tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53751825800346494782024-03-08T16:16:16.486-05:00The Reluctant Mermaidone woman unwilling to swim in the same direction as the others~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.comBlogger287125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-78781036301865743782013-06-16T10:17:00.001-05:002013-06-16T10:17:06.787-05:00farewell<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5g2RxVdvYZB2kxSDYLW0M7G8-j3AZ3utEJArw1pFwEalmhMwRGF5KSmbZjqIheogPH0swQLah7UbWk8yKRmBFfVAGUvQRFdP3mND5q0xLG0FTKUkrxnvXgWNyE3fiEgc5uwtvb2zCWwiI/s1600/trm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5g2RxVdvYZB2kxSDYLW0M7G8-j3AZ3utEJArw1pFwEalmhMwRGF5KSmbZjqIheogPH0swQLah7UbWk8yKRmBFfVAGUvQRFdP3mND5q0xLG0FTKUkrxnvXgWNyE3fiEgc5uwtvb2zCWwiI/s320/trm.jpg" width="222" /></a></div>
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This is it, the end of my blog. </div>
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I've been thinking, I just want to preserve things like this- every single thing I wrote, suspended in time. It's my scrapbook of a former life containing a lot of love, a lot of self discovery, a LOT of parenting material, a little heartache, a lot of struggle, a lot of humor (a TON of humor actually) a lot of creativity... a lot of me.</div>
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I've gone away and come back many times. I've just re-read every single word I ever wrote. I've printed out the gems, sighed and rolled my eyes at the ridiculous few, cried at the ones that I wish I never wrote.</div>
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This is it, the end of my blog.</div>
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I'm saying goodbye to a lot of what</div>
I know but I'm also saying hello to a life that is INCREDIBLE and filled with so much of what I cried that I didn't have back then (shame on me). I'm a survivor (aren't we all?), I'm a warrior (please believe that you are too), I am completely utterly in love with my life. Thank you all for your love and support, the journey would have never thrived without you.<br />
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This is it, the end of my blog.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoklwtVH1LQwSU42F5Q7cfmJl89YOHaUCys_9hlst6QIVsmXBIPYDh04ZmUrbC9gnljRXyMxITdcw-lBsNRTTLWJ16kC4wFhLNaGZkS2ElPbRetUZQFzCwbXkMQK96x6PRjks0p2nu5wQU/s1600/selfie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoklwtVH1LQwSU42F5Q7cfmJl89YOHaUCys_9hlst6QIVsmXBIPYDh04ZmUrbC9gnljRXyMxITdcw-lBsNRTTLWJ16kC4wFhLNaGZkS2ElPbRetUZQFzCwbXkMQK96x6PRjks0p2nu5wQU/s320/selfie.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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xoxoxoxo</div>
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Kat</div>
~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com71tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-13357388365480560202012-08-12T00:00:00.000-05:002012-08-12T00:00:00.668-05:00sometimes these things happen...Happy 12th Birthday to my bright beautiful blue eyed baby boy! <div>
mama loves you xo<br /><br /><br /><table bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0">
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<tr><td><a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d7a49344d7a55354e7a493d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><img alt="Click to play this Smilebox slideshow" height="330" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4d7a49344d7a55354e7a493d0d0a.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="420" /></a></td></tr>
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<tr><td align="center">Make a <a href="http://www.smilebox.com/" target="_blank">free slideshow</a></td></tr>
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</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-69855810543069045722012-07-24T16:39:00.001-05:002012-07-24T16:39:27.291-05:00how to fix a chip in your glitter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Hw3iCCT8gq0QmqZE8ay7ZPxXZQj0zBVwe2nG1nqRWkmeZiZlZ5xwYznBHEHO0TrFEv6Ek_VYp9o1j-uV9JniILfBfhduK7wEVRInOO22Qt0ZVSysK6zeSJbgrLmuUoz8WpdLa8ulmiwk/s1600/glitternails.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Hw3iCCT8gq0QmqZE8ay7ZPxXZQj0zBVwe2nG1nqRWkmeZiZlZ5xwYznBHEHO0TrFEv6Ek_VYp9o1j-uV9JniILfBfhduK7wEVRInOO22Qt0ZVSysK6zeSJbgrLmuUoz8WpdLa8ulmiwk/s320/glitternails.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I'm usually full of sparkle, at least I think I am</div>
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but occasionally</div>
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a little fleck falls to the floor and leaves an empty space</div>
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and I think I've discovered what to do when that happens</div>
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it involves:</div>
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an open mind</div>
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a willingness to become someone else for a little while</div>
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a sense of bravery</div>
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a "fuck it" attitude</div>
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total and utter honesty, no holds barred</div>
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not over thinking it</div>
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not over involving yourself</div>
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knowing you can walk away at any point</div>
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laughing</div>
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being frisky</div>
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laughing at how frisky you can be</div>
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swelling up with pride</div>
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feeling the ecstasy of freedom</div>
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rolling around in your own raw confidence</div>
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asking for what you need</div>
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DEMANDING what you want</div>
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saying what you like</div>
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being clear about what you don't</div>
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being passionate for yourself, not for anyone else</div>
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removing your heart from your body for good reason</div>
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and then putting it back on your own terms</div>
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sitting with your power</div>
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melting with your boldness</div>
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calling the shots</div>
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tasting all your success</div>
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congratulating yourself for taking healthy risks</div>
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and then</div>
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painting your fingers with brighter, shinier glitter </div>
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while doing a victory dance</div>
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in your soul</div>
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<br /></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-72059681585560404522012-07-13T00:16:00.001-05:002012-07-13T00:16:10.563-05:00and then this happened....<table bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
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Happy 7th Birthday to the most beautiful little flower in the whole wide world<br />
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<a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d7a49304e7a41774f54553d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><img alt="Click to play this Smilebox slideshow" height="330" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4d7a49304e7a41774f54553d0d0a.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="420" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=google&campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"><img alt="Create your own slideshow - Powered by Smilebox" height="46" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmilebox.gif" style="border: medium none;" width="420" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="center">A slideshow by Smilebox<br />
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</tbody></table>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-85010298341194940872012-07-07T13:38:00.002-05:002012-07-07T13:39:54.239-05:00Found my "thing"I think I found my groove. I found a way to make a little money that was honest and true to myself. I believe in the things I create. I believe in making beautiful things with the vintage inspired materials that I love. I believe in repurposing, I believe in individualizing, I believe in putting love, sweat and tears into what I create. So my friends, I present to you- the first "Another Round Please" catalog. Enjoy!
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<table bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"><tbody>
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<a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d7a497a4f5455784e6a4d3d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><img alt="Click to play this Smilebox scrapbook" height="330" src="http://smilebox.com/snap/4d7a497a4f5455784e6a4d3d0d0a.jpg" style="border: currentColor;" width="420" /></a></div>
<a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d7a497a4f5455784e6a4d3d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"></a><br />
<a href="http://smilebox.com/play/4d7a497a4f5455784e6a4d3d0d0a&blogview=true&campaign=blog_playback_link" target="_blank"><div style="text-align: left;" unselectable="on">
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</a></td></tr>
<tr><td><a href="http://www.smilebox.com/?partner=google&campaign=blog_snapshot" target="_blank"><img alt="Create your own scrapbook - Powered by Smilebox" height="46" src="http://www.smilebox.com/globalImages/blogInstructions/blogLogoSmilebox.gif" style="border: currentColor;" width="420" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="center"><div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.smilebox.com/" target="_blank">Free digital scrapbooking design</a> generated with Smilebox<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbTPAXlsQOilirckuN5JD7A2zbWbYnvnS8SOwnBj-j7u_yL18zBOTJzqWZSNhYN9bljoRMj5yZs4CZChr2QU_SmIx3rfMEf71Ldp8E6uN7TSg4M-xxJCpl9bg6jnMKFp4zQj4tZG7QYsQ/s1600/business+card.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNbTPAXlsQOilirckuN5JD7A2zbWbYnvnS8SOwnBj-j7u_yL18zBOTJzqWZSNhYN9bljoRMj5yZs4CZChr2QU_SmIx3rfMEf71Ldp8E6uN7TSg4M-xxJCpl9bg6jnMKFp4zQj4tZG7QYsQ/s320/business+card.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</tbody></table>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-1977882652349555582012-06-25T17:38:00.001-05:002012-06-25T19:17:55.725-05:00Audrey<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmGbIwsULG6TGQe3ZaTiwwFeiyT9p7fYR3i7rPwuNMVpPwOM5uvwCHn0-TewZ_IWA5Khq4dljqBc66BmFHrVMuRrrJFG3GHhINVPjqltTF0wlOipSjhyphenhyphen2sSaMJkz-CFT5tOAyAqEgRw3m/s1600/mom.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpmGbIwsULG6TGQe3ZaTiwwFeiyT9p7fYR3i7rPwuNMVpPwOM5uvwCHn0-TewZ_IWA5Khq4dljqBc66BmFHrVMuRrrJFG3GHhINVPjqltTF0wlOipSjhyphenhyphen2sSaMJkz-CFT5tOAyAqEgRw3m/s320/mom.JPG" width="210" /></a></div>
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this is my mother, Audrey</div>
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isn't she pretty?</div>
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she's really very sick</div>
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and I don't know what to do to help</div>
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because we haven't always been friends, friendly, loving</div>
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in fact, just last fall was the first time in about 6 years that we</div>
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hugged, said I love you, I miss you, I forgive you</div>
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she's really very sick</div>
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and I don't know what to do to help</div>
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so I call, I listen to her struggling to breath, </div>
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telling her she doesn't have to talk to me if she's feeling out of breath</div>
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but I get the feeling that she's talking so much <i>because</i> it's been so long</div>
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and who knows.... anything could happen</div>
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and that really frightens me</div>
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and I don't know what to do with all those feelings...</div>
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because they're very new to me</div>
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it's really hard for me to imagine that she's so weak that she fell and couldn't move</div>
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it's very difficult to hear that she couldn't even yell for help</div>
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she was always mighty, always loud, I was really afraid of that as a child</div>
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because it was powerful, it was painful, all that yelling...</div>
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all that smacking around</div>
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that fear</div>
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and now she can't stand up? or talk? or breathe?<br />
seriously? I can't even imagine that!</div>
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it just doesn't seem right, </div>
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this woman</div>
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my mother</div>
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so frail</div>
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and scared</div>
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She has a rare blood disease</div>
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and it's really hurting her</div>
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and she's in the hospital </div>
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and she's lost so much</div>
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like her job</div>
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her health insurance</div>
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and almost all of her children's respect</div>
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but here I am, healing after six years</div>
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while she tries with all her might to heal herself</div>
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and it's not looking too good right now</div>
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So what I do is to look for services that can help her when she gets out</div>
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meals, nursing care, health insurance, social security</div>
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community support, etc. etc. etc</div>
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THAT is what I can do</div>
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oh- and tell her that I love her</div>
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because I do</div>
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I love her</div>
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<b>**UPDATE**</b><br />
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<i>good news</i>: kidneys are out of danger<br />
<i>bad news</i>: blood clots are in both her legs and lungs. PLEASE let the bloodthinners work!<br />
<i>more bad news</i>: moving her to a larger hospital, trying to find a blood donor match for a transfusion<br />
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<br /></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-82226051185906596332012-06-16T06:54:00.003-05:002012-06-16T06:55:32.917-05:00trying to put things to rest<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxoYD7QACbWB8O0nj9v2Cr_TMTDgty_bUAURSYzLghb5M63g1UMcqFJugatr4qfCjrr50lRGIKBbsAl-fl3ag' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">I've spent the last 2 weeks discovering a buried treasure that I left neglected for years. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> I uploaded 2 years of our life in photos and videos onto a website and then had amnesia...</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"> finding them again was like opening up a floodgate of emotion. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">Every night I put the kids to bed and spend an hour or two </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">watching every video, </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">or gazing at every photo.</span>
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It made me realize something. </div>
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In all the sadness and loss that I've experienced... at some point, I'm going to have to put things to rest. </div>
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I thought I already did. But then I didn't. </div>
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Then I thought I did again,only to realize that it was still there haunting me. </div>
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I truly believed that I had to "get over it" but now I realize that "get over it" </div>
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and "get through it" are two completely different things. </div>
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So, I'll just do the best I can to put certain parts of it to rest. </div>
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There may be times that those parts wake up for a while but I can always put them back to rest if I need to. </div>
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Shhhhh..... baby's sleeping.</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-7602607552912270672012-06-09T16:42:00.002-05:002012-06-09T16:43:44.279-05:00I need to listen more...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECM7ZpGdVdSjSXMQpIJ84YBFxVT03-g5fJBS6BIFmG8Pq1F69o-Ml6l-ob3fACwZ8_Ls3koctKFJpNidO2VZ9Y7kwLC1zdjuk5GBpuN7siWD6Np3Ec4AVGxOej3fcv-UWc_6Ym5sVa3dK/s1600/KatieCandle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhECM7ZpGdVdSjSXMQpIJ84YBFxVT03-g5fJBS6BIFmG8Pq1F69o-Ml6l-ob3fACwZ8_Ls3koctKFJpNidO2VZ9Y7kwLC1zdjuk5GBpuN7siWD6Np3Ec4AVGxOej3fcv-UWc_6Ym5sVa3dK/s320/KatieCandle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;">Katie's gift... light from the heavens shining upon it.</span></div>
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I've known Katie since she was a baby. </div>
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An old boyfriend and I worked as servers at her parents Christmas party one year. </div>
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Fancy stuff there. I'm pretty sure we got tipsy at the end from sipping the leftover cocktails.</div>
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And Katie was a bright blond smiling little creature.</div>
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It was soon after that that her parents discovered that she was mentally retarded and her life would never be what they imagined.</div>
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Fast forward 20 years (or so... ) </div>
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Katie is a blond smiling little young adult, she pops in and out of businesses all over town,</div>
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getting to know the owners... striking up conversations with strangers. </div>
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She's delightful.</div>
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She comes in to the shop that I work my Saturdays in.</div>
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And we've reconnected.</div>
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She asks me ALL the time for a specific dark chocolate that only comes from Nicaragua.</div>
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Which we don't have (of course)</div>
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And she tells me that she has a dollar to buy her dad some candy</div>
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Except he can't have sugar.</div>
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So silly</div>
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she knows she's being so silly</div>
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She always says "I love you" before she leaves the shop.</div>
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Today she came in and handed me three paper bags.</div>
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She said "this one is for you, that one is for Mary <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(like me, a part timer)</span>, the big one is for Jacqueline <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(the owner)"</span></div>
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She said </div>
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"they're candles. </div>
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I bought them for all of you. </div>
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I'm buttering you up so I can work here. </div>
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Will Jacqueline hire me?"</div>
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I told her that she should come in on Monday and ask her then... I said "Katie you are a SWEETHEART!"</div>
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She walked right up to me... all 4'9" of her</div>
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She hugged me and said;</div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">"Life goes on"</span></div>
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<span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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and that was it.</div>
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She walked out the door and turned to say "I love you"</div>
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I stood there KNOWING that Life, indeed does go on.</div>
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I'm listening.</div>
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<br />~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-764916747597304862012-06-07T18:02:00.001-05:002012-06-07T18:02:46.093-05:00Freezer Burn and Gummy Bears<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPS3Ayu_wmbKJyjCBTo5Yrc6bw5DjIeYa1R1PGB_KimIpnk1m7gYx9hePnQGxcQXjmFviFy1JcoGwLcEQPpEqWOpK7Ak39DV55LA_LgfJo8T2Fh33jwBPa28g5vMboKBxd2u35gohqQ1k/s1600/gummies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPS3Ayu_wmbKJyjCBTo5Yrc6bw5DjIeYa1R1PGB_KimIpnk1m7gYx9hePnQGxcQXjmFviFy1JcoGwLcEQPpEqWOpK7Ak39DV55LA_LgfJo8T2Fh33jwBPa28g5vMboKBxd2u35gohqQ1k/s320/gummies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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sometimes we have freezer burned chicken for dinner</div>
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followed closely by gummy bears.</div>
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sometimes, especially after I pick a kid up at school or ballet rehearsal, or the library</div>
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I see Moms. </div>
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Moms who manage to make rain boots look like designer shoes</div>
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Those types.</div>
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And I wonder what kind of granite topped kitchens they return home to</div>
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and what their kids do while they're waiting for dinner</div>
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playing in a big basement playroom?</div>
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finding a quiet moment in their very own room?</div>
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sitting at the counter while Mom chops their daily recommended dose of veggies </div>
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on one of her many 5 foot long counters?</div>
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and then there is me.</div>
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I'm reaching into a bag of chicken nuggets, picking through the ones that are the least freezer burned. </div>
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Toaster oven. squirt of ketchup. dinner is served.</div>
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We pile on the tiny, cat ripped couch... three in a row, grabbing lite-bright colored gummy bears</div>
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elbowing each other for personal space</div>
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because there <b>is</b> nowhere to escape for a quiet moment.</div>
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so I surrender... I give in and sit at the table staring into space while I shovel lukewarm packaged food</div>
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without even tasting it.</div>
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I lack the energy to encourage a family board game</div>
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because playing means we all have to sit on a cold, uncomfortable wooden floor</div>
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because that's all the free space we have.</div>
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5 square feet.</div>
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that's it.</div>
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and I beat myself up every minute of every day for living this way.</div>
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Today I asked Iris how it made her feel about never being able to have friends over.</div>
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She said, "I wish we didn't live here... </div>
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I wish we had more space because I want my friends to see all of my things"</div>
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her one basket of stuffed animals, and one box of toys.</div>
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that's all the room we have for her "things"</div>
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What am I doing?</div>
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Am I giving up?</div>
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Giving in?</div>
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becoming numb to the situation?</div>
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Or am I the Mom who may not be perky in designer rain boots </div>
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but can sure as</div>
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<b> fuck</b> </div>
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rock a sweatshirt like nobody's business.</div>
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Ya. I'm that Mom.</div>
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<br />~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-510958986382708182012-06-03T12:59:00.000-05:002012-06-03T12:59:23.873-05:00I have no words for what's going through me right now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">So I'm going to borrow all these. </span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-size: x-large;">You get the point. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAu4vt8O0ZvmfLl55vtLEV5ZBbMgACSlkKzi-T7Oyg5XRXyj1y6N-azhzjZrtyyy82DDFFc_qhpL1_tFycwZLWFxW-y4sGjbt2A0P2MqTibysFhHKqqGhZbcuRs5oU3PK1rT9dyS_4zuV7/s1600/CantDoThis450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAu4vt8O0ZvmfLl55vtLEV5ZBbMgACSlkKzi-T7Oyg5XRXyj1y6N-azhzjZrtyyy82DDFFc_qhpL1_tFycwZLWFxW-y4sGjbt2A0P2MqTibysFhHKqqGhZbcuRs5oU3PK1rT9dyS_4zuV7/s320/CantDoThis450.jpg" width="295" /></a></div>
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<br />~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-55422200851173015202012-05-30T05:56:00.001-05:002012-05-30T06:01:32.006-05:00Dream a little dream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIITxBsJZyPXZGbjC618HDgECbVhflzl6fXfjzqQOywso-z2RiybAwi-NrNSskkCOfxIiNbaeUrRAwEaQqqWra-2DwbpOQ6mRh6OaG0_fl8_OcUn2ana3x5hXiUlIm3tB0IrJu_CdS8kS/s1600/mermaidhanging.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIITxBsJZyPXZGbjC618HDgECbVhflzl6fXfjzqQOywso-z2RiybAwi-NrNSskkCOfxIiNbaeUrRAwEaQqqWra-2DwbpOQ6mRh6OaG0_fl8_OcUn2ana3x5hXiUlIm3tB0IrJu_CdS8kS/s320/mermaidhanging.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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This morning I woke up sad. Flashes of my dreams ran like a slideshow across my memory. It was a dream of disappointment. I dreamed that my anger made me physically hurt someone because my children were exposed to something they weren't ready for. I dreamed that I was taken advantage of although the dream included me, fighting back. I dreamed that one person that I can always call on for strong support told me that she just couldn't listen to me anymore. I dreamed that I lied to her, to convince her that I wasn't asking for what I usually asked for and she fell for it. I dreamed that I drove a car through a thrift store because I wanted to intimidate the shoppers who were stealing MY good deals. </div>
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Ugh.</div>
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I'm awake now. WIDE awake and wondering what the hell that was all about. Awake and saddened by what my brain put me through last night. Why does that happen? As if I didn't feel enough heartache during the day, my head thought I could handle more heartache in my sleep?</div>
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Lately I've been feeling like I lost. I feel like I lost a relationship with some of my family members. It's just not the same, something happened in the past year and I feel like it caused a big shut down. It hurts.</div>
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I've been feeling the<a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/07/story.html" target="_blank"> loss of my marriage</a> lately too. Although I'm in a MUCH better place feeling MUCH more peace, still..... it hurts.<br />
I've been feeling like I can't find my place in most of my relationships with those around me. I reflect so much lately on mistakes that I've made with those I love and reflecting on way too many times that I let myself speak before thinking about what I was going to say, how I was going to say it and what the impact of what I was going to say might have on the person I said it to.<br />
I think these dreams happened because I need to take a better look at what is going on. Am I too angry? Am I feeling guilty? Am I feeling like I lost control?<br />
Maybe I'll dream all the answers that I need tonight. <br />
Until then, I'm going to try my best today to shake that feeling of sadness that woke me up this morning.<br />
<br /></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-78811935795150693612012-05-25T06:04:00.001-05:002012-05-25T06:05:45.637-05:00Art is a Feeling<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLkTc5awlf5j0yigUkMPjyVrTKX4vg1prcgOu8CAtY1HT4G9MED46LyltcD9aeU2maDXJBsU2ysulb0VmqLuqtCpec8X5Qr4y3ais1xXOAPfuMSBwLqAAjNKD2RfJFtpR1o1OQmWYAIq1/s1600/artisafeeling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLkTc5awlf5j0yigUkMPjyVrTKX4vg1prcgOu8CAtY1HT4G9MED46LyltcD9aeU2maDXJBsU2ysulb0VmqLuqtCpec8X5Qr4y3ais1xXOAPfuMSBwLqAAjNKD2RfJFtpR1o1OQmWYAIq1/s320/artisafeeling.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Wise declaration, brought to you by Iris Mae</div>
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I think in the next few weeks, I'm going to be doing a lot of "feeling" about my art. Right now I've been making lots of sweet little goodies and selling them at a local store. But they're cutesy and crafty and made specifically to make a buck or two. I'm going to figure out what I want to do for ME. I had a little something going at <a href="http://wishstudio.com/" target="_blank">wishstudio</a> but I know that <a href="http://www.mindytsonas.com/" target="_blank">sweet Mindy</a> is also doing a lot of "feeling" about art and so my work there is on hold for now... which is good timing for me since I don't feel confident in what the heck I'm doing.</div>
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So... there's that.</div>
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Art IS a feeling, and sometimes that feeling is confidence and sometimes it's confusion. I hope to feel inspiration soon.</div>
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I think I'll start with re-vamping this blog. I'm leaving this shell of design until I figure out what will feel right to me... so stay tuned.</div>
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Peace out</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-50340590011706124852012-04-05T06:11:00.002-05:002012-04-05T06:18:53.656-05:00no excuses<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKdYVdC16unaVN6TzBE_OVb3UUQYMFEOXs53csVr58ecVpZh03N3VNEPVwNKG4EAQoPLFqjblhgWvmS5bxBywVoyG9KMw-_pfPJJo3zpg3jwVAkxvzOgjEnPYNHF4kmhS14R618IM1DO2/s1600/kat.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUKdYVdC16unaVN6TzBE_OVb3UUQYMFEOXs53csVr58ecVpZh03N3VNEPVwNKG4EAQoPLFqjblhgWvmS5bxBywVoyG9KMw-_pfPJJo3zpg3jwVAkxvzOgjEnPYNHF4kmhS14R618IM1DO2/s320/kat.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5727874518875081090" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: normal; ">ever since I moved to this tiny, spaceless apartment I've been using it as an excuse for not CREATING... and it really </span><i>is</i> and excuse but I just don't feel inspired here.<div style="text-align: center;">but my friend <a href="http://wishstudio.com/about-mindy/">Mindy</a> offered the <a href="http://wishstudio.com/2012/02/20/new-become-an-artist-in-residence-at-wishstudio/">perfect solution</a>. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> and I took her up on it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">and you can read about it:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 100%; "> </span><a href="http://wishstudio.com/2012/04/04/84-miles/" style="font-size: 100%; ">here</a></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-71177232676161648722012-04-01T18:18:00.005-05:002012-04-01T18:34:26.191-05:00rising<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSosoIF92Ppp_zvR5jwMTsgBKn4fi9eQzdI2GRS7k_zWIrzhlYbSnIM-7noBmFVUH5tLjD0RI2JpWXAQ2qWvOdkxkg9yDzhB1V3aFOKOUs6-8sSrW-_I8OL7PB0Fu4R3X9malIToPHSI_/s1600/rise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSosoIF92Ppp_zvR5jwMTsgBKn4fi9eQzdI2GRS7k_zWIrzhlYbSnIM-7noBmFVUH5tLjD0RI2JpWXAQ2qWvOdkxkg9yDzhB1V3aFOKOUs6-8sSrW-_I8OL7PB0Fu4R3X9malIToPHSI_/s320/rise.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5726579533135118370" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; ">whooooooooosssssssshhhhhhhh!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;font-size: 100%; ">(blowing the dust off this blog)</div><div style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;font-size: 100%; ">I'm thinking of rising up again... standing tall and proud on the blog... you with?</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-8110473955611050362011-10-30T17:46:00.003-05:002011-10-30T17:53:23.376-05:00etsy-ing it up<div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">look who has an etsy shop!<br /></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisN-qBQeNunFQumM7Wz8FBJgJqDtq9Fgl6q2JuRmVCihrKQC03Hz2caSxD1j9-0WmnduAF6wEH2ugSSIL_JusjnXQHE7pOpYzYDdRTsrIW9e8420MoFMqoh2eH0RE-lZl_8E79lL0RqL7w/s1600/etsy+pins+025.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 247px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669421099710650082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisN-qBQeNunFQumM7Wz8FBJgJqDtq9Fgl6q2JuRmVCihrKQC03Hz2caSxD1j9-0WmnduAF6wEH2ugSSIL_JusjnXQHE7pOpYzYDdRTsrIW9e8420MoFMqoh2eH0RE-lZl_8E79lL0RqL7w/s400/etsy+pins+025.JPG" /></a> </div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop/anotherroundplease">Another Round Please</a> is now open for business... </div><br /><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzQTQ_RYrWpoHqhLKWho9z8CO8U-ufZN9VyrABXNCnCD3w_tbBlnWQieigJGVaTFlD4FAt_xJC67d4zIhAAU2s9ta2cKyALTAmJEhlgYoAIrCkQ-ny_2gYdi0aUy58oGqK9VbqHgYFQbi/s1600/grandmothers+closeup.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 212px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669421658193989570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKzQTQ_RYrWpoHqhLKWho9z8CO8U-ufZN9VyrABXNCnCD3w_tbBlnWQieigJGVaTFlD4FAt_xJC67d4zIhAAU2s9ta2cKyALTAmJEhlgYoAIrCkQ-ny_2gYdi0aUy58oGqK9VbqHgYFQbi/s320/grandmothers+closeup.jpg" /> <br /><p align="center"></a><br /><br />(please excuse the lack of wreaths, I'm making them as fast as I can and selling them QUICKLY!) </p>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-23549146236828707512011-09-24T08:36:00.014-05:002011-09-24T09:35:22.100-05:00RAW<div align="center">I drove to NH last Tuesday night... so nervous that I was doing something so crazy... driving 2 hours after a long workday and then back home? I'm glad I don't take myself seriously sometimes because it was a beautiful trip.<br />Here's what happened:<br />It started with <a href="http://wishstudio.com/2011/09/13/living-in-the-raw-the-many-ways-and-faces/">this</a><br /><br /><iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Jc0C7y7Oxhg" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br /><br /><br />which turned into <a href="http://wishstudio.com/2011/09/02/raw-night-with-jenica-mckenzie/">this</a><br /><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmirN2yC41NPBka2UaM_aRjig6HOdJe5ljTcozd-iQ5uUwVL7Yw3QmnjRxo6bm0Sbn-W7IPbh0-ipAors3vDjrORMBgMcFn_q433n1p7jehukJLZMb2KoTTtSyl0YwDhonCEqO4Pv4K6hz/s1600/0913112206.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932095692589682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmirN2yC41NPBka2UaM_aRjig6HOdJe5ljTcozd-iQ5uUwVL7Yw3QmnjRxo6bm0Sbn-W7IPbh0-ipAors3vDjrORMBgMcFn_q433n1p7jehukJLZMb2KoTTtSyl0YwDhonCEqO4Pv4K6hz/s400/0913112206.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnYNm8CCRqRWVi9XJufuE1yo7mu2WLK3g0k-gwjqG0QuGTugGIbDCRtmEOzvnAdeN8-9DNZ8D5T94CXWHnY1wzobbfS5AZlaEhQZqogtIhCHRauz68L_sX_uUEBMyGzkoRXot0zCfN7EX/s1600/0913112205a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932090187974354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdnYNm8CCRqRWVi9XJufuE1yo7mu2WLK3g0k-gwjqG0QuGTugGIbDCRtmEOzvnAdeN8-9DNZ8D5T94CXWHnY1wzobbfS5AZlaEhQZqogtIhCHRauz68L_sX_uUEBMyGzkoRXot0zCfN7EX/s400/0913112205a.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FbrHsW3dE73FDW9tMfeYZmWnciFBZwzVedZ4WxPbjWKShlEBKepSWHHnTErKdKEJVGFRM_z8_BSN7fdht-p7sW3Ox8vRR7rjr2R6XhV7pHCRTTpGk_vJ5r63ecBUsF-6qpAAW9_sNajJ/s1600/0913112205.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932093353399042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9FbrHsW3dE73FDW9tMfeYZmWnciFBZwzVedZ4WxPbjWKShlEBKepSWHHnTErKdKEJVGFRM_z8_BSN7fdht-p7sW3Ox8vRR7rjr2R6XhV7pHCRTTpGk_vJ5r63ecBUsF-6qpAAW9_sNajJ/s400/0913112205.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggMcJhS-OKkmPWXDr-HYT4Ilv_NLExMFC4F_OP3kOb81qGEJ_L4t5MYs-AHiwjyk8RzMGVu_dv_XeFodG21Iymd3x0m_jenbQwkFP6NVC0zKs802j16QEziAenLYOWr4JpPkE4H7JAaN1/s1600/0913112201.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932088599684482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggMcJhS-OKkmPWXDr-HYT4Ilv_NLExMFC4F_OP3kOb81qGEJ_L4t5MYs-AHiwjyk8RzMGVu_dv_XeFodG21Iymd3x0m_jenbQwkFP6NVC0zKs802j16QEziAenLYOWr4JpPkE4H7JAaN1/s400/0913112201.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLPPPE7pO-ox4Ip0ep4XyhhO3gjrGqmKU81eXbdKF9fFd7eowSh6wSqUV1G05UfTpmNCURRtYBSJq9IbbvsyskwU0Zvo4bwbCX-J5f0fBocEHfIt85wWuaC4VD3L_F7YxiT_-4ca_eepO/s1600/0913112212b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932642626329042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLPPPE7pO-ox4Ip0ep4XyhhO3gjrGqmKU81eXbdKF9fFd7eowSh6wSqUV1G05UfTpmNCURRtYBSJq9IbbvsyskwU0Zvo4bwbCX-J5f0fBocEHfIt85wWuaC4VD3L_F7YxiT_-4ca_eepO/s400/0913112212b.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdq_lKDXyxBuBWLIGSJU3XM6Fsd01y9xw_SMfw7LDr5fHG8qWDgeyT6bi9UZKMTeDvxqMaYbPIhP2RhH5RZxCR_EBRBBOV4Do2Cet_11dpECgZrduZiHeGobj63x1ICHZKImNX2Vbbpmqy/s1600/0913112212a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932643999622274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdq_lKDXyxBuBWLIGSJU3XM6Fsd01y9xw_SMfw7LDr5fHG8qWDgeyT6bi9UZKMTeDvxqMaYbPIhP2RhH5RZxCR_EBRBBOV4Do2Cet_11dpECgZrduZiHeGobj63x1ICHZKImNX2Vbbpmqy/s400/0913112212a.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBceLZfmkoE2DdsnYyoEnMFw6VlESQbn8qx9z4Vx3jypX-33lzeTEQAuU6TEF9OEHzBcrnfIx73fYOH1JFnBlheWo-8jNz-tn_GUHv0xEYg9NPeo2dNrD5lfldkkOFdIE5qPEtHGdXxlmg/s1600/0913112208a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655932637223565714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBceLZfmkoE2DdsnYyoEnMFw6VlESQbn8qx9z4Vx3jypX-33lzeTEQAuU6TEF9OEHzBcrnfIx73fYOH1JFnBlheWo-8jNz-tn_GUHv0xEYg9NPeo2dNrD5lfldkkOFdIE5qPEtHGdXxlmg/s400/0913112208a.jpg" /></a> </div><br /><div align="center"><br /><br />where I met these lovely ladies: (please click thier names, you won't be sorry, some of them have beautifully captured our magical get-together)<br /><br /><br />Nina (<a href="http://thewholeself.blogspot.com/2011/09/circle-magic.html">the whole self</a>) our beautiful hostess<br /><br />Jenica (<a href="http://www.jenicamckenzie.com/theonelittleone/2011/9/20/along-the-path.html">out of ashes</a>)<br /><br />Mindy (<a href="http://mindysblog.wishstudio.com/2011/09/08/2129/">under a pink sky</a>) and (<a href="http://wishstudio.com/2011/09/19/feeling-raw/">wishstudio</a>)<br /><br />Jill (<a href="http://jillmarienalette.blogspot.com/">finding my way</a>)<br /><br />Jess (<a href="http://seekyourcourse.com/blog/2011/09/on-the-road-raw-new-england/">seek your course</a>)<br /><br />Anna-Marie (<a href="http://www.amraven.com/">sacred space studios</a>)<br /><br />Miranda (<a href="http://studiomothers.com/">studio mothers</a>) (<a href="http://www.mirandahersey.com/">creativity coaching for creative mothers</a>) and (<a href="http://www.penandpress.com/home.php">pen and press</a>)<br /><br />Teena (<a href="http://www.littlebirdvv.blogspot.com/">little bird by funky mommy</a>)<br /><br />and<br /><br />Maya (<a href="http://thiseverymoment.posterous.com/">this every moment</a>) and (<a href="http://www.papayamaya.blogspot.com/">one paragraph at a time</a>)<br /><br />and ended with this:<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MqHh-D1puLnBbp3ELmUHpHt98TpKRB7o0bafqaUTw8FUlufYQsOGzLVYuNnHdLj2IzrPIscY6NDd5OcbQuVK5oEbhdh7fwLjPFAqY8NRmn-aSvzuBT9zNIHqQsqExcLUuVlRp6g3vZBz/s1600/0913112208.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655930728675700370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MqHh-D1puLnBbp3ELmUHpHt98TpKRB7o0bafqaUTw8FUlufYQsOGzLVYuNnHdLj2IzrPIscY6NDd5OcbQuVK5oEbhdh7fwLjPFAqY8NRmn-aSvzuBT9zNIHqQsqExcLUuVlRp6g3vZBz/s400/0913112208.jpg" /></a> </div></div></div></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-48574892369862383802011-08-27T19:26:00.004-05:002011-08-27T19:34:59.147-05:00CAKE break!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDorhUmngMuLRyY4200Nyo9bG9lEEkCMu-CNC4GcMOEQ61-DTvmly9e7krwGfm83bdzTeckQtnYC71LAnhtrK1M3TKdWaJ52T-ayOc8pjLRm-oc-02wWGfuLhivQP1RvSGp_IuSITi2cK/s1600/Sage%2527s+11th+Birthday+004.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645696856540792738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDorhUmngMuLRyY4200Nyo9bG9lEEkCMu-CNC4GcMOEQ61-DTvmly9e7krwGfm83bdzTeckQtnYC71LAnhtrK1M3TKdWaJ52T-ayOc8pjLRm-oc-02wWGfuLhivQP1RvSGp_IuSITi2cK/s400/Sage%2527s+11th+Birthday+004.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div>it is my usual customer to offer you up a <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/11/have-cupcake.html">cupcake</a> (or <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2009/09/treat.html">two</a> or <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2009/04/break-time.html">ten</a>) when I need to take a break from TRM to pull my shit together. But, since I have eaten them all myself due to an unusually high stress volume, I'll offer you a leftover slice of Sage's 11th Birthday cake- made gluten free by Sugar Plum Bakery.</div>
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<br /><div>During this time I hope to answer the following questions (or maybe you could just answer them for me)</div>
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<br /><div>1- did facebook kill my blog?</div>
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<br /><div>2- I made a committment to bring all my supplies here once my very dear friend moved, I sorted through what I could keep to work on productively while in my tiny little space... but haven't done a freaking thing. Where did that committment go?</div>
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<br /><div>3- I don't work for the devil anymore but I'm still feeling the burn. How do I heal from that?</div>
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<br /><div>4- co-parenting with an idiot. any ideas?</div>
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<br /><div>5- where the fuck is my red bracelet? Has anyone seen it? </div>
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<br /><div>6- dating. want to? need to? scared to? </div>
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<br /><div>So there we have it... see you soon.</div>
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<br />~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-8602808181605496812011-08-17T09:45:00.003-05:002011-08-17T09:53:54.945-05:00Eleven
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<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptUAYzBAhp5ZGuedIJ9kSPelt3RsgQcKj31hKB71XgvwrrhtftgV01V_gQapaNdLo_wJvIb-gJ34cHMkr-1oRw3hfuk_rPVpLDYMPPyiQotURQ4Anjs8COSiUMS-5a0z0xxLaxADyiYum/s1600/IMG_0123.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641836508817693826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiptUAYzBAhp5ZGuedIJ9kSPelt3RsgQcKj31hKB71XgvwrrhtftgV01V_gQapaNdLo_wJvIb-gJ34cHMkr-1oRw3hfuk_rPVpLDYMPPyiQotURQ4Anjs8COSiUMS-5a0z0xxLaxADyiYum/s400/IMG_0123.JPG" /></a>
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<br /><div>Mr. Big Man is now fully immersed in the land of technology. Yup. It happened. He grew up and into the "I'm smarter than you are" phase and it's ok... as long as he maintains his outstanding gentleness and politeness skills. I can't believe he's eleven. And headed into middle school. It feels so strange that eleven years ago he was born, really sick, I was unable to hold him... just rub his little head with a steralized glove through a little hole in an incubator before he was rushed up to Boston, where they fixed him. Thank God for doctors.</div>
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<br /><div>He's smart, yes. But he's also thoughtful and hysterical. And he's my boy, and I'm proud of how he's growing.</div>
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<br /><div>Here are some great photos he's been taking lately:</div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjD7EQY5z1eaB4Ihd6dVzt_ci634fjD-8fKszD-3ZERTqb8SFjya4mXK6aRn8ETQIqw5QQIks-H7IirF8mndSAYCbCOaUDzJC9I-13kCObRw-YWwwk114pg1U9TxBmgarca-MGuo81m5xO/s1600/Camp+Celiac+2011+239.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641838012902147954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjD7EQY5z1eaB4Ihd6dVzt_ci634fjD-8fKszD-3ZERTqb8SFjya4mXK6aRn8ETQIqw5QQIks-H7IirF8mndSAYCbCOaUDzJC9I-13kCObRw-YWwwk114pg1U9TxBmgarca-MGuo81m5xO/s400/Camp+Celiac+2011+239.JPG" /></a>
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<br />~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-9872143293228300692011-07-13T09:03:00.001-05:002011-07-13T09:11:41.564-05:00Six<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9WAJ6lFpx6MdBpz19Ln0XKSqPa0E72_fmwlVwOrcP5flNJRbFH6ZI4THWu3O-gZwRn8Jl_UhMDs6EC6kfL3C-KPY1NrRTprpPfjcSrmf_anGnLUDTV5XwIOjNHw24VhUk5Ku1w8goGaS/s1600/0630071540.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628838999291195762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp9WAJ6lFpx6MdBpz19Ln0XKSqPa0E72_fmwlVwOrcP5flNJRbFH6ZI4THWu3O-gZwRn8Jl_UhMDs6EC6kfL3C-KPY1NrRTprpPfjcSrmf_anGnLUDTV5XwIOjNHw24VhUk5Ku1w8goGaS/s400/0630071540.jpg" /></a><br />from stylish<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kh-QV4KzsWx-Uk1_WhEEZyvbR0DFvgv0wSPoE_QvoKarH_bIcB6Iv2YOFxeBFyQInd6ssZyeZYZ7oOz88i4wPALH6kvCH9OuETPhIh0O4wJi0E5SwdhklF19FP8yjxgMgV68anvxzwLJ/s1600/22756_1323353078916_1083526320_2858751_8231062_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 377px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628839006256250466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_kh-QV4KzsWx-Uk1_WhEEZyvbR0DFvgv0wSPoE_QvoKarH_bIcB6Iv2YOFxeBFyQInd6ssZyeZYZ7oOz88i4wPALH6kvCH9OuETPhIh0O4wJi0E5SwdhklF19FP8yjxgMgV68anvxzwLJ/s400/22756_1323353078916_1083526320_2858751_8231062_n.jpg" /></a><br />to sassy<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHppr0bjFY44lq35YRnn1BZaUmXWeQDziYx2M9NaBsHuC0CzZiDSuI3o5khAUblUDdmFXWn-Lyaut5dBPh75-2OsS7D4WbiRIHJLNE_wH9jo4MagNk9NdTbTdP4QuTdaPQHidkaITq-7Pn/s1600/ballet.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628839008096761906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHppr0bjFY44lq35YRnn1BZaUmXWeQDziYx2M9NaBsHuC0CzZiDSuI3o5khAUblUDdmFXWn-Lyaut5dBPh75-2OsS7D4WbiRIHJLNE_wH9jo4MagNk9NdTbTdP4QuTdaPQHidkaITq-7Pn/s400/ballet.jpg" /></a><br />to so full of beauty and grace<br /><br /><br /><br />You are six, you are wonderful and you are ours.<br /><br /><div></div></div></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-25483899184142423942011-06-03T08:26:00.005-05:002011-06-03T09:01:16.553-05:00One Year<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRBuy6tBisdaaf3pLTJ03n9y51GWAy60aAY0QpG8rvKZiO1xpjCWTU58dbeTm703gAjsEtSl7YculwMZGO4eLeQOdB7BFwGYKPpcncJZW7gXeWiOlnvXTt7INR2RVPG-pZo_QToXit_IXV/s1600/door.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 288px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613984473323550306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRBuy6tBisdaaf3pLTJ03n9y51GWAy60aAY0QpG8rvKZiO1xpjCWTU58dbeTm703gAjsEtSl7YculwMZGO4eLeQOdB7BFwGYKPpcncJZW7gXeWiOlnvXTt7INR2RVPG-pZo_QToXit_IXV/s400/door.jpg" /></a> it's been one year since <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/05/ground-beneath-my-feet.html">this</a></div><br /><div align="center">and I'm ok</div><br /><div align="center">I'm doing ok now.</div><br /><div align="center">In one year I had</div><br /><div align="center">people come out of the woodwork to pull me up,</div><br /><div align="center">rescuers near and far nursing me back to the land of the living</div><br /><div align="center">children to send to camp</div><br /><div align="center">a <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/08/cinematic-orchestra-to-build-home.html">home</a> to move</div><br /><div align="center">memories to pack up</div><br /><div align="center">or leave behind</div><br /><div align="center">or throw away</div><br /><div align="center">a <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/08/why-my-life-is-awesome-love-letter.html">camp</a> to attend</div><br /><div align="center">creative <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-see-you-too.html">projects</a> to be involved in</div><br /><div align="center">efforts to make myself feel <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/10/project-anti-loser.html">worth it</a></div><br /><div align="center">a child to send off to her first day of Kindergarten</div><br /><div align="center">and one to his first day of his last year in elementary school</div><br /><div align="center">a car to crash</div><br /><div align="center">a car to buy</div><br /><div align="center">a first holiday to make it through, which was spent with a dear friend and her loving family</div><br /><div align="center">a <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/11/hey-guys-its-christmas-time-kinda-sorta.html">second holiday</a> to make it through with help from my community</div><br /><div align="center">gifts of <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/12/i-believe.html">hope</a></div><br /><div align="center">and love</div><br /><div align="center">and a much more concrete plan to spend the day in celebration with my children</div><br /><div align="center">and then the new year</div><br /><div align="center">where I made it, after 5 years onto the state childcare subsidy program</div><br /><div align="center">spent time with my brother and his family in the snowy lovely woods of Maine</div><br /><div align="center">and went to see my loving sister and my beautiful nieces in the springtime rush of Georgia</div><br /><div align="center">and met the most JOYFUL women in my world</div><br /><div align="center">and had many bumps in the road in my work life</div><br /><div align="center">but stood my ground</div><br /><div align="center">and spoke from my heart in hopes of changing things</div><br /><div align="center">(still pending, but not entirely hopeless anymore)</div><br /><div align="center">I've taken care of the emotional needs of the children, especially the little one who has so many questions and only a limited amount of understanding as to why her life is so different now.</div><br /><div align="center">I've starting serving on a committee to enhance the arts in our schools here</div><br /><div align="center">which has been exciting and fulfilling.</div><br /><div align="center">I told the <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/11/truthiness.html">truth</a></div><br /><div align="center">and then explained the <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2010/11/why-i-did-what-i-did.html">truth</a> about the truth</div><br /><div align="center">I've </div><br /><div align="center">made it through countless childcare crises</div><br /><div align="center">money issues</div><br /><div align="center">sadness</div><br /><div align="center">pain</div><br /><div align="center">anger</div><br /><div align="center">a LOT of anger</div><br /><div align="center">and into the guidance of my Minister</div><br /><div align="center">who has given me fuel to make MY way</div><br /><div align="center">and told me that I have grace (who ME?)</div><br /><div align="center">and encouraged me to fight the good fight on behalf of my children</div><br /><div align="center">and their childcare</div><br /><div align="center">and a decision made without regard for the impact it would make on a few families in my town</div><br /><div align="center">and now I'm opening eyes</div><br /><div align="center">and encouraging spotlights to shine on the issue</div><br /><div align="center">and so far, so good in getting a response that MAY just change things</div><br /><div align="center">not only for myself but for the deserving families in this town.</div><br /><div align="center">I've been signing up for camps</div><br /><div align="center">getting scholarships to help</div><br /><div align="center">receiving news that my children will be aided in food and transportation to school next year</div><br /><div align="center">relieving one more worry that I can now put aside</div><br /><div align="center">In other words doing everything possible to take care of us, to take care of our needs, even if it means sucking it up and accepting help that is readily available.</div><br /><div align="center">Even if it means filling out miles and miles of paperwork and going to countless appointments.</div><br /><div align="center">Every effort</div><br /><div align="center">has been</div><br /><div align="center">entirely worth it</div><br /><div align="center">even if I don't sleep at night from worry</div><br /><div align="center">or geese</div><br /><div align="center">or a rooster</div><br /><div align="center">(myth: roosters only crow at dawn)</div><br /><div align="center">I've started getting back to ME</div><br /><div align="center">to my art</div><br /><div align="center">to my <a href="http://thereluctantmermaid.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-feel-happy-disaster-coming-on.html">creativity</a></div><br /><div align="center">to my life</div><br /><div align="center">to my love</div><br /><div align="center">to my happy place.</div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-47727459418549266352011-05-22T07:29:00.002-05:002011-05-22T07:40:02.370-05:00Sundays<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEqSaX_ggRi04t6YkS4A3n45Agdiod8S_VC7Ubb7g8uMB43DuPkirgCXy27ZtBwYoqW5SodddfTmssI9G_dPy-7SX77mIPSSAzjgPKzqSY-DBbEj4dktuki5ntoUQLGM7Oy2tZGZNG17N/s1600/0424111614.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609516789310534658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWEqSaX_ggRi04t6YkS4A3n45Agdiod8S_VC7Ubb7g8uMB43DuPkirgCXy27ZtBwYoqW5SodddfTmssI9G_dPy-7SX77mIPSSAzjgPKzqSY-DBbEj4dktuki5ntoUQLGM7Oy2tZGZNG17N/s400/0424111614.jpg" /></a><br />Sundays are really hard. It's the one morning of the week that I wake up, alone in the apartment except for the cat at the end of my bed who is always staring at me the minute I open my eyes. How long has he been staring at me? It's creepy.<br />Monday through Saturday, the <em>thought</em> of Sunday sounds delicious, full of hope, full of creativity, full of <strong>rest</strong> for this weary body that works 6 days a week. <br />Sunday is mine.<br />Sunday is supposed to be <em>my</em> day. <br />But Sunday is lonely.<br /><br />I have grand plans through the week<br />"<em>this Sunday I'm going to go for a walk around Powder Point"</em><br /><em>"this Sunday I'll take my bike out and maybe ride across the bridge"</em><br /><em>"this Sunday I'll go to "the studio".....</em><br />and what. what? what am I going to do there?<br />My paints are organized by size, waiting for me on a shelf<br />My paper is stacked veritcally, waiting for me on another shelf<br />And I spend every Sunday, ignoring the grand plans in my mind, and finding many reasons why I just can't do any of those things I dream of all week.<br /><br />I think I'm stuck. I miss my children. I don't know how to just <strong>BE.</strong><br />What is it going to take to get me going, back to that stack of unfinished paintings?~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-13544723841124243802011-05-11T06:31:00.002-05:002011-05-11T06:35:00.059-05:00Sweets for the sweet<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8_-fcCLkmaorzEh5wXxsmiacV4cMyYwwrY1Ctg2yhbk6eF4tO36XCT8QdufuDnAYP7pA0x637PneVQgDfxaPwFWR34iUIY8z0UUbLIYy9rm7yr5PeJGpwEvr86o820u2CFx7qgM91zyI/s1600/Jen%2527s+THIRTIETH+Birthday%2521+023.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605420285139784642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ8_-fcCLkmaorzEh5wXxsmiacV4cMyYwwrY1Ctg2yhbk6eF4tO36XCT8QdufuDnAYP7pA0x637PneVQgDfxaPwFWR34iUIY8z0UUbLIYy9rm7yr5PeJGpwEvr86o820u2CFx7qgM91zyI/s400/Jen%2527s+THIRTIETH+Birthday%2521+023.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center">It's been a MONTH since my last post!</div><br /><div align="center">Oh my!</div><br /><div align="center">It's been a busy one... and when I find a moment of quiet I'll share.</div><br /><div align="center">But for now, enjoy the sweetness of life.</div><br /><div align="center">Or these cookies and marzipan.</div><br /><div align="center">Delish.</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-12848616563810430792011-04-11T06:12:00.004-05:002011-04-11T09:04:18.504-05:00I feel a happy disaster coming on!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYPOQWR9SK7opZ40zN6FTArKLhgaS_VaWPGTYCz7QfmzqDPSkYTfOKHt1SRRChiXcxmiaQ8i2HzLZHMjN0YodrqUmXAEFfy9fmkRYYQhewPCgfam52ZEgPOFvzMJTVqf_iP-Dux5kxPUH/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 298px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594326370667543138" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYPOQWR9SK7opZ40zN6FTArKLhgaS_VaWPGTYCz7QfmzqDPSkYTfOKHt1SRRChiXcxmiaQ8i2HzLZHMjN0YodrqUmXAEFfy9fmkRYYQhewPCgfam52ZEgPOFvzMJTVqf_iP-Dux5kxPUH/s400/untitled.bmp" /></a> <br /><div>Springtime, time to create... time to focus and gather and relish messy hands. Time to step into my space, take stock of my materials, cross my fingers that the freeze didn't ruin any of my supplies and time to start planning. I want to start off with a bang. I want to just dive off the cliff into a cloud of paint, or land in the arms of some fabric. I want you to join me. Will you? I want to start planning a night. A RAW night. What is RAW? Well, you can read about it here:</div><br /><div><a href="http://wishstudio.com/2011/04/10/living-within-the-raw-how-women-who-live-a-truthful-life-bequeath-an-artful-life/">Living Within the RAW: How Women Who Live a Truthful Life Bequeath An Artful Life</a> </div><br /><div>It was written by one of my artistic heros, <a href="http://www.jenicamckenzie.com/">Jenica</a> xoxo</div><br /><div>Let's play. Don't live in my town? That's ok! I'm 35 minutes south of Boston right on the ocean so make the journey! It's worth it, I promise! I want a Springtime gathering... I bet you do too... Leave me a message, contact me on facebook, send me an email (button is on the right). </div><br /><div>Let's DO this thing!</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-44191978144734228582011-03-28T15:53:00.002-05:002011-03-28T15:56:15.615-05:00cracked<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAUXWrX9kum0yXsmjJugRYyQCbGhF3f7Ld12nT2exn-6RNqq_sDs1JJXKD-ov5wv6uzje23uxkHtzXNjS8-5zbCEk_w2cvGLncAMMjpXfOLmK9LaaG4c1h79h2BSxVOdibVohmbTS9ev0o/s1600/Georgia+006.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589237124464112210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAUXWrX9kum0yXsmjJugRYyQCbGhF3f7Ld12nT2exn-6RNqq_sDs1JJXKD-ov5wv6uzje23uxkHtzXNjS8-5zbCEk_w2cvGLncAMMjpXfOLmK9LaaG4c1h79h2BSxVOdibVohmbTS9ev0o/s400/Georgia+006.JPG" /></a> <br /><div>I keep putting all my eggs in one basket, and then tripping over myself while I carry them. I thought getting away and taking a little break would help, but it just made it harder to come back. I think I'll take a little break now, before I really crack. Anyone who would still like to guest spot for me would be welcome with open arms. Just let me know. And please, enjoy these eggs... they belong to some pretty little feathered gals in Georgia at my sisters house. They were delicious.</div>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5375182580034649478.post-55017933121562495052011-03-02T10:10:00.005-05:002011-03-03T07:30:35.882-05:00Where am I?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgha6-qSWN3sp8yXZNf_2e2j5IWe1-TP7wsdLqZJG_WFlThkzWk783KRrnl6zu6MAsor-7Fczxfb_rTMSXd7XMTEiHBkaPIEbz4EsFb0A945UCGR8g-KhzkClU6CzMgjvVlMl3Tjf6QK0hb/s1600/28807_1417742158584_1083526320_3089989_8015587_n.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579503947488008370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgha6-qSWN3sp8yXZNf_2e2j5IWe1-TP7wsdLqZJG_WFlThkzWk783KRrnl6zu6MAsor-7Fczxfb_rTMSXd7XMTEiHBkaPIEbz4EsFb0A945UCGR8g-KhzkClU6CzMgjvVlMl3Tjf6QK0hb/s400/28807_1417742158584_1083526320_3089989_8015587_n.jpg" /></a><br /><div>I've been thinking lately about all the art and all the crafting I used to do. Used to. I know that a lot of that halted with the move to our apartment, where every square inch is taken up by just <em>living</em>. Now, this post is not at all a post where I feel sorry for myself, so please don't feel sorry for me. It's an honest and true reflection of where my thoughts are lately.</div><br /><div>It's been hard to step away from it all... and really look from the outside in as to where I was even <em>going</em> with what I was creating. I dabble, I'm a dabbler and I am coming to the realization more and more that I really have no direction. I do what I feel like doing at the moment; making a necklace, painting a picture, collaging, writing, making wreaths, sewing. Does that make me an artist? I kinda don't think that it does. I don't have a "thing" that is <em>my</em> "thing". I see other peoples work, I read wonderful blogs and have many books that inspire me... and I dream of making these things myself. But, am I making them unique just for me or am I just copying what I see... I kinda think I'm a copier.</div><br /><div>So, where does that leave me? I need to figure it out. Spring is almost here, all of my supplies are stored at my dear friends house where she has given me space. I'm hoping upon hope that my paints and my glues have not been destroyed in the unheated garage loft where they've been hibernating in the freezing cold. </div><br /><div>Am I going to find these things when the weather is better, and not know what to do with them anymore?</div><br /><div>What if I unpack all of my things and don't <em>feel </em>anything?</div><br /><div>What if the winter, and the changes in my life and the length of time I've spent away from creating makes creating anything impossible.</div><br /><div>What is mine?</div><br /><div>What is someone elses that I copied?</div><br /><div>What if I don't love this anymore?</div><br /><div>What if I don't know how to find my creative voice?</div><br /><div>What if I don't remember where I was going with this tree painting?</div><br /><div>How do I do this?</div><br /><div>Where am I in all of this... where am I?</div><div></div><div>*********************************************</div><div>I just wanted to follow up with a very special comment that was left on my facebook page by an incredibly awesome friend (who I STILL need to get together with... LISA! We need to make a plan!) She shared something that just completely says it ALL: </div><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><strong>"Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street sign...s, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don’t bother concealing your thievery - celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: “It’s not where you take things from - it’s where you take them to."<br />— Jim Jarmusch</strong>~Kat~http://www.blogger.com/profile/13910327288366042238noreply@blogger.com4