tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62930502988747397732024-03-13T23:24:07.769-04:00crap management...part photojournal, part mental-health intervention...Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.comBlogger758125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-12280594932059808072014-04-16T18:28:00.000-04:002014-04-16T18:28:39.584-04:00This is Our Marathon<br />
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This will be the 6th year in a row that I watch the Marathon unfold at Heartbreak Hill. On a couple of occasions, I have arrived there early enough to watch the elite runners zip by. It is impressive. Their pace is other-worldly. They appear to be sprinting. Uphill. At mile 20. <br />
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More impressive, though, is a couple of hours later, when the rest of the field crests the Hill. These are the runners you know. They are your neighbors, co-workers and friends. They are college kids, moms, senior citizens. Maybe they are longtime running nuts whose other marathon times qualified them for a coveted Boston bib number. Likely, they are weekend warriors who are running to support charities close to their hearts. <br />
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I have even seen Bill Rogers and Joan Benoit Samuelson, both Marathon winners and local favorites, in this throng. Neither competes for the wreath anymore, but they come. Team Hoyt is always there. Soldiers, Army reservists stationed nearby, march along the route, in full gear.<br />
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They come up the Hill in all kinds of ways. Running, limping, walking, waving, smiling, grimacing. In unseasonable heat, or early spring chill, in the rain. In wheelchairs. Barefoot. In Chewbacca costumes. Dressed in hamburger suits, or as bananas, or Uncle Sam, or...<br />
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And the crowd pushes them all up the Hill. The cheering doesn't stop. There are signs held aloft. Cowbells ring. Spectators clap, and reassure the runners that "It's all down hill from here!" Friends who have waited and watched for their runner will jump in and run with them, to the top. Or maybe all the way to the finish line. <br />
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Much has already been said and written about the Boston Marathon this year. Sometimes, I think, too much. <br />
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We are grateful for the courage of the first responders of a year ago. We mourn with the victims and the families who lost so much. We hold our loved ones a little closer, while we try to reject the fear cowards would impose on us. We are moving on.<br />
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I hope, as we move on this year, the Marathon will not have lost its festive quality. With heightened security along the route, will it feel as intimate? There will be no costumes, I'm told. Is it all still too raw? Will it be somber? Has the task of running again been made into too much? <br />
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I hope these runners, these middle-to-back of the packers, find a party along the course. They are the ones who could not finish last year, or who finished just before or just as terror engulfed the finish line. The charity runners, especially... they run to combat the ordinary horrors and everyday tragedies that all of us face. Like cancer, or ALS, or Alzheimer's, to name only a few. Of course they are strong. <br />
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There are any number of terrors that await us, there always have been. The Marathon is a triumph. We should celebrate.<br />
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And if you want to support one of those runners... might I suggest you give it up for my brother Bill?<br />
He runs, as he has for the past 5 marathons, for the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute.<br />
Just go <a href="http://www.rundfmc.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1078599&supid=355756782" target="_blank">here</a>, you'll see what to do. <br />
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Really, you'll want to contribute to his cause (Chubby Nation) if for no other reason than to be a recipient of his famously entertaining (and, truthfully, long-winded!) emails. Plus, he made t-shirts this year.<br />
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Yes, I said Chubby Nation. It's a long story... that starts with a Chubby Guy, chasing Kenyans. For cancer. <br />
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You're intrigued, aren't you? More info <a href="https://twitter.com/ChubbyvsCancer" target="_blank">here</a> on the twitter.<br />
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Many thanks!<br />
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Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-72141728748322439642014-03-30T16:15:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.237-05:00Cone of Happiness - All Done!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tukbd5ZRXLc/Uzh7CidxRRI/AAAAAAAAGcg/fHM2tmHwKTw/s1600/nocone3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Tukbd5ZRXLc/Uzh7CidxRRI/AAAAAAAAGcg/fHM2tmHwKTw/s1600/nocone3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Look, Ma! No Cone!</div>
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With his stitches removed, and being well along on the road to recovery, Wally now has clearance to resume his cone-free lifestyle. </div>
Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-65235850948034734832014-03-27T21:25:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.235-05:00Cone of Happiness - Tropical Daydreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IUkt6W8bCFY/UzTCyx_3fOI/AAAAAAAAGb4/0upPds2kfAU/s1600/tropicalCone6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IUkt6W8bCFY/UzTCyx_3fOI/AAAAAAAAGb4/0upPds2kfAU/s1600/tropicalCone6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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They say that no dog is an island...</div>
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But a guy can dream, can't he?</div>
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Like the rest of us, Wally is wishing for summer to get here soon. Until then, he'll be planted in the sunny spot by the window, lounging under his private palm, imagining his paws in the sand, and the waves lapping at his... On second thought, he's afraid of waves, so nevermind that part...</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-F8U2avt_M/UzTGff5PJbI/AAAAAAAAGcA/mGeKj_EXghA/s1600/tropicalCone6-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4-F8U2avt_M/UzTGff5PJbI/AAAAAAAAGcA/mGeKj_EXghA/s1600/tropicalCone6-2.jpg" height="640" /></a></div>
<br />Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-89458951813355692402014-03-26T21:29:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.242-05:00Cone of Happiness - Captain Wally<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4AxZA1hdUo8/UzNzwVDfLpI/AAAAAAAAGbo/fhPBGdC0Mlc/s1600/CaptainWally.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4AxZA1hdUo8/UzNzwVDfLpI/AAAAAAAAGbo/fhPBGdC0Mlc/s1600/CaptainWally.jpg" height="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most of us know him as a mild-mannered shaggy doodle, who enjoys long walks and frequent naps.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But were you aware that the right cone has the power to unleash his alter ego ...?</span><br />
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Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-72655512619297609262014-03-25T18:32:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.240-05:00Cone of Happiness - Wallyocentrism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tn3PM4JJRsA/UzH47PDVyjI/AAAAAAAAGa8/R8ccCzwcMfk/s1600/Wally_solar_5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Tn3PM4JJRsA/UzH47PDVyjI/AAAAAAAAGa8/R8ccCzwcMfk/s1600/Wally_solar_5.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Guys, it's a solar system! And Wally is at the center! Exactly where he thinks he should be.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apologies to Copernicus, and Neil deGrasse Tyson. We were a little loose with the orbits and other details. At one point, Earth totally fell off its axis and had to be re-attached to the Universe. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yeyBLAOsg9M/UzIA0-UvPSI/AAAAAAAAGbI/D8-1TO-ffm4/s1600/Solar_close.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yeyBLAOsg9M/UzIA0-UvPSI/AAAAAAAAGbI/D8-1TO-ffm4/s1600/Solar_close.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not everyone can get away with having this kind of world view, but I think he's got the confidence to pull it off.</span></div>
Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-55723120497789986742014-03-24T21:42:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.233-05:00Cone of Happiness - Two Thumbs Up!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xJxqh9vS74/UzDd2NYr10I/AAAAAAAAGas/lnvQiNML8ks/s1600/Wally_popcorn_4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1xJxqh9vS74/UzDd2NYr10I/AAAAAAAAGas/lnvQiNML8ks/s1600/Wally_popcorn_4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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In his free time, Wally enjoys hanging out with his friends, and going to the movies. They all share a large popcorn, extra butter.</div>
Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-46337007436148546582014-03-24T21:36:00.003-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.228-05:00Cone of Happiness - Wally's Blue Heaven <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KnLHIZaHm24/UzCCrs950CI/AAAAAAAAGac/t1-X7rUYi2U/s1600/Wally_clouds_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KnLHIZaHm24/UzCCrs950CI/AAAAAAAAGac/t1-X7rUYi2U/s1600/Wally_clouds_3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Blue skies are here again!</div>
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What if changing your outlook was as easy as changing your view...? </div>
Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-34020624103971129332014-03-24T16:37:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.225-05:00Cone of Happiness - Wall(y)Flower<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M3soaH4q4AU/UzCBijw9NxI/AAAAAAAAGaU/18oHfLTG9N4/s1600/WallyFlower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-M3soaH4q4AU/UzCBijw9NxI/AAAAAAAAGaU/18oHfLTG9N4/s1600/WallyFlower.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Because he can't operate scissors, Wally has enlisted my girls to help execute his creative visions.</div>
Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-50123065760721687482014-03-24T12:53:00.000-04:002017-01-18T15:56:04.230-05:00Cone of Happiness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pl5rSglOZfo/UzA7ZQJiupI/AAAAAAAAGZ0/kMTNQh9KV1o/s1600/Wally_shame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pl5rSglOZfo/UzA7ZQJiupI/AAAAAAAAGZ0/kMTNQh9KV1o/s1600/Wally_shame.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Poor Wally. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our best furry friend had a <i>procedure</i> last week. Nothing scary, just the sort of thing that older dogs (he's 11!) have to deal with every now and then. The vet calls them lipomas, you and I know them as lumps of fat. Usually, they don't require intervention, but when you have them where Wally had them, well, they need to be dealt with before they cause other issues. Like hygiene issues....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">OK, I'll just say it. He had surgery on his bum. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which, obviously, is bad enough. But, it gets worse. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He must wear the Cone of Shame. Might as well let the whole world know that he cannot be trusted to not interfere with his sensitive post-operative areas.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's almost too much for one dog, especially one as sensitive as our Walter, to take. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thankfully, you can't keep a good dog down for long. He's putting on a brave face, even if it is in a cone, and battling the awful stigma that he and others must confront. And what better way to resurrect this long-forgotten blog? What better conflict to explore through the methods of Crap Management?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And so, dear internet, we give you...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Cone of Happiness!</span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YqUu6NJKQ4M/UzBgKupXjlI/AAAAAAAAGaE/ZpDFU5kzzfU/s1600/Wallyphoto.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YqUu6NJKQ4M/UzBgKupXjlI/AAAAAAAAGaE/ZpDFU5kzzfU/s1600/Wallyphoto.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stay tuned as Wally finds new ways to turn his frown upside down...</span>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-58919133415257286322014-03-23T21:51:00.001-04:002014-03-23T21:53:05.043-04:00Once Upon a Time, I began this blog as a daily photo project, with this:
<blockquote>What do you call your field of expertise, if you don't care for the term "homemaker", or "stay-at-home mother", or "domestic engineer"...? During a particularly bleak moment, I christened it Crap Management.
At the entry level, this moniker is a fairly literal job description. The responsibilities expand, though, until the Manager is left holding a bag large enough to obscure all but traces of her former self.
I'd like to redefine Crap Management. Let's consider it an effort to keep the crap at bay, to move on to what inspires...and leave the junk behind.
With that in mind, I offer these photos. I hope to improve as a photographer. I hope I can capture ordinary moments that reveal joy, or tiny triumphs. I hope it doesn't get too boring. I hope you like them.</blockquote>
Over the course of two years, I reacquainted myself with an interest and art I had left behind in the all-consuming process of tending to a young family. Eventually, the daily-ness of blogging changed to sporadic, then random, and then quiet... I have moved on to new things, but I still have a warm spot for these imperfect images and words. Each photo takes me back to a moment, a clear memory of an event, an interaction, an expression, a feeling, that might have been lost to me without the visual bookmark.
So, as I consider what is next for CM, I think I'll leave them right here.
Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-13308335677586100692012-01-15T17:32:00.006-05:002014-03-23T20:41:42.740-04:00Surf's Up?<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N4Uodt_8Ywo/TxNUZshhRdI/AAAAAAAAFBU/WBPRW-0jCWw/s1600/CM20120113surf01.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-N4Uodt_8Ywo/TxNUZshhRdI/AAAAAAAAFBU/WBPRW-0jCWw/s800/CM20120113surf01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697990753979024850" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NCVw6zX2OQU/TxNb_xFA5bI/AAAAAAAAFBs/tw7_hAVKgzw/s1600/CM20120113surf02-2.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NCVw6zX2OQU/TxNb_xFA5bI/AAAAAAAAFBs/tw7_hAVKgzw/s800/CM20120113surf02-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697999104618063282" border="0" /></a><br />I thought this would be a nice counterpoint to my last post... We may be itching to move on to winter activities, but some are still clinging to their fair-weather sports. Against all logic and reason, I might add...<br /><br />As we stood a safe distance from the churning surf, the winds buffeted us from all directions, whipping our jackets and hair, and rattling our cameras. One mis-step, and we would have been like tumbleweeds, rolling through the parking lot, casting about for a "No Parking" sign to cling to...<br /><br />OK, maybe that's a little over-dramatic. But, it<span style="font-style: italic;"> was </span>cold. And windy!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ws8N4IDxRP8/TxNUPnT9YUI/AAAAAAAAFA8/qVJOXbyQZsE/s1600/CM20120113surf03.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ws8N4IDxRP8/TxNUPnT9YUI/AAAAAAAAFA8/qVJOXbyQZsE/s800/CM20120113surf03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697990580781277506" border="0" /></a>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-69694549153094650672012-01-06T11:37:00.003-05:002014-03-23T20:41:42.785-04:00On Ice<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sHu3l6Bkbeo/TwcjfSg5HVI/AAAAAAAAE-s/Jqzu9kR6XRI/s1600/CM20120105skate01.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sHu3l6Bkbeo/TwcjfSg5HVI/AAAAAAAAE-s/Jqzu9kR6XRI/s800/CM20120105skate01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694559274285997394" border="0" /></a><br />After an unseasonably warm December, January brought our first real cold snap. Others may have complained about the frosty chill, but we were ready. Finally, the time had come!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NUnsAO4TgMo/Twcjfiw8AQI/AAAAAAAAE-8/FKqhn7b1qRs/s1600/CM20120105skate02.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NUnsAO4TgMo/Twcjfiw8AQI/AAAAAAAAE-8/FKqhn7b1qRs/s800/CM20120105skate02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694559278648262914" border="0" /></a><br />Some of us wait all year for this. Planning, building, scheming...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-unjCRgiNpoQ/TwcjgKOavfI/AAAAAAAAE_E/kH6W_bdIPvs/s1600/CM20120105skate03.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-unjCRgiNpoQ/TwcjgKOavfI/AAAAAAAAE_E/kH6W_bdIPvs/s800/CM20120105skate03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5694559289240894962" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Let the record show: The first skate of 2012 occurred at 8:45am on Thursday... just after the kids went off to school.Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-23458280376635665372012-01-02T17:01:00.004-05:002014-03-23T20:41:42.755-04:00New Year, New Dog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L98ZI0Wy3Lk/TwIwCUBWhsI/AAAAAAAAE-g/y2vxq-8pOGI/s1600/CM_Piper01-2.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-L98ZI0Wy3Lk/TwIwCUBWhsI/AAAAAAAAE-g/y2vxq-8pOGI/s800/CM_Piper01-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693165695241979586" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6j26ZzAH2jc/TwIr-BIMHXI/AAAAAAAAE-M/2Z9136KYgeA/s1600/CM_Piper01.jpg"></a><br />Can you think of a better way to start off 2012 than with a brand-new puppy at your house? How about a twelve week-old, 25 pound, labrador-mastiff-giant schnauzer puppy? (We call that a Schnauzadorff, btw.) Wouldn't you love to have a pup who is mellow, and calm, and eager to please, and already housetrained? Especially if your home already contains three active little boys, toddler-size & up, wouldn't that be the best thing ever???<br /><br />I think so.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YMwET2eynDQ/TwIr-mbodTI/AAAAAAAAE-U/9aA6stLYSVc/s1600/CM_Piper02.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-YMwET2eynDQ/TwIr-mbodTI/AAAAAAAAE-U/9aA6stLYSVc/s800/CM_Piper02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5693161233418057010" border="0" /></a><br />My sister sure got lucky with this one!Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-42924745081442411002011-12-12T13:58:00.003-05:002014-03-23T20:41:42.769-04:00A Sure Sign of Winter<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r89sqFy3rzg/TuZO8ON1j-I/AAAAAAAAE90/rJdUYi-AE8A/s1600/Squirrel.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 425px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r89sqFy3rzg/TuZO8ON1j-I/AAAAAAAAE90/rJdUYi-AE8A/s800/Squirrel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685318376117080034" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Behold the Urban Park Squirrel! The boldest, quickest, most un-discerning eater running wild through your city. Tucking away some snacks for winter's depths is one thing, but he is making the most of any and all opportunities to pack away the calories right now. And it shows! He's not shy, that's for sure, and if he suspects you have entered his domain toting some tasty treats, he will scamper right up to you with a look that says:<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"You gonna eat that?"<br /></div>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-56590681961587254092011-12-07T08:37:00.003-05:002014-03-23T20:41:42.774-04:00More Puppies!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uf4oMyE8E98/Tt9sfRCLqTI/AAAAAAAAE9o/7jRc7oiLI9Q/s1600/HappyDogs.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uf4oMyE8E98/Tt9sfRCLqTI/AAAAAAAAE9o/7jRc7oiLI9Q/s800/HappyDogs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683380539169155378" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I've been trying to come up with a way to ease back into the blogging routine -- a fabulous photo, or relevant premise, or <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span>... <br /><br />Failing that, I figure these pups are as good an excuse as any to jump back in. <span class="hw">SeƱorita</span> (above) and Victor (below) are looking for homes this holiday season... You can learn more about these and other dogs from <a href="http://www.happydogsofnewengland.org/AdoptablePets.html">Happy Dogs of New England</a>. <br /><br />One of the great things about working with a rescue organization like them is that they make sure all their dogs are up-to-date on vaccines, they spay/neuter, and otherwise confirm that the dog is in general good health before you take the pup home. Recently, someone close to me had a very unlucky adoption experience: the animal, from a private breeder, turned out to have a myriad of undisclosed health problems. <br /><br />Now, I ask you: who wants to introduce a pet to a family of small children, only to remove it days later, with lingering concerns that it has infected the family with disease? Nevermind the question of how to tell the kids why their new puppy or kitty can't live with us anymore...<br /><br />No, thanks!<br /><br />So, just a word of warning... whether your next furry friend comes from a shelter, rescue or breeder, make sure he's been checked out by a veterinarian. And it's probably wise to ascertain that <span style="font-style: italic;">before</span> you go visit the animal, because let's be honest -- once you meet them, they are hard to resist!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5lAHcY1h4o/Tt9sehCWACI/AAAAAAAAE9c/XhognTic_EY/s1600/HappyDogs-2.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5lAHcY1h4o/Tt9sehCWACI/AAAAAAAAE9c/XhognTic_EY/s800/HappyDogs-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683380526284931106" border="0" /></a>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-19441874283918386042011-10-26T20:38:00.006-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.743-04:00Awareness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DiMsiPYurwc/Tqi5P4CBKgI/AAAAAAAAEXM/TeKuiRaUyts/s1600/WHMeet71.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DiMsiPYurwc/Tqi5P4CBKgI/AAAAAAAAEXM/TeKuiRaUyts/s800/WHMeet71.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667983813435795970" border="0" /></a><br />(I had something else completely different in mind to to tell you about today, but then this came up...)<br /><br />October being Breast Cancer Awareness Month, you have probably seen countless pink ribbons, adorning everything from shopping bags to newspapers to office supplies to bracelets and cereal boxes. You can even buy a Pink Ribbon bagel. There's so much pink out there, that by the end of the month, "awareness" looks more like a rose-colored marketing ploy than anything to do with a cure.<br /><br />Five years ago, I visited a friend, who was waging her own breast cancer battle that October. We were chatting, and getting ready to walk down the street to see the house they had just bought, and were planning to renovate soon. It seemed like a huge undertaking to me at the time, with everything else going on, but I understood. It was the perfect size house for their family, close to schools, in the town she loved, with a bigger kitchen, and cozy den for the kids, and family dining room with pineapple-print wallpaper. They would be all set.<br /><br />As we left the kitchen to grab our coats, she spied a pink bag of M&Ms on the counter. I had my three year-old in tow, and my friend offered her some candy, even though it was only 10am. I chuckled, and commented on how I'd never seen pink M&Ms before, and she replied, "Oh yes, it's pink everything in October..." Her tone wasn't harsh, but her eyes rolled. We both knew, but didn't say, that more pink wasn't going to help her get what she desperately needed: time.<br /><br />Since then, I've found it hard to get on board the Pink Ribbon/Awareness bandwagon. My friend didn't need awareness, after all. She needed a cure.<br /><br />So, I was surprised yesterday, when the Pink caught me off guard. I was taking photos at my son's cross country meet, and all the runners wore pink cards with the name of someone afflicted with breast cancer. Some survivors. Some not. I saw my friend's name. And I saw "Aunt Joan", and "Grandma", and "Mom."<br /><br />It was a tough meet. The runners faced stiff competition. Everyone on the team came out to race, nobody held back in order to rest up for the Invitational later this week. And as the last regular meet of the season, everyone wanted to finish strong. In my viewfinder, the juxtaposition of grimaces on the boys' faces and names on the cards was striking.<br /><br />Real "awareness" doesn't come from eating pink candy. That it comes to children, who witness their mothers' struggle with devastating illness, is a crying shame. Buying pink pens in October doesn't adequately pay tribute to anyone's battle. But the strength, determination and endurance I saw in that race was a fitting way to honor those women. In the grand scheme of things, running a 5k is a small gesture, but I liked that its meaning was writ large, on pink paper.Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-21997443701356866312011-09-22T14:09:00.003-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.753-04:00Picture Day<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ed6jY3Z7GF8/Tnt7mIQJlvI/AAAAAAAADqY/VzMIbp8IleA/s1600/Maddie04.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ed6jY3Z7GF8/Tnt7mIQJlvI/AAAAAAAADqY/VzMIbp8IleA/s800/Maddie04.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655249652074256114" /></a><div>She got so tan this summer, I had to try to capture the glow before it faded. She was more than happy to oblige me...<br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GhkSKZennts/Tnt7mZjugXI/AAAAAAAADqg/AdR9MVZJsUc/s1600/Maddie01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GhkSKZennts/Tnt7mZjugXI/AAAAAAAADqg/AdR9MVZJsUc/s800/Maddie01.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655249656719769970" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; height: 550px; " /></a><br /><br /></div></div>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-36229533466436832052011-09-14T09:32:00.002-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.766-04:00First Meeet<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IlFu09Nsc24/TnCtSaGMvtI/AAAAAAAADoQ/bliIwyi7CtQ/s1600/IMGP0230.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IlFu09Nsc24/TnCtSaGMvtI/AAAAAAAADoQ/bliIwyi7CtQ/s800/IMGP0230.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652208064104546002" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Who is this kid? <br /><br />It used to be that when he ran, I could catch him, and grab him up by his overall straps, and deposit him in another location.<br /><br />Well, I can't catch him anymore. Not even close! And he won't wear overalls, either. I already asked... <br /><br />But, I do get a kick out of watching him go.Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-19633481272971559492011-09-09T09:10:00.003-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.745-04:00And... They're Off!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bek0nOQbhWs/TmoTElpkknI/AAAAAAAADoI/IuWJJ_QyFLY/s1600/firstday.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bek0nOQbhWs/TmoTElpkknI/AAAAAAAADoI/IuWJJ_QyFLY/s800/firstday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5650349652036588146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After all the anticipation, this is how it goes:<br /><br />The kids wait and watch, in their new shoes and backpacks, for the bus to arrive. All the parents are there, smiling bravely, cameras in hand. The bus is late to arrive, and tension builds... When the bus finally does pull up, the kids are more than ready to go, and breaking free of the hugs and kisses, sprint away. Parents are caught flat-footed, fumbling to get a photo before kids disappear into the bus, and trying to peer through the windows to see that their child has found a friend to sit next to. <br /><br />And that's it. Nothing more to see here, folks. Nothing left to do but go home, have a little cry (admit it), and move on. By the end of the week, their departure will be the routine, somewhat harried event we can all relax and enjoy.Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-67379779550772207032011-09-01T11:45:00.006-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.782-04:00Summer's End<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BcrYS0a6u9Q/Tl-psdfKgZI/AAAAAAAADl4/lCbvr91oYRc/s1600/poolparty.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BcrYS0a6u9Q/Tl-psdfKgZI/AAAAAAAADl4/lCbvr91oYRc/s800/poolparty.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647419039040569746" border="0" /></a>
<br />You can't say we didn't have a great summer.
<br />
<br />As it winds to a close, though, I can't help but feel a little panicky. Did we forget anything? Did we do all the things we were supposed to do? Was it enriching enough? Was it relaxing enough? Did we go to the beach enough? Did we work enough? Did we sleep in enough? Did we eat outside enough...?
<br />
<br />I know (since many of you have reminded me recently...) I haven't been updating this space enough. Sorry about that. I've been shooting all summer, maybe not every day, but regularly enough that there is plenty of photographic evidence of a summer well-spent. Which is a comfort, as the last days of summer slip away. The seasons seem to advance more quickly all the time, catching me unprepared, leaving me unsettled. At least the images stay put.
<br />
<br />The end of summer/back to school interval is quite a loaded season, isn't it? There's panic. And a little sadness. Some anxiety. A smattering of relief. Happy anticipation. And gratitude.
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<br />Thanks for continuing to check in with me. Enjoy the long weekend, and I'll see you soon!
<br />Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-2846177126279590672011-07-28T12:26:00.003-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.758-04:00The Home Office<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dMoRLIE5RKs/TjGOpCr2VXI/AAAAAAAADg8/_ybtmUoMYMI/s1600/office280711.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dMoRLIE5RKs/TjGOpCr2VXI/AAAAAAAADg8/_ybtmUoMYMI/s800/office280711.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634441444563768690" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://www.crapmanagement.com/2010/12/progress.html">It's</a> <i>so</i> close to being finished! Close enough that we've started moving our stuff - and taking calls - out there...</div>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-3513263779273750142011-07-19T15:56:00.006-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.763-04:00Helado<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TMvs8KTz9JA/TiXoDLXk4nI/AAAAAAAADb8/t_YN83O4tYA/s1600/icecream.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TMvs8KTz9JA/TiXoDLXk4nI/AAAAAAAADb8/t_YN83O4tYA/s800/icecream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631162050385601138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ice cream every day -- sometimes twice a day -- may seem overly indulgent. But, when you have to order in Spanish... that's <span style="font-style: italic;">educational</span>!Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-92072612337637583782011-07-14T22:26:00.004-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.804-04:00For StartersWhere have I been? Here are a few hints...<br /><br />There were gambas...<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-htYRGvNZFm8/Th-mK2DerRI/AAAAAAAADac/baeg-yNLm-Q/s1600/gambas.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-htYRGvNZFm8/Th-mK2DerRI/AAAAAAAADac/baeg-yNLm-Q/s800/gambas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629400764475419922" border="0" /></a><br />and paella...<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o4H927fcPGA/Th-ouHRxhlI/AAAAAAAADak/bsR9wScPZQU/s1600/paella.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o4H927fcPGA/Th-ouHRxhlI/AAAAAAAADak/bsR9wScPZQU/s800/paella.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629403569417455186" border="0" /></a><br />beautiful sights to see...<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6HDmMCTTA7s/Th-ouTnNmUI/AAAAAAAADas/ySnnAtTf16M/s1600/iglesia.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6HDmMCTTA7s/Th-ouTnNmUI/AAAAAAAADas/ySnnAtTf16M/s800/iglesia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629403572728600898" border="0" /></a><br />a new sea to dip our toes in...<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IsDqRLALshk/Th-ou4JHQeI/AAAAAAAADa0/ANz0zgsK-eo/s1600/firstdip.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 576px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IsDqRLALshk/Th-ou4JHQeI/AAAAAAAADa0/ANz0zgsK-eo/s800/firstdip.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629403582534468066" border="0" /></a><br />and a fiesta every night!<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iM7hlyhOYZA/Th-ovAtf-2I/AAAAAAAADa8/6dkMd5xziLE/s1600/fiesta.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iM7hlyhOYZA/Th-ovAtf-2I/AAAAAAAADa8/6dkMd5xziLE/s400/fiesta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629403584834567010" border="0" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-190xtq-RVe8/Th-ovTgjtFI/AAAAAAAADbE/hwkhKNVivcs/s1600/sparkle.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-190xtq-RVe8/Th-ovTgjtFI/AAAAAAAADbE/hwkhKNVivcs/s400/sparkle.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629403589880558674" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We were incredibly fortunate to be able to take this trip to Spain with the kids this summer. Especially as they get older, and we realize that their summers won't always be spent with us, I'm so glad we carved out some time for these adventures.<br /><br />More to come...<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-190xtq-RVe8/Th-ovTgjtFI/AAAAAAAADbE/hwkhKNVivcs/s1600/sparkle.jpg"><br /></a>Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-78086856850470842652011-07-13T11:16:00.003-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.788-04:00Vacation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--vC9t9BNZac/Th23CPozy_I/AAAAAAAADaE/oQw7PSSZW4o/s1600/plane.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--vC9t9BNZac/Th23CPozy_I/AAAAAAAADaE/oQw7PSSZW4o/s800/plane.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628856358468307954" border="0" /></a><br />It's been a while since we had a chance to catch up! Lots has been going on over here, and even though I've been out of touch, you've been on my mind...Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6293050298874739773.post-4369711346443904542011-05-23T09:17:00.002-04:002014-03-23T20:41:42.772-04:00Vroom!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hiGAwCWXU6o/TdpepGzsn-I/AAAAAAAADRg/LbcQREgjm_w/s1600/eddie_kart.jpg"><img style="align:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;height: 550px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hiGAwCWXU6o/TdpepGzsn-I/AAAAAAAADRg/LbcQREgjm_w/s800/eddie_kart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609900346138468322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Trying not to let another week of rain drive me crazy...Ms Mgthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02803931333596125461noreply@blogger.com2