tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82119145896013486652024-03-13T06:03:50.680-04:00Joie de VivreJoie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.comBlogger385125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-29300022176378782602012-11-28T09:46:00.000-05:002012-11-28T09:46:00.376-05:00GratefulSo, this time last year we were so grateful to have with us a most beloved cousin who had been hit by a car just a few weeks before the holiday (and who had given birth to twins just months before that). This year, our celebration and gratitude were far less somber and more the ebullient chaos that I have known and treasured lo' these 16 years of wedded bliss. Everyone was there, everyone in good health, no one unemployed (at least, by choice), everyone with a reason to look forward to tomorrow.<br />
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I spent Friday by myself relishing the fortune and bliss that is owning my house and fleece pajamas.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note that I am wearing pink to match Her Highness</td></tr>
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On Saturday, I wrapped myself around a certain puggle and soaked up enough fur therapy to last me until I see my best bud, Souper, next month.<br />
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And so it goes...<br />
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And so it goes...Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-75478342800663577612012-11-26T21:47:00.000-05:002012-11-26T21:47:12.083-05:00Diagnosis? Senioritis!With only two courses left before I begin my dissertation-type defense, my classmates and I have been felled with a whopping case of senioritis. It is highly contagious and very virulent. It is remarkable the steps I will take to avoid having to do one. more. ounce of homework. We're talking <i>cleaning the bathroom</i>, <i>exercising</i>, and even the dreaded <i>yard work</i>. <br />
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please pray for me....Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-27731379524964514682012-11-12T20:26:00.002-05:002012-11-12T20:26:57.783-05:00The Love of a Good ManThere is a woman at work who re-applies her make-up in the evening at work. I see her on occasion in the ladies room touching up her under eye concealer and blusher. Today when I witnessed this, I thought to myself: how lovely that she makes herself pretty before going home to her family. I internalized this as a sign of her respect and affection for her husband that she would, literally, want to have her "best" face on when she first sees him after a long day. Years ago, in one of those dumb girly mags (I'm looking at you, <u>Glamour</u>), I read this "Dear Abby"-type letter from a guy asking how he could get his girlfriend to stay "dressed up" when she got home in her sexy, professional outfit instead of immediately ditching her duds for sweats and a curry-stained T-shirt. There's a couple of worrying points about that letter, not the least of which is not being able to ask for what you want from someone you love, but I thought the concept of "being pretty" after a hard day's work worth considering. Of course, what constitutes "pretty" for the great love of my life has almost nothing to do with what <i>I</i> consider to make me pretty (read: he prefers no make up, while I think I look like an e<a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0816711/" target="_blank">xtra from World War Z</a> without it), but the point is to do things for the one you love to show you love them. And sometimes, that means thinking about what they need from a partner. As <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21787.The_Princess_Bride" target="_blank">Wesley says</a>, "<span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;"> "</span><br />
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Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-74130240100124975122012-11-07T18:49:00.002-05:002012-11-07T18:49:33.248-05:00GPOYW<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cheers to middle age!</div>
Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-58810943489936601902012-11-07T18:48:00.001-05:002012-11-07T18:48:13.546-05:002016The Republican pundits where saying last night that they need a candidate who can win "the Latino" vote and carry Florida.<br />
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You know who that is?<br />
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That's Jeb Bush.<br />
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It's a sobering thought. Believe me, I am going to wring every ounce of reproductive choice and affordable health care I can from the next four years. You were warned, my friends.Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-35470504082048775002012-11-05T09:00:00.000-05:002012-11-05T09:00:04.711-05:00Closure<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/11/04/opinion/sunday/i-heart-unpredictable-love.html?src=me&ref=general" target="_blank">This NYT article, entitled "I Heart Upredictable Love" by Richard Friedman</a> really struck a chord with me. Here are two excerpts:<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">Professor Berns discovered that the water and juice elicited greater activation in the brain’s reward circuit when the reward was unanticipated than when it was delivered in a predictable fashion. The pattern held true whether the reward was water or fruit juice — even though most subjects claimed a clear preference.</span></blockquote>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia, 'times new roman', times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;">These data might explain, in part, the paradox of people who complain constantly about their unreliable lovers, but keep coming back to them, time and again.</span></blockquote>
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I dated a boy in high school, and it started out as your typical teenage love affair but ended in a total train wreck, finally, my freshman year of college. I've never been able to reconcile why, when I knew better, I still turned to him again and again no matter how many times he broke my heart. I feel like this article offered that lightbulb moment. The pain of the first break-up was so acute, I would have done anything just to make my lungs fill with air again - even forgive his infidelity. Each successive break-up was less painful, but more embarrassing. When was I going to learn? According to this article, not until the "reward" of his affection was less than the pleasure of finally being free of the nightmare. <br />
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Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-8108353981904264642012-11-03T18:53:00.001-04:002012-11-03T18:53:36.729-04:00ExpectationsLast year, we had over 100 trick-or-treaters. This year, we've had less than 12...oh, wait, here's another...less than 20, wait...oh! Red Riding Hood?! How clever! Your cape is so smart (and stylish!) on a cold night like tonight!<br />
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Ok, now they're rolling in. It still looks like the turn out will be far less than in years past. I guess that just means more Kit-Kats and Reese's cups for My Beloved.<br />
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I heart Halloween!</div>
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<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-37102375807008238312012-11-02T21:53:00.000-04:002012-11-02T21:53:00.934-04:00At the Tone, the Time Will Be...Too LateI still have not heard back about a job that I interviewed for over 2 weeks ago, in spite of reaching out once to the recruiter. Raise your hand if this would qualify as a "red flag" for you?<br />
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<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-23188339683765765062012-11-01T21:52:00.000-04:002012-11-01T21:52:00.512-04:00Halloween, Take 1I regret to inform you that today's trick-or-treating is postponed until Saturday when our municipal services expect to have the roads cleared of debris that may be hazardous to the 4-12 yo set: downed trees, live wires, aluminum siding. You know, the usual.<br />
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We spent yesterday playing Red Cross to several of our neighbors who don't have power by way of providing coffee (<a href="http://chaseaday.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">thanks to Ace's dad for the french press</a>!), hot chocolate, <u>Toy Story</u>, legos, and running a 200' extension cord across the street so one guy can run his refrigerator and sump pump. Oh, and then we all spent the later afternoon combing the streets looking for one neighbor's lost dog who decided to show up on his own accord after we had all slunk home in defeat.<br />
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It is not very often that we get to tend to the bonds that bind us as a community. I am grateful for the opportunity to show my gratitude to the families around us for being such good neighbors. No one has their car up on blocks, posts political signs in their yards (with the exception of that one guy who put up a Steelers banner the day he moved in - blecch!), plays loud music into the wee hours, etc. I can't say I know any of them very well, being a "bedroom resident" myself, but I can say that they are all good neighbors. Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-60211408659768308792012-10-31T11:52:00.000-04:002012-10-31T11:52:00.308-04:00GPOYW<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We are sharing a "cardamom and ginger shake", so I will give you only 1 guess where I am in this photo. But, seriously people, look at how he has his hand over mine...I mean, are you kidding me with this kid? I am so in love!Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-50678154109213421082012-10-28T21:44:00.003-04:002012-10-28T21:44:41.949-04:00Cats and Dogs Living Together!Sandy is in town for a visit. We've put out extra blankets and pillows for her, plus we hit up the special grocers down the street to get her favorite beer and candies. I'm going to work from home for the next couple of days so we can all spend some quality time together, too. *sigh*<br />
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I've been texting all my friends and family that we have plenty of beer, wine, and Halloween candy so we are set for a few days at least. To hear it from the reporters, there's, like, a 99% chance we'll lose power for at least a day this week. We've put out our hand-crank flashlight and radio, but the temperature is dropping...quickly. I roasted chicken tonight at 475* and left the oven open to cool. It's been less than 2hrs and already all that delicious-smelling heat has dissipated. For those new to this blog, I don't do cold. Nope, not me. Not my thing. I lack the ability to maintain my body temperature on my own power and require supplemental heat to keep from turning purple: My Beloved, a hot water bottle, a four-legged friend, electric blanket. Fughetabout the rain, the loss of power...the dropping temperature is what's going to make this storm a problem for my first-world self.<br />
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Schools have been cancelled for Monday and Tuesday, and I can still, at 9:30pm, hear planes taking off from PHL trying to get everyone out of Dodge before it's too late. The forecasters promise I should be able to make it into the office tomorrow, but also promise that I won't be able to make it home. We're no where near a flood area or body of water (thank jeebus), but do have gorgeous, leaf-laden trees all around us. If I can keep My Beloved from worrying himself sick about either the roof leaking (more) or a tree branch crashing into the house, it will be a miracle. [The mere mention of water damage makes him vagal. There is a house a few blocks over that had a huge tree crash through the roof into the master bedroom in a recent, windy rainstorm. Just driving past the tell-tale blue tarp'd site, My Beloved sucks his teeth and curls his toes the same way I do when I see blood or hear a gruesome tale of surgery. ]<br />
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So, wherever you are tonight, I hope you are safe, dry, well-fed, and with someone who will share a little of their body heat!Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-62867092667149557602012-10-27T12:02:00.000-04:002012-10-27T12:02:00.397-04:00The Journey Is the SuccessThe hard part is not (just) finding a new job. It's the patience to spend time every night looking, writing, and researching. <br />
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Oh, and the rejection. Mustn't forget managing the rejection. There's plenty of that at this party, folks, so feel free to put an extra handful in your candy bag this Halloween. <a href="http://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/in+spades" target="_blank">I got it in spades</a>.<br />
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<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-7994196226192167562012-10-26T23:55:00.000-04:002012-10-26T23:55:14.224-04:00This Made Me Feel BetterI wish I could be so well spoken.<br />
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<embed allowfullscreen="true" base="http://www.npr.org" height="386" src="http://www.npr.org/v2/?i=163688003&m=163688287&t=audio" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" wmode="opaque"></embed>Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-88930709865328288972012-10-25T00:18:00.000-04:002012-10-25T00:18:09.404-04:00Oh, Were You Waiting For Me To Say Something?Believe it or not, one of my personal goals for 2012 was to write more. #epicfail, as my BIL would say. There's a couple of things I'm working on right now, but mostly I'm treading water until graduation in May. (At least, that's the excuse I've been giving myself to not work harder at making real change.) If I've been a bit silent here it's because I've been putting all my energy into <a href="http://youtu.be/u9S41Kplsbs" target="_blank">poundin' the water and hollerin' like hell to put off the sharks</a> to another day.<br />
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In the meantime, here's one of my most favorite songs interpreted by Bon Iver. I think he's an interesting artist, <a href="http://izabelizabel.blogspot.com/2011/12/rothko.html" target="_blank">like Rothko</a>. Sometimes I totally get his works, like I was struck by a tuning fork. Other times, I think the guy is out to lunch. I suppose that's always the way with art, no?<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8MJio3s2wFI" width="560"></iframe>Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-68728501624259982772012-09-28T01:59:00.000-04:002012-09-28T01:59:03.762-04:00Jiggity-JigFor as much as I love to travel, there's no place like home. I am of the age when doing laundry is soothing and helps center my internal compass. <br />
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After taking the red-eye home from the West, My Beloved met me at the airport with a fistful of daisies (my fav). I could spot his sexy slouch from hundreds of feet away as I staggered towards the exit (me + less than 5hrs of sleep while at 30K feet = ankles too swollen for walking). It felt like coming to the surface after the longest attempt to swim the length of the pool underwater. I was happy I did it, but ooh that oxygen felt so sweet: my lungs instinctively inhaled. There is nothing, nothing in the world better than being greeted at the end of a long journey by a warm hug from arms that wraps all the way around me.</div>
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After almost four days, the swelling in my feet has subsided, but I still can't help breaking into a wide smile when I come into a room and he's there. I have been looking at public health fellowships and such, some of them with the option for remote-ish travel or that are stationed in nearby states and would require temporary relocation. It wouldn't be so hard for six weeks or so, I told myself as I daydreamed about developing health education programs in Sudan. We did it in college, we could do it again. </div>
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Clearly, I am crazy.</div>
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Yes, of course we could do it, don't be silly. But I am also of the age when the "novelty" of sacrifice smacks of ungratefulness. </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/XybDZ9I9k4k" width="560"></iframe>Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-57183595038497608362012-09-19T09:19:00.000-04:002012-09-19T09:19:00.929-04:00GPOYWLast night, My Beloved was asking if there was anything special I wanted for my birthday. I asked if we could celebrate it like it was any other year. And then I dreamt he'd surprised me with a 3-day weekend to Playa del Carmen.<br />
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My subconscious knows how to live.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2006<br />Bonefishing (on spinners for cryin' out loud!) in <a href="http://www.theflyshop.com/travel/saltwater/bocapaila.html">Boca Paila</a></td></tr>
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<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-46669517953582025882012-09-14T09:28:00.000-04:002012-09-14T09:28:00.173-04:00Raise Your Hand if You Recognize This?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I was a tween or teen, my mother brought one of these home. I asked her what is was, and she explained that it was a splatter screen for keeping grease in the cooking pan and off the stove. I noticed that one edge of the screen was ripped out already, and asked her what happened*. She got this funny look on her face and explained that my kid sister has asked her what it was, too. Mom told her it was for spanking little girls and playfully bopped her on the butt, which made it rip. In my memory, Mom kept that same ripped splatter screen for eons. </div>
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There is five years between me and Kid Sister, but <a href="http://undertheponderosa.blogspot.com/">my older sister </a>is only so by 18 months. When my mother speaks of raising my older sister while pregnant with me, and then raising two infants simultaneously, her eyes shutter a little and she is at a loss for language to articulate the complete exhaustion she experienced. When Kid Sister came along, Older Sister and I were a little more self-sufficient. Mom got to really enjoy having a baby in a way she missed out on with the first two. I could tell even then at the tender age of 5, 6, and 7 that she cherished having a baby. (The fact that Kid Sister is pretty darn adorable didn't hurt either.)</div>
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My mother is a world-renowned saver, recycler, and repurpose-er, so it is no surprise she held on to a perfectly functional, although slightly blemished tool. She is also neat as a pin, and it is possible the funny look on her face was a little regret that her jest ended in breaking a brand new purchase. Tonight when this memory came flooding back as I spied my own splatter screen tucked in the cabinet, I recognized that look as one of a mix of all these things, but also pride and love. Pride because she had been so witty on her feet (Dad is usually the jester in the family). And love because it was a laugh she shared with Kid Sister. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">*Or words to that effect. I don't recall <i>exactly</i> how old I was when this happened. If I was closer to the teen end of that age spectrum, it is regrettably more likely that I asked her, with all the haughty disdain and world-weariness of a Superior speaking to an Inferior, if she was aware that she had bought a <i><u>defective</u></i> product.</span> </div>
Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-55435461452813965352012-09-12T21:25:00.000-04:002012-09-12T21:25:18.150-04:00Be With the One You LoveI'm traveling! Again! Oh, how I love airports. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(<-may read facetious but totally sincere)</span><br />
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I was invited to speak at a conference in SFO this month. The conference ends on Friday so, since I'll be on the West coast already, I'm hopping a jetliner to PDX to visit my kid sister and her posse. Giddy doesn't begin to describe me!<br />
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My SIL and BIL are on vacation at the same time, which means My Beloved and I are on cat-sitting duty. They live quite far away, however, so cat-sitting include overnight stays. It just worked out that between my trip out West and My Beloved's o/n stay with the cats that there will be 6 nights and 7 days when we are apart. <br />
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This may be a new record for us. <br />
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We fell in love long distance which stoked a craving for each other's company that borders on the unhealthy. Since we have been married, we have tried to stick to a 2-night rule, meaning we're never apart more than 2 consecutive nights. Sometimes that turns into 3 or even 4, but this is definitely on the outside of comfortable longing.<br />
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My Beloved adores his sister and her cats, and I, of course, bleed for my family, too. We got the "love the one you're with" part down fine. It's this "be with the one you love" part that we will struggle with this month.
<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/n5lazIqerHw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-6319424069929259982012-09-09T11:02:00.001-04:002012-09-09T11:02:31.254-04:00Happy PlaceAfter days and days of pea-soup weather, a band of reckless storms swept out the area and the rest of the Northeast last night. This morning, I am finally able to enjoy a nice cuppa Lady Grey on the back deck. The sky is a piercing blue, cloudless, and the crickets, instead of circadian, are in full song. I am alternately torn between staying here all day to relish it or spending the day washing the windows. Those competing desires pretty much sum up my whole life right now!Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-45986048018798831042012-09-05T21:20:00.003-04:002012-09-05T21:20:49.942-04:00GPOYW<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunchtime on the trail!</td></tr>
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Mmmm....three day old PB&J on a whole wheat wrap. Moist. <br />
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What those of you with a keen eye will note in this photo is the excruciating pain in my feet. My bunions have blossomed in the intervening years since I last wore my boots. That custom fit I worked so hard to achieve is for a much younger woman's last, no longer mine. I ended up hiking out in my sandals. Good times!Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-23472014069956537392012-09-01T23:52:00.001-04:002012-09-01T23:52:08.586-04:00Kissing Summer Good-ByeFor the duration of this Labor Day weekend, I will be reading smutty novels and eating only beer and ice cream.<br />
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If I feel inspired, I may take a shower.<br />
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All are welcome to this party.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lz9ndPf990g/UELXy2_XuPI/AAAAAAAABLU/YtfLU3MtNVU/s1600/ID-10091063.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="236" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lz9ndPf990g/UELXy2_XuPI/AAAAAAAABLU/YtfLU3MtNVU/s320/ID-10091063.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 20.799999237060547px; text-align: start;"><i><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Free image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net</span></i></span></td></tr>
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<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-54197027597168394792012-08-29T22:44:00.002-04:002012-08-29T22:44:46.183-04:00My Thoughts on the RNC<a href="http://www.magpiemusing.com/2012/08/i-want-to-talk-to-you-about-love.html">Yeah, what she said.</a>Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-57652410747581528382012-08-29T21:28:00.002-04:002012-08-29T21:28:35.290-04:00GPOYW<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For my 16th anniversary, My Beloved* gave me 16MB of memories</div>
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in the shape of <a href="http://www.mimoco.com/mimobot-flash-drives/popular-culture/star-wars.aspx">R2D2 and C3PO</a>.</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*He so gets me.</span></div>
<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-53810158206072931952012-08-25T01:28:00.000-04:002012-08-25T01:28:00.186-04:00I Have the Internal BEROh,<a href="http://mrbrownthumb.blogspot.com/2012/06/blossom-end-rot-is-whats-wrong-with.html"> Blossom end rot</a>! Thy name is villainy!<br />
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My precious ruby red, heavy-set tomatoes are filled with poisonous black pus. Well, shit.<br />
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Years ago, I watched <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/farmerswife/">that PBS special on the farmer's wife.</a>* It was a fascinating documentary on being a farmer in the US, but mostly focused on the marital dynamic. I was gripped by the story and convinced I do not have the patience to be a farmer or married to one. <br />
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However, the show did not convey the personal heartache from a failed crop. My sweet, leafy sprouts that I have fawned and cooed over, excited by their promise, have led to naught this year. My grandparents were farmers of several acres in Massachusetts. How did they do this? I am not cut out for the disappointment. I feign a cavalier attitude, but I am crushed: store-bought tomatoes for our house this summer.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u8xLKqIqkVc/UDcQidtzYNI/AAAAAAAABKE/8O2Ti7eSHog/s1600/Don+w+prize+watermelon_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u8xLKqIqkVc/UDcQidtzYNI/AAAAAAAABKE/8O2Ti7eSHog/s320/Don+w+prize+watermelon_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JJ0GfpijeCU/UDcQi3Y4wHI/AAAAAAAABKM/pdKlw8e5LjA/s1600/Prize+pumpkins+27Sep1965_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JJ0GfpijeCU/UDcQi3Y4wHI/AAAAAAAABKM/pdKlw8e5LjA/s320/Prize+pumpkins+27Sep1965_1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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My Grampa with his prized bounty, 1965. </div>
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His green thumb decidedly did not rub off on his granddaughter.</div>
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* <span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>oh. they divorced in 2006.</i></span>Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8211914589601348665.post-24716999535644458772012-08-24T11:10:00.000-04:002012-08-24T11:10:00.708-04:00It Cannot Be ImaginedI joined a friend for a fundraiser for a <a href="http://www.wisergirls.org/">program called WISER</a>, which is working to see that girls in <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muhuru_Bay">Muhuru Bay, Kenya </a>graduate high school.<br />
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The PhD who runs the program gave a brilliant PowerPoint presentation which included data proving that educating girls will improve the economy and public health of an entire nation, the impact the WISER school has had within the Muhuru Bay community, and how these young women now have a chance at a real future (i.e., don't have to have sex for money or get married at 12 years old). I heard two truly remarkable facts in her presentation:<br />
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<li>The average resident of this community consumes about 400 calories a day, mostly from corn. </li>
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For comparison, there are 310 calories in the large Starbuck's chai tea latte made with soy milk that I drink about once every 2-3 months. This drink would comprise the "beverage" part of my breakfast and be accompanied by a further 300+ calories in baked goods.<br />
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<li>Most girls drop out of school during adolescence when they start menstruation because they don't have sanitary pads. The blood stains their clothes, they are teased, and attempts to construct homemade pads made from newspaper and grass often leads to infections. T<u>he need for this basic hygiene tool is the #1 reason girls at this age have sex (<span style="font-size: x-small;">usually with their teacher, according to the slide show</span>): to get the $3 to buy maxipads.</u></li>
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In five minutes, I can be at no less than 3 stores where I have <i>my choice of brand</i> of maxipads. During her presentation, the speaker showed this image and asked what woman in the room had ever showed such affection for her 'feminine protection.' She laughed when recalling the "wings" on the pads were lost, of course, on these girls who had no underwear to protect. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BXwGvPU3PG0/UDWW5lr61aI/AAAAAAAABI4/jlF8-oPW6_Y/s1600/girl_pads.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BXwGvPU3PG0/UDWW5lr61aI/AAAAAAAABI4/jlF8-oPW6_Y/s320/girl_pads.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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The principal of the school said a few words, too, and was followed by their top academic student, a 16 year-old girl named Masi (sp?). This brave young woman spoke about her past and how she came to be a student at WISER. It was a galling story filled with the kind of discrimination and abuse that leaves me tight-lipped and ill. I tried to picture the evening from her point of view: a motherless girl in a foreign country, suffering from jet lag and a dinner of rich, unfamiliar food, trying to convince the 300+ mostly white shiny, staring faces of the endured horrors required just so she could attend high school. It must be so incredibly daunting. She choked up a few times, and I wondered if it was from recalling her losses or from the humiliation/frustration that her energy in relating her personal trauma would be wasted on us because we could not relate.</div>
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When we returned home from our camping trip last weekend, My Beloved and I expressed to each other our thanks and gratitude for the clean, hot water that pours from no less than 5 spigots on demand for pennies. I try to be aware and grateful of these miracles, but my imagination of deprivation is not sharp enough to understand Masi's life. I guess maybe that was the point of her story: to help me realize that an experience like hers <i>cannot</i> be imagined. </div>
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<br />Joie de Vivrehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16706979342797012100noreply@blogger.com0