tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-356288122024-03-13T00:16:28.619-04:00Keep In TouchSuehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.comBlogger1361125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-41525499627148483672016-08-10T10:39:00.001-04:002016-08-10T10:40:10.322-04:00Summer Sunset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwz3roxi5eNRPTzrxBdlyjWxlFKyzZZ1sc-kTfqX6P6jlulv-BCBBYbWBvUWzIoyAqsMiAOhGNhHE7m1WwgXpAiz90RGT9QXXA9nijwtk_KAyrdHNvb0kbrEtU9YccV3aOF_zt/s1600/IMG_3149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwz3roxi5eNRPTzrxBdlyjWxlFKyzZZ1sc-kTfqX6P6jlulv-BCBBYbWBvUWzIoyAqsMiAOhGNhHE7m1WwgXpAiz90RGT9QXXA9nijwtk_KAyrdHNvb0kbrEtU9YccV3aOF_zt/s640/IMG_3149.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Well, just happened to be home from work, and wanted to update my OTHER blog, about my art, and accidentally signed in to this one. So I decided to update this one as well.<br />
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It's a lovely soft summer. The days have been easy and everything is going along simply. One bird has flown from the nest, and the other is hovering above the nest, hopping in and out but mostly flying on his own.<br />
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I've learned some things about myself. That I really like to be alone. I believe this is a strength, not a weakness. And I really don't count Thor in the alone/not alone equation, because we are as one :)<br />
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But I do like a bit of social interaction occasionally - but if it is on a very limited, shallow level, I'm fine. Work is social enough for me. Work's been really good, and I'm finally adjusting to the idea of it.<br />
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On the other hand - it's not too far off until Thor and I head off into the sunset ourselves. But surprisingly to myself, I think when we retire, I'm still going to try to find a low-key job of some kind. Something temporary, that I can up and quit if we leave on an extended vacation.<br />
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Mostly, I want to sit in the woods or on the porch, and read, or paint, and listen to the birds or the music. And watch as the sun sets. <br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-59273989995380721802015-04-29T15:33:00.000-04:002015-04-29T15:33:16.845-04:00And a year laterIt's quite a lovely spring day again today!<br />
The flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and all is right with the world!Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-44486916059487278042014-04-23T01:10:00.000-04:002014-04-23T01:10:04.516-04:00The first blush of spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCciqsekTNHJ4NNmZZ7QKLH3xykdO15BDPvC3-p44gSzKvaMfqIYvGlAgn0qKnmTpeZT0ZKkKMxXc-keemWNaBzSj8hnaBXgirikoEKmD4Hc2MIg7FOFbpp5U-cggDts8PAXV/s1600/P1070515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqCciqsekTNHJ4NNmZZ7QKLH3xykdO15BDPvC3-p44gSzKvaMfqIYvGlAgn0qKnmTpeZT0ZKkKMxXc-keemWNaBzSj8hnaBXgirikoEKmD4Hc2MIg7FOFbpp5U-cggDts8PAXV/s1600/P1070515.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
Spring is flirting with us. It's been cold for so long. Flowers come out and then the frost comes back. <br />
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I keep thinking of negative thoughts about global warming, but NO. I just want to be positive for the moment and enjoy the beauty of the weather and the world.<br />
Happy Earth Day.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-67996330871758015872014-04-23T00:55:00.004-04:002014-04-23T00:55:41.321-04:00Before and after, so farI love to take photos of the progress at the cabin, but I don't want to keep posting photos on Facebook, I feel like I'm bragging. But since hardly anyone ever looks at this blog anymore, I can put them here :) The blog is more like a journal than Facebook is. Facebook is more like a conversation with your friends and acquaintances.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQ7DpIEm4QncLt6L8Ejg9g4WEdv_bvV00M21znsxzTdyzOumLLkVJrQWQ_L7Cy0YGJLYMoClzbLt1s5eRQxOQfw3R3K9SdQ1kfS0k7GkMPcR3KHHZfF_YsPvMhFrJzL2NnBpl/s1600/P1160864.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEQ7DpIEm4QncLt6L8Ejg9g4WEdv_bvV00M21znsxzTdyzOumLLkVJrQWQ_L7Cy0YGJLYMoClzbLt1s5eRQxOQfw3R3K9SdQ1kfS0k7GkMPcR3KHHZfF_YsPvMhFrJzL2NnBpl/s320/P1160864.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen, before</td></tr>
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<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/AVvXsEgovX9MAJNnES3uwnkbYv3-FNHHikHl_K0ve7mFFtym9kvRP7IPBrC0cDedkwlQ02KrFRj2_FNN5V5nq2JNXDdhx48VX9X2SnPotgC43BtPiGFJ5RE8qz4GprLsJ_ZgA6DybTBt/s1600/P1070582.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovX9MAJNnES3uwnkbYv3-FNHHikHl_K0ve7mFFtym9kvRP7IPBrC0cDedkwlQ02KrFRj2_FNN5V5nq2JNXDdhx48VX9X2SnPotgC43BtPiGFJ5RE8qz4GprLsJ_ZgA6DybTBt/s1600/P1070582.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen, after</td></tr>
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There are a lot of differences, but not a lot of differences. We haven't spent that much money on this place. We are using hand-me-downs and cast off stuff, and repurposing things. A lot of the improvements might not be noticeable - we started out with no electricity and no water, and now have electricity AND hot and cold running water! Woo hoo! That makes a huge difference! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjQDymARamB7C0QqPfc3cjBtDDDECsXN88__xWOroeRJdOb5enelHwipjJca3oKMV-2lexSsIQnC3iSLUHu5t1f2WNdKMPQ8RLJ32JZt2srUh4asnkSX7uVO2XJH_fdyhCdg6/s1600/P1160863.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirjQDymARamB7C0QqPfc3cjBtDDDECsXN88__xWOroeRJdOb5enelHwipjJca3oKMV-2lexSsIQnC3iSLUHu5t1f2WNdKMPQ8RLJ32JZt2srUh4asnkSX7uVO2XJH_fdyhCdg6/s320/P1160863.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen, before</td></tr>
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<table align="center" 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/AVvXsEgquRDuYhZElUe01i2Vl-MKDBMHGiG_OcMlFDTaX3PnGWe62BQyrFYgeoancg9glAZ0t9OHpcHrDVy3UMCRnOgSGnkZFff4KJTSggyxwSSktljbp5p9DCSaq12yXh6vCUlPUXN5/s1600/P1070584.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRDuYhZElUe01i2Vl-MKDBMHGiG_OcMlFDTaX3PnGWe62BQyrFYgeoancg9glAZ0t9OHpcHrDVy3UMCRnOgSGnkZFff4KJTSggyxwSSktljbp5p9DCSaq12yXh6vCUlPUXN5/s1600/P1070584.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen, after.. a little messy :)</td></tr>
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Some of the "improvements"- knick knacks and decorations - aren't really that great. What can I say, I collect stuff! It makes it feel more homey to me, at least. But it's not everyone's cup of tea.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKraNtIePwN5ivPeYuBFrZ61_kSXdKZ8MAc_h9RaYnYnLJOWeDY9UwJJg6kwmCYrnf8zMY2zW5rvfRE_0bcQ5_vsgDaKdg8dnUtJBjiyV5gw7qg27wMBFxr9F0MJAWUfGd7ly/s1600/P1160877.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsKraNtIePwN5ivPeYuBFrZ61_kSXdKZ8MAc_h9RaYnYnLJOWeDY9UwJJg6kwmCYrnf8zMY2zW5rvfRE_0bcQ5_vsgDaKdg8dnUtJBjiyV5gw7qg27wMBFxr9F0MJAWUfGd7ly/s320/P1160877.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fireplace, before</td></tr>
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<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/AVvXsEi5zUKWkrkztKbJkpFtX5PR8LCkhC4JQ1dhyphenhyphen0I_jOxnS4JRFXnr9NLI0e5KR6vkml0qPLzDSwu61TmKw4FklpScRXDFRgDh7fD4eCH9mRIfMfOpd-gTKbRGaoPgk4uffeSFUwgO/s1600/P1070601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5zUKWkrkztKbJkpFtX5PR8LCkhC4JQ1dhyphenhyphen0I_jOxnS4JRFXnr9NLI0e5KR6vkml0qPLzDSwu61TmKw4FklpScRXDFRgDh7fD4eCH9mRIfMfOpd-gTKbRGaoPgk4uffeSFUwgO/s1600/P1070601.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fireplace, after</td></tr>
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My parents bought us both the wood stove and the kitchen stove :) which was a lovely thing for them to do. Frank moved the stairs and added the railing upstairs because we thought it was MUCH SAFER that way... did the previous owner really have no railings? Wow...<br />
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This end was painted this weekend. It makes a HUGE difference.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXdaA5n9lDWS7BD9boMiTYTyqeuadW7A3-Hfu7zL8eoC0bsUIxtt7AAEOJSC16w_JdDLx5zJ9ux5QSBcdsjtkGKExV7aJZGma9B5eESxN-V_ORC0WyFFk52zl9xahevVmTKR9/s1600/P1040010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXdaA5n9lDWS7BD9boMiTYTyqeuadW7A3-Hfu7zL8eoC0bsUIxtt7AAEOJSC16w_JdDLx5zJ9ux5QSBcdsjtkGKExV7aJZGma9B5eESxN-V_ORC0WyFFk52zl9xahevVmTKR9/s320/P1040010.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living room looking towards kitchen, before</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheP-putJVPAH5SZT_cLJSSo6IAV-FSKGYEdP7xWysmFrVg5regolz-DF2AjkM45qeMibI1QavLoWQYyAfMBUcyu7mOBlMqS1IX8mU9HxA8drbFuTVypLxO9VAFm8Af9ixWFLiQ/s1600/P1070596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheP-putJVPAH5SZT_cLJSSo6IAV-FSKGYEdP7xWysmFrVg5regolz-DF2AjkM45qeMibI1QavLoWQYyAfMBUcyu7mOBlMqS1IX8mU9HxA8drbFuTVypLxO9VAFm8Af9ixWFLiQ/s1600/P1070596.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living room looking towards kitchen, after</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUAEn_kRrNI0iIEiFTHHMujgdoR4aMzh6EVHM-btoONURpMVKkZXUd3eyRgv9c0JKaiyL6PjC9M6mO1TEdUu8exDIq4S38WHLbdOY0vs-xmQ-YJZY1X4q47QkDCgrdSi0ytEe/s1600/P1040002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUAEn_kRrNI0iIEiFTHHMujgdoR4aMzh6EVHM-btoONURpMVKkZXUd3eyRgv9c0JKaiyL6PjC9M6mO1TEdUu8exDIq4S38WHLbdOY0vs-xmQ-YJZY1X4q47QkDCgrdSi0ytEe/s1600/P1040002.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathroom, before</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">We didn't have much to do in the bathroom... except for plumbing and a new hot water heater... and I like our "new" cabinet more than the old one that was in here. And we are adding an outdoor shower too...<br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60AAMcU1JjuW97tJe9yiqRVueSRFj-MJXU72fDR2BXYGWHNYdEtFr7omh82scHjoLAR51lwJ22ufewlAJdsX_owITpsPmqQRM142MYsknPaSnzo_E8eM4O-NQTSq4xkVyoJ0c/s1600/P1070581.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathroom, after<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1f9FaYVwZ-7ryTLxDHHrdiYg9Mka1bt_IUy56qcHjKBEuxUXRpKDZgM2Wsru7br1TfUSNzHnld9WDGlLXeQUAQgnlxP2KyW9KSyE-4Bgc-M9s_FXLPp1oHsMa0ytFk7eGySI2/s1600/P1030790.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1f9FaYVwZ-7ryTLxDHHrdiYg9Mka1bt_IUy56qcHjKBEuxUXRpKDZgM2Wsru7br1TfUSNzHnld9WDGlLXeQUAQgnlxP2KyW9KSyE-4Bgc-M9s_FXLPp1oHsMa0ytFk7eGySI2/s320/P1030790.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedroom, before</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;">This is also something that got painted this weekend. We still have a lot of painting to do upstairs. Free paint is good paint!!! I really like the way it looks, nice and cozy!<br />
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<img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnjXlWNsCvvuqGvCDYDnX1H3vtDak1O7AJ8Gj5WWCq7PIgvpWLOrwszlFy6pa4vJ7AZVU1nHpPKg7ut7gA3IpzKKz9548a4p-1ZDOC5WCpyamozXSP1oKB0Fk49kVdAn_IOjN/s1600/P1070604.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedroom, after</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUChgSoVZ5z87Zoe8bS-iNHaT-FClRIUfyGpk7vWKO81VItlpN3tYu9_oLhYkkvAHJHjLtDhuRyKAxFIdIWXEQ_NblQuH_WTcNu86XU8NTqrSn11BzEa0v6cdZmim2QqOH3ZW/s1600/P1160875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUChgSoVZ5z87Zoe8bS-iNHaT-FClRIUfyGpk7vWKO81VItlpN3tYu9_oLhYkkvAHJHjLtDhuRyKAxFIdIWXEQ_NblQuH_WTcNu86XU8NTqrSn11BzEa0v6cdZmim2QqOH3ZW/s320/P1160875.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedroom, before</td></tr>
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<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/AVvXsEh2_DkMOOAnby8HDxvZZ_TZEmxywqNn2hNkbql6PgzRMhRFokwVQxMmZqfAfaIIs5RAKNZCL5cnT0OVwtpQZ7ry-2YlBRKvnFBWk0gB5yFApnLSQtIPnIUHqPtY-Pl5BjLItney/s1600/P1070608.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2_DkMOOAnby8HDxvZZ_TZEmxywqNn2hNkbql6PgzRMhRFokwVQxMmZqfAfaIIs5RAKNZCL5cnT0OVwtpQZ7ry-2YlBRKvnFBWk0gB5yFApnLSQtIPnIUHqPtY-Pl5BjLItney/s1600/P1070608.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedroom, after</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5ylzeKW25XuCbw0AOwNJ1m9AwpyzGW2XVf8jAIMQePf6qfKeNcClv0I1GLcCw7v0zJRRgRKKqFvX6V1LPi6P8E9MHrcIoFTytN4T0_q5vct3ldkY-3nuCnV-yWZsJCzhnt95/s1600/P1070556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD5ylzeKW25XuCbw0AOwNJ1m9AwpyzGW2XVf8jAIMQePf6qfKeNcClv0I1GLcCw7v0zJRRgRKKqFvX6V1LPi6P8E9MHrcIoFTytN4T0_q5vct3ldkY-3nuCnV-yWZsJCzhnt95/s1600/P1070556.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedroom, after</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotVOf7uaESATFy5E3367_gn5bqh831ZeG9EIKdCd8cKzcLye9A-Vqr8ESnVGLJ1ghu45SrJTGWuGCNs5HDv2q0YXLeT2CSJfD9zlnVBQ3r04KJN-4qR886TLsrrgD-dk1Izq9/s1600/P1160872.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiotVOf7uaESATFy5E3367_gn5bqh831ZeG9EIKdCd8cKzcLye9A-Vqr8ESnVGLJ1ghu45SrJTGWuGCNs5HDv2q0YXLeT2CSJfD9zlnVBQ3r04KJN-4qR886TLsrrgD-dk1Izq9/s320/P1160872.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bedroom, before</td></tr>
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-19831785859428166342014-04-19T09:18:00.001-04:002014-04-19T09:18:40.457-04:00Don't ever change?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFwWlT-I-ASW99Yi6wZWM5HjqolH-907Ack_t6xuIP0-S4ZuQ70ZxXPTzaAXlBOjtKwaZaynx1wiaYHVBaGluP55TsrPtDKHyxMWAtHZVUMAaoZpymF_Ie8jWWWXIID8Cd0N0/s1600/P1070450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWFwWlT-I-ASW99Yi6wZWM5HjqolH-907Ack_t6xuIP0-S4ZuQ70ZxXPTzaAXlBOjtKwaZaynx1wiaYHVBaGluP55TsrPtDKHyxMWAtHZVUMAaoZpymF_Ie8jWWWXIID8Cd0N0/s1600/P1070450.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
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A little late for that, isn't it? Change happens every minute. The creek is never the same two days in a row. The water flows on. Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-16763948334051645932014-04-16T11:57:00.003-04:002014-04-16T11:57:52.618-04:00Thorns<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When I hurt someone... unintentionally ... but because of the choices I made,<br />
and I'm really sorry, and I apologize profusely, and I feel deep regret,<br />
it still doesn't make the other person feel any better.<br />
<br />
What is regret? What is forgiveness? What is redemption?<br />
<br />
I have to remind myself "forgive me my trespasses as I forgive those who trespass against me." <br />
And the other important quote, "Judge not, lest ye be judged."<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-73420635798164963232014-04-15T23:01:00.000-04:002014-04-16T06:56:50.374-04:00It's a hard sun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGg_Posvn_ylx99gnkgnh7CnGEx_69l48T9jp1eJsMXQGdwdjkCgUPBhawYCEQZocKkzVIScnptxD9S7jS53UFmfzfjNbJ2S_i5rtWk1aLQQIJmYUK_fKYNnW_m4TIBwzkjsn/s1600/P1070402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAGg_Posvn_ylx99gnkgnh7CnGEx_69l48T9jp1eJsMXQGdwdjkCgUPBhawYCEQZocKkzVIScnptxD9S7jS53UFmfzfjNbJ2S_i5rtWk1aLQQIJmYUK_fKYNnW_m4TIBwzkjsn/s1600/P1070402.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
It is bright and it shines a hard light. And it can blind you if you look right at it.<br />
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What is true?<br />
<br />
There is more than one side to any story. There is probably even more than two sides to every story. <br />
<br />
But truth is truth. And there must be at least one person who KNOWS.<br />
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That person isn't me... I only know one side. My side. But you - YOU know, don't you? And now, you can live with it.<br />
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You must be uneasy whenever the hard light shines in your eyes. Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-6314866485099683542014-04-03T22:27:00.001-04:002014-04-03T23:11:28.874-04:00Restart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjI1XxkCMNSkM_Ih765GEzbz7mQd1vt3Bamj34jfqpsRLwBSKFe2FQgp2xmg8q_eWdSyP6GK3sunv4M-AcDKfP-GV10minKIreeM4I237WdWBBA2NcjS5PNhapnpIYwaVC4lZ/s1600/Photo+on+2014-04-03+at+22.46+%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjI1XxkCMNSkM_Ih765GEzbz7mQd1vt3Bamj34jfqpsRLwBSKFe2FQgp2xmg8q_eWdSyP6GK3sunv4M-AcDKfP-GV10minKIreeM4I237WdWBBA2NcjS5PNhapnpIYwaVC4lZ/s1600/Photo+on+2014-04-03+at+22.46+%233.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Starting now. I'm in bed already. I've been looking backwards a lot through old posts and old photos and old thoughts. <br />
<br />
Right now, it's pretty warm. I can hear the tv on downstairs and the sound of the rain in the gutters, not exactly a heavy rain, but it's there. I can hear a vague murmur of conversation. <br />
<br />
Right now, I see my messy room in the dim glow of the lamp that was my grandmothers, when I was little it was in her bedroom, and now it is in my bedroom. Even with one missing piece of glass and one cracked piece of glass in the shade, it is one of my most prized possessions. <br />
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Right now, only the tip of my fingers on my right hand are numb, and really, nothing much hurts. So that's a good night, because it isn't always like that right now.<br />
<br />
I've looked back a way, and found that a lot more time has actually passed than I feel like has passed. <br />
<br />
Time passed, and was never seen again.<br />
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It's time to restart Now.<br />
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-74525348719633777082014-04-02T12:27:00.000-04:002014-04-02T12:27:46.528-04:00Sunset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwNDWZV8VNXAV7pXgHywpnxNR_MueUaBP4JiAwqB0BpmPqVFIIdWwOubccSFpBBFISDJbJqyh6SC90YJpCeWVzIARoL7H8TeTJU_QYrZtO9a31QL08rpq6aP60GVZxSaGT_Nb/s1600/P1010496.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwNDWZV8VNXAV7pXgHywpnxNR_MueUaBP4JiAwqB0BpmPqVFIIdWwOubccSFpBBFISDJbJqyh6SC90YJpCeWVzIARoL7H8TeTJU_QYrZtO9a31QL08rpq6aP60GVZxSaGT_Nb/s640/P1010496.JPG" /></a></div><br>...and then they were never seen again.Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-32729715560421387762014-02-16T22:46:00.001-05:002014-02-16T22:46:15.892-05:00Sue and Frank's Art Gallery | Paintings & Prints | ArtPalI've got a new thing going... so I figured I'd put it up here... <br /><br />
<br /><br />
One of my new years goals/resolutions/whatever was to put up some paintings on a web site to sell. I am going with the quote that "you miss 100% of the chances you don't take" with this... and even though I am not overly confident yet, I wanted to take a chance. <br /><br />
<br /><br />
Hey, what makes someone an artist? It's all about creating the art. So yes, I'm an artist, because I'm creating all of this art. What makes it "ART"? I think that's totally in the eye of the beholder, right? But now I have all of these paintings and nowhere to hang them. And the next step in the whole ARTIST process would be to sell some of these pieces. I have already sold some art, but mostly I haven't been doing much to promote it. So this is my attempt to promote.<br /><br />
<br /><br />
If you want to see my paintings, go to this link: <br /><br />
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<a href="http://www.artpal.com/susyluwho">Sue and Frank's Art Gallery | Paintings & Prints | ArtPal</a><br /><br />
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I hope you see something you like! They are creating prints based on the paintings that I have done. You can order pretty inexpensive prints, or you can go totally crazy with expensive printed canvases that are framed and everything... I haven't even ordered anything myself yet, so I still need to see what kind of quality it is. But I hope it works out - it is really exciting, even if nothing happens with it! Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-83875667923599012132013-10-06T21:48:00.001-04:002013-10-06T21:49:46.403-04:00Next on the list Pearl Jam - Unthought Known Day 4 - a song that calms you down...
<br><br><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/P-Db7U0sicA?list=TLNMhN_qmRP-FyMsjjf-7q5GUKtPCb8Lhs" width="480"></iframe>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-53951933004455236302013-10-05T19:46:00.003-04:002013-10-05T19:46:43.419-04:00Great summer evening at the cabin!Ok, let's skip ahead to day 7 - a song that reminds you of summer. :)
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Z3imFmTdn1U" width="420"></iframe>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-81721414757680237782013-09-08T12:05:00.000-04:002013-09-08T12:05:00.090-04:00Day 3 - a song that reminds you of one or both of your parents My parents had a lot to do with my musical tastes, and my country tastes too :) <br />
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<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/HCXRj4-RRQM" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-56207102546179520942013-09-07T11:40:00.000-04:002013-09-07T11:40:00.438-04:00Day 2 - A song that reminds you of your most recent ex-boyfriendMan, that was a LONG TIME AGO! More than 30 years!<br />
The guy was named Tommy, and I think this was "our song", although I'm not really certain. This may have been the song on the radio when we were breaking up. I broke up with him, just to be clear. And I told my friends that everytime I heard this song, I was going to do sit-ups, just so I wouldn't think of him. It's so funny now when I think about it :) <br />
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Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-67620188164735135012013-09-06T11:21:00.000-04:002013-09-06T11:21:45.916-04:00Song Challenge, Day 1 - a song from your childhood I saw this on Pinterest and decided to play along. Here is the pin... (Taylor Swift is not my selection):
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<div style="width:600px;margin:0 auto"><div style="position:relative;"><a target="_blank" href="http://www.polyvore.com/day_13_forever_always_taylor/set?.svc=copypaste&id=71300499"><img width="600" alt="Day 13 Forever & Always Taylor Swift" src="http://cfc.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-set/.sig/UZqtZrHivtrF1YcP1rLbPQ/cid/71300499/id/_MDXLUPKQb2X2QkYMVNjyg/size/c600x504.jpg" title="Day 13 Forever & Always Taylor Swift" height="504" border="0" /></a></div></div><br/><div style="text-align:center"><small><a target="_blank" href="http://www.polyvore.com/day_13_forever_always_taylor/set?.svc=copypaste&id=71300499">Day 13 Forever & Always Taylor Swift</a> by <a target="_blank" href="http://annikahskigh.polyvore.com/?.svc=copypaste">annikahskigh</a> on <a target="_blank" href="http://www.polyvore.com/">Polyvore</a></small></div><div style="width:600px;margin:0 auto"><small><div style="padding-top:16px"><p style="clear:both;margin:0em;padding:0px"><a rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing?.svc=copypaste&id=30073922"><img width="50" align="left" hspace="4" src="http://ak1.polyvoreimg.com/cgi/img-thing/size/s/tid/30073922.jpg" style="border:1px solid #cccccc;margin:0 8px 8px 0;padding:2px;background-color:#ffffff;" height="50" /></a><div style="margin-bottom:8px;text-align:left;"><a rel="nofollow" target="_blank" href="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/thing?.svc=copypaste&id=30073922">Scratch My Head: The 25 days Songs Challenge.</a><br/>tumblr.com<br/><br style="display:none"/></div></p></div></small></div>
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And this is the first song that came to mind:
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<iframe width="420" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Zv85y08aA2w" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-13868246195109712542013-08-02T14:42:00.001-04:002013-08-02T14:47:07.288-04:00More Cabin, of course.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6QkrC2CNc54H-r-YZBu9sDA8yA1ASfK1FBjN6Oc4dE1eFsT3yIOZfLHV5ngY1kWuS3IfDjXToi9ntQXaDxAuVv0scPo3hQDKz3LRiZplZdLHOtmdGYEoWRhdvagKLj4TJgCO/s1600/P1070316.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP6QkrC2CNc54H-r-YZBu9sDA8yA1ASfK1FBjN6Oc4dE1eFsT3yIOZfLHV5ngY1kWuS3IfDjXToi9ntQXaDxAuVv0scPo3hQDKz3LRiZplZdLHOtmdGYEoWRhdvagKLj4TJgCO/s400/P1070316.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Home sweet home, from a different angle. Showing one more of the many things the Husband got completed over the last few weeks.<br />
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Stairs leading up to the deck. The whole deck is completed. New front roof and skylights. Siding on the shed - you can see that below. Frank and Steven even sided one wall of the kitchen because the girl in the insurance company thought it COULD be an issue. Everything is now completed - and then some - so that we have insurance!!!!! Yay!<br />
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Well, I thought we had insurance last time, too, and they managed to find things wrong with the place, and gave us a list of things to fix. But now, I think, it's time to take it easy, relax and enjoy it.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7BjzQc_rWZTdrQbS1UAlbvJxERVgbuUTHJc0AsTyRbMWb2JTMeNCuo9GUEziZCvcCOWibX-n2gfIRczgle1ABFsxJP69iD79915cSGX8lI2c9k528SM1RcaSy7G0uxJy0BwZ/s1600/P1070148.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7BjzQc_rWZTdrQbS1UAlbvJxERVgbuUTHJc0AsTyRbMWb2JTMeNCuo9GUEziZCvcCOWibX-n2gfIRczgle1ABFsxJP69iD79915cSGX8lI2c9k528SM1RcaSy7G0uxJy0BwZ/s400/P1070148.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Siding on the shed and the Hops garden</td></tr>
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Although I don't know how relaxing will ever be possible for Frank, because every time we look around we find a hundred other things that would be nice to be done, and because there is ALWAYS the looming need for firewood. Oh yeah - and the shower. We still need a shower. But at least, he's willing to ask for some help with the shower.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQztimivVQMVILj17ZZcPWWXYI_av-ETyIqdkgo9TJeF1kGQAwaZ7_168tXa-uDCR054UQdBY4iBu1wKBgFfTRXhJYlSrWVq4IyDAAtfPmmpSNZArcKhMrsJqHjnJjnmks0GD/s1600/P1070313.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQztimivVQMVILj17ZZcPWWXYI_av-ETyIqdkgo9TJeF1kGQAwaZ7_168tXa-uDCR054UQdBY4iBu1wKBgFfTRXhJYlSrWVq4IyDAAtfPmmpSNZArcKhMrsJqHjnJjnmks0GD/s400/P1070313.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knocked over "steps" - they were piled up stones - and resided this wall</td></tr>
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What do I do around the cabin? Nothing, really. I entertain the women that come to visit, so we go shopping and lunch and even the spa. I try to cook whenever a meal comes up, although I love to go out to eat whenever possible. I try to remember to pack food for all the meals that we need. I try to keep track of the water situation - and make sure that we have enough bottled water, since we don't have the water tested yet. I try to be sure we have enough clean bedding and whatever other supplies we need for ourselves and anyone else sleeping over. Then, when the weekend is over, I try to clean the house really well for the next time around. Sometimes I clean well, sometimes I don't. At the very least I try to sweep the whole cabin and dust up spider webs and things. This weekend I managed to paint a lot of dirty walls - I used up a whole gallon of paint. Plenty of more areas that need painting, though. Oh yeah, and did I mention I shop?<br />
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Do I sound like I'm trying to justify myself? Yeah, feels that way. I can't do any of the heavy lifting and serious construction that Frank can do. It is a very uncomfortable balance of work and responsibility. I have lots of ideas - for things I can't do. It's exhausting Frank, and it's making me cranky.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrMy6vL37qoc26GH8LvYE1gcuNyTNRxxTQkTSJ0FvTkeRIZZl44vtOE1XUHZWmPB2737_23tcD39Fjl5AVl-U7duYnv73bleqORJxWa0orKoXQDhAOg6xhst4TNnwf0vrjRCV/s1600/photo-9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcrMy6vL37qoc26GH8LvYE1gcuNyTNRxxTQkTSJ0FvTkeRIZZl44vtOE1XUHZWmPB2737_23tcD39Fjl5AVl-U7duYnv73bleqORJxWa0orKoXQDhAOg6xhst4TNnwf0vrjRCV/s640/photo-9.jpg" width="526" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet Charley (not her real name)</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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I am trying to work some aggravation out in my head, and I'm having trouble figuring it all out. But I don't want to just gripe on here. Ok, so what else can I say, aside from complaining? <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlB2iwuhC4keMZYD7UTjpNoFpEoQTEgIUCjgJrQzQoWDB3iSoTqirw9R_A6kFz4NQ4rnSFj_eB_rvZ_owrD-XyAEhfbm2vmCwTxKTR5FsMvglXR8NBqGQrRgOOblPMXhlFguzs/s1600/P1070184.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="342" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlB2iwuhC4keMZYD7UTjpNoFpEoQTEgIUCjgJrQzQoWDB3iSoTqirw9R_A6kFz4NQ4rnSFj_eB_rvZ_owrD-XyAEhfbm2vmCwTxKTR5FsMvglXR8NBqGQrRgOOblPMXhlFguzs/s400/P1070184.JPG" width="400" /></a>Well, we're getting friendlier with the neighbors - we had a chance to meet the owner of the next hundred acres over, our neighbor to the North. She is a sweet girl and I hope we'll be friends, even though she is way younger than we are. We've made friends with the chickens. Charley actually loves snacks. And the ducks don't usually run when we head down to the lake... they quack at us like they have something to say. I'm starting to feel like we are living at a petting zoo. We really need a few fainting baby goats. :)<br />
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<table 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/AVvXsEhyD7wlx0tSGiVIOhKYCSxBFtITC8seco0KWRKS3vDIAJxuxhgmapbT-ZAreLWQI7fvCBo4AqesVexwZ498760jrXXmD0Q3kNdrhT6gL-dAyjLpJxjj_9-i8SLuu7W9iwUUiinH/s1600/P1070159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyD7wlx0tSGiVIOhKYCSxBFtITC8seco0KWRKS3vDIAJxuxhgmapbT-ZAreLWQI7fvCBo4AqesVexwZ498760jrXXmD0Q3kNdrhT6gL-dAyjLpJxjj_9-i8SLuu7W9iwUUiinH/s640/P1070159.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rest and recreation!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
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<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-7861138910286807992013-07-05T01:34:00.001-04:002013-07-05T01:34:25.195-04:00Sharing some of my family story... Caughnawaga stuff...I've never really tried this before. How many pages can one blog post be? Hmmm. Time to find out... Here is some of the research I've done that I'm using for my Nanowrimo project. I'm really excited about this.<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "American Typewriter"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">“I
remember…” – Alliene Rice DeSanto, in her own words… As told to Susan DeSanto
Kemper.</span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I was born
on November 24, 1921, in a house on the Kahnawake Indian Reservation just
outside of Quebec, Canada.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
mother, Anna Bell Rice, and my father, Israel Rice, were Mohawk Iroquois.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had two older brothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Henry was my oldest brother, Tom was
next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another baby was lost before
I was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">The house I
was born in is the house that Aunt Alice lives in now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was my Godmother’s house, Josephine
Jacobs Taylor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was my mother’s
aunt, sister to my Grandmother, Louise Jacobs Bell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother went to her aunt’s house to give birth because her
own mother’s house was on the outskirts of town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You don’t want to be too far away when you are giving birth
in Canada in the winter.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">My parents
had been married when they were about 18 years old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They separated several times, and they had separated again
when I was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t talked
about, so I don’t know the reasons.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It may have been because of my father’s job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was an ironworker and he had to travel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I know is that they never got back
together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were separated for
good by the time I was six months old, although they never divorced.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I remember
one day when I was still a child, seeing my father walking down the road past
my Grandmother’s house, towards the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had a fur coat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He seemed so frightening to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I ran screaming and crying to my grandmother, who was sitting in her
rocking chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never spoke to
me, never did anything wrong, but he seemed so scary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never really did get to know him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was never alone with him – even after
I was grown up and married and came back and visited him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I was named Alliene
by Chief War Eagle (my uncle, John Bell.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Other people always changed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The French heard it as Ann Helene, a name that they were more used to,
and that is what I was baptized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In school they called me Eileen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’m used to it.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">On the
reservation the mothers had practically nothing to do with naming their
baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grandparents or
godparents took the child away practically right from birth and brought them to
the church and baptized them right away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They got to pick the name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It didn’t seem odd, it was just the way things were done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doda (doDAH – Aunt in Indian) was my
Godmother, Josephine Taylor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chief
War Eagle was my Godfather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
my mother’s brother, but he was just a kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He named me Alliene after an ex-girlfriend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doda picked out my Indian name.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">My Indian name
is Kanietahawi, which means “brought the snow.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was born on a snowy day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that my mother gave all the kids Indian names, but
nobody paid much attention to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nobody called them by the names, and at that time, being Indian meant
nothing – it as the same as being Italian or anything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t popular.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">When my own
first child was born, my mother was upset because she felt that she should be
the Godmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indian tradition
has the Grandmother as the Godmother of the first child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wanted to be Frank’s Godmother, and
name him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think she was going to
name him Everett, after a man she was working for that she respected.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I never
exactly “bonded” with my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As a child I lived with my grandmother most of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers and Madeline, my
cousin, lived with her too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Madeline had been orphaned at a young age.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I lived with Doda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I only lived with my mother on again and off again, when she
had a boyfriend that supported her well enough.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Even though
my parents never actually divorced, they had other relationships after they
were separated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that my
father had a girlfriend, and Aunt Blanche told me that they had a child
together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Boy or girl, I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After my father was murdered, though,
we never saw the girlfriend or the child again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed fishy when she disappeared like that.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">One thing
that I learned as a child is not to find fault with different kinds of people,
not to judge people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one is any
different from anyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
grandmother owned a camp on the beach of the St. Lawrence River – they called
it “the Bush,” but it’s name was “Bell’s Camp.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She rented cabings to many families, all different
nationalities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were families
from Holland, England, France, and other places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember a Chinese family that married into the
Indian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember a couple from
England, a racially mixed couple – white and black.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was brought up not to discriminate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">My
grandmother was a shrewd business woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She controlled the money and the land and the business ventures; my
grandfather did not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandmother
acquired a great deal of property.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She would loan out $20 or $25, and then get back property or whatever in
prepayment of the loan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She owned all
of the Bush, right on the water, as well as three or four pieces of property in
the village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were the first
family with a radio – an Atwater Kent, which only worked on Sunday night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were also one of the first families
to get electric lights in our house.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">We even had
electric lights in our cellar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
light in the cellar was kept on all of the time, for the CHICKENS!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It gets cold in Canada in the winter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We kept our chickens in one room in the
cellar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They needed a light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cellar had four rooms: one for
coal, one for wood, a root cellar for storing apples and things, and the
chicken room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">During the
Depression, our family wasn’t on relief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were too well off to get anything from the government.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t own the lot, but we were
never deprived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone was the
same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all had hand-me-down
clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother brought
hand-me-downs from the families that she worked for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For Christmas, I got a new dress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t really know there was a depression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were never hungry.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">There wasn’t
a big variety of food then like there is now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We ate Indian Corn Soup, Boiled Dinner, Chicken and
Dumplings, and Indian Goulash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
grinded corn for Indian Corn Bread, and sometimes we had a steak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Grandmother had a cow and chickens
and a pig.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the winter we
slaughtered the pig and the cow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grandmother owned a lot of land, maybe the length of Harvard Avenue, and
wide, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had a big garden
with hay for the cow, corn, potatoes, tomatoes, cabbage, turnips, string beans,
and cantaloupes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grandfather
kept bees for honey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had an
orchard of Mackintosh apples and we had cultivated raspberry and black
raspberry bushes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t really
a farm, though, in the way that I would think of a farm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandmother crossed the river every two
weeks or so to buy what she couldn’t get in the village.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">We had dogs,
but they weren’t like house dogs, they were more like watch dogs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never treated any of them like a
pet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my Grandmother heard her
dog hollering in the night she would grab her stick and her lantern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandmother had a glass eye so I guess
she couldn’t see that well, but she would take off through her hayfield in the
dark, looking for whoever was trespassing on her land.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I never felt
like the dogs were like pets, but I did have a calf as a pet once when I was
small.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The calf had a heart-shaped
white face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One day, it walked up
the stairs into the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
Grandmother had a fit!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We also had
a really mean old rooster who guarded the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If that rooster was in front of the house, no one could
pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The rooster would peck them
and chase them away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">My
grandfather adored my grandmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was like a little pet puppy dog where she was concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a MicMac Indian from Old
Orchard, Maine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They met while
traveling across the United States, met and married in San Francisco.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think they were traveling in an
Indian Show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Grandfather
was with the show because he was a medicine man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandmother traveled with her sister, Doda Aukot, my Aunt
Ida.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did Indian beadwork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would go into towns – towns where
there were no sidewalks, and they had to walk in the mud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, they would find a nice town
and could sleep in a bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sometimes they would camp and sleep on the ground. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I have
Grandmother and Grandfather’s marriage license.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandfather was 38 and Grandmother was 23 when they married
in San Francisco on March 15, 1894.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grandmother was short, and Grandfather was big; over six foot tall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They bought property in Oklahoma and in
Texas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The land was later
sold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, after I was
married, I had to sign a paper saying I wouldn’t try to get the land back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Grandmother
only spoke her own Indian tongue, and she couldn’t speak English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandfather spoke a different Indian
language and English, but no Mohawk. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doda Aukot had to translate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, everyone managed to communicate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They never did learn each other’s
language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t say I ever heard
my grandmother and grandfather talk to each other even though they lived in the
same house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They certainly never
argued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess love has no
language barrier!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Doda Aukot
spoke really good English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
never married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She translated for
my grandparents and lived with them on and off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess most of what I can tell you about my grandparents I
learned from what she told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
grandmother couldn’t tell me much about herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I spoke very little Mohawk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I was growing up, Grandmother learned to speak a little
more English from the people in the camp on the bush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I talked to her in English, and she answered me in Mohawk.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I remember
my Grandfather very well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
always had Smith Brothers cough drops in his vest pocket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The house we lived in was made of
stone, with a long kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There
were two doors:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>one into the
living room, one into the dining room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think of him sitting in his rocking chair, right in between those two
doors.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">This has
been a very “enlightening” century.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There have been so many innovations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, everybody has so much, and they want so much more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like at Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kids get too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was young, we got one gift, and
our stockings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One year I got a
little red table and chairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One
year I got a doll that opened and shut her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was amazed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
poked my finger into her eyes until I poked her eyes out, to see how it worked.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always had a Christmas
tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had candlesticks that
clipped to the tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would
light the tree maybe once a night, for maybe two minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One year, I fell asleep waiting for
Santa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brother Tom, who was
about six years older than me, didn’t have anything better to do, so he painted
my face with charcoal!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">We had open
house on Christmas Day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The table
was set all day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grandma lived up
on the hill, and it was a long, hard walk for visitors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone walked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were cold when they finally arrived,
and they had to eat!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
Chicken Stew, and Indian Corn Soup, Bread Pudding, Rice Pudding, Pumpkin Pie,
and Baked Apples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were
apples and orange, and red “blood” oranges.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I was the
youngest girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was kind of the
favorite or the pet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was about
six years old when my grandfather died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had gone blind from diabetes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He fell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trap door to
the cellar was open, and he couldn’t see it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They took him to the hospital and he lingered a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On his deathbed, someone picked me up
and had me kiss him … and then he died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My Grandmother never remarried.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I decided at
an early age that I wasn’t going to be like my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to be more like my
grandmother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was only getting
married once, and I was going to stick with it, so my children would have a
father, one father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother had
many boyfriends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not too many of
them were Indians – maybe not any.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I guess that I took after my mother in that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indians weren’t good enough for us.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I never
lived with Mother much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was
working, jobs like housekeeper and cook, and she thought more of going out with
her friends than taking care of her kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I lived with her when she had a steady boyfriend that could support her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly, I lived with my Grandmother,
and sometimes I lived with Doda.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
lived with the VanDamlen family a lot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They were wonderful people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I called them Uncle Frank and Aunt Emma, even though they weren’t
related by blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brothers and
I were close to their children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Aunt Emma was English, from Liverpool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uncle Frank was actually a prince.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His mother had married a prince from Holland.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">When I was
about fourteen, I moved to New York with my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think that because my Grandmother was getting old, she
couldn’t really take care of me anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I went to school in Greenwich Village.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lived on Barrow Street, right off of Bleeker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost as soon as I got to New York,
though, my mother pushed me off on somebody else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stayed with a couple named Dorothy and Eddie Maynard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had a piano and they let me play
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved about fifteen times
before I got married.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lived in
Brooklyn, Inwood Park, Greenwich Village, all over. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I remember
that my own mother didn’t even tell me the facts of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to find out about my period from
some woman I was staying with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
was a tomboy, what did I know about things like that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought I had injured myself some how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">In the
summer, I went home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was the
best part of my life, with my grandmother, living in the Bush, at Bell’s Camp
on the beach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We wernt swimming,
fishing, and we drank.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had
bonfires and we would sing, and my friends Edith, Dorothy and me would steal
the boy’s bikes and bicycle up and down the path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were girls, we weren’t allowed to have bikes of our own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">I remember
Marian Weber, who had a summer house in the Bush.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were from New York City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had my first watermelon at her house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She took us all to Montreal, to our
first circus and to a fancy restaurant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We drank the fingerbowls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
learned so much from the people who summered at Bell’s Camp.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">Liquor
wasn’t legally allowed in the bush, and every once in a while someone reported
my Grandmother for having liquor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Mounties would raid the place in the middle of the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We would run barefoot up the path screaming,
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Royal Mounted Police are
coming!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone would hide their
bottles in the river.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One time,
Aunt Emma VanDamlen hid a bottle of liquor in her bust, and we all laughed and
laughed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "American Typewriter";">In 1936 –
maybe it was October or November – my grandmother was dying so we moved
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After she died, we went back
to New York City, to school there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The next year we went back to Kahnawake fro vacation and I met Frank
DeSanto there.</span></div>
Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-81238622897728251832013-07-05T01:21:00.001-04:002013-07-05T01:29:44.246-04:00The Dark of the NightWell. New chapter.<br />
I'm sitting here in the dark in the hospital.<br />
Frank had a bad flare of his Crohns, and it landed us in the hospital again - bringing me back full to the time 6 years ago, about, give or take, when I started blogging in the first place. Blogging got me busy with something to do as I sat in the hospital and watched him.<br />
<br />
Watching him entails a lot of boredom while he sleeps. Watching him means being on call for ice chips as needed, but not having much else to do. Watching him, at night, like now, means staying quiet but staying close. Perfect time for using the computer. <br />
<br />
Back to the beginning, but some things have changed.<br />
<br />
-There was no facebook back then. Facebook is a serious time suck. I love it but I hate it. It's so hard to break away from, and there is so little good creativity there anymore. And yet, I can't look away for long.<br />
<br />
Blogging started to keep people in touch with how Frankie was doing. It was easier than making a million phone calls - and it was a creative outlet. I wrote a lot, I enjoyed doing it.<br />
<br />
Facebook does that really well, now. But I can't stay on facebook all the time, it is mind-numbing, not helping. <br />
<br />
Yeah, another big change is that Frankie is no longer a child. He's an adult, pretty much. At 22 he doesn't want to be the topic of my blogging anymore. I understand, and it's his story to tell, not mine. <br />
<br />
So HERE I am, trying to stop looking at the same boring facebook posts over and over, trying not to overshare Frankie's life. I decided I would go back to writing my family story.<br />
<br />
Nanowrimo. Usually a November project. My first Nanowrimo, successfully completed, was the November AFTER Frankie's guts exploded last time. Then, I tried a few other times, less successfully. <br />
<br />
This time, I'm going to continue to work on the project I have in mind, which is a family history. I like the idea of doing a family history, as a fictional story, with some basis in fact. I've started it already. And I've sat here all day and worked on research. I've got a few good ideas. <br />
<br />
Nanowrimo Summer Camp. That's what I'm doing. And since I'm stuck in the hospital, in the dark of the night, sitting up all night with no bed... but with a computer and access to the internet, and a story whispering itself in my ear... it seems like a really good time to write!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-67168337844394609042013-06-03T22:20:00.001-04:002013-06-03T22:22:18.541-04:00Progress <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSpdqHiGET_gjlDRxpJCQB6eQ8eN-csZM50McDLjQc85cGVIYMlt_BcgRSdLx45E0HURpYsJRoQLpaXexZTZFsU4BNbwblLsitAvs5urvOuFAey07bUlc7m0rZti3iQYPbNjA_/s1600/P1050694.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/AVvXsEiSpdqHiGET_gjlDRxpJCQB6eQ8eN-csZM50McDLjQc85cGVIYMlt_BcgRSdLx45E0HURpYsJRoQLpaXexZTZFsU4BNbwblLsitAvs5urvOuFAey07bUlc7m0rZti3iQYPbNjA_/s320/P1050694.jpg" width="296" /></a></div>
It's no wonder I'm so tired all week. We do SO MUCH work every weekend, and have a great time doing it!<br />
<br />
Last weekend, we were freezing and wearing coats. This weekend, we were sweating in tank tops. It went up to the 90's! So, a screen door was definitely in order! Here's a picture of our new screen door... we bought it during the week, and I painted it red and we hung it this weekend. It's got a very satisfying "Thwack rattle" sound when it slams shut. I think it needs more spring, to slam shut harder. I love it. Two views... from the outside... and from the inside...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UvNH4aI8GushjsYmh4y3hbZD3rUFTSiZc5r5k_u2cLSmpOiJL_Vtof5A4s55pMFjO90J3fP1axL7Ib7Md7sLYu7HmUjnPkEkpdG0vu2ua0LCzrOlHhwF_f6rS91vbadFRva4/s1600/P1050697.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/AVvXsEh-UvNH4aI8GushjsYmh4y3hbZD3rUFTSiZc5r5k_u2cLSmpOiJL_Vtof5A4s55pMFjO90J3fP1axL7Ib7Md7sLYu7HmUjnPkEkpdG0vu2ua0LCzrOlHhwF_f6rS91vbadFRva4/s320/P1050697.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Last week's project was HUGE. It was the three new skylights and the new section of roof. We might have waited for this project until later, but the insurance was requiring that we fixed the section of roof that was sagging - so in for a penny, in for a pound, right? The two old sky lights were a mess, They weren't even really sky lights, they were huge pieces of glass he just made into skylights. I think he (the previous owner, John, who I never met) had gotten glass windows from a department store that was being dismantled. <br />
<br />
We liked the way the huge skylights looked (except for the fact that they were cloudy and broken.) So when we couldn't find real skylights that big, we decided to go for three instead of two. And I love the look! It feels like a tree house inside now, with the leaves through the window, and the sun pouring in - it's the southern exposure -- and the ladder to the loft. It feels like being outside. Here are two of them, with one blocked by the upstairs bedroom.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfqi4ACkdT57NLX4dN1Sk3c2TNuksriFGJIMji5xKQJUanCPeeIJxEv8lLE8UJQ3pXcLfVsfQsfGmTQlQ4TylWnHT3A6fS7ATOB7eq5fdzbggbezWo8ws9OqGbAGm2M9oPQ2z/s1600/P1050702.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcfqi4ACkdT57NLX4dN1Sk3c2TNuksriFGJIMji5xKQJUanCPeeIJxEv8lLE8UJQ3pXcLfVsfQsfGmTQlQ4TylWnHT3A6fS7ATOB7eq5fdzbggbezWo8ws9OqGbAGm2M9oPQ2z/s400/P1050702.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Another job that the insurance required?<br />
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<br />
Hand rails on the deck stairs - Frank fixed these up pretty quick Sunday morning. They are a little sketchy, but they should hold up and serve the purpose. Hope they don't look too close at how old the wood on the deck is... I keep waiting to go through it. <br />
<br />
And we were so tired Saturday Night, we spent the evening sitting on the deck with a candle instead of having a fire... :)<br />
<br />
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<br />
A big project worked on this weekend was also the shower situation.<br />
<br />
It was very exciting the week that we got water hooked up to the toilet so we could flush.<br />
<br />
Then, we got water hooked up to the sink, so we could wash with cold water from the sink instead of using a wash basin and pitcher arrangement...<br />
<br />
This weekend, we got HOT water! However, the shower isn't working yet. Hopefully next weekend. <br />
<br />
And, in preparation, I've scrubbed the tub and refinished the wooden step. (You need the step because it's such a deep tub.) <br />
<br />
I've been thinking about doing this for a while, too: open up the window.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3aIVf3EKxDU5IPTpgaXmEibwNL01yhR1bSWrBd815QtL5LZOD9c-JAADVtf4jjFrrChCtw5SyVmg8qDJ2ffVP7jlVjSg82xSF3XoShfuL5RsaynQwrksVTtvcaYoTOEUoB00/s1600/P1050719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO3aIVf3EKxDU5IPTpgaXmEibwNL01yhR1bSWrBd815QtL5LZOD9c-JAADVtf4jjFrrChCtw5SyVmg8qDJ2ffVP7jlVjSg82xSF3XoShfuL5RsaynQwrksVTtvcaYoTOEUoB00/s400/P1050719.JPG" width="400" /></a>Previously, this window was covered with plastic. Because it's REALLY old and it has single pane and a hole in one pane. But, summer is here! Let the heat in, right? It cools off nice in the evening!<br />
So now we can look out into the backyard easier!<br />
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This is the inside of the window, and the outside of the same window. I know that we need better quality windows so we don't freeze in the winter, but I hate to lose the charm that this window has. I'm thinking storm windows or something. I've gotta figure out a way to keep this.<br />
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<br />
Our cabin is a bit confused. It doesn't know if it is a log cabin or a cedar shake salt box. It's got log siding, shake siding, and plywood siding; it's got brown windows and white windows and sky lights; it has a brown roof on top, and a new black roof down the front. <br />
<br />
It's quirky. But I love it.<br />
<br />
And... last but not least... the new bar. We're going to leave the Christmas Tree up all year, LOL.<br />
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<br /><!--3-->Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-45187195734123944502013-04-22T19:24:00.001-04:002013-04-22T19:24:41.223-04:00Cabin UpdateI took more photos this weekend - are you surprised? Well, here they are...<br />
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Here's some of the living room, one of all the lines - beams and stairs and rails - lines all over. <br />
<br />
Then, the bumped out living room, below, with the chair my sister gave me yesterday. She did a great job on the reupholstery! My painting is hanging on the 'spring' side, and it will be turned to the 'summer' side in a few months. The neighbor's son looked at the painting and said, "I don't know how to tell you this, but you've hung your painting upside down." LOL, I loved that! I showed him it was only fall that was upside down; spring is right side up.<br />
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Above is the whole yard, with our land in the background.<br />
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And I took lots of pictures of Frank working because he did lots of work. He got three main things done: putting a railing up on the side of the deck that collapsed when we took out the tree, all of the insulation out of the crawl space so he can run pipes so we can get water, and the stump from another old tree out of the way. (The stump in this picture, however, will remain a while.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQ2rKnd40VKbhyphenhyphenernZrH1Yvcx_DLedpfZQ1SEHGWCv8WOMSqQoxJRSh3ilZHZHgu2mGRXlJqf8GufQnyx4HYZMvk2ppMACzpSKcg1M05GpzxE-55mkZQJaATDLrVCdAXre47H/s1600/P1050516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaQ2rKnd40VKbhyphenhyphenernZrH1Yvcx_DLedpfZQ1SEHGWCv8WOMSqQoxJRSh3ilZHZHgu2mGRXlJqf8GufQnyx4HYZMvk2ppMACzpSKcg1M05GpzxE-55mkZQJaATDLrVCdAXre47H/s400/P1050516.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
Yeah, finally, me on the ATV. But I won't get on it and have it moving. This was only a photo op.<br />
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So all in all, it was a productive weekend - especially for a day trip!Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-5091076811238097012013-04-11T21:43:00.001-04:002013-04-11T21:43:10.625-04:00Zombie Run... The MovieWe did the Zombie Run last weekend... it was all for fun, and no real zombies (or brains) were injured in the making of this movie!<br />
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Oh yeah - and Twinkie Hunters, our team name, refers to the Zombieland movie. If you haven't seen it, you should, 'cause it's a lot of fun.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/lp3Ax5e7-QE?list=UU-tzAuqv5OdjeO4Y37QG26A" width="560"></iframe>Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-72957125803697178502013-03-27T17:17:00.001-04:002013-03-27T17:17:16.689-04:00Pinterest CrazyI really am crazy about the Pinterest web site because I come up with so many great ideas for things I want to do - things I've never even thought of before - and not just ideas, but also directions! <br />
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Like - directions for crocheting things - I made this heart, I used it to decorate the cabin's Christmas tree which I'm leaving up all year, since it's just easier. I like crocheting in front of the fire...<br />
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The guys spent a while one warm Saturday recently, making a good spot by the spring for a picnic area. No specific pinterest plans for the area yet, but you know it's gonna be a great space!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRFadoEc9LdiMnU5ETXoJZLaWRQlCT_rzaozOIHd0JdvjYoX9afwnoL-CFpkx5NhqEVuRxInXbOHMCEdX7muNfXYWiTL0p4zgnz57Q1rH3jIgYYfgBIHI9Pq4VzzopKaDnCKn/s1600/P1060442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcRFadoEc9LdiMnU5ETXoJZLaWRQlCT_rzaozOIHd0JdvjYoX9afwnoL-CFpkx5NhqEVuRxInXbOHMCEdX7muNfXYWiTL0p4zgnz57Q1rH3jIgYYfgBIHI9Pq4VzzopKaDnCKn/s200/P1060442.JPG" width="200" /></a>Here's another picnic area, right in front. Can't wait for the summer and this to be all green. I wonder how much my husband is going to like cutting the lawn around the picnic table... a rock patio would be nice, wouldn't it? <br />
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A MOST EXCITING Pinterest plan below -- that's the mason jar chandelier my darling husband made for me. I haven't even seen it yet, in person. But I found the idea on Pinterest, and now I've pinned this one on my board.<br />
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Finally, my Pinterest Pancakes. They look like cinnamon rolls, right? But no, they are pancakes, and they are AMAZING. We all enjoyed them, right Nick?<img border="0" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvKxFbkbMAqIoUpLz907V5Xx-C7tZSEr1Nb8sfdXhzKajW1IRBL2wer0l2yKAqd1BEQ6KT7M-3vBuyjeN05S98wW5wBBszfLPy7q2gFyTUzp7CAE8FgHTdiy5Dc8oBUVm045-s/s640/yum2.jpg" width="640" /><br />Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-54862033454439918572013-03-13T12:11:00.001-04:002013-03-13T12:11:32.205-04:00I wanna be in the woods right now.It's a beautiful day here in town, but I'd rather be back in the woods in the rain or the snow or the blowing wind. My life feels divided into real life and another block of time that's false - and the real life is back in the woods. I'm tired of being here, tired of people, tired of not being able to be who I really am. In the woods, I'm me - I'm NOT my age or my face or my figure or my reputation. In the woods, I don't have to listen to people talking about other people, and what they did or didn't do. I don't hear the politics, and the arguments on each side. I don't have to make polite conversation with someone when I don't care what they have to say and they don't care what I have to say. I'm ready to go back to reality. But it's only Wednesday.
Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-82870801719998845772013-02-23T16:08:00.001-05:002013-02-23T16:10:50.868-05:00Before and After, so far...When we bought the cabin in the woods, we started out with a pretty long list of things that had to get done to get the place in shape.<br />
Lots of the things have been marked off the list. We are about to start on a new list... if it ever warms up around here... well, here is our progress so far!<br />
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I hope that posting this video doesn't seem like I'm showing off.<br />
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It might actually BE showing off, but that is not my intention. I honestly just love this place. I sit on the new (used) couch and just stare at the place all evening long... I love to go through my photos over and over... I'm crazy, but I'm still so excited.
I wish I could be there all the time. Since I can't, I made this slide show so I can watch it when I'm home and imagine I'm there.<br />
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I expect that the only one who will be watching this video will be me :)<br />
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and that's perfectly ok!Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35628812.post-54886911500448876732012-12-10T16:36:00.001-05:002012-12-10T16:36:31.138-05:00A beautiful video :)<iframe width="560" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/mYkv2O1Wyuw" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<br>I loved this, and I want to share it with everyone! So cool! Take a look and tell me what you think...Suehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16294962658680385662noreply@blogger.com2