tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-219552052024-03-13T12:26:36.281-04:00hootie...gives a hoot?Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.comBlogger575125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-50090622679126691192023-11-27T20:42:00.001-05:002023-11-27T20:42:05.203-05:00<p> Dear Readers, </p><p>It's been so many years since I've written on here. I am still an open book, but somehow I don't always need to be so visible. </p><p>I think I'd like to take up writing again. </p><p>I am no longer that same person who was Hootie. I</p><p> have grown </p><p>and matured </p><p>and healed </p><p>and it feels great. </p><p>I miss writing and sharing my thoughts into the ether. </p><p>January 1st is coming. Maybe that will be my resolution. </p><p>I'll likely write soon one of my other spaces, stay tune! </p><p>Lisa </p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-55126840070996212782018-12-09T11:27:00.000-05:002018-12-09T11:27:14.952-05:00Blooming Elsewhere...Dear Readers,<br />
<br />
Thank you for following me. <br />
<br />
I have written as Hootie for so long, and I have experienced so much. I am no longer the same person I once was and my writing reflects that. <br />
<br />
I have recently discovered a book of poems, whose author's words have touched my soul. <br />
<br />
I leave you, as Hootie, with her words:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>this is the recipe of life</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
said my mother</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
as she held me in her arms as i wept</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>think of those flowers you plant</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>in the garden each year</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>they will teach you</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>that people too</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>must wilt</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>fall</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>root</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>rise</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i>in order to bloom</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
~rupi kaur</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Wise readers and friends will find my new blog.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yours fondly, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>~Lisa Kroll</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-5398057371724926982018-08-11T21:38:00.000-04:002018-08-11T22:49:19.695-04:00A Summer Without....<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At the beginning of summer, I made a decision. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No dating apps. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had found myself checking my phone way too much for a validation that wasn't happening. My self worth was starting to tank, and I realized I was putting too much pressure on myself. I had been thinking, <i>What is wrong with me? Why doesn't anyone want to date me?</i> <i>Why aren't people I am interested in on line interested in me? </i>So, I gave myself permission to stop that crap. I wasn't going to pay for stressing myself out any more. If I am meant to meet someone, or be with someone...it will happen. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My thoughts are that one day, one of my friends might think of someone who would be a fun match for me. Or maybe one of my students will have a single, my-age, grandfather. Then, if that person and I are meant to be together, it will happen. I know one can't predict or control attraction. When I meet the right person, we will hang out, do things people who want to get to know one another do, talk and either click, or not. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To combat the lonely moments I felt, I filled my time with things I like to do: self care things. I read, wrote, cleaned out old papers, de-cluttered my computer, worked on house projects, or things for my classroom. I put together puzzles and baked MY favorite cookies. I was also spontaneous with my girl friends. I found that whole '<i>if you build it, they will come'</i> thing works! If I wanted companionship, I just needed to ask. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One beautiful weathered night, I just wanted to sit out back on my deck, and drink wine with friends. So I made it happen. Another time, a friend from school and I planned a Ladies Game Night, and we played <i>Cards Against Humanity</i>. I must admit, it was the most polite game of CAH I've ever played. I think we needed more alcohol, or maybe a different, cleaner game for the crew invited. One night, I took Toby to an outdoor concert, figuring the worse thing that could happen is I'd be asked to leave if dogs weren't allowed. Another night I called a theatre in a nearby town and inquired if tickets were still available for that night's performance. I just had enough time to get there...so I went. I ended up sitting in the front row. Spur of the moment live theatre! I binge watched shows until the wee hours of the morning. I laughed out loud at stupid, funny movies that I've always wanted to see. I allowed myself to fall asleep, and spend the entire night on the couch, too. I didn't even brush my teeth that night. Such a rebel! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In the end, it was still a hard summer. I still had low moments, and I still worry I'll be alone forever. My sister reminds me often that as humans, we aren't meant to be alone. I am grateful for my summer break to be over. I am happy to be back into the chaos of my classroom. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am trying to have faith that my someone is still out there. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Maybe he's working on healing himself, just as I am. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> simple wonder woman, creator of my own happiness, lover of life, and human being</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">----------</span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Listening to Rachel Platten, <i>Fight Song</i>; Family of the Year, <i>Hero</i>; Ruth B, <i>Lost Boy</i>; and my Instrumental Playlist...songs by The Piano Guys and Simply Three. </span><br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-69073003602785647132018-07-28T22:00:00.000-04:002018-08-11T21:37:39.644-04:00Toby versus Peppé le Pew<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When Toby goes outside, he has a happy saunter that he hadn't had when I first brought him home in December. I commented on this to a friend, and they confirmed my observation. It's amazing what love can do for an animal. Together, Toby and I make a happy team, I love watching him when he's outside, as he patrols his yard. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, I heard Toby going crazy inside, at the back window. Something was outside, and he wanted whatever it was. I looked and saw a skunk underneath my bird feeders, eating fallen seed. Needless to say, Toby was not allowed outside. I snuck out of the house through another door, and shooed our new friend away. THEN, I let Toby out. Knowing now that I had a skunk, I was on high alert and cautious whenever I let Toby out. A few times, I did have to clap my hands and talk loudly to make Peppé leave the yard. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last night, I thought Toby wasn't feeling well. It was 11:30 pm, I had just taken him out front and we were headed to bed, when he ran downstairs and was whining at the door. I followed him down, looked before I opened the door, let him out and then...OH, CRUMBS!!!!! The skunk WAS out back. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was yelling like a crazy woman, "TOBY! NO!!!!" Over and over! I was hoping my hunter's instinct to listen to me was stronger than his instinct to get the skunk. I knew better, but I hoped. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Toby is very fast and he kept charging the skunk. He was barring his teeth and barking like a mad hunter at the skunk's face. The skunk was maybe a little confused by the crazy lady shouting and the fast, very large and loud dog protecting his yard, that he struggled to turn his backside towards Toby. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As he tried to run to under my deck, which has wire almost completely to the ground to keep my dog from escaping, Toby was right by his side. Peppé did wiggle under the deck, and then he sprayed. He didn't get Toby. What a lucky dog. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have all the supplies I need to wash a skunk tagged dog: baking soda, peroxide and Dawn dish soap. Unused, they are spending another day sitting in my cleaning supply closet. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am sure Toby may not be so lucky the next time. Hopefully, THIS skunk has learned his lesson. </span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Last night, my happy dog did not need a bath, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">and he slept snuggled on top of my bed. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Just like every night. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i> Guardian of Toby, the luckiest dog of The Burrow</i></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-35870311461610437962018-07-08T10:00:00.000-04:002018-07-28T20:24:27.801-04:00Feeling Grounded<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My mind seems to have settled down over these past few years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am grateful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It once raced to the point that I thought my head was going to explode, or maybe I was going crazy. The emotions inside me were frantically all wanting to be heard at once. My head would pound. My eyes struggled to focus as the pain behind them made me simply want to shut my eyes and tune out the World. Sometimes, I would physically feel my body clench up as my fists pulled inward, towards my racing heart. My arms would close in as well. Instinctively, I'd collapse into a fetal like position, even if I was standing. My body was trying to close off all external stimuli.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Overload. Capacity full. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Deep breath.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Talk therapy helped. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I wasn't going crazy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Life was changing, and I wasn't insane. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I was very normal. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Our bodies are amazing, and mine sensed the high stress levels; it was trying to protect me in the best way it could. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I needed to learn to be in the moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I needed to learn to be mindful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Breathe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Inhale deeply through my nose. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hold that breath, and focus on taking it deep down into my lungs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Feel it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Exhale through my mouth, loudly, making sure all air is expelled, but note the sound of the rushing air as it goes over my teeth and through my lips. Feel my stress dissipating into space, leaving me cleansed. No longer is the stress inside me. When I am mindful, I am very aware of all around me, and of my own being. In the moment, I am here. I am fine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Rational thoughts slowly permeated the chaos inside my head. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are fine, I'd tell myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are strong.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You can do this.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are going to be all right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are going to be better than all right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You will survive (cue Gloria Gaynor, huh?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I look in the mirror, and tell my reflection,</span><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You are perfect.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">You have everything you need.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>You are enough. You are blessed.</i> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Let's be honest, we live in a harsh world. We need to practice self care, and that means nourishing our own souls. We need to start by being positive, and loving ourselves. It truly is the only way we can completely love others. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">My morning routine after I wake up, is to take Toby downstairs, let him out back, and wait inside for him to do his business. A few days ago, if my neighbors were watching, they might have witnessed something different, and personal. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I walked into the middle of my backyard as Toby went out, and I inhaled deeply. The sounds of the birds singing in the trees filled my ears. The smell of the fresh mowed grass filled my nose. The sparkle of the sun peeking through the green leaves, reflecting the morning dew touched my eyes, and the warmth of the Earth nuzzled my bare feet. I drank in the moment and allowed it to linger on and in me for over five minutes. I just stood in my backyard, breathing deeply. My heart filled with joy and I felt something come alive inside me. I realized I was feeling grounded. Literally, the Earth was claiming me as hers. The beauty of those moments were filling my soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am strong.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am better than all right. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I am living as I am meant to be living. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have everything I need. I am blessed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> ~Lisa Kroll</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> grounded, happy, perfect</span></i><br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-20618661560933837332018-07-01T10:32:00.000-04:002018-07-01T10:32:16.223-04:00Grand Memories...<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Social media reminded me yesterday morning, just five short years ago I was standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon. What a transforming trip. What a wonderful memory. At the time, I had no idea how much that trip was preparing me for my future. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Five years ago, I was alone in my travels. I called it my walkabout, and it was. I was forced to only think of myself for twelve days. What did <b>I </b>want to do each day? What did <b>I</b> want to see? Where did <b>I</b> want to go? What did <b>I</b> want to eat? So many years of being a caregiver, maid, cook, chauffeur, etc needed to be set aside for once. Being a wife and a mother were the only roles I really knew. I had truly forgotten who I was at my core. I was forced to be silent. No conversations. No one else to think about. I needed to learn to be okay with the quiet. When one is alone, to whom do they have to talk? I ended up listening to others...eavesdropping. I observed people. I watched interactions. I started to hear something that I hadn't heard before. It was my inner voice starting to talk. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today, when I look in the mirror, I don't see that same person who traveled alone five years ago. I have changed. Layers of my soul have peeled away. I have become a much better version of myself. I have been upgraded, so to speak. I feel I have always been a confident person, but the past few years have made me even more so. It is still hard to enter some places all alone in my home town. Shopping alone is easy, but a simple thing like dining out is more of a challenge. Who wants to go out to eat all by herself? I certainly won't go for a drink alone either!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This person who is me now...I like her. I am independent and happier. I feel more secure in who I am, in what I'll accept, and in what I like. I speak my mind, and care less about other's opinions. Concerning me, I mean. I still like to hear others opinions on life, and have deep conversations!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am grateful for the growth I have experienced. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am ready for my next adventure. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think it's about time I start planning that next <i>Grand Memory</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~Lisa Kroll</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> still spreading love, understanding, positivity </span></i>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-57613945316407662432018-06-10T07:55:00.001-04:002018-06-10T07:55:14.496-04:00Living Alone :: Being Independent as Being Lonely ::__________<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There are so many stages I have gone through since my divorce. I wish there was a handout, booklet, website, etc that had explicit instructions to follow. I wish I could look into a crystal ball and see my future, or at a minimum, be able to know where I am on this non-linear path of healing. Is there an ending point? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It is so hard NOT looking at another, yes online stalking happens a little, and that leaves me not feeling worth very much. I am smart enough to know that social media is a place where others post to show off. I do keep that in mind. Still, it causes me to wonder what did I do wrong? Why wasn't I enough? What is wrong with me? All questions I hope any average, crazy person who shared nearly thirty years of her life with a cheating Narcissist might ask herself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">It is hard to see words of praise for an other's support, as if I never was a supporter. Note to self: Free up your hard drive! It's now okay to destroy those thousands of photos you took over the years. It is hard to see over the top gifts displayed, recalling I once received a picture of pocket waders as my gift. Ordered too late to be on time, and so I could walk our dog without getting my feet wet. Mostly, it's really hard to see my children displayed as items with the trophy. I remain forever grateful that I have my children in my life, but I do not like to see them on display. Surely divorce was easier when social media didn't exist. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">However, this is not about the devil. He has hurt me, but I have learned to let it go. Divorce is a common thing in today's society, as is social media. Surviving being with someone who has a personality disorder is not as common. There isn't a T-shirt color I'll ever wear to symbolize my survivorship, nor are there runs or walks that will be done, but I am a survivor. Each day that goes by, I look up at the heavens and say thank you out loud to the Universe for releasing me from so much hostility and negativity. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Reflecting on the five stages of grief that one goes through with a divorce: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, I feel I am somewhere near the end of my path. It's been three years since my divorce was finalized, but longer since he emotionally checked out and then physically left. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Healing requires going through the emotional stages of grief. In an attempt to speed the process, one couples these emotional stages with self-soothing strategies. Dating sites are turned to and some less than perfect matches are tested out. Some perfect matches too, but if one isn't fully healed, they cannot possibly open their heart and trust before they have fully grieved. Other relationships MUST also be built. Same sex, meaning the sex you aren't attracted to, friendships are important because one needs to have <b><i>safe</i></b> relationships that will not, involve sex. When one is hurting, self-soothing with sex is a tool that unfortunately gets used. To prove that one is still desirable, one can make someone else happy, and one still has it, sex becomes an unhealthy tool. In the moment, the satisfying feelings seem justified. After the fact, they only make one feel worse. One wants to be desired not for sex, but for their brain, for how one compliments another, for their compassion, for their conversations, etc. With longevity in mind, those other qualities are truly the most important. Physically, we won't always be able to perform on cue...and I suspect our sexual appetite and stamina will betray us as we age. At least so many commercials and ads seem to imply this will happen without help. The sex you aren't attracted to relationships help build our trust, build our self esteems, and remind us we can be liked and loved for more than our bodies. This is just SO important!!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I have spent the past few years working on and renewing my female friendships. I am not attracted to females in the way I am to males. Sorry, ladies! I'm not the next Glennon or Elizabeth! :) I do believe that when some people get married, they buy into the societal unwritten rule that once you say "I do" that means you do everything as a couple...with your husband or wife. I know in all my Catholic upbringing I believed it hook, line and sinker. "The two shall become one", "...and a man leaves his family..." etc. In my being with someone who was so controlling, he was an equal opportunity abuser. No one ever measured up. Family, friends, no one was immune. Behind closed doors I was told such negativity about others. Because I was the sounding board, I told myself others just didn't understand him like I did. I told myself that I was special. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">And I was special. I could make him look good. Until I started to know all his secrets, flaws and eventually outshine him. Somewhere along the line I stopped putting him up on the artificial pedestal he is clinging to. That was when I discovered, that even I was not immune to his brutality. Thank you Universe for helping me be set free. With my female friendships, I have learned to be validated in who I am, and to validate others in true and sincere ways. I have learned how to be loved without needing to have sex to prove to someone else my worth. Love takes so many forms, and I have so much to give. Having sex is just a tiny part of how I want to show my next greatest lover that they mean the world to me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">When married, I know I had several years where I did need to put my children first, and I am happy I did so. They were young, and they needed me. As they aged though, I found myself missing something that went unnamed, and that I didn't even realize at the time I was missing. Reflecting on the past few years, I'm not sure how I ever survived without my close, numerous female friendships. My girlfriend groups have reminded me how to have a variety of conversations: deep and serious, light hearted and naughty. They have reminded me how to go out with friends for dinner, and how to laugh with others and at myself. I love our intimate conversations be they about our children, relationships, aging or something in the news. I love hearing other opinions and thoughts, as well as sharing mine. I suppose the take away from my marriage ending is I can tell my children, and anyone else who will listen to me say, don't lose your friends and friendships just because you get married! Find ways to stay connected! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">The current challenge I have been working on is filling in that blank in the title. Learning to live alone and love oneself is another stage to truly healing. Living alone, I have been learning what I like, and dislike. I have become stronger in my confidences, my abilities, and in my strengths. I try to solve challenges and problems on my own because I have become an even better problem solver. I don't need validation from some one else, because I prove to myself that I can, or that I know where to go, or who to ask for help. There is comfort and strength in being independent. I suppose when I was married I unknowingly cowered a bit because I subconsciously knew marriages can end. The old me certainly felt if my marriage ended I'd whither away into nothingness. How could I possibly survive? I felt I was a vine, intertwined with my host and if uprooted, I wouldn't, couldn't last. In living life, I have discovered that vines, have so many more hidden roots and shoots. They can't possibly die. In fact, they have so many that they come back even stronger than before. Three short years ago, I thought becoming a healed me was impossible. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I do still have fears, which I think are in our human nature.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> I am scared that this is as good as it gets. I'm scared I will be alone, and I will not get a chance at love again. I don't know how I'll ever meet someone who wants a mature, curvy, independent lady as their </span>soulmate<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. My dental hygienist happens to be a woman and I've all ready said I'm not into women. Sorry, Vicki! </span>lol<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> My opinion on dating sites is that the men my age there seem to be looking for young, needy things who will hook up and feed their egos. I am not young nor am I needy. I definitely am not shallow and will feed egos <b>only </b>if they warrant being fed. I want to compliment someone and have them compliment me. I don't need to be fixed. I am perfect just as I am. Being alone and being lonely are two very different feelings. The loneliness I feel is from lacking intimate connection with another human. I miss being held and kissed. This was also a take away from my divorce. It wasn't because I was married to someone who kissed and held me, far from it in fact. I learned this about myself from the self-soothing stage AFTER my divorce. Self-soothing isn't a bad thing, as long as one realizes it doesn't help one move forward, it simply is a must for survival. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Putting my faith into the Universe and s</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">till holding out for my complimentary partner, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"><i> Independent, Curvy, Smart, Animal Loving, Life Thinker, Survivor</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-5827740290852509082018-05-28T10:07:00.001-04:002019-01-26T07:29:03.151-05:00Wrapping up the School Year...<i>“Charlotte,” said Wilbur. “We’re all going home today. The Fair is almost over. Won’t it be wonderful to be back home in the barn cellar again with the sheep and the geese? Aren’t you anxious to get home?”</i><br />
<i>For a moment Charlotte said nothing. Then she spoke in a voice so low Wilbur could hardly hear the words.</i><br />
<i>“I will not be going back to the barn,” she said. Wilbur leapt to his feet. “Not going back?” he cried. “Charlotte, what are you talking about?”</i><br />
<br />
~from <i>Charlotte's Web</i>, by E.B.White<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*****</div>
<br />
Until I became a teacher, I didn't understand what the end of a school year and summer break truly meant.<br />
<br />
<br />
As a parent, the end of a school year means, time to find help with watching your kids, or finding ways to keep the kiddos occupied for eight to ten weeks. Family vacations or other travel plans are typically carried out. Summer reading program schedules are accessed, and put on the calendar. Swim, or soccer lessons fill time, as well as league games, and hitting a swimming pool. Playdates, and overnight stays become a daily thing. The first few weeks of summer break are welcomed by all.<br />
<br />
I recall falling into the summer routine with my own children. Sleeping in and playing with Legos or crafting. My kids LOVED being on break, and I loved having them home, until the boredom set in, which happened quicker than I always liked. Yikes, being a parent over summer has it's challenges! As a parent of two, at times it seemed I could not get them to agree on ANYTHING. Nor could I get them to do what I wanted them to do without yelling or getting angry. Where were the teachers now?! How did they do it, day after day with my two - both who were good kids I might add???<br />
<br />
The end of the school year is filled with emotions. Yes, this group of students came to me in August, but my year started before they arrived. Weeks before school starts, I have to get my room ready for the year. Items that were packed away need to resurface and find their home again. There are curriculum manuals to read, papers to copy, homework folders to set up, thirty-six weeks of lessons to generally spread out, to just name a few things that fill a teacher's time. In fact, as soon as school ends in May, I will attend professional development seminars, so assuming teachers have the summer off is truly wishful thinking. Most teachers go to classes to help further their knowledge over the summer. We attend technology, reading, writing, social studies, math, science, and classroom management seminars. THIS is how we fill our summers. We become students during our two month break. Some of us also teach summer camps, so we spend time preparing and teaching, as well. <br />
<br />
By the time "Meet the Teacher" happens the day before school, most teachers have all ready been working for two weeks in their classroom. It's true, teachers do love school. We are so excited for the new year to start! In first grade, there are brand new, sharp crayons that still have their paper wraps neatly around them. There are long, pointy, number two pencils whose erasers have yet to be pulled out and whose ends haven't been chewed on. There are chunky erasers waiting to be shredded by scissors. There are perfect folders and composition notebooks that teachers neatly have written student's names upon. Name plates with student numbers on them have been carefully taped onto the student desks. All their edges are smoothly stuck down to the desk tops and ready to be picked at by all the little picker's fingers.<br />
<br />
In August, students and teacher come together, and a new community is born. Rules must be established and enforced. How to line up, walk in a line, sit at ones desk, play on the playground equipment, use the bathroom, get to the library, the specials rooms, and cafeteria are taught over and over. Where to sit in the cafeteria and what manners there look like are explicitly shown. Expectations are set for all aspects of the day and strived towards. Letter formation, spelling, number sense and learning to read are the curriculum that start a first grade school year. <br />
<br />
Fall break is not really a break for teachers. Grades and comments are due on report cards just after break. There is also other data that is collected on students skill abilities. This information must be added to a grade level data chart. Teachers spend their days teaching, and it's nigh impossible to sit down to input information. So our break is filled with inputting data and getting ready for term two.<br />
<br />
When October arrives, a teacher has parent/teacher conferences to host after the first report card has been sent home. These conferences give us a chance to connect with parents after we've had a little time to find out our student's strengths and areas of concerns. We are happy to share positives with parents and offer ways to help their child be the best student they can be.<br />
<br />
By Thanksgiving, we know our class very well. We know who needs extra TLC, who needs pushed, who needs watched so they aren't falling through the cracks and who has it all together. When winter break arrives, we finally have a few days we can turn our brains off from school, but the holidays quickly fill the school void.<br />
<br />
The winter months of the new year find the class running smoothly as a community. Light bulbs seem to click on as students suddenly "get" what is being taught. It's a rewarding time to be a teacher. One's efforts can be seen paying off.<br />
<br />
By the time spring break hits, the end of the year is now in sight. Teachers panic a bit...can they get through everything they need to get through? Students start acting more like siblings. They pick on and tease one another. They are much more comfortable and they speak their minds. Class rules and expectations need to be revisited. Students rat out each other's poor choices, ones made while away from the teacher, without blinking an eye. Even best buddies do this to one another! That is, unless they were making poor choices together...like using the bathroom as a parkour training room. Then, students from other classes rat them out! The first grade beast is both funny and fun to watch.<br />
<br />
May arrives, and the finish line approaches. One hundred and eighty school days completed draws near. <i>Charlotte's Web</i> is the last read aloud. Tears stream down teacher's cheeks and his or her voice may crack as these words are read...<br />
<br />
<i>"But as he was being shoved into the crate, he looked up at Charlotte and gave her a wink. She knew he was saying good-bye in the only way he could. And she knew her children were safe.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Good-bye!” she whispered. Then she summoned all her strength and waved one of her front legs at him.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>She never moved again. Next day, as the Ferris wheel was being taken apart and the race horses were being loaded into vans and the entertainers were packing up their belongings and driving away in their trailers, Charlotte died. The Fair Grounds were soon forlorn. The infield was littered with bottles and trash. Nobody, of the hundreds of people what had visited the Fair, knew that a grey spider had played the most important part of all. No one was with her when she died."</i><br />
<br />
Tomorrow, I will say goodbye to my students. They are ready to move on, even though I am not yet ready for a new groups of kiddos. I will have the summer to let this group go in my brain. My students have had a great year, and I am happy they have been in my life and classroom. They will always be my kids. That's how a teacher's heart works. <br />
<br />
The day after tomorrow, I will clean out files, take down things hanging on the walls, and clear off shelf tops. I will be in my classroom, all alone. My heart will ache a little at the end of the day when I turn off the light and pull the door closed.<br />
<br />
I will wake on Thursday and I will not head into school to see my students. I will not start each day seeing and greeting my friends. When I decided to teach, I hadn't expected the bond I form with other teachers to be as deep as it is. I adore all the people at my school. It truly is an extended family. I will fall into my own summer routine. I am looking forward to nuzzling my kitties randomly through the day, and hiking with Toby. <br />
<br />
When August rolls around...<br />
<br />
I'll be ready for my next class full of kiddos. More importantly, I'll be ready to be back home, in my barn cellar, alongside all my friends. <br />
<br />
~Lisa Kroll<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-7049155972067838592018-05-12T21:21:00.001-04:002018-05-12T21:21:56.912-04:00Growing a Passion<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Independence is what Habitat is all about. The first time I volunteered to help build a house, my mom had recently died. I built in her honor, and I built on Saturday of Mother's Day weekend. The house I worked on was to be for a single mom and her three children. My mom raised me to think of others, and I felt like I was doing something good in her memory. It felt wonderful to help someone else when I felt that I had so much in life. I had to ask people to donate to my cause, and that was really the biggest challenge for me. I don't like to ask anyone for anything. My parents were very giving souls. Both worked full-time, AND volunteered in our community as a volunteer fire fighter and an EMT-A, respectively. When I was married, I was made to feel weak if I had to ask for help. So I did whatever I needed to do, to NOT ask for help. Ever. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In my past life, I was a "super" mom, and "super" wife. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I stayed at home and ran my household. I worked part-time, but spent the rest of my time figuring out the logistics of dinner menus, chauffeuring duties, house keeping, flower gardening, play dates, birthdays and doing all those things a good wife does to make her husband shine. Even as I lead a Girl Scout troop, I struggled to ask co-leaders to do anything. I did not want to appear weak. I could do everything, and I could do it all. </span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When I volunteered to build on my second Habitat Women Build, my life was changing. I had lost my "super" status and was feeling pathetic. A friend had asked me a year before if I would build with her. At that time, I was in graduate school and told her to ask me the next year, because I literally didn't have the time. Thankfully, she remembered, and she <b>did</b> asked me again. When we went to the call out meeting, I saw so many familiar faces. I found a supportive community that only asked me to give what I was able of myself. No more, no less. I was drawn to be a part of this greater good. It was simple to say yes, and to do something for someone else. I was happy to have a new purpose, and something to look forward to doing with others. It was still hard knowing I was going to need to ask for money, but I sucked it up. I asked my relatives. They quickly put me over my $250 required to build dollar amount. I thought, 'Wow. That was easy and painless.' </span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My build day came. We were working in a brand new neighborhood, on the very first two houses to go up. I was witness to a new beginning. I had one of the future owners and her husband up working with me. That was my first time up on a roof. It was invigorating!!! The hardest part was transferring from the ladder to the roof and vice versa. I have learned how to walk on a roof, how to properly cut and lay singles, and how to communicate with new people while speaking a new coded<i> </i>language. I had a few friends up with me, but most of the people on the team were not people I knew personally. Trusting others and working together, such great gifts I was receiving. </span></span><br />
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></span></div>
</div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The following January, I quickly jumped at building again. I saw the home owners I had built for the year before. Witnessing the smiles on their faces and hearing them talk about how wonderful it was to own their house made my heart smile. I didn't need them to know who I was. I just needed to know I made a difference. Here was my proof. Stories of their new place were easy to hear. Asking for donations for a cause I felt so strongly about made this year's requests a little easier. I expanded my donor base and ask friends. With just a little more effort, I was close to earning a pink tool belt, which I really, really wanted. So I pushed a little harder. That tool belt was going to be nice to have! </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On build day, I again found myself on the roof and working online side the future, and current neighborhood owners. Getting to know someone I was helping felt so good. I was helping make a difference. The take away for me was that I was helping better my own community. As I was working together with others, I was growing, and so were they. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Additionally, that spring a former student of mine became a Habitat family. </span><i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">Future Habitat homeowners are selected based on three basic criteria: 1) their need for housing 2) their ability to repay an affordable mortgage and 3) their willingness to partner with Habitat by earning 250 hours of “sweat equity” or volunteer time.*</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">They must also take classes on home ownership, and simple repairs. The support network Habitat creates in doing all this is such a gift in it's own right. Habitat families are asked to speak in front of others and tell their stories. They inspire. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When I signed up to build the next year, I realized that I had actually raised $1000 by simply asking the year before; more than enough to get that pink tool belt. I raised my goal to $1000 and decided to give even more of myself. I joined a group called S.H.E. - Society for Habitat Empowerment. I have agreed to raise $1000 a year for five years. This year marked my third year in my fundraising efforts as a member of S.H.E. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am forever grateful to those friends and family who support my cause. I am forever grateful to Habitat for allowing me the opportunity to help build a house for someone else in my community. I am bonded with the knowledge that if I can help make a difference in my community, others can as well. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We just need to choose to spread positivity, understanding and love. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> volunteer, wonder woman, independent soul who is still learning to ask for help and knows she is not weak for doing so...just smart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*from the Habitat For Humanity of Monroe County Web Site. <a href="https://monroecountyhabitat.org/">Click Here</a> for more details. </span></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-1561742395758681862018-05-12T18:39:00.001-04:002018-05-12T18:39:35.058-04:00Words to Build By... Habitat Women Build, Day 7, 2018<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was asked to give the devotion, or words of wisdom, before a Habitat Women Build day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here's what I had to say... </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">"Independence is an amazing gift to receive. But I have found, it an even more amazing gift to see, and be witness to. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'I spend a fair amount of my time each day trying to build community and independence within my classroom. There are skills my students need to learn, and tests that I am required to give, but I know the bottom line is that the group of students whom I am molding at any given time, will, with a little bit of luck, have 11 more years of school together. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'I figure I'm really laying the foundation of their people skills. Learning to work together and solve problems is what life is really all about. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'I like to think of myself a little bit like Wonder Woman. Not as a hero, but as someone who is a little bit mysterious, someone who has a past that has shaped them, someone who is strong, and someone who can accomplish anything when they focus their mind on it. I find that’s how I live my life these days really. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'I am old enough to know, we all experience adversity at some point in our lives. And because of those experiences, we can look at the rainbows and flowers and the butterflies in the world and see their colors a little more deeply. We become more compassionate and understanding. One of life lessons we must learn is to ask for help. And when we do this, not only do we become richer by admitting we are human, but those we ask become richer as well. For in being asked to help someone, we feel valued. And truthfully, isn’t that what we all want is to add value to the world? </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'So today, I ask that the powers above, help us to share our mysteries, embrace our pasts, give us the strength we need to focus on and accomplish today’s tasks. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'When we work together, we grow together. </span></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; min-height: 23px;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 19px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-kerning: none;">'Thank you all for sharing today with me." </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> -----</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our day, in pictures.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5hFI45_X0poGYjGQQFTQOIs0n3YuIuDfUlbacQFRUefPhIExGPG7dN7rZHwox7Qdt8GgiGo3XstONDktlBIafyqKY903B89hElOn4_oYe1KHsc37cRVy-ftitJTslxZQAeD46g/s1600/IMG_5464.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5hFI45_X0poGYjGQQFTQOIs0n3YuIuDfUlbacQFRUefPhIExGPG7dN7rZHwox7Qdt8GgiGo3XstONDktlBIafyqKY903B89hElOn4_oYe1KHsc37cRVy-ftitJTslxZQAeD46g/s320/IMG_5464.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">May 5, 2018 - 7:30 a.m.<br />Bloomington, Indiana</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3zuIRImSiSonPLHQTOviiVXgGyCWNr3aNPSvwhTYA8lqaQ2HjJ2yY3vC3rEwSCo7a4VElwEcovUicw2rzJt-9UEXO5Mn4Molb7GWrZEbGT3nk_QJxn-9MOzkH4h_oGoxs4vQOg/s1600/IMG_5465.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3zuIRImSiSonPLHQTOviiVXgGyCWNr3aNPSvwhTYA8lqaQ2HjJ2yY3vC3rEwSCo7a4VElwEcovUicw2rzJt-9UEXO5Mn4Molb7GWrZEbGT3nk_QJxn-9MOzkH4h_oGoxs4vQOg/s320/IMG_5465.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">new shirt, old hat and tool belt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXdHFoPz32hCauSXNqqxd0DbwkmZEIYCuwLoi-1_yc-pDon3rCWPRILFke3yu4Sgji1HXno-hb8ksJMFn8u9WukvvTlCr5EBDzbzkOje9TSE6sEtymIB6Aj8OKFDpJUCs6ERswQ/s1600/IMG_5469.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXdHFoPz32hCauSXNqqxd0DbwkmZEIYCuwLoi-1_yc-pDon3rCWPRILFke3yu4Sgji1HXno-hb8ksJMFn8u9WukvvTlCr5EBDzbzkOje9TSE6sEtymIB6Aj8OKFDpJUCs6ERswQ/s320/IMG_5469.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">two houses to roof, my fifth time to build</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_-nOGqksuARhwq42Uny0wiGU1qbk3pGsP0F3VEE9aghjVnm8g6nw6v4IKUr31Xt2sza2OmyxA09iKGJmU7DyOiMZuEiS9sqeoHQ9wCtyopzjF3GZFFIzWsQhXmQf3DoTSpLVAw/s1600/IMG_5470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_-nOGqksuARhwq42Uny0wiGU1qbk3pGsP0F3VEE9aghjVnm8g6nw6v4IKUr31Xt2sza2OmyxA09iKGJmU7DyOiMZuEiS9sqeoHQ9wCtyopzjF3GZFFIzWsQhXmQf3DoTSpLVAw/s320/IMG_5470.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">instructions on the roof</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0Rz0BiDURyKKaRwCSLIlBDlIKNBz7NO__lsekZF-vb4uY3c_nqeWBklCztpjtc8OQ8mNJFsxWEZQoCP0vr_2stpKzC1bFngxvaryofYltkIOxNxyKFI2awGDzAIZAUYzoMiWAQ/s1600/IMG_5472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj0Rz0BiDURyKKaRwCSLIlBDlIKNBz7NO__lsekZF-vb4uY3c_nqeWBklCztpjtc8OQ8mNJFsxWEZQoCP0vr_2stpKzC1bFngxvaryofYltkIOxNxyKFI2awGDzAIZAUYzoMiWAQ/s320/IMG_5472.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">selfie time! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLmtwxEKzjC1dj3nixJxAFz9zJy06aW2lstRSdpEhuvM32YD6gj2h3bHyr6qciQo-eq1IqrehlG0K0DwBdS8eJjsWgE2wZ2POQAR7hUzupozxMAN22SEpDt5ddPRWAz6V_zeC1g/s1600/IMG_5475.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLmtwxEKzjC1dj3nixJxAFz9zJy06aW2lstRSdpEhuvM32YD6gj2h3bHyr6qciQo-eq1IqrehlG0K0DwBdS8eJjsWgE2wZ2POQAR7hUzupozxMAN22SEpDt5ddPRWAz6V_zeC1g/s320/IMG_5475.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">when in Indiana...Indiana Jones time</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkyVnor89sf99TJjRti_NxGuftc9TKtE716JaoRhmSXkaFp73ypKEzPb1W2Jrz3suTKdsX1zqKI2YxFFlj1_RiR5U3J_n0Ry-PIv3Ag9qAfapZoMS82bXBK0cMITfommzR7W3gA/s1600/IMG_5476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkyVnor89sf99TJjRti_NxGuftc9TKtE716JaoRhmSXkaFp73ypKEzPb1W2Jrz3suTKdsX1zqKI2YxFFlj1_RiR5U3J_n0Ry-PIv3Ag9qAfapZoMS82bXBK0cMITfommzR7W3gA/s320/IMG_5476.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">part of our team working on the ground</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YO3msQfsdqmob4Nfzn8Ze8PRflG9IYAMyIfx0XgeEvwUHEpJXSicN34B6NcpMsqnUmBGavc7wdWR07r-XBViuJAe4Br5ICC69z-R2nwXFniIESNqlY0XqVr6JYKhxsrpM1amlQ/s1600/IMG_5478.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6YO3msQfsdqmob4Nfzn8Ze8PRflG9IYAMyIfx0XgeEvwUHEpJXSicN34B6NcpMsqnUmBGavc7wdWR07r-XBViuJAe4Br5ICC69z-R2nwXFniIESNqlY0XqVr6JYKhxsrpM1amlQ/s320/IMG_5478.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">...and we are off!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0IlcuOHjc10YW-TOJhuM5HIJv3SGBa-AFniL6SfUrXgwfROC-7BU1e5SGRFL2nT7ZCJD0k9lY1dPvDMQdRSbScP0MfJZdJ-BAM5BtZ159JlKrZyf8UkvBdoPYbdOTKMOnoSv1w/s1600/IMG_5479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0IlcuOHjc10YW-TOJhuM5HIJv3SGBa-AFniL6SfUrXgwfROC-7BU1e5SGRFL2nT7ZCJD0k9lY1dPvDMQdRSbScP0MfJZdJ-BAM5BtZ159JlKrZyf8UkvBdoPYbdOTKMOnoSv1w/s320/IMG_5479.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">morning picture of both roofs under way</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFi0tNlfy2-bhDAF3iq0cJemqf5FwVAAlZQPvMV80FpMO-rVJxmC4V5_Sshd8LE-JjwZBvKghQU-d9ZN10ZQjx-7P0gpH5aUKidaNYO4yoWN9aPMrM-vOCquQZPkOGqrjqxnsIA/s1600/IMG_5481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrFi0tNlfy2-bhDAF3iq0cJemqf5FwVAAlZQPvMV80FpMO-rVJxmC4V5_Sshd8LE-JjwZBvKghQU-d9ZN10ZQjx-7P0gpH5aUKidaNYO4yoWN9aPMrM-vOCquQZPkOGqrjqxnsIA/s320/IMG_5481.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">first build, first cut,<br />first time on the roof, strong lady</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nLcPWsjs9uxLL8aIIDw3gQGkKreoIjq6M_IqnoNczyiQzebrdln1xG8Hz5KxEzHlnUhEMbjqPyGnj7IdXmC48t1uNmDHTXtEtgUsuqAUS4uC7MJfEnlOiV2yHJGSUEShxRRwHQ/s1600/IMG_5485.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nLcPWsjs9uxLL8aIIDw3gQGkKreoIjq6M_IqnoNczyiQzebrdln1xG8Hz5KxEzHlnUhEMbjqPyGnj7IdXmC48t1uNmDHTXtEtgUsuqAUS4uC7MJfEnlOiV2yHJGSUEShxRRwHQ/s320/IMG_5485.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">power tools</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDUxbjb_3B3uBq3oeHM3d8CUdr_QXPZ7m1PTU6_QwrISdJztGh9YWr5PSjcupbwhRlunZWt5RwpwDUWRmpP6tEXb-9HNdbzrNhQM2rv_cYBWb4UwOBB2MmEFeIOBEY75NF_yEsQ/s1600/IMG_5486.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeDUxbjb_3B3uBq3oeHM3d8CUdr_QXPZ7m1PTU6_QwrISdJztGh9YWr5PSjcupbwhRlunZWt5RwpwDUWRmpP6tEXb-9HNdbzrNhQM2rv_cYBWb4UwOBB2MmEFeIOBEY75NF_yEsQ/s320/IMG_5486.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">our chef, taking orders</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzshcZaf-Lo33tRnYbaIxU9VqhPB15a9beBP0Ec8YsNxpjOaSSXJs0MAcAvT6L_FIgO4na1-civgAGupmpFO3s8kSPIw9riAujwllpPTwJJz5wLHx3EQanRjkY7Z81XIULE8pCA/s1600/IMG_5500.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzshcZaf-Lo33tRnYbaIxU9VqhPB15a9beBP0Ec8YsNxpjOaSSXJs0MAcAvT6L_FIgO4na1-civgAGupmpFO3s8kSPIw9riAujwllpPTwJJz5wLHx3EQanRjkY7Z81XIULE8pCA/s320/IMG_5500.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">team work</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNW0X1z0Vvo5fdxWqUalw10r_SruaM6_HF2T0TeDQ8JQ1tClb-pQ5FE7Is7s-pHaboj49MlNUa_zzXRaJEcmmNCueSCE67mmkbl2vt8lZk3QSxDsk0iqQ4IswlqiSZWbYzRXwtFg/s1600/IMG_5502.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNW0X1z0Vvo5fdxWqUalw10r_SruaM6_HF2T0TeDQ8JQ1tClb-pQ5FE7Is7s-pHaboj49MlNUa_zzXRaJEcmmNCueSCE67mmkbl2vt8lZk3QSxDsk0iqQ4IswlqiSZWbYzRXwtFg/s320/IMG_5502.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">my work area</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oN9ARsGwdgbrq8yrY2_jHiAHsNmJPtNZ3R1uYDX153DcP9_344X4SHpbKZYuIb4gXBQmW7nvIz9ntKtRizMzWBXPmpkUc7qpDzpwKR_UwhWmZCEWEwao1FroSHu4uylZtSISaA/s1600/IMG_5506.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7oN9ARsGwdgbrq8yrY2_jHiAHsNmJPtNZ3R1uYDX153DcP9_344X4SHpbKZYuIb4gXBQmW7nvIz9ntKtRizMzWBXPmpkUc7qpDzpwKR_UwhWmZCEWEwao1FroSHu4uylZtSISaA/s320/IMG_5506.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">roof one almost done!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOatluRgLmA7-nh2TiNMKXzHaeFrCMI8gPlV-hYeHCjsCUkDX3h3RcV34tEg0Mde9g9GN7Cq_zxwmbcHVXYoi0b2zN3kanLVz2aTsxsR6siLXq-RTVvuar13yq3TteCHpVGlr8rA/s1600/IMG_5511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOatluRgLmA7-nh2TiNMKXzHaeFrCMI8gPlV-hYeHCjsCUkDX3h3RcV34tEg0Mde9g9GN7Cq_zxwmbcHVXYoi0b2zN3kanLVz2aTsxsR6siLXq-RTVvuar13yq3TteCHpVGlr8rA/s320/IMG_5511.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">my tools, and roof two almost done!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vUW8XeJcXMRwk-ptKqFirioFWylO64tfyCKMaV4NUoMlXXkbTDx16dE5dWzug0UQN19RqpVbQhpApaVWcKuEqzTYmZz0HzCApLCapeb5dmJP9XIDbKA4yYi4f8PYJ-vsec7eoQ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_8a80.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="1600" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0vUW8XeJcXMRwk-ptKqFirioFWylO64tfyCKMaV4NUoMlXXkbTDx16dE5dWzug0UQN19RqpVbQhpApaVWcKuEqzTYmZz0HzCApLCapeb5dmJP9XIDbKA4yYi4f8PYJ-vsec7eoQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_8a80.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.800000190734863px;">6:00 p.m.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> ~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i> wonder woman, lower case W's</i></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">---------notes---------</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>Independence: </b>The state or quality of being independent; freedom from dependence; exemption from reliance on, or control by others; self- subsistence or maintenance; direction of one's own affairs without interference.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #e5e5ea; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Habitat for Humanity: Women Build</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">information and my web page: <a href="http://womenbuild.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1178428&lis=0&kntae1178428=3E123E3BEB694B43AAB124FE45C3684D&supid=419269317">click here</a></span><br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-86534781111488740542018-02-18T21:17:00.003-05:002018-02-18T21:22:44.325-05:00Earth Moving... Can You Feel It? <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7aTxR8Zx2X5UOCsImuKjsRz_4SwNh_2HkbezYMuR9tx4Cp_cBjhxhMyvHMsion8rYrjCfORn3JmQUufchjTjflJ3b7sPnB6HQy56WYBKrvtyOQR8cw0YSI-pPsgkEPr5fOZd_A/s1600/IMG_2711.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy7aTxR8Zx2X5UOCsImuKjsRz_4SwNh_2HkbezYMuR9tx4Cp_cBjhxhMyvHMsion8rYrjCfORn3JmQUufchjTjflJ3b7sPnB6HQy56WYBKrvtyOQR8cw0YSI-pPsgkEPr5fOZd_A/s320/IMG_2711.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Earth moving as I jet off to Chicago</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>"I feel the Earth, move, under my feet. I feel the sky tumblin' down." ~Carole King, April 1971</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sometimes, adventures come at exactly the right time. </span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After a long, and unusually emotional week of teaching, I had a weekend date with seven of my high school friends. Some of these people I have known since the fifth grade. After school, I drove an hour north and caught an evening flight to Chicago. Technically, it takes less time to drive to Chi-Town from my house, than it does to fly. Our group usually likes to do this trip when we can all have three days off, this weekend would not be a 3 day weekend for me. I told my friends to enjoy the weekend. I didn't have the energy to drive north after working all day, chat until the wee hours of the night, then to head home in less than 48 hours where I would still need to spend several weekend hours in my classroom prepping for the week ahead. So, I was pampered. My friends have generous hearts...it might be an unspoken stipulation for being in our "club". My flight arrangements were made for me so that I wouldn't miss out on the weekend fun. The benefit of frequent flyer miles: a gift from my world traveling buddy. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I arrived at O'Hare five minutes after the world traveler. He had started his day in Lisbon, Spain, before stopping in Boston and then landing in Chicago. We took a taxi to the hotel, and after checking in, had fifteen minutes before we needed to head out to meet up with the others. Having arrived earlier in the afternoon, they had all ready started the reunion fun! </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As in our past trips, we traveled from different parts of the world; four states...cars, trains and planes connecting us. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrW9jYj89GrqUekQv3G6Pa81O_NEl8Z1ZevSo_PMZ8gfH6Ke4MqMeDjptuJhi5UCb3vMlFGTVNYpwbJbIodoRRDlqVWwTkU6x31NTf9RCvZpVqaw8STUoOsb52Z5SGT7dnvRDPA/s1600/IMG_2742.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinrW9jYj89GrqUekQv3G6Pa81O_NEl8Z1ZevSo_PMZ8gfH6Ke4MqMeDjptuJhi5UCb3vMlFGTVNYpwbJbIodoRRDlqVWwTkU6x31NTf9RCvZpVqaw8STUoOsb52Z5SGT7dnvRDPA/s320/IMG_2742.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dinner was at the <a href="https://copperfoxchicago.com/">Copper Fox</a>, per our gastronome's suggestion and was fabulous! As the late comers sat down, others were all ready imbibing. The waitress asked what we wanted but needed to wait, as I was too busy tasting drinks around the table before I could decide. In the end, a whiskey drink called ONE FLEW SOUTH landed at my place. A little tongue in cheek fun as I had flown north! It was a mixture of diplomatic reserve extra anejo rum, lime juice, luxardo maraschino liqueur house demerara, barrel aged bitters, and tart cherry juice. A great combination, and the best way to kick off the weekend with my buddies. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Over the next hour and a half, there was laughing, stories and sharing of food. After dinner, there was talk of <i>chocolate</i> dessert, but we wandered back towards the hotel to hang out in the suite between the girl's rooms. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNNvC98c6yh1XD0L2pepXn7EFgkeUiWWG94NmaK0QRTkBZzfHm0HFV5OYseQJGmSuwDUsXBLNjAInItYM50GIM30_LZTn7moJFXQPZWRhGWH5pBfOaZeaiTtybJZkMbrUFk3ZxA/s1600/IMG_2763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJNNvC98c6yh1XD0L2pepXn7EFgkeUiWWG94NmaK0QRTkBZzfHm0HFV5OYseQJGmSuwDUsXBLNjAInItYM50GIM30_LZTn7moJFXQPZWRhGWH5pBfOaZeaiTtybJZkMbrUFk3ZxA/s320/IMG_2763.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Upstairs we toasted one another again, and began to really relax and catch up in private. Another of our classmates happened to be in town as well, up from Atlanta, celebrating his mother's 80th birthday with his family. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We chatted with this friend for a few hours, too. It was funny to watch as he worked the conversations around the room, basically </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">interviewing</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> each of us. He also admitted to a little facebook stalking before hand. Aren't we all guilty of that? I don't think I've seen this friend in person since we graduated high school. Facebook has the power to make one feel they haven't missed a beat with friends. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This get-together for our main group, was much over due. A year has passed and each of us has grown a little more since then. Grand babies have been born, a new business venture has started, education is being continued, a spouse was lost to illness and another is leaving due to divorce, parents continue to age, children continue to grow, and our souls continue to heal from those every day challenges we all face. We shared our successes and our hurts. We talked about the love we have for others we grew up with and our wishes that they would feel comfortable to come and join us some time. We all have secrets and pains. Share them or not, we understand that growing up has been hard, but we also know that our early in life friends knew us when we were still dreamers. Friendships that can weather life are the best friendships. This group coming together is what true friendship looks like. The seven of us seem to turn back into our 18-year-old selves when we are together, but we are realist and know we now have a wisdom about us. We are people who can come together, and love one another, no matter what. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6vz7UiLEBXZbKSY2M0mophEfDHR3ZjOTLdzaNhw03SxkEF5b_4NKRsUFJDbTuSIHhsza_Z-rLPULZBoRPpXHBv6P3Wok9NhDmOyWOiEfZIMR-cfF1ElyHXr_3ZWPlRiS6pb8PA/s1600/IMG_2799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN6vz7UiLEBXZbKSY2M0mophEfDHR3ZjOTLdzaNhw03SxkEF5b_4NKRsUFJDbTuSIHhsza_Z-rLPULZBoRPpXHBv6P3Wok9NhDmOyWOiEfZIMR-cfF1ElyHXr_3ZWPlRiS6pb8PA/s320/IMG_2799.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The weekend plans this trip were simply to share time together. We each have a role to fill, and our social director suggested we see </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><a href="https://beautifulonbroadway.com/about/">Beautiful: The Carole King Musical</a></i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> at the Palace Theatre. We are the generation who grew up influenced by the music Ms. King created. Our production was on Saturday at 2pm. Perfect! After our late night Friday, we gathered near 11 to walk to brunch and then the theatre. Brunch was at the </span><a href="https://www.hubbardinn.com/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hubbard Inn</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> and featured Rustic Wheat Avocado Toast, Blackened Tiger Shrimp and Grits, Pork Belly Benedict, and Slow Roasted Corned Beef Hash all washed down with mimosas. After brunch, we expected to encounter the </span><a href="http://womens121marchonchicago.org/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Women's March</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> due to our timing, but we must have walked on paths not being used by the march. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The show was wonderful! We couldn't help but comment at intermission, 'I didn't know she helped influence THAT song." We were reminded that Carole King IS an amazing lady! I found myself wiggling my feet, but really wanting to be up and dancing, with the music. After the show, we walked back towards our hotel and shopped along the way. We tried to decide what the evening plans should include. Dancing? Karaoke? More talking? Many suggestions were thrown into the ring for consideration. Sitting in the hotel bar, we got serious about deciding the evenings plan. In the end, we decided we'd order pizza, buy a game, change into our pajamas, and stay in for the night! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBdIB_KbkNPIY0J3lsUhs-swfifC5EspSEeRPJF7Gh6MFRDuLlwBRhlI34kW75tTK4QCARfRxwzr7HJnZgPCcS_s_MlKo-xoXg8Srq10CiPoC6EkE4dF32HtuR0hhu2UD4fEHcQ/s1600/IMG_2823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBdIB_KbkNPIY0J3lsUhs-swfifC5EspSEeRPJF7Gh6MFRDuLlwBRhlI34kW75tTK4QCARfRxwzr7HJnZgPCcS_s_MlKo-xoXg8Srq10CiPoC6EkE4dF32HtuR0hhu2UD4fEHcQ/s200/IMG_2823.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner and a game</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Pizza was ordered from <a href="https://www.loumalnatis.com/">Lou Malnati's</a>. Two brave souls donned PJ's. Drinks were made for all. Our game of choice...Cards Against Humanity. Everyone laughed until they cried at some point in the evening. "New" words were discovered. Interesting conversations were sparked...<i>"how does THAT happen???"</i> was asked. Explanations were given in code, which made us laugh harder. Siri was asked, and responded "You don't need to ask that question!" Truly, tears from laughter filled our eyes. </span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvXWV97ytzz4Fk6cG2MI9UYqnX82RTJBtFnXUPV4QsceXUXXkxc2cn3m5XtF5l8AA4dUqzPxAW9uFAEmn8L6mR28pECl8MHtnrjtpS0I5CafTtqLGT-DAQHLUhi8r5ocIlPHglw/s1600/IMG_2819.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcvXWV97ytzz4Fk6cG2MI9UYqnX82RTJBtFnXUPV4QsceXUXXkxc2cn3m5XtF5l8AA4dUqzPxAW9uFAEmn8L6mR28pECl8MHtnrjtpS0I5CafTtqLGT-DAQHLUhi8r5ocIlPHglw/s200/IMG_2819.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Local Treats</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We only went to bed that night because we were all exhausted and are a bit too old, and too smart, to sleep on couches when we had paid for feather topped beds. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Two in our group had to leave before Sunday brunch. Our weekend together was coming to an end. The few of us who were still together went to the <a href="https://www.luxbar.com/">LuxBar</a> where amazing Bloody Mary's topped the menu. As we returned to the hotel, hugs and kisses were shared. Ubers arrived and we parted ways. Until next time, I will love my friends from a distance, and stay in continual touch. We have a thread of messages that at times can instantly blow up to 95+ comments! Blink and you'll have to spend half an hour catching up! Thank you FaceBook for reconnecting this group a few years back when we were planning our high school class reunion. This was our 36th year get-together. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">For others who are lucky enough to have friends like I do, I hope you realize too what a special connection and joy are friendships. We all have secrets, but when you can let down your guard and trust others, you can heal and grow in unthinkable ways. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My take aways from the weekend were literally an Anchor bag...meaning a bag with Anchors on it. We had a running joke about bags we'd be bringing...heavy because they felt like they held anchors. One of our tribe made sure we all actually had these bags for our next trip. Another in our tribe gave us all necklaces with words that reminded her of each of us stamped onto a key. Together we are Belief, Fearless, Inspire(ing), have Faith, Strength and Hope. That sums us up nicely. I think her word might be Joy. While she is certainly beautiful on the outside, her inside Joy simply radiates. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In the end, we all know <i>We've Gotta Friend</i>....or two, or seven. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Additional thoughts: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My weekend away happened a month ago, but more recently I have been questioning what makes a friendship weather the test of time, how long one needs to know someone before they can truly call them a friend, and at what point does one earn the title of friend? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I don't believe we can have too many friends in this life, and I think friendship becomes undefinable when you are at your lowest point and these people whom you call friend step up and go above and beyond what you would have expected. One of those times for me was when I was dealing with my mom's terminal illness, and my friends stepped up to nurture my soul. Then, I had times when I thought my life might end because I was dealing with a divorce, and friends stepped up once again and loved me despite that, encouraging me to push on, telling me I was strong and brave and capable and beautiful and that everything was going to be all right. And accomplishments...friends celebrate big and little accomplishments, too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have watched friends lose those they love, and have known others who have traveled great distances just to hold a hand and be an ear. I know others who right this minute are sitting by bedsides in hospice care, so death doesn't happen alone for their friends. Truly these friendships are signs from above that we can and should care for one another, and that it's easy to do!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Friends are not just people who share the fun times in our lives. Friends are there for the dark times too, and they stand with you, no matter what. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Wouldn't the world be a nicer place if we could all be kind to one another like we are to our best of friends? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> Friend, Member of the Class of '82, Hope, Love Warrior</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Blogging Music: Carole King - <i>Tapestry</i> (1971) </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">additional pictures from <i>Ferris Bue</i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>ller's Weekend Off</i>: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3i_664KcIdAIAWq_q_Zz7W0SWQ54mpiRPDCkO5xNTViCehOnEekStDW-pW9E0cfEV_JYWNMjFO6QeYuvE116IL1pql8PhuAa4C-eznYPhQ1xcYyhSDLzFNN5M2QrDP4dcYB9qw/s1600/IMG_2767.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC3i_664KcIdAIAWq_q_Zz7W0SWQ54mpiRPDCkO5xNTViCehOnEekStDW-pW9E0cfEV_JYWNMjFO6QeYuvE116IL1pql8PhuAa4C-eznYPhQ1xcYyhSDLzFNN5M2QrDP4dcYB9qw/s320/IMG_2767.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magnificent Mile from our Suite View</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHDbUS0eq1WmWxAnDuk-pSx1zXEMSD_a-_5-hYZ7nNW-Nf3v_Lt3DNe3zMXD9_I41Rn_IkKdbQ23vxCuvJqOfTVdBcgywtroBf01gjWDWDJmgCG1k-Dq3VkdO9hdlXx0TL7dEjQ/s1600/IMG_2766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHDbUS0eq1WmWxAnDuk-pSx1zXEMSD_a-_5-hYZ7nNW-Nf3v_Lt3DNe3zMXD9_I41Rn_IkKdbQ23vxCuvJqOfTVdBcgywtroBf01gjWDWDJmgCG1k-Dq3VkdO9hdlXx0TL7dEjQ/s320/IMG_2766.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fourth Presbyterian Church of Chicago from our Suite View</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLOfUSQKpjnsZcsLjTLZ7PCVnzjO_pwTry9CkFoqXC2kTACEFx7fG6OllBW2ed3yCX51xM8lfd98163zy7jhLDEIEufTNlrlPtKnHOwPxhkYr26-IdbwQ_XXuTiLpVikIWu3DSg/s1600/IMG_2770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQLOfUSQKpjnsZcsLjTLZ7PCVnzjO_pwTry9CkFoqXC2kTACEFx7fG6OllBW2ed3yCX51xM8lfd98163zy7jhLDEIEufTNlrlPtKnHOwPxhkYr26-IdbwQ_XXuTiLpVikIWu3DSg/s320/IMG_2770.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the morning, Suite View looking out the other window...Lake Michigan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuX3vB6RAYQC5l2uysrfEgBxsfUOX7XH5gNgW56kRdn7AqfLT7DiqGxep1QifOmVsnSCJmNEJ_Wo6w7MAMiGrBvDEOLEyyz8p3srCEBSJzJnkUxbtpvAPZmpHfnoV9X5BELdiWxw/s1600/IMG_2746.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuX3vB6RAYQC5l2uysrfEgBxsfUOX7XH5gNgW56kRdn7AqfLT7DiqGxep1QifOmVsnSCJmNEJ_Wo6w7MAMiGrBvDEOLEyyz8p3srCEBSJzJnkUxbtpvAPZmpHfnoV9X5BELdiWxw/s320/IMG_2746.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When someone has a selfie stick and says...smile!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5x6MOxSCqQhLQ1OsBFmr4aFptCxuKFABc8xeamBlI1N3Hjuz2MzBM6DN8aSulPF5QyQ_r1803Zg3sEi8WDqXvSZC85iGzgC-IJ342AfRAtO6mvOKgN2S29D-BGTeIjSKe4J3AQ/s1600/IMG_2779.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs5x6MOxSCqQhLQ1OsBFmr4aFptCxuKFABc8xeamBlI1N3Hjuz2MzBM6DN8aSulPF5QyQ_r1803Zg3sEi8WDqXvSZC85iGzgC-IJ342AfRAtO6mvOKgN2S29D-BGTeIjSKe4J3AQ/s320/IMG_2779.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and smile!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4v0yedAlgNUu9cOCVDHBTvxuxBCOlRlvVFaI98TGexwyVSjREp8_43hhCetPKgtizqNCn-pSvmmJbFtsY9Luw-X5ynQgSYY-udKzFtb3G-KgbWPQ48o5qByYYJ9KUQUAnTde_Ow/s1600/IMG_2787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4v0yedAlgNUu9cOCVDHBTvxuxBCOlRlvVFaI98TGexwyVSjREp8_43hhCetPKgtizqNCn-pSvmmJbFtsY9Luw-X5ynQgSYY-udKzFtb3G-KgbWPQ48o5qByYYJ9KUQUAnTde_Ow/s320/IMG_2787.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and smile! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic1YUt2H9kxxQ9c33vq6twrrrEj-z1IsZvCaZOFT7eGtxxD233p1rcWnl2QGndV_STVwXccTpkcjDkXgwH_r-Oh4kmPXFVjacviX_sklOATAAa3vvGeMc2CRrxQKJDrtarVGTfQw/s1600/IMG_2806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1203" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic1YUt2H9kxxQ9c33vq6twrrrEj-z1IsZvCaZOFT7eGtxxD233p1rcWnl2QGndV_STVwXccTpkcjDkXgwH_r-Oh4kmPXFVjacviX_sklOATAAa3vvGeMc2CRrxQKJDrtarVGTfQw/s320/IMG_2806.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...and just after I said smile...they thought I was done! lol<br />
Please know, they actually ASK me to get out the selfie stick! <br />
No one wants to own one, but everyone is happy they know someone who does! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhh-bLegpz9X1sBOxyXe9pJokc8PBWhKj6mCohUTlPmPHUBM5Nrt-gzlXu8vALYAYRDxsz_ryYM8CzEA6HOAi78Tb19uJYNs-2-u5B0cJRVxiVOqtNVsHm4rc6bknI99tIFi0OA/s1600/IMG_2809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhh-bLegpz9X1sBOxyXe9pJokc8PBWhKj6mCohUTlPmPHUBM5Nrt-gzlXu8vALYAYRDxsz_ryYM8CzEA6HOAi78Tb19uJYNs-2-u5B0cJRVxiVOqtNVsHm4rc6bknI99tIFi0OA/s320/IMG_2809.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chicago River with a little ice</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6ZIAmXO6z-rcsLe-PHHr2p79-jOtCm-ZcJhsUpXIti0T2PeBW7SI1os3Ziry3LCqeSvYpjyTVVG_BBGwHDVUf0nnYAJuseYypbE1F5eQ1ohoeuO2DZY7QT3105N2d2YSDcry3w/s1600/IMG_2808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO6ZIAmXO6z-rcsLe-PHHr2p79-jOtCm-ZcJhsUpXIti0T2PeBW7SI1os3Ziry3LCqeSvYpjyTVVG_BBGwHDVUf0nnYAJuseYypbE1F5eQ1ohoeuO2DZY7QT3105N2d2YSDcry3w/s320/IMG_2808.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We all recall having a Social Studies book in high school <br />
that stated you could see Lake Michigan <br />
from every room in these towers. <br />
We all wondered if that's really true. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlXMdOkbiI3RTITik4mIXj6v7z7pibgI7GhPzu_VuvRkNH6tZ6Lkd7ckY04NMSHVrCrmJT_-0lBviaU-W8S-WuM7F_OPLBjcoP9IGgBXykIu-1C5O1kLPMgSZK_SXL1vxC4ZS5g/s1600/IMG_2811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmlXMdOkbiI3RTITik4mIXj6v7z7pibgI7GhPzu_VuvRkNH6tZ6Lkd7ckY04NMSHVrCrmJT_-0lBviaU-W8S-WuM7F_OPLBjcoP9IGgBXykIu-1C5O1kLPMgSZK_SXL1vxC4ZS5g/s320/IMG_2811.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love these lines against the blue sky! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG62R1vPMqv1Jqrc-AMCe8Nx9r8HtUhbc__J7HUKgUGjVOtQkhCkrDbFg2kDenKMN1mQdZJg_9S2TyDgp1CmT_qzbhs9Xu_v-TtQmlMBWMph7pOB7VckVJo3QCJJ4j4XiJZoRMDg/s1600/IMG_2801.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG62R1vPMqv1Jqrc-AMCe8Nx9r8HtUhbc__J7HUKgUGjVOtQkhCkrDbFg2kDenKMN1mQdZJg_9S2TyDgp1CmT_qzbhs9Xu_v-TtQmlMBWMph7pOB7VckVJo3QCJJ4j4XiJZoRMDg/s320/IMG_2801.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting on a stone, only evidence from the Women's March that we saw. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-16851738719108423972018-01-07T10:16:00.004-05:002018-01-07T18:33:56.551-05:00My Addition and Some Advice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhCG1dqgpYmle4uLgw4L2mOkzj0Yqp5kyY8dJ-baTyOGAC5wzQ1SXdKU1Y8yKg5lNmt116Y6rwKsBdglhKYdiJ39xZ7C4cbGNdCV8MY7Ew1S_n1BOS_lohNNIvcXAKdUZf6Fmjg/s1600/IMG_2103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhCG1dqgpYmle4uLgw4L2mOkzj0Yqp5kyY8dJ-baTyOGAC5wzQ1SXdKU1Y8yKg5lNmt116Y6rwKsBdglhKYdiJ39xZ7C4cbGNdCV8MY7Ew1S_n1BOS_lohNNIvcXAKdUZf6Fmjg/s320/IMG_2103.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">in the woods near the Burrow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Adding Toby to my life has been a positive addition. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I love having him to come home to, or being able to say, "Let's go for a ride!" and have him eagerly run to the door. I enjoy his company as I do errands or travel, and we've all ready been on one over night adventure. I love taking him out for walks at all times of the day, but I'll confess late night walks in the dark, where I can star gaze might be my favorite walking time. We've been out many times all ready in below zero weather, and have pounced in 12+ inches of snow in lower Michigan. We are learning to walk in the woods together. It seems like the leash is a new experience for Toby.** We both need to have plenty of patience as we learn to read the other's signals. I love having him to cuddle with on the couch at night while I do my school work, or play Words With Friends! He loves belly rubs, and I enjoy the distraction. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4x1Rah_ZDzGyMm0YGDx8zlhILiC9cAWtdFGj8oBpQXet_jHbTOPVNajvykEwzF_xaQgHxdNfB3uhx-_Owmr16UrjbZLVyV2xp0iZbHKs-_no_O7Tt3Mspudqm6jOFA7LIlCHVRQ/s1600/IMG_1282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4x1Rah_ZDzGyMm0YGDx8zlhILiC9cAWtdFGj8oBpQXet_jHbTOPVNajvykEwzF_xaQgHxdNfB3uhx-_Owmr16UrjbZLVyV2xp0iZbHKs-_no_O7Tt3Mspudqm6jOFA7LIlCHVRQ/s320/IMG_1282.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You smell familiar, yet new. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I love watching Toby touch noses with Berlioz, then witness as he allows <i>Bear</i> to rub against him. It warms my heart. Berlioz was raised with Winston, and I think he has missed his company. Toulouse is competition for Berlioz, but Toby is not. While I believe Berlioz enjoys playing with Toulouse, there is a gentleness I see in his interactions with Toby that has been missing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRay7iWMz0iZHOUHvhh2ZE8zW0mOQgod-b2csD47en5ue44x8H-aEQt7DntZquxvQVt2cR_NoyARW8Sgz-ZbrUCtgriYOP-1kxEA4Xu1QqYYuC2vypo2yp5kgcwo4cN2AlLV8dQ/s1600/IMG_1548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvRay7iWMz0iZHOUHvhh2ZE8zW0mOQgod-b2csD47en5ue44x8H-aEQt7DntZquxvQVt2cR_NoyARW8Sgz-ZbrUCtgriYOP-1kxEA4Xu1QqYYuC2vypo2yp5kgcwo4cN2AlLV8dQ/s320/IMG_1548.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Berlioz and Toby </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Toulouse is still in that curious stage. He likes Toby, but likes to fain annoyance, too. He likes to lay in the middle of the carpeted walkway and then act grumpy as our gentle giant shakes his head, jingling his dog tags. As a cat, Toulouse is a show-off. He likes to jump from the floor to the top of the kitchen counters, or from one counter to the other in front of or over Toby. Toby just wants to be part of the action. He likes that I give him a kitty treat when the I spoil the cats! It is fun to watch such a big mouth eat such a little treat. He's lives up to his reputation as a gentle giant. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpp5GbcOakyrERsC8V88uNr8do8JnnrOv-U291QV5D3qfqA-EaLtYB0qNGF7kZDn0NLpFZB1bOWGpo8WvDp7TSgol5I5u1tAX3A44hGSzaIfwnwd7QTA-mnWZNMtiYmhyphenhyphenI3GwwkQ/s1600/IMG_1280.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpp5GbcOakyrERsC8V88uNr8do8JnnrOv-U291QV5D3qfqA-EaLtYB0qNGF7kZDn0NLpFZB1bOWGpo8WvDp7TSgol5I5u1tAX3A44hGSzaIfwnwd7QTA-mnWZNMtiYmhyphenhyphenI3GwwkQ/s320/IMG_1280.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Toulouse cautiously watches Toby.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Toby has seemed like one of the family since he stepped into the Burrow. I am so happy for that. I anticipate that as time goes on, all three boys will be running around the house together. They currently all sleep on the bed with me, which has it's challenges. Space is limited and the human is the "top dog". But, I don't mind sharing my bed, and I gingerly get out when I wake in the middle of the night. My heart overflows with love, and my fur babies are the benefactors of that overflow. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS0Lskghg3WBZCrz7JnQuQw0hHbRFIpRQjijYSCWs5YTVTYM1EvKRoeIpuSOs3nkhryc69gC1cxEz7W8otXXJbzr-Vgl85BTQSySlad2VLvYTOSODoxjp9g0cP07JKWcF8YYRAHA/s1600/IMG_1676.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS0Lskghg3WBZCrz7JnQuQw0hHbRFIpRQjijYSCWs5YTVTYM1EvKRoeIpuSOs3nkhryc69gC1cxEz7W8otXXJbzr-Vgl85BTQSySlad2VLvYTOSODoxjp9g0cP07JKWcF8YYRAHA/s320/IMG_1676.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Toby wonders how he can climb the cat tree to join the fun. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFwMEwmJce9SpknLgLDajo8M_sFJl7oKveisrsem1R4xR0hXfiZW-G_mrAX9acoWFP1PF2_kfONes_r9ZbyOlnVfY9y7bljcNwCiZnHYdMvDU1uuclK8swnGKFf6cFv05cDXQjg/s1600/IMG_1540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEFwMEwmJce9SpknLgLDajo8M_sFJl7oKveisrsem1R4xR0hXfiZW-G_mrAX9acoWFP1PF2_kfONes_r9ZbyOlnVfY9y7bljcNwCiZnHYdMvDU1uuclK8swnGKFf6cFv05cDXQjg/s320/IMG_1540.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It's a dog's life at the Burrow! </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am grateful for my life; all I have, and all I can give. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have spent this past year truly on my own. In doing so, I realize what I miss the most in life is physical, human touch. I am a person who likes to be close to another. I do reach out and make physical contact with those around me. I invade personal space bubbles. I give hugs. It's a good thing I teacher first grade, because I am a first grader at heart! I like to listen to others, but I also like to talk. I have a lot of friends, and no real enemies. I am a happy soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I love to watch others, but I am secretly jealous when I see hands being held or little acts of love being shown. It's a good envy. I imagine my parents were like that, and their love created me! True confession though...I mostly miss having a hand to hold on to and being kissed. I miss running my fingers though an other's hair, or caressing their face. I miss a confidant to tell my secrets. I miss having a partner who will just share the burden of living. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Going through my divorce has reminded me that I am a strong woman. Although I miss those physical, human touch things, I am really fine on my own. I do talk to my animals, and let them snuggle on my bed, but so what. I am me, and I am free to share love how I want. No judgments now. I believe you get in life what you give. I choose kindness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So, who am I to give advice? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No one, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and someone who has been hurt </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and who knows loss.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Life is too short. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have been saying this since my dad passed away in 1985, but I started living this when my mom died in 2006. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I heard a comment recently, <i>'... being together for so long...you get bored.' </i> WTHeck??? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Don't let this happen in your relationships! Your relationship may end without you realizing it because you were bored. No matter what relationship you are in...same sex partners, long/short term relationship or marriage. I say to you, love one another. It's likely you've been through a lot together. Remember that! Reminisce. Remind each other of the good in your hearts. Think about what drew you to that person. Chances are, they have forgotten, too. Trust me on this..the world is a lonely place and it's not easy starting over. Touch your loved one! Hold hands when you can. If you are riding in the car, hold hands. If you are walking in the grocery store, hold hands. If you are heading back to your bedroom, hold hands! Simply touch one another. I'm not talking about sex, I'm talking about making physical connections. Reach out and push a hair out of some one's eyes, stroke their cheek, cup the back of their neck as you look into their eyes. Listen as they talk. Ask questions. Be engaged with them. If you do this in public know that if others see you, your love will be contagious. Maybe you can spark a different kind of movement. We all need to feel loved. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The lack of human touch was not what ended my marriage. I was married to someone who has a personality disorder. I still fear that I won't be able to allow someone close to my heart again because I am scared of being hurt. I just know I really miss human touch. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ciNJrUHZU5fK2Sx1PbI0r-zeo0DvYiZgX_hYTf1ZfC4V7-7OfBfXi7SWVsYV6im9gF3MUGwo6No9I_e32j3vJd3oYtKHtXUPplbEvXNOw1JoDixOunYkbMAkHbq7onNl14HzeA/s1600/IMG_1374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3ciNJrUHZU5fK2Sx1PbI0r-zeo0DvYiZgX_hYTf1ZfC4V7-7OfBfXi7SWVsYV6im9gF3MUGwo6No9I_e32j3vJd3oYtKHtXUPplbEvXNOw1JoDixOunYkbMAkHbq7onNl14HzeA/s320/IMG_1374.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My life is happening the way it is supposed to for a reason. It is not my place to question why, but I do know that right now, I have animals in my life because I love them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know I can love another human again, too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am working on spreading love, understanding and positivity. I hope you will, too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> love warrior, animal lover, happy soul</i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">**I do not know Toby's history. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Here is what I do know, English Setters are bred to be hunting/gun dogs. They have gentle mouths because they are bird dogs. They flush out prey and then will retrieve their hunters trophies. They are used as a tool, not kept as a pet. They are not fixed, because it is believed that neutering or spaying diminishes the hunting ability. When an English Setter reaches about five years of age, they are finished as a hunter. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When owners turn animals in to a shelter, and most are kill shelters, the animal's fate is sealed to die. On the other hand, when someone finds an animal that was dumped, and brings it into a shelter, that animal has at least a few weeks reprieve to be reconnected with it's owner. Or possibly, even be adopted by someone better!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Rescues, like Above and Beyond English Setter Rescue, whom I worked with to adopt Toby, step in to find homes for certain breeds. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">English Setters do make wonderful house pets. It is likely that I will never be able to let Toby off his leash as we hike in the woods...his drive to hunt is very strong, but given space to run and someone to love, he will have a wonderful life. </span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-83408736108359114302017-12-09T21:02:00.000-05:002020-02-08T14:44:42.388-05:00A Successful Online Relationship...I finally met a guy online. <br />
<br />
It was pretty much love at first site! <br />
<br />
As with any relationship, there are things we will have to work through. For one, he's younger than I am, and all ready retired. He also has a lot of facial hair, which I like, but he looks to be a brown nose. Gosh, I hope he is!!!<br />
<br />
He's currently living in Rochester, MN...with his mom. <br />
<br />
His name is Tobias Edward Svenn, but everyone calls him Toby. <br />
<br />
I'll be meeting him for the first time in Indy. <br />
<br />
He's coming to live with me, and I really can't wait. <br />
<br />
Stay tuned for more details. <br />
<br />
<i>~Lisa Kroll</i><br />
<i> love warrior, optimist, adventurer</i>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-9137878296889473192017-11-19T10:18:00.000-05:002017-12-01T07:27:05.244-05:00Be Kind...and New/Old Traditions<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZB0R-0Z6qzYN-yQX9bDNbiP_iyO1mU3EVtYoqTy4Vg8E6byGc1MQ9WoQI3k83ei7ylCzgZEZbXJuhJ8va76aMNXOfzVhS9XwJrF0jq5LgiY2M0SJ_wVKCTMI7VrPUQu6GaEfUw/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIZB0R-0Z6qzYN-yQX9bDNbiP_iyO1mU3EVtYoqTy4Vg8E6byGc1MQ9WoQI3k83ei7ylCzgZEZbXJuhJ8va76aMNXOfzVhS9XwJrF0jq5LgiY2M0SJ_wVKCTMI7VrPUQu6GaEfUw/s320/IMG_0530.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am thankful, and grateful for my family. This next week starts a time of the year with which in my recent past, I have struggled. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As time goes on, I am feeling more excited about the holidays! Still, I am aware that there are triggers in my life. Just 11 years ago on the 22nd, my mom passed away from Brain Cancer; it was also a day on which I was celebrating my 20th wedding anniversary. Daily I think of my mom with joy in my heart, but I was older when she passed, unlike my sister who was still a young adult. My sister was just 26 years old, a few years married and had a one-year old when our mom died. My sister and I talk, and I know she misses our mom a lot. I think about my sister's three children, and all they have missed by their grandma not being around. I do find myself recalling family traditions from my growing up days and I try to share those with my nieces and nephew, as well as with my sister, and my own children. Two years ago it was impossible for me to even think about the holidays. I know that wasn't fair to my own two kids, but emotionally it was just too much for me to handle. As my children grow into young adults, and as I am becoming more distant from my past history, I am finding that I am able to re-invent how <b>WE</b> celebrate the holidays. We are creating our own new, family traditions. We blend traditions from my youth with traditions from my children's life. I am able to choose all those traditions which I have enjoyed. Thanksgiving is now MY holiday. I have claimed it back as a way to help me enjoy life. My sister and her family will come to my house to help continue building our new traditions. I will be in my element as I work in my kitchen to create our feast. We will dine on those traditional recipes that were ours, along with those traditional recipes that my children grew up on. We will play games and laugh. We will play music and dance. We will take pictures and veg-out. We will go to my downtown and be witness to my community coming together to kick-off the Christmas season with the official Canopy of Lights lighting. We will get out my Christmas tree and decorate my house. Just a few years ago I couldn't do this by myself. The life lesson I've taken away here...don't do it alone. Count on others in your life! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Another life lesson, is that we need to be kind to others. We need to be kind not just to those in our community in need, but to our friends, our family, and to ourselves. Heaven knows the holidays are hard, period. Commercialism has made society feel we all need to have the perfect illusion of time spent together: thank you, NOT, Hallmark. But, the holidays are extra hard when one has gone through loss, and everyone knows someone who is dealing with, or has survived loss. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One may know loss as death of a loved one or beloved pet, rough spots in a relationship, or divorce. Some people may be dealing with impending loss of life, financial stability, or family members struggling with addiction. When my mom died, it was the day before Thanksgiving in 2006. Thanksgiving and Christmas were surreal that year. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dealing with loss can manifest as depression. S</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">tress compounds feelings, too. As the year is drawing to an end, there are deadlines to complete, mid-year graduations making some wonder what they should be doing next in their life, or stresses in the workplace. Please reach out to your friends and neighbors. Just send hello, or hey, how are you doing? My personal experience has been to hunker down in my house and to wallow in my own sadness instead of reaching out to others. There were times when it was hard to adult, especially when others seem to have it all together and be so happy. Illusion is a powerful weapon. I am happier now, but I do still watch those around me and judge myself against the illusions I see. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Be kind. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Don't feel you have to do something just because it's always been done a certain way. There is joy and power in re-inventing happiness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Happy Thanksgiving my friends! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> love warrior, sister, friend, etc. </i></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-62143568366561610802017-11-12T09:34:00.000-05:002017-12-01T07:28:43.343-05:00Be You<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLi3GcBVDH05hFqasyA-zS2qYuYMprnko0nIIjsnW7vPJWkpf45lOgOEhfDccVmONz7elI_Dfn9eyO8i5qnoM7n0RpW2ayr8BTQplGjidoprM85DzKdG354iXbqdYB3F7vGPR2vg/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLi3GcBVDH05hFqasyA-zS2qYuYMprnko0nIIjsnW7vPJWkpf45lOgOEhfDccVmONz7elI_Dfn9eyO8i5qnoM7n0RpW2ayr8BTQplGjidoprM85DzKdG354iXbqdYB3F7vGPR2vg/s320/FullSizeRender.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found on the curb at Barnes and Nobel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It was written on a stone. <i>Be You</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Self discovery. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">It is interesting to have a chance in life to do this. I grew up thinking one needed to be married by a certain age, and was young by today's standards when I was wed at the age of 22. Today's young adults take time to discover what makes up their being. Most people my age have someone else they need to think about: a spouse, a significant other, children, parents. I am free from those responsibilities. My parents and grandparents are deceased. I have children, but they are young adults and I can truly only offer my words of wisdom, should they even ask me for advice. I am living in a period of my life where I am allowed to discover, or re-discover, what it is that makes up me. I get to just be my self, all alone, making discoveries. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">So what makes me, me? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">While volunteering to answer phones last month at the local National Public Radio station's fund drive, I took a character strengths inventory test along side the other volunteers. The Producer of On-Air Fundraising was our volunteer contact for the night and she thought it would be interesting to see our top and bottom five strengths. She wanted to compare all of us and see if, because we all listen and volunteered, we had the same characteristics. Here's a link to the test: <a href="https://www.viacharacter.org/survey/account/register">VIA Character Strength survey</a>. One hundred and twenty questions later, and our top 24 character strengths were gathered. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After taking the questionnaire, I felt slightly less encouraged about myself. It wasn't because of my top five strengths. It was because at the very bottom of my list was LOVE. That's right, my number 24 of 24. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Love...defined as: valuing close relations with others, in particular those in which sharing and caring are reciprocated, being close to people. </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I know I have come far over the past few years, but apparently my subconscious, emotional state is still damaged. I wonder if I'll ever truly heal and that alarms me. Am I capable of loving others? What if I am unable? I do feel I'm becoming more skeptical of relationships. I look at others, and I think to myself,<i> are they living a lie too? </i> <i>Maybe all relationships are based on lies and I don't play that game.</i> <i>What is really going on in their story?</i> Then I remind myself that it's possible they have never experienced the depth of deception, or emotional abuse that made up my relationship. I wonder, what does real love feel like? What is it like to share everything with someone and have them love you because of that? It's funny, I feel there are souls in this world who could love me, but also wonder, if they really knew me, would they stay or would they go too? Rational Me thinks, it doesn't matter, because they aren't with you. I feel like I'm missing that little something that would make someone else want to stay by my side, no matter what. I am someone who doesn't have a soul mate in this universe. I guard my heart from anyone else who might want to get too close; even my friends. I can't handle being hurt again. For my armor to be pieced, it will take an arrow made of Graphene. Again, Rational Me, knows that I will likely outlive my two cats, so one day I will feel heart ache again. I am comforted in knowing that my cats won't leave or discard me. Just like my sister and my kids, they love me unconditionally. Blood links and pets, I have discovered...come back to me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_5zln2R5rPHjwHUan4CLtmsYicKisf18uqV3bYrJsBxPyDfjo2zsnx_1mlyF9ARqNpHELjIKHc9jC0FhBva8_J8L_fNR63pVJW5zo3sHneJkZtZporLg_6yCAw1UXuljETQSgg/s320/IMG_9601.jpeg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Toulouse and Berlioz</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG_5zln2R5rPHjwHUan4CLtmsYicKisf18uqV3bYrJsBxPyDfjo2zsnx_1mlyF9ARqNpHELjIKHc9jC0FhBva8_J8L_fNR63pVJW5zo3sHneJkZtZporLg_6yCAw1UXuljETQSgg/s1600/IMG_9601.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Recently, I have been feeling I need a dog back in my life. I do miss W because he made me get out and I felt I was with <i>someone</i> even though he was a dog. We would do things...like just walk in the woods, or run errands. I can do things by myself, but it's lonely at times, and my kitties can't go out with me. My recent very late hours at school have made me realize maybe I'm not quite ready for a dog. I rationalize that if I have a dog, I will have to go home. I have been approved by a rescue, and should the perfect-for-me-dog need a home...I am open to that addition in my life. Until then, I am happy to have my two other boys. I often find them both on my bed acting like I'm disturbing their secret slumber and grooming spot. Good thing I don't mind cat hairs! I think these two would love a doggie playmate to chase around the house. I know that I can love, and I <b>do</b> have love to share. I am blessed to have a house where animals can be nurtured. I am an animal lover. That is part of whom I am. Another discovery of being me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Going back to my character strengths, my top five are: Judgment, Social Intelligence, Appreciation of Beauty and Excellence, Fairness, and Honesty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">1.<i> <u>Judgment:</u> The ability to think things through and examine them from all sides. Not jumping to conclusions, weighing all evidence fairly and being able to change ones mind in light of evidence. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> This was my number one. I am compassionate. I do realize there is more to a person or situation than what may meet the eye. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2. <i><u>Social Intelligence:</u> Being aware of the motives/feelings of others and oneself. Knowing what to do to fit into different social situations, knowing what makes other people tick. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I have spent my lifetime figuring out how to make everyone happy all at the same time, so I wasn't shocked to see this so high up on my list. I have only recently been practicing mindfulness to learn to be aware of my own feelings, too. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">3. <i><u>Appreciation of Beauty and Excellence:</u> Noticing and appreciating beauty, excellence and or skilled performance in various domains of life, from nature to art to mathematics to science to everyday experiences. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Spot on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">4. <i><u>Fairness:</u> Treating all people the same according to notions of fairness and justice not letting feelings bias decisions about others; giving everyone a fair chance. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> I am a people person, and a teacher. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">5. <i><u>Honesty:</u> Speaking the truth but more broadly presenting oneself in a genuine way and acting in a sincere way, being without pretense; taking responsibility for one's feelings and actions. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> Trying to just be me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am not sure how the results ended for the group of volunteers. Honestly, I was embarrassed that LOVE was my number 24. I was so shocked that I couldn't think about anything else at that moment. I was sure this group of people, was looking at me and thinking, well of course she isn't good at love. She's divorced. Reflecting today, I wonder what was their number 24? Maybe they were just as upset with what landed in their last position on the character graph. I also know that it didn't matter who I was with, the emotions I felt would have been the same...embarrassment, feeling my results said<i> I can't love</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With fresh eyes and and opened mind, here's what I'm taking away from that survey: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have good <b>judgment</b>, am <b>socially intelligent</b>, <b>appreciate beauty and excellence</b>, and I am <b>fair</b> and <b>honest</b>. I also work well as a member of a <b>team(work),</b> and am <b>kind</b> to others. I show <b>prudence</b> in the choices I make, and take time to express <b>gratitude</b> for what I have. I <b>persevere</b> until jobs are completed, and I enjoy the success of doing so. I am filled with <b>hope</b> and believe a good future will happen by working to achieve it. <b>Humor</b> and laughter cause joy and I like seeing all around me smile. My <b>love of learning</b> is related to my high level of <b>curiosity</b> about how things work in life. I am a leader, but might show my <b>leadership</b> skills in helping others be organized. I go all in when I do things and am filled with <b>zest</b>. I do live life as if it's an adventure. I am <b>humble</b> and my <b>perspective</b> allow me offer sound advice based on my experiences. My <b>self-regulation</b> opens my emotions to be in the moment. I use my <b>creativity</b> to be a problem solver. My <b>spirituality</b> is based on knowing the Universe is a kind place and we all have our spot in it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I suppose I am not surprised that <b>Forgiveness</b> and <b>Bravery </b>are just above <b>Love </b>on my list. I am still working on forgiving myself for how things played out in my marriage. I am also still working on being brave enough to speak my mind all the time. My habit to take the fall and let others have their desires, is hard to break. I do know that in order for me to love, I must trust. In order to trust, I need to forgive myself, and feel brave enough to speak my mind. I need to know that I will be loved because of my thoughts and what makes me - me, and not because I didn't rock the boat. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The night I found that rock, I came inside Barnes and Nobel. I had my tea and started blogging. I had intended to look up what the protocol was for finding a painted rock and re-hiding it, but when I went back outside at the end of the night, the rock was gone. Had it only meant to be an inspiration? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am left with this wonder, Can I care enough about myself, to cut myself some slack and just finally be me? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I can. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I just need more time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> student of life</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-19719693616636748242017-10-08T10:52:00.001-04:002017-10-10T22:12:38.452-04:00The Universe...and The Law of Attraction<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The Law of Attraction is<i> the ability to attract into our lives, whatever we are focusing on. </i></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Simply put, whatever you are thinking about, is drawn towards you. I have believed this to be true for a lot longer than I realized. I also believe that our Universe works in mysterious ways. I have always felt that positivity is at the root of my soul, and have been told I am an optimistic person. I would agree, I am. I believe that when you do good things in the world, good will come to you. Some might call this Karma.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have been struggling with my religious beliefs since February. I am still currently on sabbatical from the Catholic church. I am a spiritual being, but haven't been able to practice organized religion since listening to a sermon where I felt unwelcome because I am divorced.* The Universe gives us what we need though, when we need it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My city has a talented community of artisans. Supporting the arts and our artisans, on the first Friday of each month, downtown Bloomington hosts a Gallery Walk. Nine galleries, all within walking distance of one another, offer appetizers and beverages of some type, and stay open from 5-8 pm. I haven't attended as frequently as I'd like, but this past Friday, one of my artist friends had a painting that would be on display. I made plans to be at the gallery displaying her work when I knew she would also be there. We snacked and admired all the paintings, pottery, and sculptures before heading to another one of our favorite galleries. As we walked down the sidewalk, I saw a familiar lady across the street holding open a door, and beckoning us to enter her building. I yelled hello across to her, but said we were on our way to a gallery. My friend started across the street and said, 'Come on, let's go in! It's beautiful there. I've been inside for watercolor society meetings." I followed, then introduced her to my former mother-in-law. "Cassidy," I said "This is Kate, my next door neighbor." I knew Cassidy had no idea that we were heading into a church service. Part of the healing process that I've needed to do is to separate my former MIL from her son. I am working on allowing our relationship to be mended. Earlier in the week I had been dining with Kate, and she had mentioned the Friday Vespers that would be happening at church. See, this used to be my church for over 15 years. I all ready knew it <b>is </b>beautiful inside. In fact, there is so much that I know about it. If only I had a chance to tell my friend, and pull her back before she started across the street. I wasn't sure I could emotionally handle this building in my life yet. But, the Universe gives us what we need, when we need it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We were inside and now heading towards the sanctuary where live jazz was enticing all within earshot to come and listen. I was greeted by familiar faces with hugs, and words of joy, "I'm so happy to see you." The words and hugs were heartfelt. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We picked a pew in the back of the church and sat down to listen to the music and singing. I thought maybe we could find a moment to sneak out before the service got started. My MIL, whose job as greeter was now over, entered the sanctuary and made her way back to sit next to me. This was now going to be more of a challenge to leave. I could walk though, if this became too emotionally difficult. When it came time for us to sing the first song, my MIL reached out to stead her side of my bulletin because I had offered and was sharing it with her. Cassidy chucked under her breathe. We hadn't talked about leaving early, but I suspect she had been having the same thoughts. We were now all in. We were meant to absorb what the universe was offering. We needed to be in this moment. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This service was called a Vesper Service, which means a sunset prayer. As the service went on, I felt it was more meditative in nature. It offered soft words that were meant to calm the chaos of life. The minister, whom I have known for what seems like forever, spoke in her positive tone. She and I are kindred spirits, and I felt the connection once again. I was being drawn into her positivity. The service was about balance and letting go of those things in our life we need to let go. After singing psalms, and poems of peace, there was a period when communion and prayer time was offered. This is a church that accepts all, and they mean<b> all</b>. No one is turned away. At this service, the church had several stations set up as alternative ways to be one with God. You could choose communion, you could lay your hands on a large globe and say a prayer for someone else in the world, you could go to the back narthex and draw a small picture, you could choose to light a candle as an offering, or you could write something on a piece of paper to let go. The paper could be placed into a bowl of water, stirred, and then melt away...releasing you from whatever you were holding on to. Cassidy looked at me at this point. She said, "Did you need to be here?" I felt her question was rhetorical, but responded any way, "I think I did." She asked if I wanted to participate in any of the stations. I said yes, and asked if she minded because this had not been part of how I thought we'd spend the evening. She gave me a smile of friendship and said she was happy to stay. It was in that moment that we both realized that the Universe was actually working some kind of magic. I decided I needed communion, because I needed to feel nourished by God, and I needed to release, by writing on one of those small bits of paper.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nUkhJDHL6LLOrHieJElArHvr7vkli2YrevViPUdvhbkQjmZTknW2Rz_wD9oKVP7hZxTTV3A8TVSmxe0EOOS9P7tjcX3YX69KiyQUsv7L4nej3xVFCNOCrsO7F91w6zxpezHIIw/s1600/6ecdda3cdc3fb9b0968ea56a738a1b9d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nUkhJDHL6LLOrHieJElArHvr7vkli2YrevViPUdvhbkQjmZTknW2Rz_wD9oKVP7hZxTTV3A8TVSmxe0EOOS9P7tjcX3YX69KiyQUsv7L4nej3xVFCNOCrsO7F91w6zxpezHIIw/s320/6ecdda3cdc3fb9b0968ea56a738a1b9d.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Christian Church<br />
Bloomington, Indiana</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I went forward and the minister's smile radiated down on me, "Lisa," she said, "You are loved, and there isn't anything you can do about it." I told her I might cry. The lump in my throat was not from the gluten free bread and wine I ate. I went towards the back of the sanctuary and I wrote, <i>I am letting go of ----- There is joy in my heart and love, and peace, and happiness, and I am grateful. I choose love, understanding and peace.</i> As I swirled the paper around inside the glass bowl, I saw it melt away as the ink from my words floated to the surface. My words were mixing now with the words from others. I was released. I looked up at the front of the church. The tree of life stained glass window still looks as beautiful as I recall. I could hear the spirit of my father-in-law's voice and feel the pressure of his hand on my right shoulder. So many times he had signaled me to go forward when it was time to serve communion to the congregation. I recalled my own children being baptized in the waters of the baptistery just beneath the tree of life years ago. Their baptism was by immersion. My children were old enough to make the commitment and know what it meant. I taught vacation bible school in this building and did children's ministry every Sunday for the first five years I was back in town. I have been a very active person in this place. So much personal history is in these walls. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I believe the Universe was speaking to me tonight. I have given so much and now it was time for me to receive back. I need to be able to heal completely so I can move forward in my life. </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thank you Universe. Maybe my sabbatical from church is nearing it's end?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My soul was shattered and my spirit was broken. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Life is a forever forward moving process. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am open Universe, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">please continue giving me what I need, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">when I am ready for it. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~Lisa Kroll </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> eating, praying and loving</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
-----<br />
*my feelings. The church didn't say, Lisa you are not welcomed. I just don't like being made to feel like a sinner for being human and living life while always trying to do the right thing. <br />
<br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-30282814639800293312017-09-24T23:08:00.000-04:002017-10-08T23:07:52.306-04:00Ed in Indy... September 8, 2017<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<div style="font-family: times; text-align: left;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOeybQXV_Z9NhbwFVXLjFj6MieSuf1Xl9a0-H72klZuYqtJ__erpQX0jbEtbFLjYXEo_Y4nJJ5GrFXxiawTaEHGYKRbMHM3_OfaDKtOHW-hEK9VdIXO1z0TGcLG__ano8O4YaS9g/s1600/IMG_8798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOeybQXV_Z9NhbwFVXLjFj6MieSuf1Xl9a0-H72klZuYqtJ__erpQX0jbEtbFLjYXEo_Y4nJJ5GrFXxiawTaEHGYKRbMHM3_OfaDKtOHW-hEK9VdIXO1z0TGcLG__ano8O4YaS9g/s320/IMG_8798.JPG" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><i>"Do I love you? Do I hate you? I can't make up my mind. </i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><i>So, let's free fall and see where we land."</i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><i> ~Ed Sheeran, Where We Land, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><i> from the album <u>5</u> (2009)</i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Ed, I love you! </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-kerning: none;">I don’t have the words to describe how wonderful it was to hear Ed Sheeran live for a second time. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">THIS time I was prepared. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">I knew his tour playlist. Well, I knew the general playlist, and I do know all the words to all his songs, so I was good to go. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">In March, I had an opportunity to buy tickets to his current <i>Divide Tour</i>, and he would be playing in Indianapolis. I was lucky enough to purchase two tickets on the floor. Row 19…hmm, for my first concert of his I was in row 10…clearly, I was feeling snobbish. What was I thinking!? This time, I would be taking my sister! I would still be close to Ed. His energy, and positivity would reach me. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">I had foolishly hoped to buy four decent seats at Ticketmaster prices, but I wasn’t willing to settle for seats that would give us “just the experience”. I experienced that once when I saw Genesis in concert. I’m not even sure they were really in the same arena we were in that night. So, go big or go home. I went big. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-kerning: none;">My sister had a birthday in June, and guess what I gave her? She needed to be my date for this concert. She needed to be with me because, years before she had been the one who introduced me to Ed. "You should listen to this guy" she said. "He has this song called <i>Lego Houses</i>. I really think you'd like it." I have to admit, I was too busy to take a even a few minutes to listen to her suggestion. I was deep into student teaching at that time. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Six months later however, a guy I was dating played some Ed for me. This guy had a guitar and he actually PLAYED, and sang to me. I was smitten! Not by that guy, but by the music. The words and melody captured my heart. I HAD to find out about this young artist. It was mid-June, and my divorce had just been finalized. I was suddenly very free, and I was obsessed with a new artist. Two CD's purchased, my detective hat askew, and I was finding out all I could about the wordsmith who created the poetic songs I was now in love with. I talked to my sister on the phone one day, “Hey, there’s this singer I'm in love with, and I don't mean like I’m in love with him, he's like 24 and that’s gross, I'm in love with his personality, with his drive, with his word choice, and rhythm, and language. His music is intoxicating! Have you heard of Ed Sheeran?" I'm sure if she was with me face-to-face, her look would have been one of her shaking her head at me while she had that 'I-told-you-so' look in her eyes. I suspect she <b>was</b> rolling her eyes at the heavens as she patiently responded, "Yes (long pause) I told you about him months ago. He has this song called Lego Houses, remember?" As a Lego lover, I did kind of remember that song name now that she mentioned it. As a Harry Potter fan though, I also recalled my sister telling me this singer looked a bit like Ron Wesley in the Harry Potter movies. Which I suppose he does. lol It’s funny how and what our brains choose to recall, and when. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Well, in my obsession, I realized that just a few weeks later (7-7-15), Ed Sheeran would be playing in Indy, just over an hour from my house. I asked the guy I was dating if he wanted to go see Ed. He was a fan, too. He hemmed and hawed, but was noncommittal. I was all in. If I was going to this concert, I was going to spend a little money and REALLY see this guy. I found two tickets close to the stage. They cost $400, a piece. This guy I was dating could afford it, but he had excuses. I wasn't asking him to buy my ticket, just go to the concert with me. He wouldn't pull the trigger. I gave him an ultimatum...let me know by a certain time, or I’d buy myself a ticket and go alone. He didn't respond, so I bought myself a ticket. Go big, or go home. I went big. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Two weeks later, I drove myself north to attend my first rock concert, alone. My seat was in row 10, dead center. It was A! MAZE! ING! I was in awe of the young performer before me. One guy on stage, making magic happen. He worked his loop pedal and recreated the tracks I had purchased. I couldn’t get enough. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">As many others, I became an instant Sheerio. That’s what Ed Sheeran fans are called. After the concert, I made sure my music library included all the songs he has recorded. NOT every song he’s ever written, this guy is a prolific writer. I just want to own everything he’s recorded. I check periodically to make sure my library is still up to date. I believe in buying CD's to support artists, so what ever I can get a disc, I do. Ed likes to keep things simple and digital. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">I follow Ed on Twitter, and Instagram to see what is happening in his life. I know he doesn’t manage his official sites, but still, I love feeling in the loop. I can’t imagine having my life in the limelight as celebrities do. Yet, I willingly follow him, always wanting to know what he's creating. There are a lot of wanna bees in the world, but Ed Sheeran is the real deal. I knew from the moment I truly listened to him that his talent puts him in the same league as Michael Jackson, Elton John, Prince, George Michael, etc. He IS a big deal. I hope he’s around for a long, long time. I love his positive energy and I think the world needs what he has to offer. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">So, in March…I had an opportunity to buy tickets. This time I wanted my sister to share this with me. I persevered, and found two seats on the floor, pretty close to the stage. I pulled the trigger. Sold. Next, we just had to wait for September 8 to arrive. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">The next six months allowed me to do even more research. What would the playlist be? Who would be the opener? Did I really own all Ed’s music? Did I know all the words to his songs? I’m pretty sure that if Berlioz and Toulouse could talk, they’d be able to sing along with Ed, too!</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">When September 8th arrived, I couldn’t believe it. The day didn’t feel real to me. I took my first personal day, and left school at noon to head north to Indianapolis. My sister arrived a few hours later. We haven’t spent any real alone, sister time together, since I turned 50 back in 2014. We have stolen away a few hours here and there, but just a few hours. We needed this weekend. We walked to the venue, stopping for a drink and an appetizer. Then it was time to go see Ed! </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">When I saw Ed the first time, I knew Rixton was opening for him. I educated myself with their most popular songs. This time I hadn’t been paying attention to opener James Blunt. I <span style="background-color: white;">found out</span> that Ed and he were friends and not surprising, Ed has written several of his songs, too. I <i>was</i> surprised when Joshua Radin came on stage. I am not familiar with him, but he was a nice opener for the evening. Apparently Blunt was sick. I didn’t really care. Sorry for the lack of love James, but I was there to sing with Ed. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">I apologized to the people sitting next to me. “Im sorry. I will be singing every single song tonight, and I’m not a professional singer!” </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">They laughed. “That’s fine.” They approved. It mattered not, I was going to sing even if they didn’t. My sister had been warned months ago. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">In my research, I found a YouTube of Ed singing a song that he’d be singing live…<i>Feeling Good</i>, by Nina Simone. Last spring I took a history of Jazz class, and this song and artist fell right into that genre. How cool! Nina started her recording career in 1958. She was the daughter of a female Methodist minister. She was also a civil rights activist as well as recording artist. I was excited to be able to hear Ed singing her song live. I knew he’d be fusing it with his song <i>I See Fire</i>. He was commissioned to write that song for the movie <i>The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug (2013)</i>. The songs are opposite in mood and message, but melodically they work well together. I was ecstatic to have my new phone fully charged, and with loads of memory, in my hand. To see Ed singing <a href="https://youtu.be/T7DyO1pKCeM"><i>Feeling Good/I See Fire</i> in Indy on September 8, click here.</a> </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2mguYvBWuYYcuW8H4r0PWJFbAG_k4LScnnf06Anuz_KxSJPUIP8vCZ2NVqKHk6SMEyDZba3jspDTCtvmF6-b_lpCyJwzd0_nyxoeU0L-boxRMhfG88gjWyQ4QCtZ76fUMm_x7A/s1600/IMG_8773.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE2mguYvBWuYYcuW8H4r0PWJFbAG_k4LScnnf06Anuz_KxSJPUIP8vCZ2NVqKHk6SMEyDZba3jspDTCtvmF6-b_lpCyJwzd0_nyxoeU0L-boxRMhfG88gjWyQ4QCtZ76fUMm_x7A/s320/IMG_8773.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With my Anna! </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">I took photo after photo of Ed, and longed to have my big camera with us. In the end, it didn’t really matter. I was in the moment; going big. I was with my sister, singing with Ed, and having the time of my life. </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">I was feeling good. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
The next time I see Ed, I'd like to hear him singing unplugged, and in a small, intimate venue. I want to hear him sing all his early songs I love from the album 5...<i>Sunburn, So, Be Like You, Firefly, The City</i><i>, Let It Out, Homeless, Where We Land, Wake Me Up</i>...Oh my, I want it all. I want to go big!</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;"><i> hopelessly romantic, music junkie, Sheerio</i></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Cell phone concert pictures: </span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStgpxKSon4hHRTaorKzl9m2JTVJLxGDRlVXAZOichWFZj2PTGzArTxyrsQu6f4Nkrr-nvZkoKvoJBdsgOF7T2xD8n9iqcLaHTECPbsCaMd36buAvPxAz2xTFvjR5oOQjvUD-5Kw/s1600/IMG_8883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiStgpxKSon4hHRTaorKzl9m2JTVJLxGDRlVXAZOichWFZj2PTGzArTxyrsQu6f4Nkrr-nvZkoKvoJBdsgOF7T2xD8n9iqcLaHTECPbsCaMd36buAvPxAz2xTFvjR5oOQjvUD-5Kw/s320/IMG_8883.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">September 8, 2017</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Bankers Life Field House</span></div>
<div style="font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-kerning: none;">Indianapolis, IN </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-kerning: none;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-kerning: none;">Ed Sheeran</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZIYY4mQ8PqL-L-wyewxLOLuASCjM-H2jRDX6SpAh1oZJELGXPHitlrNXp8IBzSEeTuuUyo6N0R6rjACLuwFLFCUz4QSh2-x5wT1sl3S0VMWeooq4tiPOYsIVxwr863uD1dWpxA/s1600/IMG_8803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQZIYY4mQ8PqL-L-wyewxLOLuASCjM-H2jRDX6SpAh1oZJELGXPHitlrNXp8IBzSEeTuuUyo6N0R6rjACLuwFLFCUz4QSh2-x5wT1sl3S0VMWeooq4tiPOYsIVxwr863uD1dWpxA/s320/IMG_8803.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQZz2ls2GNSBEINB_OZvCRnFxVMoJ1GNsepbQHSbatgteqPAHdbacYDntxKzrJocfeczyHltmK5KnvzrRQD6qZvVnqIFidjoJb-KswzS0rPlZFpLOmUqDSCi3BX60HTcekn6PvQ/s1600/IMG_8832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivQZz2ls2GNSBEINB_OZvCRnFxVMoJ1GNsepbQHSbatgteqPAHdbacYDntxKzrJocfeczyHltmK5KnvzrRQD6qZvVnqIFidjoJb-KswzS0rPlZFpLOmUqDSCi3BX60HTcekn6PvQ/s320/IMG_8832.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrtPLzrNAqwpCi9vRFlHYN5g4LjYcniXIXLk6173ynZW9Uv0q__gknlHlyw_l4HoCDo0zQciy4A6UZdsbpA-V9LA1lBTGvgpM7UlivOCtmX9q7wkRSyF8vY92nGgJZgA1eH2Bhg/s1600/IMG_8769.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNrtPLzrNAqwpCi9vRFlHYN5g4LjYcniXIXLk6173ynZW9Uv0q__gknlHlyw_l4HoCDo0zQciy4A6UZdsbpA-V9LA1lBTGvgpM7UlivOCtmX9q7wkRSyF8vY92nGgJZgA1eH2Bhg/s320/IMG_8769.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WmshFpHG_GWi2ZUmiY3N028AQ_TXvFZI7FXyZwYnxSNhyphenhyphenIquwqGSx71S2NVtU2J9K4VSLpX1M_S39mORmpXwLsgQmCEDoKUTpruqsKqYh7ymV6X3DikOJLpjlN056PUkzT2kLw/s1600/IMG_8770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WmshFpHG_GWi2ZUmiY3N028AQ_TXvFZI7FXyZwYnxSNhyphenhyphenIquwqGSx71S2NVtU2J9K4VSLpX1M_S39mORmpXwLsgQmCEDoKUTpruqsKqYh7ymV6X3DikOJLpjlN056PUkzT2kLw/s320/IMG_8770.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbUpTaOrZ1qlr7_Yo5vjrrSicSdWIyGuOu3pG9vzz3kfET5GvgD2ylqkLPMOFNbDSOa_joonGe5mdp4QFLb8kJOSl6tLClXzPn7yg2VZH6ajjZSlDkzdy9aEckS2BG7buWzXrnA/s1600/IMG_8797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXbUpTaOrZ1qlr7_Yo5vjrrSicSdWIyGuOu3pG9vzz3kfET5GvgD2ylqkLPMOFNbDSOa_joonGe5mdp4QFLb8kJOSl6tLClXzPn7yg2VZH6ajjZSlDkzdy9aEckS2BG7buWzXrnA/s320/IMG_8797.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCd7E6mzBVvOjzXSOH7EnSzAEwx8P5qzuPzkO8U6Wy_5ebta8RtviUlBnUliq49VxKCkpQdvAGsKgBEJHTJHY-4lvU0FD5cJyfBix9a7Wm65i3IE8kld_W57j92qj6ktMSaCuo5Q/s1600/IMG_8810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCd7E6mzBVvOjzXSOH7EnSzAEwx8P5qzuPzkO8U6Wy_5ebta8RtviUlBnUliq49VxKCkpQdvAGsKgBEJHTJHY-4lvU0FD5cJyfBix9a7Wm65i3IE8kld_W57j92qj6ktMSaCuo5Q/s320/IMG_8810.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLratPRnr3c9p_Yd2GG9NuQPZRKnnuFhJCiAHjmgig8Ev8yJuNsQIcAgJB39YxnpjlpPMYFC7Np63Xk-BGxrdDEgVcGg_JKdS5opit-2RLN_wULicgFczmAuODHDJQ5RH5Qx_uaw/s1600/IMG_8806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLratPRnr3c9p_Yd2GG9NuQPZRKnnuFhJCiAHjmgig8Ev8yJuNsQIcAgJB39YxnpjlpPMYFC7Np63Xk-BGxrdDEgVcGg_JKdS5opit-2RLN_wULicgFczmAuODHDJQ5RH5Qx_uaw/s320/IMG_8806.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgFhb1tAdVVPQTTOjfl89rkCWrumSBSfuxMfOkCcBM1UAHg6hi6PT3PwQzcueXVYJP1cJmrhjd4jKt6p4s4zyai0a1_JCsA2AbLn7Q3U1wiy-jV0vqhQH7VnK6QwgcIiZNKW3Qw/s1600/IMG_8785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgFhb1tAdVVPQTTOjfl89rkCWrumSBSfuxMfOkCcBM1UAHg6hi6PT3PwQzcueXVYJP1cJmrhjd4jKt6p4s4zyai0a1_JCsA2AbLn7Q3U1wiy-jV0vqhQH7VnK6QwgcIiZNKW3Qw/s320/IMG_8785.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4KncKmuEL9OYdw-0qWwyb2NcE8QkWFXq7XrGIemhu6biZv-IuhWvISozVzln5rr4nRWTE7XTjQhmdWrPhP1UxIie7THz7mVM8XcGo3AtPaTJAyh5ttvc_Luz5Q1ZdSYpISDo4A/s1600/IMG_8783.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW4KncKmuEL9OYdw-0qWwyb2NcE8QkWFXq7XrGIemhu6biZv-IuhWvISozVzln5rr4nRWTE7XTjQhmdWrPhP1UxIie7THz7mVM8XcGo3AtPaTJAyh5ttvc_Luz5Q1ZdSYpISDo4A/s320/IMG_8783.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNxpAtnohunKpaSIc3RPyLJYMlqgQL7CS0kkX0QVsR94edFjidsibs6E3rLJ0HBSyb-hSY_JzIhJIqUYvrmmHGTbXL_LhME_NrrTbUD7M03N2VqqcoWS-RNpvzv4P_bu6K5kq6A/s1600/IMG_8787.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhNxpAtnohunKpaSIc3RPyLJYMlqgQL7CS0kkX0QVsR94edFjidsibs6E3rLJ0HBSyb-hSY_JzIhJIqUYvrmmHGTbXL_LhME_NrrTbUD7M03N2VqqcoWS-RNpvzv4P_bu6K5kq6A/s320/IMG_8787.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From row 19</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-stroke-width: initial; font-family: Times; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-4807513991016171212017-08-27T16:39:00.000-04:002017-10-08T23:09:24.138-04:00Continuing the Journey...<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Two years, two months and 13 days have passed </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">since my Independence Day. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I put the dates into a <i>'days past'</i> generator to find that out. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am not keeping track. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I would not go back to my past life. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was so limited and held back. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I intimidated the person whom I thought was my partner because he couldn't handle my glow. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am healing, and learning to love again. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am re-evaluating what it is that I have to offer the world. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am not dating, nor do I have someone in the 'picture'. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I haven't loved myself for a very long time.</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In order to be able to love someone else, I must first love myself. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">No more accepting life as status quo. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a product of the perfect combination of genes </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">which my parents brought together. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was created, I did not create myself. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My complexion, my eyes, my smile...all gifts from my parents. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I don't see my parents in myself, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">but I feel them in my heart. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My naturally curly hair, thank you dad, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and has a mind of it's own. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I love to let it be free. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I like that my hair may look different each time I look in the mirror. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I makes me unpredictable. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: blue; font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have joy in my heart, and it oozes out. </span></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am truly grateful for all I have. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I choose positivity in life. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I enjoy making a difference, even if it's just </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">for one person, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">one animal, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">or our beautiful Earth. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I do love the world around me, and I love others. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I like to hear what someone young, or old has to say. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a listener, a thinker and a problem solver. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I look at others and wonder, what is their life story? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I look at things and think, is there a better way to do that? </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am a born teacher. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have patience. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am curious. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I want to know how and why things work as they do. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I marvel at simplicity and complexity. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am generous with my time and talents. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I like taking care of others. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am maternal. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am creative. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Art and music drive my spirit. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Music is in every fiber of my being, and it colors my world. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I thrive when I can share my passions. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I feel the Universe tingles, </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">and that makes my soul happy. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">~Lisa Kroll</span></i></div>
<div>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> spreading Love, Understanding, Positivity</span></i></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Go listen to <i>The Power of Peace</i> CD by the Isley Brothers and produced by Carlos Santana. </span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">released on July 28, 2017</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-14376249143015330382017-08-13T20:17:00.000-04:002018-10-13T20:40:48.656-04:00The Dating Game...Part 3<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO06ARapFuDGwyRmYu_WjH1_oXQTLB7siwkOdlex3mel4amSujxvpjTovOOIggb7Wv0fK6FyLRHiGJ_ojW1f8yEJcmytBzrAqqcu53VtmCDGRLfWPScS1cEnL2Id3Rl8fN58fShQ/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO06ARapFuDGwyRmYu_WjH1_oXQTLB7siwkOdlex3mel4amSujxvpjTovOOIggb7Wv0fK6FyLRHiGJ_ojW1f8yEJcmytBzrAqqcu53VtmCDGRLfWPScS1cEnL2Id3Rl8fN58fShQ/s400/Unknown.jpeg" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I decided to conduct some research this summer. Using the rubric I created (see </span><a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/05/to-date-or-not-to-date.html" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;">What I'm looking for in my partner</a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> ), I jumped into the pool. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Three stories....</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Plenty of Fish: POF.com</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><u>Bachelor</u><u> Number Three:</u> </b> Attractive man, just a year older than me started up a conversation on POF, it was Monday just after dinner. ✔- older. Unlike Match, one can talk for free on POF. Why pay when you can get something for free, right? Well, this guy seemed like someone I would like to get to know better. His pictures were nice. His personality, via texting, seemed pleasant. We text back and forth for several hours. It was suggested that we meet and have a glass of wine. I can't recall who suggested it. He tells me that I can come over to his place, but he has rules...I cannot go inside his house. <i>What?</i> I think, or "we can meet out someplace?" is my response. Side note: It's 10:30 at night. He asks where we can meet so late. I found myself literally laughing out loud. I hadn't intended to suggest we should meet that night, I had been thinking we should meet another night. We both chuckle over this slip up, and decide to meet the next night at a local place at 7pm. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At noon the next day, he sent me a message...he asked if we could chat another night online before we meet face-to-face. <i>What? What??? </i>Yes, of course. He told me he'd feel more at ease if we could chat via online one more time before meeting. Okay, what ever. I was thinking he's insecure, but will discover later on what I suspect really happened. That night I can see he's on POF but he's not responding to me, I figure he must have a better catch happening. No worries. I'm fine not connecting with him. Things happen the way they are supposed to happen. I finally receive a message on POF from him about 20 minutes after we were to meet. I had been busy with a project, so I finished what I was doing and then reply. Again, the chit chat happens easily. He says he wasn't sure why he'd been so cautious and canceled meeting me. He asks if we could we meet now, and chat in person for an hour. He'd even bring a bottle of wine. <i>Hmm. I had to decide, did I trust him enough? The night before in our talking, he had told me his first name, what he did and where he worked. I had put on my detective hat earlier in the day. Bingo! In my searching, he came right up. He was easy to find, very public, and seemed to be representing himself accurately. </i>I asked him if he was bothered by the fact that I live right next door to my former MIL. I hadn't told him this information until now. That was fine he assured me...unless she had a 22. I told him she loved me and was a sweetheart, both true statements. He said his rules were he'd stay outside and only spend an hour. <i>He seemed to have lot of rules he followed, and I do have a wonderful porch for hanging out. </i>I told him I needed his full name, address and phone number because I'd be giving this information to my sister. Then, I added that all my neighbors look out for me...again two true statements. He was fine with all I threw at him. What the heck, I thought. I'm 53 years old. I need to have a little trust. We trade cell numbers, etc. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He came over and I thought, <i>hmm, he's cute in person. I wouldn't mind if he tried to kiss me tonight. </i> We shared a bottle of wine. The one hour we had allotted flew past and grew into several. It was close to 2 a.m. when he went home, and he did kiss me. It was nice. When he had arrived on my doorstep, he was visibly nervous. He rambled on about loving birds. As a long time bird lover, I could tell he was really a fan, too. We had this in common. In our conversations, little things about our era came up...he didn't have to explain, nor did I. We understood what the other was talking about, no generation gap. I liked this about him. I asked how he came to be in town and all about his family and his growing up. I heard about his past girlfriends and how he's a pamper-er. He also confides in me that he's been the one to end all his relationships, but he has remained friends with four of the last five girls he's dated. Interesting. RED FLAG: noted 🚩 I rationalized our conversation details, he seemed to be trying to impress me. This was our first time to meet in person. I said little about my past. In fact, I asked questions, but barely shared. He liked to talk, but didn't ask many questions. I was happy to be getting to know someone new. I was determined to not talk about my ex on my first date because, I am moving on. We talked a little about dating now and Bachelor Number Three told me I should check out what women on dating sites look like, so I could see what I'm up against. Eyebrows raised, I inquired, and he told me many show themselves in bikinis. <i>I must admit, I all ready feel I don't have a chance in this pond. This new information didn't help my self esteem. </i>He went on to say some even have their daughters in the pictures with both wearing bikinis. He said this opens up dialogue for dirty conversation with those ladies. I'm sure this should have been a RED FLAG 🚩, but I am still naive in this dating game. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Over the next day, he and I send pleasant texts back and forth. Just a little flirty, but nice, and not at all like Bachelor Number Two. He wants to take me out for dinner on Friday to my choice of restaurant. I mentioned I like to dine at local places and not chain restaurants. "Perfect," he said, as the '<i>local'</i> I could show him new places, and, if I wear a dress with plenty of cleavage, I can order a bottle of wine from the <i>'top shelf'</i>. RED FLAG 🚩: noted. Maybe he's just being flirtatious I tell myself, at least I hoped. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">By Friday night he was referring to me as <i>babe</i> a lot, in his messages. I definitely note this as we had just started talking Monday. I like terms of endearment...when they are heartfelt. He sent me a message, he was running a little late, could I have a bottle of wine ready? He suggests we could have a drink to take the edge off, and start the night. There happened to be a bottle of wine in the refrigerator, so sure. I was ready. I was nervous and a little excited. A guy that I wanted to get to know better, actually wanted to go out with me?!! He was picking me up and taking me to a nice place for dinner. How ridiculous I am, but no one ever approaches me in the real world, asks me out, or seems to want to get to really know me. Sure we hadn't spent much time talking about me the other night, but we were heading to dinner and I am certain he would want to hear all about me now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Before we left my house, I wanted to show him my yard. It had been too dark to see anything when he was over the other night. He liked my backyard, but he realized I'd mowed it earlier, and he noticed I had used a push mower. I had. He commented that if we were still together at Christmas he'd be buying me a riding mower. 😳 I politely thanked him but said there was no need, in my mind I was thinking <i>'are you going to pay me for being with you? I think that's got a name and it's called...', </i>but my voice says I don't have a place to house a riding mower. I justify my rationale and continue telling him that I have a very nice self-propelled. He said, he will find a reason at Thanksgiving to buy me a small barn. I smiled and politely shook my head, but I said no more. <i> I really don't want to feel bought. </i>We went inside to have our glass of wine before heading out. I had a playlist on my stereo and it just so happened that an obscure Ed Sheeran song was playing. He asked if it was Ed, which of course made me happy. My turn to brag a tad, I told him I was going with my sister in September to see Ed in Indy. He joked that if my sister broke her leg and couldn't go he would gladly be her replacement. Then he went on about concerts he's attended and ones he'd like to attend. I had to ask him to repeat himself when he told me he didn't want me to think he was gay or anything like that, but he really like Justin Timberlake and would love to see him. Then he added without flinching, as if he'd said it a hundred times, "Yay, I'd blow him." "What???" clearly puzzled I asked out loud. Laughing he says...."I said I'd blow him. I said I'm not gay, but I would absolutely do him. You know, backstage, door is closed and locked and he asks for a little. I do it." "Okay then," I say. RED FLAG 🚩, eyebrows raised, and noted. He'd like to see Adele and I can't recall who else, because my brain was still trying to process the Justin comment. Five minutes later he says, "You know I was just kidding about that Justin thing, right?" "Do I?" I responded. <i>I don't know. My eyebrows were still raised. </i>Off to dinner we went.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There was a short wait at the restaurant, which meant we'd be waiting in the bar. My date had me order a bottle of wine, he said he trusted my choice. I had all ready noted that he wasn't really a wine drinker. He had mentioned that when he does drink wine, he's more of a sweet, white, wine type. I am not. I like a dry red, with hints of berries. I'll take a Malbec or Shiraz any day! Considering we were at a local brewery, I probably would have gone with a beer. I had noted in previous conversations that my date really prefers Jamaican Rum with Diet Coke, but only beer and wine are on this menu. Four wine choices tonight, and one was definitely too sweet for me. I decided upon the Chardonnay. I thought it was a nice choice, all things considered. All the bottles cost $24.00. <i>Old habit, I am always aware of how much money is being spent. I was held accountable in my past. This is a hard habit to break. Old habits are hard to be free of, especially when I know someone else is buying for me and he has recently said, "I'll buy you a riding mower...which really means I am paying you for your services" comment was still so fresh in my brain. </i>Just after the wine arrived, the waitress escorted me to our table, while my date settled up with the bartender. My date chose to sit next to rather than across from me. This makes it easier to talk and hear one another. At times this was just the right amount of closeness, and at others it was just a bit too much. He whispers in my ear, I couldn't quite hear him, so I leaned in a little closer, he used the closeness to kiss me. I am on display. I don't like kissing</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> where it's so public with someone I don't know that well. I told him when he tried to kiss me a second time that he had a limited amount of kisses for the evening and if he used them all up out in public he wouldn't get a kiss good night. Boundaries. I set them. He didn't try to kiss me again at the restaurant.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I nurse my third glass of wine, and consciously decide I won't finish it. I drink water for the rest of the night. Having started this night drinking wine at my house, plus one and a half glasses here at dinner is more than enough for me. I'm not one who likes getting publicly intoxicated. I'm sure my date isn't that type of person either, but he's starting to show the effects of too much alcohol in his system, so maybe I am wrong in this assumption. He gets out his phone to show me pictures of his dogs. And then...pictures of the lady he took to the Biltmore in June. This <b>past</b> June. RED FLAG 🚩 He tells me her name, and assures me she is just a friend. I really don't care. He says again and again exactly how much he paid a night for the room. This is followed by him telling me nothing happened between them. He let her have the king-sized bed in the suite and he slept on the couch in the other room. He did posed for a picture with her where they kissed. I saw that picture. He didn't really show it to me, but I could see it as he flipped though all his pictures. He showed me all the cakes she's baked and decorated, apparently that's what she does. In fact, she had just brought him a cake that day; one that didn't turn out exactly as she'd liked. 😳 I told him she and he made a nice looking couple. They did. He was showing me pictures of the two of them. Still, more pictures, one of three women, when I asked him to go back and tell me about that he acted as if he hadn't heard me. Okay, he has selective hearing, and he's getting drunk. Noted. RED FLAG 🚩</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He comments yet again, that he was kidding about Justin. Whatever. The conversation shifts to our waiter, "was he a little gay or what?" 😐😕😠 <i>Really?? </i>He made a point of going over the top with our waiter after that comment, too. It was embarrassing. "Oh, such-and-such, you have made this night absolutely the best!" Then he held his fist out to fist bump the waiter, who awkwardly laughed and bumped fists. After the waiter left my date asks me, "How'd you like that!?" 😱 RED FLAG 🚩</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">"Oh, and we aren't going to talk politics." This is his next topic for our conversation. He proceeded to tell me all about the rules at his place of employment, and how he's had to step in for his subordinates. He tells me, "You and I will be just fine, as long as you didn't vote for Hilary." RED FLAG 🚩 I responded, "Well, who did <i>you</i> vote for?" He tells me he voted for all offices except President. I asked why he didn't make his voice heard, and he asks me who would he vote for, a dirty politician or a joke? Fair enough assessment I suppose, but I think Hilary was the best choice. I said nothing to him. He wasn't worth THAT conversation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">He's jumping from subject to subject now. Who would my free pass be? <i>WHAT??? I must have looked very puzzled. </i>"You know, that person who could knock on the door and you'd call me up and say, yay, I need to break up with you for thirty minutes. Is it Harrison Ford? Or Clooney?" To be honest, I have never thought like this. In the real world that just doesn't happen, so why would I even think it or say it??? He mentions his list. I agree his lady choices are all beautiful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I try several times to hint that we should leave, at this point he tells me he paid $40 for our bottle of wine, so we will finish it. I told him I'm not having any more. I stopped after my 1 1/2 at dinner. He looks at me and I can tell he's had too much all ready, and he starts to sort of ask, so I jump right in, "I'd be glad to drive us home if you want to finish your glass of wine." He says he never does this kind of thing, but agrees. He tells me it would look bad if he was pulled over. He needs to not be able to drive. I tell him I understand. I'm really only thinking of myself now. He continues and tells me he doesn't have a drinking problem, but he did find out later in life that his dad was an alcoholic, as is his brother, whom he hasn't spoken to in three years. He doesn't even know where his brother lives right now. He, my date, used to smoke pot, but he doesn't any more. He enjoys a drink when he gets home instead. He used to smoke pot, but he failed a drug test that cost him his dream job, so he has sworn it off. RED FLAG 🚩 RED FLAG 🚩 RED FLAG 🚩 That drug test was just five years ago, just before he moved here. Interesting. So, if I will drive the car..."YES", I say, I am absolutely fine driving his car! "It's a *****", he tells me, with a question in his voice, as if driving a ***** is different than any other car. "Is it a stick," I ask? "Because I can drive that too, no worries." He mentions again how much he has paid for the wine and told me he left a big tip because the next time he comes in, that bartender is going to remember him and treat him well. Without saying anything, he took my glass and poured what I had left into his own. He drank every last drop from that bottle. I'm a bit shocked...he couldn't just walk away from my dregs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As he's gets his wallet out to pay the bill he asked if I have any cash on me. "Yes, why?" Then he hands me the bill. He wanted me to read it to him. I asked if he needs glasses, he tells he has them, but he leaves them at work. As I read the total out loud, he put a line through the tip spot and said thank you. "Ah,that's why you asked if I have cash, you'd like me to leave a cash tip." No he says, he has cash and he pulls out a twenty. <i>WTH? </i> I am puzzled yet again tonight. I wondered what this "lesson" he's feeling the need to teach me is all about. I now know he paid $40 for the wine, another $30 for dinner and left $20 as a tip. Was this his way of letting me know how much he liked me, because he's spent a certain amount of money tonight? Or is this his way to impress me, as to what he's paid for me tonight? I wonder, what is it he will want in return? Or is this just a conversation he wants to have because he likes hearing himself talk and sound like a big man? I was not intoxicated, just curious. He continues his speech, he knows wait staff prefer <i>green</i>. True enough, they do. I don't need this lesson though. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We walked to his car an hour later than I had hoped. I got in to drive us to my house. But first ...I received a sales speech about all the features on the car. I must have seemed like someone who had never driven a car before. 😡 I was so tempted to drive like a wild banshee. I tried to restrain that beast inside. As I was driving to my place I suddenly asked, "Hey, do you want to go on a secret road?" I know a little, narrow lane that cuts through campus. I also know I can drive fast on this <i>curvy</i> stretch. My banshee wasn't as contained as she should have been! 😈 Unfortunately, I think he liked my wild driving because afterward he told me how his car is a sport coupe and has all wheel drive so the tires stick when cornering, blah, blah, blah. <i> What ever.</i> I believe my past knowledge of cars is deeper than most woman, yet I don't care to use that knowledge any more. At least not in talking with this man. I am emotionally over this night. I haven't been listened to at all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We arrived at my place, and I know it wasn't safe for him to drive yet. <i>UGH!</i> We needed to wait a few hours before I felt comfortable placing him behind the wheel. We have more conversation about his family. To keep his mind occupied, I asked question after question. I know he's expecting us to kiss, but I was not sure what else he thought he had coming. As the alcohol is leaving his system, he shifts our conversation back to kissing. He tells me he has Russian Hands and Roman Fingers. 😐 Admittedly, I am human, and have been alone longer than I had expected. A little kissing and caressing feels good, but quickly lines were crossed. He was stronger than I am and he pushed the envelope which made me a little nervous. He was more aggressive than I liked. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I suddenly recall a part of our conversation from when he was over the night before. He told me how the girl he had been dating at Christmas...whom he'd bought a bunch of name brand computer gadgets, etc. even though he knew he was going to break up with her...accused him of borderline raping her last New Year's Eve. His story was that she had too much to drink and came on to him. The next day she told him that he should have known better. I'm suddenly aware of how strong he was and I know I didn't think I could stop him, if he didn't want to stop when I said. I was prepared emotionally to be detached if things got to that point. An old college memory flared up. Dang, I thought I had that one buried deeper! Guess it hadn't been as deeply hidden as I thought. I'm older and wiser now. I was ready to physically hurt him if things got out of hand. He had me in a position where I couldn't move freely, and his one hand was where he said it wouldn't roam. The second time I say stop, I don't recognize my own voice. I was really forceful. This me hasn't had to ever shown herself. He stops. I told him he needed to go home. I walked him to the door and I told him goodbye. I knew this was it. I would not date him. I just needed to figure out what to say to him the next day. I still felt responsible for letting him down easy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sleep didn't come easily that night. I am so alone. Being over 50 and dating is hard. I so want to believe that someone can love and respect me. I want to believe that both can happen simultaneously. I want to believe that someone will love me for my smarts and not feel threatened because I have a brain. I want to feel that my sex appeal will excite someone, while being seen as a bonus. I know that is stupid. In reality, I am seen as an object only in the world of online dating. Society still hasn't allowed me to be an equal. I am easily substituted for younger, or more needy models. That's what it seems men want in life. If I stand up and am that strong woman who lives deep inside of me, I risk being alone for ever. At least that's how I feel. Men don't seem to want to be partners. I don't think I can play this dating game. In fact, I know I can't. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">End of </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Bachelor Number Three's </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">dating story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Time lasted: A whopping five days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">AFTER NOTE: I suspected Bachelor Number Three had been in a relationship with the lady whom he took to the Biltmore. I believe he had been looking for a way to end that relationship. A quick FB search of her showed she was "in a relationship" and it also revealed comments they had back and forth to one another. The comments were more than friends and had happened as recently as the morning we were supposed to have met for wine. </span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u><b><br /></b></u></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> currently jaded, skeptical, and a non-believer in the existence of true love between unrelated human beings*</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u><b>Epilogue:</b></u> Dating sites are a hard place to spend time. I think they are probably as hard for men as they are for women. They hurt, not help self esteem. In order to be noticed, one must write a catchy profile and include just the right pictures. Even then, it's hard to meet the right someone. Pay sites have fewer subscribers in my "little" town and free sites have too many people whom I am not interested in getting to know. I suppose I'm grateful for the lessons I am taking away from this summer of playing The Dating Game. One guy sent me a message on a free site. He said, "Ask me a question. I'll answer" So I did. I said, "I have always wondered...Why do banks charge you for 'insufficient funds' when you don't have enough money in your account to pay it?" Needless to say, we never did connect. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I feel we live in a society where humans have trouble interacting in person. So many people play games on line, on a computer or at home through smart TV's and gaming systems. I think this separates us from reality and online dating is just another version of these virtual games. Maybe I'm wrong, and it's just harder when one has previously been married for a long time, or has children still at home to be able to connect with other available souls. I really don't know how to help my path cross that of others who might be ready for a relationship. I have this ominous feeling that unless I put myself "out there", I am destined to remain alone. Certainly others feel this way as well? Maybe this is part of the online dating game. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I really miss having an intimate relationship. Intimacy to me does not equate to sex only. I'd love to find someone with whom I can roll over, look into their eyes, see their joy, or pain, and connect on that level. I long to make plans and go on adventures with someone special. I would love to have a partner to share the rest of my days. I realize we all come into this world alone, and we leave it alone too. After my summer research...</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I think I'm ready to adopt another dog. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I am happy that school has started once again. I can, and will fall into my workaholic ways, focusing on my classroom and students. I love teaching and I love my two kitties. For these loves, I am grateful. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Goodbye dating sites. I need a life preserver to swim in your waters, and you don't provide this. In fact, you make my heart feel empty and alone, which is the exact opposite of what you say you are selling. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> *this is just a stage, I hope. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To read about Bachelor Number One...<a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-dating-game.html">click here</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To read about Bachelor Number Two...<a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-dating-gamepart-2.html">click here</a></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-57009078396785640312017-08-13T20:16:00.000-04:002018-01-13T21:27:49.870-05:00The Dating Game....Part 2<div style="text-align: center;">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNQOQQ_svp1gGXIT0eHomVg7Nk0KFzCPfGq26omq6-uJ7v9AELQN6R52RgqsA3mHyStnLaT4LIGWRDanwHpLUouciODRDjTOu3pdi1HbA1c1X2u8AAn_ILUUnnU3PhsganerGEg/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmNQOQQ_svp1gGXIT0eHomVg7Nk0KFzCPfGq26omq6-uJ7v9AELQN6R52RgqsA3mHyStnLaT4LIGWRDanwHpLUouciODRDjTOu3pdi1HbA1c1X2u8AAn_ILUUnnU3PhsganerGEg/s400/Unknown.jpeg" /></a><br />
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I decided to conduct some research this summer. Using the rubric I created (see <a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/05/to-date-or-not-to-date.html">What I'm looking for in my partner</a> ), I jumped into the pool. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Three stories....</span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Match.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><u>Bachelor</u><u> Number Two:</u></b> It was a rainy Tuesday. I hopped on Match as I drank my morning coffee. A very cute, and much younger guy caught my attention...</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">thirty-nine year old, if you must know</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">. I shouldn't have done it, but I did. I checked out his profile. Several minutes later I received a message from him. It said, "You have an amazing smile. I hope you have an account here." I responded that I did, but that I am not into younger men. I was trying to stick to my guns and follow my self imposed rules, older guys only! Our texting lasted all day. Playful, fun. He was flirty and wanted flirty back. I was having fun and his texts made my day more interesting. I actually hoped he'd suggest we meet. <i>OMG! What was my problem!? He was too young! Right? My inner self kept wondering. Am I cool enough to have a boy toy? I mean, why not at least give it a shot? </i> I was bold and suggested we might enjoy meeting. He didn't reply the same, just more online flirting. I let down my guard. We exchanged cell numbers, names and the flirting continued. He sent me a picture of himself at his house after working out. Hmm! It was a clean picture. Suggestive, no shirt, and just low enough without being vulgar. Enticing. I went out to run errands and even wrote for a bit, in hopes he'd ask what I was up to and come meet me. He did ask what I was doing, but didn't ask to meet. Should this be a red flag? I wondered. He told me he was in his bed and said I should go home. It was closing time at my writing spot anyway, so I went home. When I got home he sent me another picture. Another enticing photo...he had bedroom eyes and was laying in bed. Again, clean, but inviting. He didn't ask me over. He just hoped I'd send him a sexy picture. I told him I wouldn't do that. I didn't feel safe with him yet. I am playful, and I would send a picture to my partner if I had one, but this guy was still very much a stranger to me. With a note of reluctance, his responding text said we should meet sometime. There was no commitment on his end. I did feel he sent that text to make me comfortable and hoped that I would let my guard down even farther. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The next day I was meeting a friend up in Indy, and the following day I'd be back up there to meet my sister. I told him my plans. His comment back was, <i>"Well, you need to get that out of your system."</i> What the??? I didn't ask what he meant, I just let it go. I suspected he was trying to be cute, but thought he might be insecure. The next day I returned home just after 4pm, and I received this text from him: "Are you still shopping?" I had said I was going to the Art Museum, I wasn't going to shop. Clearly he was making assumptions and not reading my messages. I said I was currently resting for a few minutes and then would go mow my yard. I asked if I could text him later, when I was finished. His one word response: <i>"night".</i> At about 8:30 I was done and I shot him a text. No response. At 10:15 I sent another message. Nothing. Twenty-four hours later he sent me a pondering face emoji. 🤔 </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">WTH? Two days later he sent me a message via Match. No longer were we communicating via cellphone. He said he was sorry I didn't want to play with him. Me too I guess, but not really. I'm not into sexting. Silly me, I hadn't even realized that's all he wanted. Old dogs can have thick skulls at times. Woof. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">End of </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Bachelor Number Two's</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> nontraditional dating story.</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Time lasted: What, maybe a day, really??? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> currently jaded, skeptical, and a non-believer in the existence of true love between unrelated human beings*</i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;">
<u><b>Epilogue:</b></u> Dating sites are a hard place to spend time. I think they are probably as hard for men as they are for women. They hurt, not help self esteem. In order to be noticed, one must write a catchy profile and include just the right pictures. Even then, it's hard to meet the right someone. Pay sites have fewer subscribers in my "little" town and free sites have too many people whom I am not interested in getting to know. I suppose I'm grateful for the lessons I am taking away from this summer of playing The Dating Game. One guy sent me a message on a free site. He said, "Ask me a question. I'll answer" So I did. I said, "I have always wondered...Why do banks charge you for 'insufficient funds' when you don't have enough money in your account to pay it?" Needless to say, we never did connect. </div>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I feel we live in a society where humans have trouble interacting in person. So many people play games on line, on a computer or at home through smart TV's and gaming systems. I think this separates us from reality and online dating is just another version of these virtual games. Maybe I'm wrong, and it's just harder when one has previously been married for a long time, or has children still at home to be able to connect with other available souls. I really don't know how to help my path cross that of others who might be ready for a relationship. I have this ominous feeling that unless I put myself "out there", I am destined to remain alone. Certainly others feel this way as well? Maybe this is part of the online dating game. </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Goodbye dating sites. I need a life preserver to swim in your waters, and you don't provide this. In fact, you make my heart feel empty and alone, which is the exact opposite of what you say you are selling. </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> *this is just a stage, I hope. </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms", sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: left;">
Blogging listening music: </div>
</span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> mostly <i>The Piano Guys</i> Pandora station...slightly classical, slightly romantic. </span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To read about Bachelor Number One...<a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-dating-game.html">click here</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To read about Bachelor Number Three...<a href="https://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-dating-gamepart-3.html">click here</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-53861680841225109832017-08-13T13:18:00.001-04:002018-01-13T21:26:51.832-05:00The Dating Game...Part 1<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8rxSimMFcIPC7pKmkpuOZufoiIgOXr-TpOcckfPbxX_T4Y00EWUfPHGngsjYBNYyBg_Z_RHr3RS1BL6mRkbFqppQqub7N0mlLrf_Mw3UuWK0JLomb5eSe99lKJuOc6zAXZ2TOQ/s1600/Unknown.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje8rxSimMFcIPC7pKmkpuOZufoiIgOXr-TpOcckfPbxX_T4Y00EWUfPHGngsjYBNYyBg_Z_RHr3RS1BL6mRkbFqppQqub7N0mlLrf_Mw3UuWK0JLomb5eSe99lKJuOc6zAXZ2TOQ/s400/Unknown.jpeg" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I decided to conduct some research this summer. Using the rubric I created (see <a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/05/to-date-or-not-to-date.html">What I'm looking for in my partner</a> ), I jumped into the pool. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Three stories....</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Match.com</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b><u>Bachelor Number One:</u> </b> My first older guy! ✔ He was 60 years old. We met online on a Friday night. We had a nice conversation that continued the next afternoon. We decided to meet for a drink on Sunday, at a local place. ✔ He assured me he wanted to start S-L-O-W. He had just lost his wife, meaning she died, in February. I was good with slow. ✔ I wasn't ready for anything major. This would be my first official attempt to jump back into the pool of fish since ending my last relationship in January. Slow and cautious. I was ready, and willing to try this dating game. It was summer. A real date. 👍</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>First date: Drinks.</b> Our drink date went well. Easy conversation. But, I wasn't feeling that chemistry that I had hoped I'd be feeling. Still, we were going slow, so a new friend would be nice. In our conversation, I found out that just a few weeks before, he had purchased a pop-up trailer. He was set to retire on Friday and just after the 4th of July. He would be leaving to travel out west for six weeks...alone. I must admit I was a tad envious. Alone, and he would be seeing several of the National Parks? My dream. Jokingly..although I'm not sure just how jokingly it was... he invited me to come with him. He said the trailer had two ends...a bed on each side. This was information I all ready knew, as I grew up doing family camping where my parents owned a pop-up trailer. No, thank you. I wasn't attracted to him like that. A trip alone after such a loss would be wonderful for him, and something I'm sure he'd benefit from greatly. Our conversation was pleasant and the afternoon slipped away. We decided to end our date, but agreed to getting together again to continue our chat. <i>Why did I agree? I wasn't attracted to him like that, I could tell quickly. Maybe I was thinking he would make a nice friend, and I would too, after all he had just lost his wife. Can't everyone use a friend? </i>As we said our goodbyes, we had that awkward first moment. Do we shake hands or hug??? What started as a hand shake, segued into a hug. As we release, he still has my hand and he tugged me towards him, then kisses me. Whoa! THAT is NOT. GOING. SLOW. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">In my surprise, I didn't know how to really respond. It wasn't horrible, but I hadn't asked for it. <i>Did I give off some signals???</i> <i> No, I definitely did not. My body language was saying you can have a hug, nothing more. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We sent texts back and forth for a day or two. He hoped to take me to dinner that week. That would be nice I said. He brought up the kiss. Did I notice how he snuck that in? Yes, yes I did, and THAT wasn't going slow, I responded. He said he couldn't help it. <i>He couldn't help it? </i> <i>Okay. My take away: I would need to set very clear boundaries. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><b>Second date: Dinner. </b> He was really wanting to see me very soon after our first date. I know that's a good sign when you are attracted to someone. Maybe I just needed to give him another chance, with more boundaries set in place. As I had been invited to an event that week, I suggested we go there. I know no one else cares, but for me it is a big deal to be seen out in public with a guy. We arrived late to the event, and the place was all ready packed. It is at this point that my empathy kicked in and I start to feel horrible. I realize my date has hearing aids in both ears and cannot clearly hear what is being said. <i>Sigh.</i> Then I look up, and sitting across the room is a guy, who I have always thought is attractive. Although this guy is younger than I am and as we all know, I have set my "guidelines" for what I think I'd like in a guy </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(see above link again)</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">, I now have solid, physical, proof that I am not with the correct person. All I can do is suffer thinking the guy I'm with isn't enjoying this and I'd love to be sitting across the room. Not fair to either of us. On top of all this, my date had asked if we could hold hands while we were walking in and I told him no, because he was still in the friend's zone. lol...as if there are set boundaries for this. What the heck constitutes </span><i style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif;">"The Friend's Zone"</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">? Unfortunately, his kiss had crossed the line, and this was my attempt to set clearly defined boundaries. No hand holding. Before the night was over I realized my date didn't even listen to the same radio station that I did. Bummer for him. I am a public radio junkie. This was just less that we had in common, not a deal breaker in a relationship, but just another sign that this was not the right person for me. I also realized as we drove to the event that our tastes in music wasn't the same either. My world of music has opened up so much more than I thought...or maybe I've always been a very diverse person, and I </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">just see that now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">We went back to my place and talked a bit longer. Again, it was pleasant, interesting, back-and-forth conversation. He would be retiring the next day. How nice for him. He had an early day ahead, our evening would be cut short. I set the boundaries....friends can hug, but no kissing. He said he heard me loud and clear. No kissing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was super busy over the next few days: grass to cut, summer camp lesson plans to get ready, a house to clean, writing to do...yet, he wanted to see me again. He had been persistent. I told him I didn't want to lead him on. I didn't feel our relationship was going to go beyond friends. I felt he was looking for more, much quicker than I. He instantly agreed and wished me well in my search. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">End of Bachelor Number One's dating story. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Time lasted: Ten days. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After this date, on my blog I wrote my post to the Universe basically saying <i>give me what I need, don't listen to my requests!</i> I suppose I am allowed to change my mind after compiling completed research data. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">A dry spell followed. </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span><br />
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> currently jaded, skeptical, and a non-believer in the existence of true love between unrelated human beings*</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: start;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><u><b>Epilogue:</b></u> Dating sites are a hard place to spend time. I think they are probably as hard for men as they are for women. They hurt, not help self esteem. In order to be noticed, one must write a catchy profile and include just the right pictures. Even then, it's hard to meet the right someone. Pay sites have fewer subscribers in my "little" town and free sites have too many people whom I am not interested in getting to know. I suppose I'm grateful for the lessons I am taking away from this summer of playing The Dating Game. One guy sent me a message on a free site. He said, "Ask me a question. I'll answer" So I did. I said, "I have always wondered...Why do banks charge you for 'insufficient funds' when you don't have enough money in your account to pay it?" Needless to say, we never did connect. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I feel we live in a society where humans have trouble interacting in person. So many people play games on line, on a computer or at home through smart TV's and gaming systems. I think this separates us from reality and online dating is just another version of these virtual games. Maybe I'm wrong, and it's just harder when one has previously been married for a long time, or has children still at home to be able to connect with other available souls. I really don't know how to help my path cross that of others who might be ready for a relationship. I have this ominous feeling that unless I put myself "out there", I am destined to remain alone. Certainly others feel this way as well? Maybe this is part of the online dating game. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Goodbye dating sites. I need a life preserver to swim in your waters, and you don't provide this. In fact, you make my heart feel empty and alone, which is the exact opposite of what you say you are selling. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> *this is just a stage, I hope. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Blogging listening music: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> mostly <i>The Piano Guys</i> Pandora station...slightly classical, slightly romantic. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To read about Bachelor Number Two...<a href="http://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-dating-gamepart-2.html">click here</a> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">To read about Bachelor Number Three...<a href="https://hootieshappenings.blogspot.com/2017/08/the-dating-gamepart-3.html">click here</a></span></div>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-13338439744818684432017-07-16T15:46:00.002-04:002017-10-08T23:15:41.449-04:00Power. Grace. Wisdom. Wonder. <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I treated myself to seeing the recent movie, <i>Wonder Woman</i>. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Before I walked into the theatre, I reflected back on my introduction to comic book heroines. The mid 70's were a time when young women started to see female comic book heroes come to life. Heroines in the comics adorned the small screen. That <i>"I can do it"</i> attitude was being laid in my 11 year-old foundation. In my youth, Isis was the first goddess I recall wanting to embrace. I was transformed by simply saying, "Oh Mighty Isis" as if that's all I had to do to become strong, to become powerful. That's what the female science teacher on the television show said in order for her to change. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As most youth, I had a wonderful imagination growing up. I enjoyed taking on the personality of many television characters. Isis was followed by The Bionic Woman, and next came Wonder Woman. These shows overlapped one another for a few years. Lynda Carter was the Wonder Woman of my youth. As a former Miss American, she was a kick-butt brunette, who had brains and curves. When I was younger, I had darker hair, and my Italian heritage hinted at curves that I would grow into. It would be several more years though before my hour glass shape truly took form. As for brains...well, I was studious, and ended my high school days in the top fifth of my class. I have always LOVED math and science, too. I don't recall exactly when my dad gave me a cuff bracelet that had belonged to him as a child, but I suspect it was around that time. Maybe he sensed that I needed a little help in feeling strong. Bra burning was popular and in the news during my youth. I would wear that cuff to ward off invisible bullets, or to gain my silent super powers. It didn't leave my wrist, and it was my secret weapon. I never told anyone how empowered it made me feel. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I spent time reflecting back on the little girl I was, and the woman I have become. A realization set over me. I have felt that the generation of ladies who preceded me were the ones who set the woman's rights movement in motion. I am grateful for them, but what have I contributed to help <i>the cause</i>??? Mostly, I followed social norms. I had children and stayed at home to raise them. I kept the house, did the cooking, and the cleaning. I supported the head of our household, as a good wife should. My staying home, meant our family looked to be at a higher status level than others. As I pause now, I think none of the roles I filled sound very much like I did my part to help <i>the cause</i>. Yet, I know I would do it all again, exactly the same way. Choices, we all make them. I made the conscious choice to stay home. No regrets. I have always been a teacher, I just didn't realize it. The lessons I needed to teacher were to a smaller groups of students. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Watching the <i>Wonder Woman</i> movie, I realized I am living in an era where women are still gaining power. Women are still finding out who they are and defining who <b>we</b>, as women, are suppose to become, which is to be an equal to all others. We are not only defining, for our gender, we are defining for all races what it means to be equal. Equality, that's the cause. Women are doing all this with grace, and with wisdom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As a mother, I shared my love and compassion with my children. Those were two of the life lessons I taught. To see one's child help another, means my role as a mother and caregiver made a difference. Really, I was the strength that cemented the foundation of my household. I see that now. Power. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62TWJX97fyGx8SIzZ1jDBYq7jnbO4Hn0b6C0u5ujCiD-R288zb8H3Jsps5xOt0RrbFRY15lGRQX8pOvOPpKUUcKqOkBl7AZfR0_-AQZFCU10S-QDBwPJFKbcwvpnvvG6_wicqyw/s1600/IMG_6612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1573" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh62TWJX97fyGx8SIzZ1jDBYq7jnbO4Hn0b6C0u5ujCiD-R288zb8H3Jsps5xOt0RrbFRY15lGRQX8pOvOPpKUUcKqOkBl7AZfR0_-AQZFCU10S-QDBwPJFKbcwvpnvvG6_wicqyw/s320/IMG_6612.jpg" width="314" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are moments when I start to feel as if I am not fulfilling my part in society to help build powerful women. One of my friends sent me a book for my classroom library. It is a reminder that sometimes, when we feel we need to count on others, we really all ready have the strength we seek inside ourselves. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In honor or my friend, I made this bracelet. I know that we, both male and female, are really stronger than we think, or know. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksDizR5AB6hrdfUMyBCtQNY0tSqTWIRpUUm6STnxNiF-l74CI9bADDUqtQhONgb1GgU8yZcLEVYbUSIvmPHR7mvKizG5EpUj7DIzS-723-euf7ks2CAWWXLWcpsYiiV7A0_hZig/s1600/03E01939-4AF5-49FC-A816-316E31090602.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjksDizR5AB6hrdfUMyBCtQNY0tSqTWIRpUUm6STnxNiF-l74CI9bADDUqtQhONgb1GgU8yZcLEVYbUSIvmPHR7mvKizG5EpUj7DIzS-723-euf7ks2CAWWXLWcpsYiiV7A0_hZig/s320/03E01939-4AF5-49FC-A816-316E31090602.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I want to do my part to make society a better place. I want to show the world that I am not a slacker, who is riding on the coattails of women who came before me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As I pause, I am reminded that I wake up, and live each day, and I inspire girls all around me. I went back to further my education, after I raised my family. I embarked on a career that I had always dreamt of holding. I am surviving, and thriving. I want to inspire my daughter, and my nieces. They <i>can be</i> and <i>do </i>anything they want in life! I believe in them, and I will be their biggest supporter. The other collateral beauty of my inspiration lands on my being able to inspire my sister, my friends, and my peers. The funny thing about inspiration...it is reciprocal. My sister, my friends and my peers also inspire me, as do my daughter and my nieces. Today, just like in my youth, there are many role models of strong, powerful, graceful, compassionate heroines who inspire all. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>See the line where the sky meets the sea? It calls me...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>And no one knows, how far it goes...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>If the wind in my sail on the sea stays behind me...</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>One day I'll know, how far I'll go...</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This summer, I have realized how important my female friendships are to my being. I believe we all need the friendship of many in our lives. Friendships at this stage in my life seem more meaningful, than they were when I was younger. There is a richness that comes with experiencing life, and I feel it allows me to connect in deeper, more meaningful ways with others. I find I can appreciate more of what lies beneath the surface in a person, too. I am cautious who I let close to my heart, but it is with my female friends that I know I can really let down my guard. We support one another emotionally, and are no longer trying to impress or out do each other. Maybe we've reached that stage in life where we all really do know how precious is our time left on this Earth. Although my close friends emotionally support me, and I them, I know that the world is still a competitive place and regularly women will knock one another down. I'm still trying to understand why. Is it out of fear? Fear of what though? Not getting ahead? Being liked more or less than someone else? I see it where I work, but it happens in all environments. Grown women can become mean girls. There are so many things we do to hurt one another..</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">.little digs, unspoken looks down noses, people being left out of the loop.</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I believe, in order for our society to become the place with which I am most comfortable for our future generations, we need a balanced world. We need more women in power. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Ladies, we need to support one another, and in all ways! We need to be kind and compassionate. We need to help one another. We need to elect women at the local level and then up through the ranks. We need to financially support strong, female candidates. We need to seed the campaigns of those who are comfortable speaking their minds on behalf of all of us; those with voices who will be heard. I certainly haven't</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">been an example of someone who was comfortable speaking her mind and making waves. But "</span><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">still, it calls me...." </i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Men will not take care of our issues. They hear us, but they cannot know what it is that we truly need. We need a world that believes in equality, and compassion. Not equality and compassion just for women, but for all. During </span><i style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Wonder Woman</i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">, who stood up and walked through the battle field because she believed so strongly that what was happening was wrong? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am officially now on my summer break. My camp teaching is over and I can relax. I am looking forward to a little quiet time to myself, and then I plan on filling my days with home improvement tasks and lunches, drinks, dinners, movies, what ever I can...with my friends who are girls! I need you my friends! Not just during the dog days of summer, but always. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>And the call isn't out there at all...It's inside me...It's like the tide...Always falling and rising...I will carry you here in my heart...You'll remind me...That come what may...I know the way... </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I WONDER where my future path is leading me?</span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-style: italic;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i> I think I've just awakened the feminist in myself, and I really like it</i></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> love warrior, feminist, teacher</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Tonight's blogging music: <i>Moana: Original Movie Soundtrack</i>, with special thanks to my sister who made sure I now own it. </span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-6773522394575120472017-07-11T23:37:00.001-04:002017-10-08T23:11:12.006-04:00Timeless Words....<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>Did she know? </i> That's the question that's been on my mind. Did my mom know just how much I admired, loved and appreciated her before she died? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">She reached out to me this week, from beyond the grave. I made an impromptu trip to visit my sister because I was starting to feel a tad claustrophobic at my house, and truth be known, lonely. I needed a little bit of that special love one can only really get from being with their family. While at my sister's, the two of us shared our time by going through boxes of old family photos. The boxes we went through contained images of long gone souls; souls we'd grown up knowing only in family tales. As history detectives, we identified our kin. This experience was incredibly eye opening, and it touched my soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My sister opened an old scrapbook one night. She perused it's pages, as I was identifying loose photos. The next day, I peeked inside that scrapbook and was treated to a world of personal stories. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNd3PgShwEt10aW9BEFmOEx7AnPfA_68b8wpBaQ0s7ommKcmXFptB9oiEpRxuN4kRkrMOmUrwAuPL1PFkBFIS4xBrb2_PbxPGwjsSiZETyVeBNKijebvghvt3Mrz98MLdcmJdNIQ/s1600/IMG_7485.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNd3PgShwEt10aW9BEFmOEx7AnPfA_68b8wpBaQ0s7ommKcmXFptB9oiEpRxuN4kRkrMOmUrwAuPL1PFkBFIS4xBrb2_PbxPGwjsSiZETyVeBNKijebvghvt3Mrz98MLdcmJdNIQ/s320/IMG_7485.jpg" width="240" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My grandmother, Theresa, went through a period of loss, not unlike others in her time. She had a baby (my Aunt Carol) in July of 1939. Carol didn't see her first birthday because she contracted Tuberculosis. My grandmother would test positive or TB the remainder of her life. My grandmother was able to get pregnant again, and this baby would grow to be my mother, Patricia, the first of five more babies to enter the family Simonetto. My mom was a few months old, when my grandmother's brother, Patrick, died. He was just 21 years old. He had been at college, but came home for a visit, when he died suddenly of Pneumonia. In the next year, my grandparents would lose yet another family member: my grandfather's youngest brother, Joeseppe. He was 20 years old, and died in an air training accident at the Air Force base in Kansas (McConnell AF Base, before it was named as such). So much loss of youth. How did the families handle it? That is a rhetorical question, I know they were survivors. They persevered. As I continued to leaf through the pages of the scrapbook, old letters, notes written by unknown-to-me relatives, came alive. I was mesmerized. I was held captive. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">One letter gripped my heart more than the rest. It was one penned by my own mother. It certainly wasn't the oldest letter. The paper hadn't turned yellow yet with age. There, before my eyes, was my mom's handwriting, on blue, flowered stationary. I read the letter out loud to my sister. As I did, tears slowly streamed down my cheeks. My mom was expressing sentiments that I have been recently feeling. Mom wrote a letter to Grandma, near Mother's Day in 1989. Below are the unedited words my mother had to say:</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="927" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVoaeKPO4YDH2KU2vMBGKZLSIjVdSlxmma6zK5ltpS3QgJ5ux0_gL0YBoqEhu7QGt4I_8Fzs3kb-XfiRkYpi1PuOcFzbys4CODoPlKnGGOY_Awxj7DyBauYLTtRNnKIXDA9FqWQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b20.jpeg" width="185" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Sassy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My Grandmother, before children. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I have a picture of my grandfather at this time, too, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">so I do suspect they were married in this photo. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcroSiZpWzAd0jRXHVRQgapib9_WShx6-9C8e0pzxsuutOAsjVb19J6vEtxjgywktnN7VMbSdOux-Eb52LJOlUdFHDXRhn12WkeOccn7leEU07nOp_9qUcdBnbDxwIbouBZWZ4A/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b22.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1567" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNcroSiZpWzAd0jRXHVRQgapib9_WShx6-9C8e0pzxsuutOAsjVb19J6vEtxjgywktnN7VMbSdOux-Eb52LJOlUdFHDXRhn12WkeOccn7leEU07nOp_9qUcdBnbDxwIbouBZWZ4A/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b22.jpeg" width="313" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Lake Michigan in the foreground, and my </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">grandmother with my mom on her right and my Uncle Joe on the left. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAgG2OPWe4PlMzUbjix7mvRaFUFLHosSLX3ghyYKYeBML1ambjaFTWUL6omF2ND2bB33tmTXdmeI-pRAld5LlsJ7D9aC_D0JXb123yFh4TCVhLRjHt5OtoqeQ_OEDw7wJhrf1HQ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b0e.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1095" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAgG2OPWe4PlMzUbjix7mvRaFUFLHosSLX3ghyYKYeBML1ambjaFTWUL6omF2ND2bB33tmTXdmeI-pRAld5LlsJ7D9aC_D0JXb123yFh4TCVhLRjHt5OtoqeQ_OEDw7wJhrf1HQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b0e.jpeg" width="219" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My mom and Grandma</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQbXugUCSmhVPT3tX-yd3PFNlYw_BMjsK7iXPPb5Ll6n_fHAICrjHNRWDbm8n_PoVzR3UN4Sgwfg1pKlqa0g1R9CpLi3FrHSCzq1StQ6qv7KB4wbQaBTm6QlRmKXW9GTPOd-U9g/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b0f.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1099" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQbXugUCSmhVPT3tX-yd3PFNlYw_BMjsK7iXPPb5Ll6n_fHAICrjHNRWDbm8n_PoVzR3UN4Sgwfg1pKlqa0g1R9CpLi3FrHSCzq1StQ6qv7KB4wbQaBTm6QlRmKXW9GTPOd-U9g/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b0f.jpeg" width="219" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Mom and Grandma,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">on my mom's First Holy Communion</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbu15PN8sWZj72DmqucnDDTciClYrsWiK40gFHhHozsbmeVMrzeG27Mq7BcLKWHYkp9g6vtZrCd4pOpvrQjUw4JJ1L4dCjDITSEiyW7F5WoVsZEHLc5Vwi725rQ4XdJlCcjEK3A/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b09.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1537" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjbu15PN8sWZj72DmqucnDDTciClYrsWiK40gFHhHozsbmeVMrzeG27Mq7BcLKWHYkp9g6vtZrCd4pOpvrQjUw4JJ1L4dCjDITSEiyW7F5WoVsZEHLc5Vwi725rQ4XdJlCcjEK3A/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b09.jpeg" width="307" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">2003</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My mom and my Grandma at my sister's wedding </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">5-10-89</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Dear Mom:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I suppose you're wondering why I'm writing this letter since we live only ten miles apart and talk on the phone almost every day. I don't feel I could express myself verbally as well as I could by writing. Since Mother's Day will soon be here and I've been shopping for that special gift, I've been thinking about you and what you've meant to me through the years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As I think back now, I guess I really didn't appreciate you as much as I could of while I was at home. It wasn't until I went to California that I began to get a new perspective on our relationship. We didn't always agree on everything, of course</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">but you always took time to listen whenever I had a problem that I wanted to talk about. After I left home, I missed not being able to confide in you except long distance, by mail or by telephone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-2-</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjii9zorE_HZkqbNgRuiW5dgn1Q7VaKzSS99dAymr3nmX97dHUkicbHZXmLPFiQmKxkNCMHZ1l4T52bebjzgD66XKdGaJrKSYXdN7RVTk1Ofqh8uROa72ljPOF0chdivtX9D9RujQ/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b1d.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjii9zorE_HZkqbNgRuiW5dgn1Q7VaKzSS99dAymr3nmX97dHUkicbHZXmLPFiQmKxkNCMHZ1l4T52bebjzgD66XKdGaJrKSYXdN7RVTk1Ofqh8uROa72ljPOF0chdivtX9D9RujQ/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b1d.jpeg" width="251" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My mom, the bride - March 1962</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I think it was when I married Larry that I really began to think of you as a real person rather than as "Just Mom." I began to admire your abilities with cooking, getting everything on the table hot at the same time, sewing which I took for granted, gardening and how crafty you are. Your ability to make something out of nothing amazed me. I also discovered that you were generous and always ready to help out a friend, neighbor and me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You know, you've given me good sound advice over the years and I haven't always taken it. But I especially remember the morning of my wedding when you and Dad said, it wasn't too late to change my mind about marrying Larry" - your only concern was my happiness and I've often thought of that special moment. After Lisa was born, I began to see what it meant to be a mother from a new point of</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-3-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">view. I felt a very special closeness with you as I understood, for the first time, the joys of having a child, of seeing her smile, hearing her say, "mama" and watching her learn to walk and grow up. Each child has given me more insight to who you really were. I had a hard time with three and you managed fine all by yourself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Holding and rocking a sick child, I've also discovered the long hours of worry and work you put into caring for me. I found then, as you did years before, that a mother learns to rely on God a great deal. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">As the kids have grown I found that I could sound grouchy and irritable just as you sometimes sounded when I was growing up and for some of the same good reasons. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I remember how you use to complain about how sloppy and messy I was. I really</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-4-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">didn't care much about your frustrations then, but I now know exactly how you felt - Sorry. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">You've always been there when I needed you the most. I remember the morning Larry died - you were there to help me when I didn't know what I was going to do - you held me in your arms and I felt so safe and secure. What magic your arms possess. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P2NmINvxH-ZsFoTr8QPbUWm4m0mrdebrvQhNdTRH1Emx7JoB2Jm3KgdvcJzp8hEnuvocosEubP8Q63AxOw7kXvIPRniIK-Y2LyjQsI3ZKBFtplqYZGMOP7fG-mzidNfQAWO9Vw/s1600/IMG_7397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6P2NmINvxH-ZsFoTr8QPbUWm4m0mrdebrvQhNdTRH1Emx7JoB2Jm3KgdvcJzp8hEnuvocosEubP8Q63AxOw7kXvIPRniIK-Y2LyjQsI3ZKBFtplqYZGMOP7fG-mzidNfQAWO9Vw/s320/IMG_7397.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">My Uncle Joe, Aunt Pam, Grandma and mom -</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">There were still two babies yet to join the family.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I was so lonely and frightened but you were there to pick up the pieces. You said I was still young and pretty - I had no faith in myself. Then I met Art and you were there again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3J2oIRw1Hinro_0RVu4uufMbBuJnoHnkoNnaHkG_9EVpMu8rupUS6LF1WxPkbfcfnMIaagtchOVvMxfTEIFLyGO6bEIK78hhXx5BgPmgxIffTVU_UgH3ibMvrjp7YtAaQGFEIw/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b16.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1029" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3J2oIRw1Hinro_0RVu4uufMbBuJnoHnkoNnaHkG_9EVpMu8rupUS6LF1WxPkbfcfnMIaagtchOVvMxfTEIFLyGO6bEIK78hhXx5BgPmgxIffTVU_UgH3ibMvrjp7YtAaQGFEIw/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b16.jpeg" width="205" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">At Disney World, with my siblings and my mom </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Since I've had children of my own I feel that I know you better. I understand that a mother tries so hard, makes mistakes, loses her temper when she doesn't mean to, and has normal human</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">-5-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">emotions. Yes, I understand now that mother's don't always know how to settle siblings quarrels fairly or may even run out of patience a lot of times. But, moms never run out of love - I know because you've shown that through the years. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnL5o2eqSJbX_cnF2A1B6I6mZam2fmfdKHoBOXNrQZli7XvxyfC8ho-nugofvDfvzDbjtNlGbtsjCYQV0zQ11EFFwbzyriDwCX9Vx3SlCh7YpPWbkYweySi1vAxzT64EsmgOUDxw/s1600/fullsizeoutput_6b07.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1107" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnL5o2eqSJbX_cnF2A1B6I6mZam2fmfdKHoBOXNrQZli7XvxyfC8ho-nugofvDfvzDbjtNlGbtsjCYQV0zQ11EFFwbzyriDwCX9Vx3SlCh7YpPWbkYweySi1vAxzT64EsmgOUDxw/s320/fullsizeoutput_6b07.jpeg" width="221" /></span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thank you</span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">With all my love, </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Your daughter, </span></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Patricia</span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Happy Mother's Day</span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">*****</span></div>
<i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Did she know? </span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I believe she did. With age comes wisdom, and mother's definitely have wisdom along with their endless supply of love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Thank you mom, for being there for <b>me</b>. May you look down and know I embrace all you bestowed upon me in life. I am who I am, because of you and dad. I love you, as every daughter, and son, loves their mom. Sometimes we just need a little time before we truly realize the awesome souls in our lives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Wonder. Wisdom. Grace. Power. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Scubelek-Kroll, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><i> story teller, mother, lover of life </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-40892064765130155492017-06-20T14:13:00.000-04:002017-10-08T23:18:06.415-04:00...umm, hello...is this thing on? <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dear Universe, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Clearly I don't know what it is that I want. You pretty much gave me what I asked for and I couldn't embrace it. Sorry, my bad. Maybe I'm being too specific in my requests. Please give me what every it is the I need, because I'm pretty sure you have a better idea than I do of what that might be. I keep thinking I know what that is, but I've been told what I am requesting is very <i>"vanilla",</i> and not really me. I have been told I am a younger soul than what my age says; that age is just a number. I feel I need someone who has life experiences, but realistically can that person be someone younger than I am? I've been told others are drawn towards me, but I just don't see it. Help me to take down my blinders. I've been told I need to have faith, give it time, and just trust in you. Truly, I am trying. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am trying to be a brave, strong person, but I don't want the job of being an inspiration to others. I don't recall asking for that position in my life. That is just too much pressure and responsibility! If I am supposed to be grateful, I am. I <b>really</b> am. I was sitting at my dining room table this past Sunday morning when I had a Zen like moment. I realized I was at peace in my heart. My body was so calm, and I felt I was in a state of true happiness. Euphoria. I felt it, as I breathed in and out. I was sitting alone, and yet I was at peace and happy. I went to fill my bird feeders, and as I walked into my carport, I realized I have so much to be for which to be grateful. I own a wonderful house, and it is my refuge. I had to pause and actually kiss The Burrow. I am grateful for the shelter it offers me, and the joys I have from watching the nature that surrounds it. I am trying to find balance in my life. I am trying very hard to be a good person, make everyone happy, and be true to myself. I don't want to ever hurt my children. I feel they have been hurt enough all ready, and they still have so much more life ahead of them. I am sure heartache and hurt will be in their lives too, as it is in all our lives, but I do not want to add to their hurt any more. Maybe my focus needs to be on making myself happy, but that's hard for me to do, because I feel selfish when I think like that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Today is the 32nd anniversary of my own dad's death. In my life, I have experienced loss, and hurt, and sadness, and joy, and jealousy, and anger, pride, and happiness, and I do not know what other lessons I still have to learn. I'm really wanting to move forward. I'm really tired of being lonely. I don't mind being alone, if that's what I am supposed to be, but please direct me towards my purpose in life. Most of the time, it's very hard to see my purpose. Where is it that I am supposed to put all the love I have in my heart? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just making sure you are still there, Universe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Hope to hear from you soon.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Your biggest admirer, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> warrior, star gazer, and dreamer</span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21955205.post-52994358846341384162017-06-11T09:47:00.000-04:002017-10-08T23:24:13.158-04:00Gives and Takes....Price Points <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes good things fall apart so even better things can fall together....</span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've been weighting the pros and cons to being in a relationship. Nothing is on the horizon, I've just been thinking. I've been wondering why people give up their independence to be in relationships. I'm trying to figure out what the price point might be for whether or not a relationship happens. I've been told I think too much. Thinking is a gift. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In a relationship: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When one enters into a relationship, there are many things gained. One gains a partner with whom he or she can grow and share life. Another gain, someone to call or text. There is always someone to come home to; always noise in the house. Always someone to go do <i>something</i> with, either planned or spontaneous. There are holidays to share and new traditions just waiting to be created. One always has someone who can do something for them, or the reverse, someone to dote on. One has someone to think out loud with or debate. Chores can be divided. Money can be pooled. Kind words can be spoken, and heard. One can hear "I love you" before they close their eyes at night, and drift off to sleep. There is someone to plan and live dream vacations, or even stay-cations. Still another gain, one has someone to share a new series on TV, or Netflix, etc. Meals can be prepared and eaten together. Strange noises in the house can be investigated by someone else. One has a partner to cuddle with, and hands are available to be held. </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eVPZLAoqdmToNN0cjzeQiJud1n_oppDGUSxekubNbamybY4DnnPs-JnWMuU93rnpePEfIlNiH54QnolAKB0qDeZkj4Piy9PA1mCT1W7PNZKp-kBVjbS-0zFqFVav6sW6-wXeUw/s1600/image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5eVPZLAoqdmToNN0cjzeQiJud1n_oppDGUSxekubNbamybY4DnnPs-JnWMuU93rnpePEfIlNiH54QnolAKB0qDeZkj4Piy9PA1mCT1W7PNZKp-kBVjbS-0zFqFVav6sW6-wXeUw/s320/image.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Being single: </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Windows in the car may be opened and hair may be turned loose to dance freely in the breeze. One decides what music to listen to and the decibel it should be heard. And if one wants to listen to Ed sing <i>"What do I know"</i>, or <i>"Eraser"</i> a hundred times in a row...she can. One can stay up as late as they'd like, or sleep in, too. House windows may also be left open at night to enjoy the sounds of owls and tree frogs. No negotiating for what is on the screen. Bing</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">e watching for hours is acceptable. Dishes do not need to be used, or even washed daily IF used. Chips and dip qualify as a complete meal. Proper sleeping posture is sprawled out, in the middle of the bed. Bed making is optional. There is always enough hot water. One can talk to his or her pets, knowing no one else will hear them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I'm sure there are many pros I'm missing for both being in a relationship and being single. These lists are by no means complete. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A little alone time to think is always good for the soul. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Being alone can be lonely at times, but it's okay. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>~Lisa Kroll</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I choose love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I choose positivity. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> I choose happiness. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18244703178650407864noreply@blogger.com0