... and I've been somewhat stumped during my regular business hours.  But now that I'm on vacation, I feel nothing but creativity. I keep drawing them out with my brand new felt pen and sketchbook. I have unlimited ideas!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have my feet making waves in the pool and I'm watching my shadow from the sun behind me and my mind is free. I dreamed I was in the singing group The BeeGees this morning just before I woke up. And Barry's mic was off but he didn't know. I looked around the audience worried but the audience seemed to be enjoying him regardless... and I woke up relieved and smiling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was the female singer of the group. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's why I love vacations. I can dream. And I dream of anything and everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you're on vacation, you have all the time in the world... to dream. And I do. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fly out of Houston  tomorrow night and will stay in Dallas until early Saturday morning.  I probably won't be back until I return.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/3118587611168561387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=3118587611168561387&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3118587611168561387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3118587611168561387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/07/im-poolside-in-houston' title='I&apos;m  poolside in Houston.  .   .'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-7520900014921295021</id><published>2008-07-15T08:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T14:04:55.763-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends on facebook</title><content type='html'>I don't recall how I ever came to sign up on facebook.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been finding myself going on there more and more lately and typing in names of old friends and acquaintances to see if they're on facebook.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's become a bit addicting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Whatever happened to Gary?" I'd wonder. "Is Scott on facebook? Cindy? Nathan? Jennifer?" I would type in their names. Some friends I haven't seen in years. We were such close friends at one point in time, and then came moves across country or marriages and we lost touch.   I look there to reconnect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time, I don't find anyone on there, but on occasion when I do find them, I select &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Add Friends &lt;/span&gt;next to their name and wait for them to confirm and accept me as their friend. Sometimes they don't show their face in the facebook photo so I can only guess if it's them or not by their name and location only. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's like I'm 9 years old! I sit there wiggling in my seat in anticipation for them to say, "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;yes, I confirm we are friends&lt;/span&gt;!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel bashfully vulnerable. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nearly everyone confirms yes, but then there are a few I haven't heard back from. And when after a fews days have slipped by without receiving confirmation from them, a bit of an uncomfortable anquish starts to stir in me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's silly to feel that way. I know that. Confirming or not confirming friends on facebook does not constitute real life. So I allow those silly feelings to quickly dispurse from me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Maybe they're not online and haven't seen my invite yet. Or that wasn't them after all .. just someone who shares the same name. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded back in time when we moved across town into another house and into a different school. I was 9 years old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew no one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So one saturday morning, feeling bored and lonely without my old friends around,  I walked down past our barn and through the apple orchard and carefully climbed through the barb wire fence at the end of our property and entered the new residential neighborhood. I was determined to meet and make new friends that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;knock&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;knock&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Do you have any kids my age?" I would ask parents door to door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ya wanna play&lt;/span&gt;?  I would ask whenever a kid answered the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ya wanna be friends?&lt;/span&gt;   I'd ask another.&lt;br /&gt; And they always said, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;yes&lt;/span&gt; and that was that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was 9, I hadn't learned that deep, all-encompassing inner space of feeling self-conscious that I feel even now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was never any second guessing. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I simply asked and we were instant friends.&lt;/span&gt;.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On facebook... in some sort of small way, reconnecting with friends is sorta like being 9 all over again. You can't be friends without first extending the invitation and without the other party confirming they want that, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the way, this is not an advertisement. It's just me chatting nervously and squirming around while waiting back to hear from some old friends from long ago. If you'll excuse me ... I'm gonna get back online and see if they connected. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And who knows, maybe I'll see you in there, too! I hope so.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/7520900014921295021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=7520900014921295021&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7520900014921295021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7520900014921295021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/07/friends-on-facebook' title='Friends on facebook'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-6223559365214452462</id><published>2008-07-06T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T00:31:46.135-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The sun sets on a 3-day weekend</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/me_kate-782168.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/me_kate-782164.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here I am pushing Kate on her cart this afternoon. I say, "put yer feet up!" And she would! And off we'd go! (Tyler was with his mom at the pool! Yeah. We were all envious in this hot weather!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was such a nice weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I filled it up as full as I could fill it. From watching the fireworks to outdoor parties to barbecues and sitting outdoors long after the sun went down, talking about all kinds of fun and interesting topics over candlelight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is my beautiful mom who put on little Kate's summer hat just in time for me to snap my camera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/mom-764345.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/mom-764342.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got inspired by my brother and Angie's yard. So I went home and started digging up old yellow grass in my backyard to re-landscape it. I have a plan but it's just not in clear focus at the moment. But it's there. It will look beautiful once I'm done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you see us in this picture? It's me and my mom and Kate. It's sorta like looking for a lost easter egg, isn't it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/canuseeus-794972.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/canuseeus-794970.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a weekend. I scrubbed and polished my bathroom so if necessary I could eat off it incase of an emergency. I painted my outdoor furniture and hanging pots. (and my grass because I used spray paint). I washed my car. I mopped my floors. I mowed and I pulled up weeds and I swept my patio. I bought groceries. I did a ton of laundry and caught up on last season's LOST. And each night between 2 and 4:30am, I'd toss and turn looking for the coolest corner of my pillowcase ... flipping it over and over and over again... laying sideways on my bed just across the sheets and remembering as a kid sleeping upstairs in hot, muggy Swansboro, (&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;the friendly city by the sea&lt;/span&gt;) North Carolina in August visiting Granddaddy without air conditioning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the Fourth of July. It is my favorite holiday. I usually spend it somewhere else. Within the past five years, I have spent two in Maui and one in San Antonio and two here in Santa Rosa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A zillion years ago we spent the summer (and July 4th) of 1976 traveling across country with my mom and our next door neighbor's mom and seven of us kids and a nanny. We saw the Badlands. And Yellowstone. And Mt. Rushmore. And the nickel factory in Sudbury, Canada and we visited Toronto (including stopping in (after a long drive) at the &lt;a href="http://www.defranco.com/"&gt;Defranco Family's house in Welland&lt;/a&gt;) where Tony's father was so kind and invited us into their home and gave us the tour of their home back then and my sister still teases me &lt;a href="http://ridgrunner.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-sister-shawn.html"&gt;to this day&lt;/a&gt;. Yes. It's true. I had my mom take a picture of me sitting on their toilet so I could catch their coodies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I'm still that way!!!&lt;/span&gt; Cooties are good and bad. I love catching GOOD cooties. Isn't that silly? If I have a favorite friend sit in my backseat of my car.. as I step out of the drivers seat and when no one is looking, I'll scoot in and sit in that seat as my friend for just a moment to collect the coodies. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Just shoot me now.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a fabulous trip. We were in Williamsburg, VA that year. And Boston. And Philadelphia. And all through the Amish country. We visited relatives in Long Island and throughout Virginia and we learned to play horseshoes like riding a bike. And then then there was Swansboro. A place all of it's own. And it was the perfect year.. as we celebrated the 200th year birthday of our country.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really want to re-experience those drives back across country again. If you never have. Please do. We really do live in a wonderful world.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/6223559365214452462/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=6223559365214452462&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/6223559365214452462'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/6223559365214452462'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/07/sun-sets-on-3-day-weekend' title='The sun sets on a 3-day weekend'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-7392844060261979986</id><published>2008-07-02T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T17:12:25.277-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Dick and Jane Lunch box</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/mylunchbox-770987.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/mylunchbox-770983.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;loved &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;my lunch box. Each year I would pick out a new one. I would thoughtfully pick them out as carefully as I would pick out a puppy from the pound.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;When I was in the third grade, this wonderful lunch box carried more than its share of bologna sandwiches, cookies and bananas.  I collected pretty rocks in this box as I zig-zagged my way home from school.  It also housed school papers and artwork and was a shield from the Boriolo brothers that warm afternoon when they decided to bombard Terry and I with cherries from their aunt's front yard tree.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;And who can forget the stink that would rise up from the blackened banana peel left inside the box over the weekend.  Nor the sour smell from the thermos. My mom would fill it up with soap and hot water and let it sit overnight on top of our kitchen counter before filling it with Kool-Aid's Tropical Punch.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;So you can imagine my pleasure when I was asked to design the second &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dick and Jane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; lunch box for &lt;a href="http://www.michaelmillerfabrics.com"&gt;Michael Miller Fabrics&lt;/a&gt;. You might recall the first one I did looked like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/lunchbox_DJ-745597.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/lunchbox_DJ-745593.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;It's a double-honor since I also designed all the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dick and Jane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; fabric. Inside this lunch box, there's enough &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;fabric to make a lovely soft book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt;This newest &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;"&gt;Dick and Jane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; lunch box contains a pattern and enough fabric to make a really cute Easy Breey Backsack by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://lizziebcre8ive.com/"&gt;Lizzy B Creative&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: verdana;"&gt; and should be available in various quilt shops near you. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/DJ_lunchbox-754505.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/DJ_lunchbox-754440.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-family: verdana;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/DJ_backsack-735844.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/DJ_backsack-735841.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/7392844060261979986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=7392844060261979986&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7392844060261979986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7392844060261979986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/07/another-dick-and-jane-lunch-box' title='Another Dick and Jane Lunch box'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-6954268155999842812</id><published>2008-06-28T11:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T13:10:22.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's more than skin-deep</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day2-720802.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day2-720799.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;day 2&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day4-798072.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day4-798069.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:85%;" &gt;day 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day6-777030.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day6-777028.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;day 6&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day8-783559.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/day8-783555.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;day 8&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Remember when you were a kid and whenever you fell off your bike, you'd run home and cry into your mom's warm hugs and then she would kiss it and make it feel better &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;instantly&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's nothing more healing than a mother's healing kisses. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I was that kid again.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/6954268155999842812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=6954268155999842812&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/6954268155999842812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/6954268155999842812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/its-more-than-skin-deep' title='It&apos;s more than skin-deep'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-153893116411673446</id><published>2008-06-26T22:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T00:01:46.443-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anyone missing a pen?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;If you can't find your pen.... it likely wandered over to my house. I have never seen so many mounds of pens in one place in my life! It looks as though I've opened shop to a Pen Store.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;For the past several weeks I have been gutting it out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Sifting through all my belongings in my studio with as much joy as dental work. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I have filled up four large recycling bins over the past four weeks. I just stuff them until I can't stuff them no more. Then I wheel them out to the curb for the City to pick them up and carry it away. Then I start this intimidating task again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am so tired of living a disorganized life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;done &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;with never knowing where anything is. It doesn't nourish my soul&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt; or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;my life in anyway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I opened up a box and inside it consisted of:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a LOBO Greatest Hits cd&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• three old bank statements&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a jack-in-the-box kids meal toy of Jack himself carrying a briefcase and wearing a tie.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• several postcards from friends on vacation&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a tangle of vcr cords&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a portable cd player&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a Golden Gate bride toll receipt from 1998&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a PEOPLE magazine with The Brady Bunch on the cover&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a talking pedometer still in the box&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• an old 1992 Delta airline ticket from San Francisco to Denver with a layover in Salt Lake City.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a backstage pass at Folk Singer Dar Williams concert while in Northampton, MA over New Years 1999&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• unused yellow post-it notes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a 1970s Defranco Family Slurpy Cup&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• the negatives from a photo roll from 1994&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a William Holden autograph&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• a book called "Don't Worry Be Crabby!" by John Wagner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• an old address book (that still has my grandparents numbers on there as well as numerous aunts and uncles and cousins who no longer live in this world...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;• etc etc etc&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;That was just one box. I had so many boxes, they were just jammed inside my closet. Each box closely looking like the next one. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;An incredibly old man looked inside my eyes sometime around 2002-2003 in an old junk store off of interstate 35 between San Marcos and New Braunfels, Texas and said: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Know when to hold 'em. And know when to fold 'em&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I think he was talking to me about Happy Meal toys, but tonight I hear him clearly telling me this on a deeper level.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;Ever since my wake-up call at the hospital early last month, I have decided to take back my life. To stop and smell the roses so-to-speak. And I have become aware that once I made that decision, I have attracted that into my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I need more time in my life to water the lawn. Pull the weeds around the rose bush. Fix the automatic sprinklers. I also need to get rid of clutter and have more organization in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am learning that less is more. And that when my house is free of clutter my heart and head feels most calm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;I am getting there. And yes, I'm still keeping a lot of the sentimental letters and other things that stir my heart because it connects the dots from my past to my future and that has made me who I am today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;It's a lot of work and feels like it's taking me a lifetime to go through things and then I remember it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; because I am &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;going through a lifetime.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a lovely one at that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/153893116411673446/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=153893116411673446&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/153893116411673446'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/153893116411673446'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/anyone-missing-pen' title='Anyone missing a pen?'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-3617910447197410880</id><published>2008-06-17T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T23:13:02.195-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NYC: First Class all the way</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/nyc-736275.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/nyc-736268.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/lateshow-728271.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/lateshow-728252.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/nycircle-733944.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/nycircle-733942.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/nyccafe-787690.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/nyccafe-787676.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back from the Big Apple.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really love it there!  I felt so familiar with it this time around. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;loved&lt;/span&gt; that I knew how to get around that big wonderful City. That &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I got it&lt;/span&gt;. That I understood the scope of the land. It felt empowering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I feel the let-down of returning from a fun trip only to have lawns to water and floors to sweep and laundry to clean and a hungry belly to shop for.  I am happy to have my memories to explore and relive again. But still. . .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember when you were a kid and you had &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;summer vacations off&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think that must be ingrained in all us forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Queen of America&lt;/span&gt;, I would make that a law: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To have summer vacations off&lt;/span&gt;. --Unless you love to ski and snowboard and make angels in the snow, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then you could take the winter months off and work during the summer while we sit poolside or walk along hot steamy streets of New York City or picking up sea shells off the North Carolina coast or watch the muscle men along Venice Beach or swim with the turtles off the coast of Maui....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But since I'm not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Queen of America&lt;/span&gt;.. I will take my days off when I can and make the most of them when I have them to enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like this past weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People watching in Soho was a kick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/green-790115.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/green-790111.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This was a colorful couple. I so wanted to know their story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to fly first class on United Airlines and the service really was first class all the way. From the menu to the movies to the customer service. I was so happy we had such a long flight. I transformed my seat into a bed. I transformed it back again into a small restaurant. And then into a theater for one. Everyone was so kind. So interesting to talk to. It was a holiday all on its own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please click on a portion of the menu to see it larger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/FirstClassMenu-765518.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/FirstClassMenu-765513.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;might &lt;/span&gt;be flying back to NYC with my mom over the Forth of July weekend to attend my cousin's daughter's wedding. It's still so up in the air. We really need to hurry and make our decision. If we do decide to fly out there, we'll be flying by the seat of our pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just wish we could &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really fly &lt;/span&gt;by the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seat of our pants.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/3617910447197410880/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=3617910447197410880&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3617910447197410880'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/3617910447197410880'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/nyc-first-class-all-way' title='NYC: First Class all the way'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-9015162849101813368</id><published>2008-06-11T23:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T23:11:00.961-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Big Apple</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/NYCsunset-743115.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/NYCsunset-743110.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't the fainest idea why they call New York City the Big Apple...  but I'm going to be spending my weekend there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to a &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;surprise&lt;/span&gt; 50th birthday party &lt;a href="http://www.avaloungenyc.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kass doesn't know it yet. She lives in Dallas. Her husband is the mastermind behind all this. I think there's something like a dozen or more of her friends flying in this weekend. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm flying standby on United Airlines at 6 am out of San Francisco. I am taking the Sonoma County airporter at 3 am. Which means I'm going to have to wake up in 2-1/2 hours so I should start thinking of going to bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a feeling I will return sleepy, too. But filled with a fun adventure! I'll see you when I return!</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/9015162849101813368/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=9015162849101813368&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/9015162849101813368'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/9015162849101813368'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/big-apple' title='The Big Apple'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-7769176162348851071</id><published>2008-06-10T12:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T14:49:28.017-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanks a lot!</title><content type='html'>I just want to thank all of you for your educational emails over the past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to you, I no longer open a public bathroom door without using a paper towel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't use the remote in a hotel room because I don't know what the last person was doing while flipping through the adult movie channels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't sit down on the hotel bedspread because I can only imagine what has happened on it since it was last washed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't enjoy lemon slices in my tea or on my seafood anymore because lemon peels have been found to contain all kinds of nasty germs including feces.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have trouble shaking hands with someone who has been driving because the number one pass-time while driving alone is picking your nose (although cell phone usage may be taking the number one spot)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eating a Little Debbie sends me on a guilt trip because I can only imagine how many gallons of trans fats I have consumed over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't touch any one's purse for fear she has placed it on the floor of a public bathroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must send my special thanks to whoever sent me the one about poop in the glue on envelopes because I now have to use a wet sponge with every envelope that needs sealing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, now I have to scrub the top of every can I open for the same reason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer have any savings because I gave it to a sick girl (Penny Brown) who is about to die in the hospital for the 1,387,258th time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer have any money at all, but that will change once I receive the $15,000 that Bill Gates/Microsoft and AOL are sending me for participating in their special e-mail program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer worry about my soul because I have 363,214 angels looking out for me, and St. Theresa's novena has granted my every wish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer eat KFC because their chickens are actually horrible mutant freaks with no eyes or feathers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer use cancer-causing deodorants even though I smell like a water buffalo on a hot day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to you, I have learned that my prayers only get answered if I forward an email to seven of my friends and make a wish within five minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because of your concern I no longer drink Coca Cola because it can remove toilet stains.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer can buy gasoline without taking someone along to watch the car so a serial killer won't crawl in my back seat when I'm pumping gas..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer drink Pepsi or Dr Pepper since the people who make these products are atheists who refuse to put 'Under God' on their cans.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer use Saran wrap in the microwave because it causes cancer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thanks for letting me know I can't boil a cup of water in the microwave anymore because it will blow up in my face... disfiguring me for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer check the coin return on pay phones because I could be pricked with a needle infected with AIDS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer go to shopping malls because someone will drug me with a perfume sample and rob me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer receive packages from UPS or FedEx since they are actually Al Qaeda in disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer shop at Target since they are French and don't support our American troops or the Salvation Army.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer answer the phone because someone will ask me to dial a number for which I will get a phone bill with calls to Jamaica, Uganda. Singapore and Uzbekistan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I no longer buy expensive cookies from Neiman Marcus since I now have their recipe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to you, I can't use anyone's toilet but mine because a big brown African spider is lurking under the seat to cause me instant death when it bites my butt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And thanks to your great advice, I can't ever pick up $5.00 dropped in the parking lot because it probably was placed there by a sex molester waiting underneath my car to grab my leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can no longer drive my car because I can't buy gas from certain gas companies!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, by the way..... a German scientist from Argentina , after a lengthy study, has discovered that people with insufficient brain activity read blogs with their hand on the mouse. Don't bother taking it off now.  It's too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AUTHOR UNKNOWN  &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;(i received this  as a humorous email forward from my sister) and wanted to pass it along!&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/7769176162348851071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=7769176162348851071&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7769176162348851071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7769176162348851071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/thanks-for-all-educational-emails' title='Thanks a lot!'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-7203202182246971547</id><published>2008-06-08T22:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T23:58:53.203-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My new kitchen</title><content type='html'>It all began with wanting to open up my pocket door. My kitchen felt tucked in a back corner of the house and I wanted it to be more open.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called Randy and he dropped by and he took it all down in under an hour!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/openingdoor-783161.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/openingdoor-783159.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But. Once I did that, where the wall was taken down, it exposed the subflooring where the wall was! So I knew I needed to replace the kitchen floor --- which I wanted to do ever since I &lt;a href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/2006/04/pullin-up-carpet"&gt;pulled up my carpet&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/2006/08/yay-for-my-sparkling-floors"&gt;finished the hardwood floors&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kitchen was the same kitchen from when it was built in 1956. The doors were no longer closing properly. The shelves inside the cabinets weren't very high and I had to lay the syrup bottle and cereal boxes on their sides so they could fit. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;(You know what I'm talking about if you're living in a mid-century home and have the original kitchen cabinets).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was on a tight budget and didn't go overboard with any high-end remodel, but I did buy new cabinets, counter tops, flooring, crown molding, light fixtures, subway tile for the backsplash, an over the range microwave, dishwasher, garbage disposal, sink, faucet, new plug outlets, and updated wiring in the kitchen. Basically it went from being gutted to all things new.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And it feels good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I helped lay down the new floor. It was hot that day and very tiresome. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But so rewarding to be able to say "i did that!"&lt;/span&gt; I also put the backsplash tile in myself and grouted it. I put the light fixtures in, too (with a help of a good friend) and before too long, I will select glass for my two cabinets on both sides of my sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm glad I didn't realize what how much work would be involved. Whenever I watch one of those inspiring HGTV shows, the transformations are so exciting and they are changed immediately after only a few moments after a commercial!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However ... in real life, it takes days and weeks and the changes each day are so miniscule, it is hard for me to experience that "wow!" factor I longed for. But this is what I'm excited about. I now get to enjoy the kitchen instead of waiting to sell the house and either redo it before I sell... or give the new buyer credit to update the kitchen. I learned a lot in doing this and the next time I will do some things differently so I'm grateful for the lesson as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/olddoor-760483.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/olddoor-760474.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/newdoor-715977.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/newdoor-715967.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/oldkit-720259.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/oldkit-720257.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/newkit-765700.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/newkit-765699.jpg" alt="" before="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/oldcorner-748733.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/oldcorner-748731.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/newcorner-770170.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/newcorner-770167.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/7203202182246971547/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=7203202182246971547&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7203202182246971547'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/7203202182246971547'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/my-new-kitchen' title='My new kitchen'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-2016144721107208902</id><published>2008-06-03T23:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T00:09:28.675-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Are you Left Brain or Right Brain?</title><content type='html'>&lt;!-- END Lead Content Panel --&gt;&lt;!-- Sub Lead Content Panel --&gt;&lt;!-- Image Caption ("image-lead") --&gt;                                               &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.news.com.au/common/imagedata/0,,5693171,00.gif" alt="Spinning lady" title="Spinning lady" height="400" width="300" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you see the dancer turning closewise or counter-clockwise?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to an article in the &lt;a href="http://www.news.com.au/heraldsun/story/0,21985,22556281-661,00.html"&gt;Australian Herald Sun&lt;/a&gt;, they report that if you see the dancer spinning clockwise then you use more of the right side of the brain. But most people see her dancing counter-clockwise because more people use mostly their left side of the brain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I function with my right brain. Which side do you mostly use? Look at the spinning dancer and see which direction she is spinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;RIGHT BRAIN FUNCTIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uses feeling&lt;br /&gt;"big picture" oriented&lt;br /&gt;imagination rules&lt;br /&gt;symbols and images&lt;br /&gt;present and future&lt;br /&gt;philosophy &amp;amp; religion&lt;br /&gt;can "get it" (i.e. meaning)&lt;br /&gt;believes&lt;br /&gt;appreciates&lt;br /&gt;spatial perception&lt;br /&gt;knows object function&lt;br /&gt;fantasy based&lt;br /&gt;presents possibilities&lt;br /&gt;impetuous&lt;br /&gt;risk taking&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;LEFT BRAIN FUNCTIONS&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;uses logic&lt;br /&gt;detail oriented&lt;br /&gt;facts rule&lt;br /&gt;words and language&lt;br /&gt;present and past&lt;br /&gt;math and science&lt;br /&gt;can comprehend&lt;br /&gt;knowing&lt;br /&gt;acknowledges&lt;br /&gt;order/pattern perception&lt;br /&gt;knows object name&lt;br /&gt;reality based&lt;br /&gt;forms strategies&lt;br /&gt;practical&lt;br /&gt;safe&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/2016144721107208902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=2016144721107208902&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2016144721107208902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/2016144721107208902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/06/are-you-left-brain-or-right-brain' title='Are you Left Brain or Right Brain?'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-5685005722738196407</id><published>2008-05-26T22:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T14:09:12.913-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Just six houses away</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/fire-772380.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/fire-772376.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;My neighbor's house burned down today. It happened because the young boy left a candle burning in his bedroom. &lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rode my bike past it again tonight and stared at the black shell. The two topiaries are still standing proudly on both sides of the front door but i know in a short matter of time, they will lose their confidence and turn to shrub. And the grass will undoubtedly die of thirst . The home will be abandoned for way too many long months before it is rebuilt. It'll be its own graveyard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;The mom was out at the mall when the fire started. She was probably buying new clothes with all the Memorial Days sales going on. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Maybe even spending her stimulus refund check&lt;/span&gt;. One moment, they had everything. Now all she has is what she was carrying inside her bag.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank God she still has her family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And pets. Their iguanas were rescued and gasping fresh air in the front yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I felt so saddened by their tragedy. What do you say to someone who just lost their home?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;You  just never know when what you have surrounding you will disappear. And what really only matters are the people in our life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tragedy has a way of reminding us that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pedaled my way back home and was grateful to have a home to walk into. I walked into my new kitchen to start painting the walls and even though I'm thrilled to have this newly updated kitchen. It's still just a kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I know only too well that there are things more important than a kitchen.  &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/5685005722738196407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=5685005722738196407&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/5685005722738196407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/5685005722738196407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/05/just-six-houses-away' title='Just six houses away'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12877005.post-4857568006574119005</id><published>2008-05-25T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T11:50:43.529-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First Sight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/firstsitecrib-769565.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/firstsitecrib-769562.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Remember when I &lt;a href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/04/more-fabric-hot-off-mill"&gt;posted&lt;/a&gt; some of the red, white and black colored fabric I designed?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took these photos last week at the International Quilt Market in Portland. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This baby crib displays all of the First Sight fabric line!  The fabric was spray-starched onto the lampshade. It's really simple to do and I can't wait to spray-starch some of my fabric on  lamp shades at home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kathy explains how to do it on her blog &lt;a href="http://www.makingitfun.blogspot.com/"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/roomdisplay-776441.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/roomdisplay-776427.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;There is also a gift set that can be purchased that carries the same fabric, ribbon and a cute baby book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/giftset-715023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/giftset-715015.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/inside-721179.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://www.doodlegirl.com/uploaded_images/inside-721177.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/4857568006574119005/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=12877005&amp;postID=4857568006574119005&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/4857568006574119005'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/12877005/posts/default/4857568006574119005'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://www.doodlegirl.com/2008/05/first-sight' title='First Sight'/><author><name>doodlegirl</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09492630069984722724</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>6</thr:total></entry></feed>