tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16922188992323533052024-03-05T00:15:24.175-05:00Tempo and SpeedRunning a Life, Chasing the Kids, Shooting the Pictures, Living on and off the MatCDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.comBlogger368125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-69820939574312544612015-07-16T21:35:00.000-04:002015-07-16T21:35:23.542-04:00Learn to Fly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left;">We spent some time recently in our home away from home. We headed down I-81 and found our way to The Smokies. This trip was different for us because each of the boys had a friend along for the fun. The friends needed to get the full Townsend and Smokies experience so we did more of the touristy thing than we usually do when it is just us and family.</span></div>
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One touristy highlight was a trip to the not so peaceful side of the Smokies...Pigeon Forge. Generally, we avoid PForge, as we like to call it, because it is so commercialized and every square foot is filled with all manner of tourist trap imaginable. But we had these friends with us that really needed to see it. So off to PForge it was.<br />
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First stop was indoor skydiving at <a href="http://www.flyawayindoorskydiving.com/" target="_blank">Flyaway</a>. My boys have done this a few times before and my husband and I have done it once. Let me state that I would never actually skydive as in the type where you jump from a plane. I have a healthy fear of heights and and even healthier fear of falling. So real skydiving is not an option for me. My husband has actually leapt from a plane once. He said once was enough.<br />
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The indoor variety of skydiving keeps the best parts of the real thing while removing the scary, life flashing before your eyes, I'm gonna die experience that is jumping from a plane. That is my perspective of course. Adrenaline junkies would disagree. Indoor skydiving gives the weenies like me the chance to experience the best parts: flying in the air, maneuvering in space and wearing a squirrel suit, all done in the safety of a giant padded wind tunnel.<br />
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Everyone was game so we signed the waivers. There was some mention of risk of injury and death but I suspect that would only happen in the event of an unexpected fan malfunction which might unfortunately coincide with a breach in the net floor. Those two events couldn't possibly happen at the same time, right?<br />
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So we got the kids suited up with ear plugs, goggles, helmet, closed toed shoes, gloves and squirrel suit. Thumbs up and ready to fly. All suited up, they sort of look like a band of ragtag Power Ranger knockoffs. Or Teletubbie prototypes that didn't quite make the cut.<br />
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Once in the wind tunnel, they became fearless and airborne. The instructors are twenty-somethings who probably jump out of real planes and they start off your session with a few tricks. It takes time and practice to be able to control your body they way they do. They make it look so effortless.<br />
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I can't really describe the experience with words so I'll just share this video. It's the best way to learn to fly.<br />
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-27152587012642955292015-05-10T17:22:00.000-04:002015-05-10T17:22:03.756-04:00A Simply Charmed Mother's DayToday is Mother's Day. Some moms say they want time alone, a spa day, a fancy meal prepared by someone else or otherwise to be pampered. I like all those things too but I feel so spoiled in my life as it is, that those things are not what I really want on Mother's Day. Not that I am pampered with regular spa visits (truthfully I never do the spa thing) or that someone else makes our meals on a routine basis unless you count the nice people at Moe's and Chipotle (and I do count them), but our meals are rarely fancy. I have a pretty regular life but I feel very charmed in its normalcy.<br />
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And as far as alone time, I get plenty. My husband works a lot and my kids are in school and activities that keep everyone busy. I work a few part-time gigs which keep me busy too. In between, my jobs and volunteering, when everyone else is occupied, I have lots of time running errands, cleaning the house, keeping their lives running, most of which I do alone. When the boys were young, that was not the case. I do remember the days of wanting time alone, even for five minutes. And I remember the desperation of needing that time. Well, that time finally came. So don't send me away on my own for Mother's Day.<br />
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What I really want each Mother's Day is time with my family. I don't even care really what we do as long as I get to be in the same space with my husband and my boys, laughing and talking and sharing an experience. Not time spent preparing for the next activity, not time spent discussing school projects, not time revisiting house rules of internet use and screen time, not time spent planning the boys' lives one permission slip at a time. Just time spent. Time now. This moment with my family.<br />
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I woke up to flowers, cards, empty water glasses from last night and the other usual random stuff on the kitchen table. I loved it all.<br />
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We have no real plans for rest of the day and it suits me fine. We will likely do what we typically do on a Sunday: relax, work a little around the house and yard, hang out on the porch with the boys, play with the dog, go out somewhere simple for dinner that we all enjoy. A day charmed by the ordinary.<br />
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I think those are the Mother's Days my own mother likes best. The only thing better would be if my mom could be here to spend it with me.<br />
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I made my mom a special gift this year. Actually, the gift was to both my parents, a handcrafted reminder of the family they created.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2VKUwVNUKzQryPZhYIsOFBcao6yPRbb-2Uawpmr_wAVX_lsE09dISgNct6cRYKCCj__7qk9SHncelGzM3dns4sZajv3hyphenhyphenPANxaPZWGw2tp2hWBrJSAlxb8IfA2laHZZ4APqUzJhgQURh/s1600/0502152106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA2VKUwVNUKzQryPZhYIsOFBcao6yPRbb-2Uawpmr_wAVX_lsE09dISgNct6cRYKCCj__7qk9SHncelGzM3dns4sZajv3hyphenhyphenPANxaPZWGw2tp2hWBrJSAlxb8IfA2laHZZ4APqUzJhgQURh/s320/0502152106.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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The trunk is my parents. My brothers and I are the branches. The dark green leaves are my husband and my brothers' wives. The light green leaves are the "grand" generation, my children and my nieces and a new addition of my nephew-in-law who joined our clan this year.<br />
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Our family tree has room to grow. It is weathered by time and seasons. It has branches and leaves that will never experience more growth. But those bare branches are just as significant as the promise of new growth. Our family tree is at once ordinary and unique. What could more simple and beautifully complex than a tree?<br />
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Truth be told, I have one of these for myself too. Several versions were scrapped before the final looked just right so I have one of the earlier versions for my own, a handcrafted reminder of the family that made me. I love it all.<br />
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Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers in my life!CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-7854927418641181592015-04-27T10:03:00.000-04:002015-04-27T10:03:33.613-04:00What I Learned in YTTTwo years ago I started my yoga teacher training (YTT) at <a href="http://www.solyoga.org/" target="_blank">Sol Yoga</a>. This past weekend, another YTT class began. Witnessing the start of a new training class made me want to revisit my experiences as a new trainee.<br />
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I took the training not to become a yoga teacher but rather to enhance my own personal practice. I assumed that training would help me learn as much as I could about yoga in an efficient way. The YTT curriculum was organized and structured so that I would not have to pick and choose workshops here and there to patchwork together my yoga knowledge if I tried to do it on my own.<br />
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In truth, I had considered the YTT a full year before but made myself wait. I wanted to be sure that this was something I really wanted to do and was not just a passing interest or worse, a distraction. The years immediately prior were full of life-altering changes, loss and family crises; I considered that I might not be thinking quite clearly about things. So enrolling in YTT at that time might not be the right thing to do. I needed space and quiet contemplation to make the right decision. So I practiced for another year before making the decision.<br />
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My first weekend of YTT was exciting. I felt like the curtain had been pulled back so I could begin to see the mystery that was behind each yoga class. There was something more to those postures and movements that up to that point I had not been privy to. Now, in YTT, the magic would be revealed. It would take eight full training weekends, 200+hours, many books, and countless personal practices, but I would soon know the secrets of yoga.<br />
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One of the first exercises on the first night of YTT was to clarify your expectations for the training. Here were mine:<br />
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Notice the last sentence..."and to use it off the mat." <i>Off the mat</i> is a big thing in the yoga world. It doesn't mean breaking out into Vrksasana (Tree Pose) in the grocery line every chance you get or upstaging a nine-year-old by showing off your flexibility at her birthday party. <i>Off the mat</i> means taking the knowledge acquired through self-study on the mat and using it in your daily life. On the mat, can you have patience with your body as it learns new patterns of movement and alignment? Off the mat then, can you have similar patience with your children as they learn new things? On the mat, can you honor your limits and be content with what your body can achieve? Off the mat then, can you be content with what is? Paying attention on the mat smooths out the edges when it really matters off the mat.<br />
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There is an unending amount of technical knowledge about yoga: asanas (poses), alignment, styles, history, anatomy, breathwork, use of props, specialized yoga for almost every ailment or condition you can think of, the Eight Limbs, the whole world of Ayurveda and the list continues. I learned a bit about all of that in my YTT and still have so much more to learn. The most important thing I learned through my YTT was not a technical aspect but rather something about myself: I wanted to teach yoga. That was not one of my goals at the start. But through the training and through my growth, I came to believe so deeply in the benefits of this practice that I found the need to share it.<br />
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So now I teach a few times a week and I take that responsibility very seriously. Teachers create the space in which their students practice and learn. That holds true for yoga teachers, middle school teachers and everything in between. Teachers offer their students tools and experiences for learning and growth opportunities. That may sound lofty for just a yoga class but when you know that yoga is about more than flexibility and forgiving hamstrings, it fits. So next time your yoga instructor offers a moment of mindfulness as you hold <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/article/practice-section/to-the-moon/" target="_blank">Parivrtta Ardha Chandrasana</a> for<i>...e...v...e...r</i>, tuck that bit of perseverance away for a raining day when you need strength and fortitude off the mat. In those moments, stay grounded, breathe, radiate from your core and find some place you can bring in ease. That's the secret of yoga revealed.CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-17235715156202297352015-04-24T11:47:00.001-04:002015-04-24T11:47:54.435-04:00Jump in! The Water's Crazy!I haven't posted in so long that I am not even sure that I can do this again. But since my blog has been calling to me from the very back quiet corners of my mind for months and months now, I feel compelled to give it a shot. This feels like jumping in the pool on opening day. I know the water is absurdly cold but it's not going to warm up enough not matter how long I wait or how slowly I let myself acclimate to the water, inch by inch. I just have to jump in and go under all the way.<br />
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What better way to jump in than with some <a href="http://www.halfpastkissintime.com/p/friday-fragments.html" target="_blank">Friday Fragments</a>?<br />
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This morning, I drove my youngest back and forth from the orthodontist for his pre-braces assessment complete with all the flattering pictures and gooey bite molds. Our orthodontist is thirty minutes from home. While the reason or length of the errand was not ideal, we made it fun by listening to the music of his choice. For one hour (to and fro), we listened to Weird Al Yankovic. Don't judge. I loved it as much as Helios did. Weird Al is clever and oh so funny and he combines two of my favorite things: music and a quick wit. And he parodies pop culture and how seriously it takes itself. Helios and I sang and laughed all the way. I can't say which is my favorite Weird Al song; there are so many that rank. But if you force me to choose right this very second, I would say "Word Crimes"<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20width=%22560%22%20height=%22315%22%20src=%22https://www.youtube.com/embed/8Gv0H-vPoDc%22%20frameborder=%220%22%20allowfullscreen%3E%3C/iframe%3E" target="_blank"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8Gv0H-vPoDc" width="560"></iframe></a><br />
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I am certain I commit several word crimes here and there but I plead innocent by reason of perimenopausal insanity. I forgot what I used to know.<br />
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It may be crazy to let someone who just admitted insanity have a loaded gun, but that's what happened on our last trip to Tennessee. They gave me a weapon. Not to worry. My target was only a large lasagna pan nailed to a tree and the ammo were pellets. Or should that be <i>was pellets</i>? 5150...Potential word crime in progress.<br />
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I see nothing wrong with a little target practice and if my boys had not been shooting real pellet guns at unsuspecting bakeware, they would have tried to sneak off to shoot digital weapons at more animated targets on their hand held screens of choice. I'd rather them have a real life experience and share some quality time with their uncle.</div>
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Plus the grandparents enjoyed a sunny day on the mountaintop with family, watching the friendly competition. And no animals or baked pasta entrees were harmed in this competition.</div>
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On another note, I recently helped out my neighbors by caring for their chickens. I fed the girls and collected eggs for several days. While I have never been a farm girl, I really enjoyed doing this. My inner <a href="http://littlehouse.wikia.com/wiki/Laura_Ingalls_Wilder" target="_blank">Half-Pint</a> was fed along with the chickens. One day I stopped by to collect eggs and unexpectedly opened the coop to find Rebecca on the nest. She was as surprised as I was. I quickly closed the door to give her privacy since I assume laying an egg requires privacy and concentration. It definitely would for me. I then sneaked (or is it snuck?) around to the viewing window...and saw this:<br />
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Rebecca had laid an egg in the very brief moment between my interruption and my voyeurism! I just missed catching her in the act by mere seconds. My apologies for the poor photo quality but this is the best I could get through the henpecked plexiglass peeping window. My neighbors have yet to catch their feathered girls actually laying. I was at the right place at the right time...if this sort of thing excites you. Winner winner chicken dinner!<br />
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I should get out now before I end up just splashing around, making a fool of myself. But as I come up for air, I realize that the water may not have been as cold as I expected. And I can jump in again soon.<br />
<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-24443340318426463292014-09-28T09:09:00.000-04:002014-09-28T09:09:17.911-04:00Anna's Wind<div>
Anna's birthday is today. Twenty years ago she arrived and set a wind in motion. Her wind stirred things up, setting a climate of laughter and tears that we are weathering even today. Especially today. Definitely every day.<br />
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In honor of this day, I am reposting my post from <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2012/09/she-is-from.html" target="_blank">her 18th birthday</a>. The forecast where She Is From...100% chance of love, sunshine, and a southerly breeze blowing through your hair.<br />
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I am not sad today but instead raise my face to the sun and feel blessed to have this and so much more of Anna's energetic wind filling my heart and soul. Especially today. Definitely every day.<br />
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<strong><em>She Is From...</em></strong></div>
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<em>She is from belly laughs and banister kisses.</em></div>
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<em>From Georgia pine straw clutched in baby fat hands.</em></div>
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<em>She is from big brown eyes that see family first.</em></div>
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<em>She is from the far-flung worlds of Coral Springs, Marietta, Naperville, Roswell, Stamford, Moscow, Bristol, St. Charles, Heaven.</em></div>
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<em>She is from countless Hard Rock t-shirts, each one a visit to a new city with a passport stamp to match.</em></div>
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<em>She is from Crazy Frog and back seat giggle sessions.</em></div>
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<em>She is from a little snack o' brownie and creeper face.</em><em><br /></em></div>
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<em>She is from iPhotos captured with her outstretched arm.</em></div>
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<em>She is from lean in and smile!</em></div>
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<em>She is from Sticky Lizard and Sticky Chicken, tucked secretly in a suitcase for a sneaky surprise when you get back home.</em><br />
<em>She is from joint letters to Santa on Christmas Eve and</em><br />
<em>shared surprises Christmas morning.</em><br />
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<em>She is from River Rat and yellow tubes rule!</em><br />
<em>She is from The Back Porch, Kenny Chesney and Rascal Flatts.</em><br />
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<em>She is from Evergreen.</em></div>
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<em>From the hot tub, the upstairs bedroom and Playstation battles.</em></div>
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<em>She is from rides through the Cove, picnics, deer counts and bear sightings.</em></div>
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<em>She is my partner in Forced Family Fun.</em><br />
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<em>She is from every trip to Townsend, every curve in the road, every peak of the hills, every misty wisp on the mountains.</em></div>
<em>She is tethered to me, running in the rain, saving me from the big storm</em><em>.</em><br />
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<em>She is from hugs that are real</em><br />
<em>and hopes that are pure</em><br />
<em>and love for me that never ends.</em></div>
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<em>She is my Anna.</em><br />
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-74251486751344642442014-04-08T10:51:00.000-04:002014-04-08T10:51:47.687-04:00Five Years a Cub ScoutA bridge has been crossed in our home. It's a bridge that takes a boy from little to big in a moment. It takes five years to reach the bridge. Those five years seemed long as we were living them. But once the bridge was crossed, those years felt like the few seconds it took for my son's feet to walk the span of the bridge.<br />
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Helios bridged from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts. He earned his Arrow of Light. He joined his brother's Boy Scout Troop. All in a few seconds.<br />
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Just moments before that, he was a second year Webelos.</div>
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And just seconds before that, he was a new Webelos.</div>
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And I swear it was just a moment before that, he was a new Bear Scout.</div>
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And it couldn't have been more than a minute before that, he was a brand new Wolf.</div>
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And I am fairly certain that only a few more minutes before that, he was a new Tiger.</div>
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He lit a candle, made a promise and transformed five years into minutes of memories.</div>
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Five years a Cub Scout. </div>
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Forever trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, </div>
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cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent.</div>
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<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-29090128341561155912014-02-14T08:13:00.002-05:002014-02-14T08:13:47.227-05:00Fragmented Heart DayHappy Heart Day! My heart is not broken but it is fragmented today, just for blogging purposes. On this cold, snowy February day, I've taken off my winter gloves long enough to type out a few <a href="http://www.halfpastkissintime.com/2014/02/riday-fragments-episode-288.html" target="_blank">Friday Fragments</a>. <br />
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Let's see what's buried under all this snow.<br />
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This is what the backyard looks like with a dusting...<br />
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This picture was taken some time ago, at least 3 snowstorms ago, because we haven't seen that green stuff covering the ground for weeks now. In case you have forgotten, it is called grass.<br />
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This is what the backyard looks like now, with a dumping...<br />
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I have no comment on the current snow situation. Wait. Yes I do actually have a comment. <i>Enough already.</i><br />
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We even have snow inside. There are actually two-foot drifts IN our screened in porch.<br />
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We had just gotten the mess cleaned up from the ice storm last week.<br />
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I don't remember moving to Vermont. Enough already.<br />
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I do remember how smart my two sons are though. They both have excellent grades. We celebrated this week at the middle school honor roll ceremony. Leonardo stopped by after to say hello, give me his certificate for safe keeping and let me snap a shot of him. He looks a bit proud (or maybe that's middle school embarrassment) and he should be. Proud not embarrassed. These kids work hard to get good grades. Good job!<br />
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I will say that I saw something that was very disappointing at the honor roll ceremony. Afterwards, there were several of these certificates in the trash. Kids had thrown these away before they even left the cafetorium. I know it's just a piece of paper but seeing them in the trash immediately signaled to me that those kids don't value their education...or maybe their parents don't. Or maybe the parents do but the kids don't value their parents' opinion. Either way, that is very sad to me.</div>
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So again, Happy Heart Day! I will be teaching yoga tonight at<a href="http://www.solyoga.org/" target="_blank"> Sol in New Market</a> and it will be a love-centered, heart-opening practice. Join me! Bring your special someone! I might have chocolate!</div>
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Hope your day is filled with love!</div>
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<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-69203494918441686462014-02-03T17:31:00.000-05:002014-02-04T08:50:14.585-05:00Live from Bo's House<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything. - Plato</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">We live by this moral law. Music fills our souls, sends our minds soaring, brings wonder and happiness to the every day in life. And music filled our house Saturday night. We hosted another <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2012/02/if-house-is-rockin.html" target="_blank">house concert</a>. Two years have passed since our last house concert and a few things have happened since then. And when lots of things happen around here, songs get written. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">This Bo Weevil house concert highlighted the songs that have been written and recorded in the last two years. Songs from <a href="http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/boweevil12" target="_blank"><i>Holding Hands with Grace</i> (May 2013</a>) and recently completed <i><a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/86vox" target="_blank">86Vox (December 2013) </a> </i></span><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">were showcased.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Bo also previewed of a few new songs not yet recorded. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">Between numbers, Bo shared stories about the songs' inspiration or anecdotes about his musical roots.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wjkJLaBiqYXrdVOSfsYKzfLVqwHJd_w8w2vTCvkGRpUA29XYyGAHASNIb5TE8-FwoJiJ1y8XnYRCHOn3KLeOqZzOJN6yUzPKF-WqBJf-gfvP0hoNK6jiY6iRgfYMGu-pPi1CQPeFJz1u/s1600/Ira+and+Bo001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3wjkJLaBiqYXrdVOSfsYKzfLVqwHJd_w8w2vTCvkGRpUA29XYyGAHASNIb5TE8-FwoJiJ1y8XnYRCHOn3KLeOqZzOJN6yUzPKF-WqBJf-gfvP0hoNK6jiY6iRgfYMGu-pPi1CQPeFJz1u/s1600/Ira+and+Bo001.jpg" height="320" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandfather Ira Scott with harmonica in hand and Bo</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCbNp0y14f4ITJeoZUo3n2HJZ4I3exQG6J8tOVyRH4RR35aCg1gXLFgJwz68y5q6dScTlHC0ceA5oNqOE_3dPQJG55jFJVYhJZg0e1hSyIh8O5AHAatJ1hWAO6tooohzjhGmrAYSoBwoW/s1600/dad_guitarsmall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiCbNp0y14f4ITJeoZUo3n2HJZ4I3exQG6J8tOVyRH4RR35aCg1gXLFgJwz68y5q6dScTlHC0ceA5oNqOE_3dPQJG55jFJVYhJZg0e1hSyIh8O5AHAatJ1hWAO6tooohzjhGmrAYSoBwoW/s1600/dad_guitarsmall.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Father Thomas Scott late 1950s</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">He even shared a few vintage photos of his previous life when his hair was long and his guitar was electric. Someone at the concert pointed out how the 90s looked very much like the 60s in this photo. They might have felt like the 60s some times too.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">circa 1992 ...Bo is on the right</td></tr>
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House concerts are such an enjoyable, comfortable way to hear live music. They are the NetFlix of music. I mean that in the best possible way. The way NetFlix has changed our movie watching habits, house concerts have changed my view on seeing live music. I still like to go out to shows, but when you can get live music in a comfortable setting, who would say no? Shows like <a href="http://www.livefromdarylshouse.com/" target="_blank">Daryl's House</a> have only made going to traditional venues for music less appealing by offering the feel of a live performance in a super laid back setting that you can watch from your couch.<br />
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Live music in a venue is a totally different experience than a small intimate house concert. I can appreciate both. But I am spoiled now by having experienced house concerts. House concerts offer the best of what you want in a live music experience...great seats, great acoustics, beverage service, intimate atmosphere with the performers...without all the negatives of a public live performance... parking hassles, riffraff seated around you, exorbitant ticket prices.<br />
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But no doubt that the best part of a house concert is the people you share the evening with. In between sets, family and friends mingle, talk, laugh and share precious time together, appreciating the charm and gaiety that the moral law of music demands.</div>
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-69528204315009414292014-01-26T17:38:00.001-05:002014-01-26T17:38:13.098-05:00Grammys Current and FutureToday is Grammy Sunday. Will you be watching tonight? I probably will. And I probably will be feeling like I have felt watching such awards shows for the last many years...a bit older and not as impressed. I don't enjoy watching those shows in the same way that I used to. I still enjoy watching them for the spectacle that they are. But they were enjoyable in a different way when I was starstruck, younger and believed all the nominees were really talented and deserving. There will be several very talented and deserving musicians as there are every year, but those usually are overshadowed by the ones camouflaging their lesser talent in extravagance and musical subterfuge. But even so, I will be watching and hopeful for the real talent to rise to the top.<br />
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I feel a bit more prepared for the Grammys this year thanks to my sons. I actually have several nominees on my iPod. I will be listening on Rhapsody today to the 2013 Grammy Nominees playlist so I can be even more prepared by showtime.<br />
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Do you wonder why the proper plural form of Grammy is Grammys and not Grammies? It's because you don't drop the "y" and add "ies" on proper names. I feel better now getting that out there.<br />
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Speaking of music, we were recently treated to a performance by several potential future Grammy nominees. It was once again the TJ Feeder Pattern Concert here and hundreds of elementary, middle and high school students banded together, literally, to perform a combined concert. The five elementary bands feeding into the local high school performed together as a united group. The two middle schools and high school bands performed as well. Then the entire group took the stage and performed as one.<br />
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Nothing tugs at the heartstrings and national pride quite like the sound of hundreds of school children playing America the Beautiful.<br />
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The highlight of the evening for us was one particular future potential Grammy hopeful and his participation in the crowd-pleasing performance of the Theme from Rocky. Everybody loves Gonna Fly Now and especially when the song starts with an eight bell, herald trumpet fanfare!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Click on the photo to watch the performance!</td></tr>
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The herald trumpet is as long as Helios is tall. That was true for most of the students playing the fancy instruments. To balance the length and weight for the players, they each rested the trumpet's elongated bell on a music stand. Helios had a loose stand and had to compensate for its movement...but he played on!<br />
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It was a great night of music. The players were inspiring. The audience was supportive and fully entertained. The music teachers and band directors executed an impressive feat of logistics, gathering all the students for their one combined performance with only one rehearsal! The entire concert performance was award worthy.<br />
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Let's see if we can say the same about the Grammys tonight.<br />
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<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-6054501307279313292014-01-21T10:53:00.001-05:002014-01-21T11:14:10.215-05:00Posers on the Pow Winter persists. While this winter has not yet won any superlative, it is currently in the running for Most Likely to Snow. It has snowed too many times for me to count and it is snowing again today. Since snow is queen around here lately, we decided this weekend to give in and play along with the weather.<br />
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In the Olympic spirit, we jumped right in to winter sports and....snowboarded. Why start small? Honestly, this was <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2012/09/forced-family-fun.html" target="_blank">Forced Family Fun</a> executed in reverse. FFF is usually implemented by the parents to keep the family bonds strong. But in this instance, the boys were exerting the force. They have been asking, begging, annoying us for so long to go snowboarding. And we have avoided taking them for as long as they have been asking.<br />
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Why would we not take them? Well....there are reasons. We don't ski much less snowboard. My husband has a clinical aversion to temperatures under 60. And neither my husband nor I look forward to injury. So we put it off.<br />
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The closest we have ever been to snowboarding is noticing the<a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2010/02/doppleganger-revisited.html" target="_blank"> uncanny resemblance that one certain snowboarder has to one certain stay-at-home mom.</a> I'm sorry...I had to throw that in. The opportunity was just too good to pass.<br />
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In defense of our resistance, there wasn't enough snow last winter. At least that's what we said even though there was plenty of the manmade stuff. Now that Winter 2013-2014 has thrown its name into the superlative running, we can't use that excuse any longer. But last week as the boys looked longingly out at the cold, frozen land which is our front yard, something came over me. A desire to join with our sons in their quest for adventure and fun set in and took hold. We <i>could</i> meet them where they live instead of always expecting them to join us. Snowboarding we shall go!<br />
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We got up extra early to beat the crowds. We layered. We rented gear. We clipped in. We took lessons. We learned to turn. We learned to stop. We kept our knees bent. We learned to use our toe side and our heel side. And we definitely got reacquainted with our backside.<br />
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We were posers but we didn't care. We were ridin fakie and goofy and didn't even know it. We faceplanted and ragdolled and held a few yard sales on the slope. We were stoked.<br />
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It was a phenomenally fun time! Reverse FFF works! For so long, my husband and I had resisted this activity with our kids. Selfishly, our expectations for our own good time were low but we were happily proved wrong. There is something about a shared experience which binds you tightly together with your companions in fun or in peril. And we had a little of both with our snowboarding adventure.<br />
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No medals were won but we all were proud of our own accomplishments. We all were contentedly exhausted and satisfactorily sore. And we all were reminded how much fun it is to step...or slip and slide...outside of your comfort zone. Awesome dude!<br />
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-76490736354756112462014-01-10T07:10:00.002-05:002015-01-01T21:50:15.072-05:00InstablogFor most of the time I have owned my smart phone, I have resisted using its camera for anything other than silliness or emergency photo needs. In a pinch, I would use it to get a visual reminder of something I wanted to buy later or take a shot of a funny something-or-other I wanted to show to my husband. <br />
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The image quality and size generated from my phone were inferior and I wasn't going to stoop as a photographer to the low depths of taking photos with a phone. And if I did take a photo with my phone, you bet I wouldn't be sharing it.<br />
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That has changed. I got tired of always lugging around my big, impressive camera. Sometimes I felt conspicuous whipping out my large-lensed baby when all around were holding up sleek, barely bigger than a credit card options. Everyone thought I was a reporter at school events.<br />
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And then there was the immediate gratification that I wasn't getting. With my real camera, I have to download my images to my computer and convert them from RAW format to something the rest of the world can use. And of course, once I am in there converting and whatnot, I must tweak and crop and sharpen and pump up the brightness and manipulate the shadows and process until the shot was perfect and my gratification has been sufficiently delayed. Then I could share, post and enjoy my photos to my heart's content.<br />
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Lately, I figured out what everyone else knew. With phone images: there is none of that waiting. I know I could play around with sepia or black and white effects, but the shot is the shot. And you can enjoy and share it the second the moment is over...or even while it's still happening. That's the plus of a camera phone. Immediate gratification experienced and then move on to the next gratifying moment, if you are into that sort of thing.<br />
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Sheepishly I must admit, I have sort of gotten into that sort of thing lately. I am not Instagramming myself all over town but I have been using my phone to capture lots of moments and I have shared them...on this blog. You probably didn't even know it. And you probably care even less. But I care. I take pride in my photography and don't want negative image quality to reflect my abilities. You might think I need to get over myself but let's just think about it...would Martha Stewart serve EasyMac over her signature macaroni and cheese recipe? Not without a serious excuse or not without adding gruyere or bacon when it came out of the microwave.<br />
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In the world of my mind, my photographer's eye is the gruyere and my blog posts are bacon.<br />
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<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-51348212172024738042014-01-06T07:16:00.000-05:002014-01-06T07:16:18.267-05:00Compassionate New Year!Have you made your resolutions? I haven't and I am not going to make any. But that doesn't mean I don't have any ideas for 2014. I am approaching this year a bit differently than I have started my previous New Years.<br />
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To be honest, I didn't set any resolutions for 2013 either. But that wasn't a conscious decision. I was reeling from events of <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2011/07/bowling-angels.html" target="_blank">2011</a> and <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2012/05/holding-hands-with-grace.html" target="_blank">2012</a> and the thought of having resolve about anything other than breathing in and out was more than I could imagine. I spent most of my time in last half of 2012 and all of 2013 seeking solace on the mat, making myself breathe. Here it is, 2014, and I am still breathing in and out, but still not making any resolutions.<br />
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Maybe it's the yogini in me or maybe the past few years have made me believe that control is a complete illusion, but setting out a list of firm decisions for myself seems pointless and a set up of sorts. You know what is said about the best laid plans...they often go awry and leave us grief and pain for promised joy (<a href="http://www.robertburns.org.uk/Assets/Poems_Songs/toamouse.htm" target="_blank">said Robert Burns to a mouse</a>). With that in mind, intentions rather than hard resolutions seem a bit more forgiving.<br />
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They also say that a certain road is paved with good intentions. So I guess I better tread carefully with my intentions.<br />
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Most yoga classes begin with an invitation to set an intention for your practice. Lately, without premeditation, the same intention has floated into my mind repeatedly. Compassion. By definition, the sympathetic concern for the sufferings of others.<br />
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Compassionate is not a word that I would have used to describe myself in the past. I would not say that I have been indifferent to others' suffering. But I haven't invested myself in considering the suffering of others. By setting an intention of living compassionately, I am bringing an awareness of others' plights and adjusting my responses and reactions accordingly. I said it myself in 2012, on my list of <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/p/45-things.html" target="_blank">45 Things</a>.<br />
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#15: Be kind to everyone; we are all carrying some load.</blockquote>
That's compassion. In honest retrospect, I am not sure that I could be truly compassionate without the events of the past few years to ground me in my own suffering, experienced and potential. I have not suffered nearly what Anna, her parents, my mother-in-law or countless other families have suffered, but I have a glimpse of that suffering when I look in my brother's and sister-in-law's eyes. I won't always recognize suffering when I look in a stranger's or friend's eyes, but I am assured now that some is there. And they need kindness at the very least.<br />
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But what does it really mean to "live compassionately"? That definitely sounds like an easy thing to say on the safe confines of a yoga mat, where the real world is shut out for 60 minutes at a time. But to put it into practice in daily life is another matter. Aside from being kind, donating to charity, opening doors for people, minding your manners, how else can you live compassionately? One way is just realizing that everyone has a load (see #15 above). If you recognize that, you can hardly continue to push your own agenda with disregard of others. And with that realization comes a change in your own agenda or at least an understanding of those with different agendas. Interactions based in compassion are fertile ground for progress and positivity even when differences exist.<br />
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Compassion is not reserved only for extreme suffering or for the stranger in need. We can't all just pick up, move to the needy corners of the world and offer our services. Thankfully there are people who can do that. They are living compassionately in a grand, global sense. But compassion can be expressed on smaller stages too. I have a family here that needs my compassion. As a mother, my sons need my compassion as they navigate this world, filled with obstacles I never imagined for them. My compassionate responses will help them over, around and through these hurdles.<br />
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Compassion can be directed inwardly too. Choices we make for ourselves display the compassion we carry for our own heart. Practicing thoughtful dietary choices, good sleeping habits, uplifting friends, daily exercise and positive entertainment all are displays of personal compassion. Think of it as a garbage in, garbage out approach. And personal compassion is contagious. Are you unconsciously creating your own personal waste heap, adding to the worldly garbage dump? Or are you compassionately planting a garden of humanity for all to enjoy?<br />
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In yogic terms, living compassionately falls under the umbrella of ahimsa or non-harming. Ahimsa is the very first item on the <a href="http://www.yogajournal.com/basics/158" target="_blank">yogic agenda.</a> All yogic bets are off if compassion is absent.<br />
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So, I am setting an intention to operate from a place of compassion in 2014 and beyond. I do it for me, for my family, for those I know and those I will meet. This road, intentionally paved as it may be, can only lead to good things.CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-29817861944247088332013-12-27T07:27:00.002-05:002013-12-27T07:27:32.124-05:00It's a Boy's WorldI grew up as the only daughter in a <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2013/12/say-uncle.html" target="_blank">house full of brothers</a>. Whether by nurture or nature, I was not a girly girl. As a child, I was dragged along through all sorts of boy-centric activities and actually loved most of it. My mother on the other hand was a bit dismayed that the girly girl she imagined never fledged. But that was a good thing after all. My life as the only girl in a boy's world trained me for my life as a mother of boys.<br />
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I am still the only girl in the house.</div>
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It was fine being a girl when the boys were babies, toddlers, preschoolers and early elementary aged as well. Then, as Only Girl, I could connect with them in a myriad of genderless ways. Their boy-ness wasn't fully developed then and, being raised Only Girl, I could handle the times when their boy behavior was apparent. I even encouraged their boy-beings to come out; I know how to play like a boy. Give me paper dolls and I get bored quickly. But sure, let's play Mumbley Peg! That's fun.<br />
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Now my boys are teenager and tween, and there is no mistaking that they are boys and I am not. Thank goodness they have their Dad. He, of course, has been here all along but his presence is so much more vital now that the boys are older, more like young men. Their activity choices are no longer as genderless as when they were young. Don't rag on me for stereotyping (stereotypes exist for real reasons, you know) but they truly like things that most girls don't. Only Girl would have loved tagging along with my boys on their male escapades but now Only Not So Young Anymore Girl is not quite so daring or able. Thankfully she has a camera and is happy to act as historian.<br />
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And thankfully Overgrown Boy (a.k.a. my husband) is here to build, coach, wrestle, work higher math problems, code software, play with fire, and many other man-boy things.<br />
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Like launching rockets.</div>
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Climbing walls</div>
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Doing crazy high ropes courses</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBt4KDfeQ5_iXNFSKL0nNuNMSzioMbb5sVPS52X35ov-81qwcX2XF_f1Mjuk4yvu_twReR3SFhHR0SuHl8frS2F5-kZ37PELeX6OGLia3UrhyphenhyphenD_jJPRHQYeqe_rehWtjmFTGqSPQAk0om-/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBt4KDfeQ5_iXNFSKL0nNuNMSzioMbb5sVPS52X35ov-81qwcX2XF_f1Mjuk4yvu_twReR3SFhHR0SuHl8frS2F5-kZ37PELeX6OGLia3UrhyphenhyphenD_jJPRHQYeqe_rehWtjmFTGqSPQAk0om-/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7235.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(I would have done this one but was wearing the wrong shoes. Seriously.)</td></tr>
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Driving race cars</div>
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Lying on beds of nails</div>
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Oh wait...I did that one!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRFg6r27KexeJP5AwAlQeWLI3zXKMtYdmEK3zOVUNGPQUhOUWNDZ-YgfiYFyRgFHd3iMu0gBc5tBPo4VE-3hyphenhypheneEXsoKQ6AMQfXWFWNrlCAJcyAN_TiY5d3rhEubPe8AK-XPGKTQmJahZf/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDRFg6r27KexeJP5AwAlQeWLI3zXKMtYdmEK3zOVUNGPQUhOUWNDZ-YgfiYFyRgFHd3iMu0gBc5tBPo4VE-3hyphenhypheneEXsoKQ6AMQfXWFWNrlCAJcyAN_TiY5d3rhEubPe8AK-XPGKTQmJahZf/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7239.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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Holding snakes<br />
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Competing in hours-long, brain wave competitions</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_hzAl1iyBTlL0OjKIU4hkvFJeC66-hdE-KHn_A4974vu29KDYt6xqQgemkJ6_B6YB49HfZUVG5ycgMfEhBo9oheVv3_ACfWtZWlFCrNQYwMbA-S8fayuGfHQHbY1ap8xe181CRPB-aaO/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7241.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_hzAl1iyBTlL0OjKIU4hkvFJeC66-hdE-KHn_A4974vu29KDYt6xqQgemkJ6_B6YB49HfZUVG5ycgMfEhBo9oheVv3_ACfWtZWlFCrNQYwMbA-S8fayuGfHQHbY1ap8xe181CRPB-aaO/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7241.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In this case, fewer waves are better!</td></tr>
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Indoor skydiving</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXz3b7rqmCIr-kVAmFVzYFCg-Dx1lYef7tWGsIvCITvYwq6z7250OSWwH5P6EAHlYBEcg41Noa_nuPb9IitX1Wp5LTBhc1mPIvgSRkbhOp9py155sYpkPDxuW9-LU9T6KWjVML6hE5X43/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7263+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzXz3b7rqmCIr-kVAmFVzYFCg-Dx1lYef7tWGsIvCITvYwq6z7250OSWwH5P6EAHlYBEcg41Noa_nuPb9IitX1Wp5LTBhc1mPIvgSRkbhOp9py155sYpkPDxuW9-LU9T6KWjVML6hE5X43/s1600/2013_08+Tennessee+Trip-7263+(1).JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(I did that one too...but no picture to prove it...)</td></tr>
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and driving practice.</div>
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As these boys continue to grow into men, Only Girl will be happy to participate when she can and take pictures of and blog about it all.CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-5542536544421562752013-12-24T07:55:00.001-05:002013-12-24T08:06:48.986-05:00Christmas Wishes<div style="text-align: center;">
Have yourself a Merry little Christmas</div>
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-41829136677143334912013-12-19T09:04:00.001-05:002013-12-21T07:14:51.730-05:00Say Uncle!In my family, you must say "<i>Uncle!</i>" to be released from the unrelenting grip of the Tickle Monster. The notorious Claw will not back off until its prey begs out a defeated wail of "<i>Uncle!</i>" Any other utterance only fans the fury of these beasts.<br />
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To "cry uncle" means to admit defeat, to surrender, to beg for mercy. The saying's origin may be the from the Roman Empire when bullied children were forced to say "<i>Patrue, mi Patruissimo</i>" (Uncle, my best Uncle) in order to be freed from the bully's wrath. Reasons being that crying uncle is a way of proving another's helplessness by forcing them to call out for an adult's help.<br />
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My sons are blessed with several uncles none of which are bullies but many of whom are Master Ticklers and were known to administer Claw-like torture techniques when the boys were younger. In the face of such torment, my littler boys would sustain peals of laughter until the last moment when they could barely eek out an "Uncle!" just in time to catch their breath. They have long outgrown tickling and any true fear of the Claw, but their uncles can still make them laugh like no one else.<br />
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I imagine, for a boy, having an uncle is a special thing. It's a relationship ripe with a potentially balanced mix of big brother, friend and father. Just far enough removed from the authoritative, fatherly role to not be so, well, parental. Far enough removed to be fun, cool and wise all at the same time. An uncle's jokes rarely elicit eye rolls, at least not as often as a parent's jokes will. An uncle's advice might be more welcome than a parent's words of wisdom. Have you ever heard a kid say "<i>Uuuuncle!" </i>with the same annoyed inflection as they say "<i>Daaaad!" </i>It doesn't happen.<br />
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Several years ago, one of the uncles was visiting and I asked for a portrait of him with his nephews. The boys climbed the fence and huddled around their Patruissimo and the moment was captured. Confident and loving.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSy1JVu2UFR-eFDsIlWkQfrXb7FqBJulFpfN2iJcHmeRSzdIFLRxOcaLiW0Nxp0rP7zCfOSi0nKXr5n9XfvQUvKJUgprIKjtueJ-QfgALbCinf2w7ht7ZJeQAezelZnR9Tf739Mu3gb9_2/s1600/2010_10Seans-Visit-9216web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSy1JVu2UFR-eFDsIlWkQfrXb7FqBJulFpfN2iJcHmeRSzdIFLRxOcaLiW0Nxp0rP7zCfOSi0nKXr5n9XfvQUvKJUgprIKjtueJ-QfgALbCinf2w7ht7ZJeQAezelZnR9Tf739Mu3gb9_2/s320/2010_10Seans-Visit-9216web.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">October 2010</td></tr>
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I love this picture so much that I envisioned a wall of <i>patrues</i> posed with their <i>nepos. </i>My vision was not just pictures of the boys with their uncles but the boys in the same spot, same pose with their various uncles. It took a few years to get each uncle here and posed by the fence but it happened.</div>
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A short bit of time later another Patruissimo came to visit. Another captured moment of avunucular love. Caring and playful. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">April 2011</td></tr>
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Later still, a third Patruissimo came to visit and the fencepost was the stage for another pose. Another special time with a special uncle captured. Dependable and fun.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 2013</td></tr>
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While the miles and the business of life do not allow for these relationships to have much face to face time, the boys are still able to connect with their uncles. We try to visit as often as life allows. And in between they are sustaining their relationships with their uncles through technology, texting and the shared love of silly YouTube videos. Deep, meaningful male bonding at its adolescent best.</div>
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I have these portraits framed and housed on a shelf side by side. My three brothers. The boys' three uncles. While my boys have changed, the uncles are a constant.<br />
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The pictures stand as reminders that while their current connections are at times pubescent and silly, those connections are building the foundations of deeper, longstanding relationships for their futures.</div>
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The uncles are cool. And my boys know they have at least three other men who have their backs. All they have to do is say, "Uncle!"</div>
CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-4917602200462588682013-12-17T08:56:00.000-05:002013-12-17T08:56:51.282-05:00We're Going on a Bear Hunt<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am shameless trying to squeeze five months of blog posts into the last two weeks of the year. So <b>bear</b> with me...back to Cades Cove this summer...</i><br />
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We're going on a bear hunt.</div>
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We're gonna catch a big one.</div>
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What a beautiful day,</div>
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We're not scared.</div>
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Oh oh! The long, wavy grass.</div>
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Oh oh! A deep, cold river.<br />
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Oh oh! A big, dark forest.</div>
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Oh oh! A scary, dark cave.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFWBEzeJBd70m55PXzugvtfuWaWFxOaCqwbHiTyg7DueKAKwFLrNOlSKmcCiBXuGBSAMyqAUB_4oyvs_cw8U2lHZ79saOvebFyl0Fbs8VV0nf-nQeylGi9aQEq_SGgjLelBjbWqI-d6ix/s1600/2013_03AceGapCave6659web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbFWBEzeJBd70m55PXzugvtfuWaWFxOaCqwbHiTyg7DueKAKwFLrNOlSKmcCiBXuGBSAMyqAUB_4oyvs_cw8U2lHZ79saOvebFyl0Fbs8VV0nf-nQeylGi9aQEq_SGgjLelBjbWqI-d6ix/s320/2013_03AceGapCave6659web.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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We're not scared!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDV4gMoJg6taDth2xDCKFk2ixNybYDVbGDfvbbRBC7XDY6uomazqtKICVLEzAS7qrK4yChmrcI5lQ8ZIl1csrum1vHGpIzoomemd_JL1tdfyK-0dHqplYbnfKpo22y0kvxbQ7ZTCb4JTt_/s1600/2013_03AceGapCave6655web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDV4gMoJg6taDth2xDCKFk2ixNybYDVbGDfvbbRBC7XDY6uomazqtKICVLEzAS7qrK4yChmrcI5lQ8ZIl1csrum1vHGpIzoomemd_JL1tdfyK-0dHqplYbnfKpo22y0kvxbQ7ZTCb4JTt_/s320/2013_03AceGapCave6655web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We're going on a bear hunt!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhAtq5jmXKZOrhcGxo9n49SJQaIU7EnNnf4AXRlXXApIFHBQ590DdL0kN2Ezhm4wFUed37gULgfKD1cqAbNlRm2NGWV1-BDqQ0l-EhS9BEumPGVTBgtwczjYTkFTsRzJm3L8TmIOhIXrz/s1600/2013_08TNTrip-7180web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGhAtq5jmXKZOrhcGxo9n49SJQaIU7EnNnf4AXRlXXApIFHBQ590DdL0kN2Ezhm4wFUed37gULgfKD1cqAbNlRm2NGWV1-BDqQ0l-EhS9BEumPGVTBgtwczjYTkFTsRzJm3L8TmIOhIXrz/s320/2013_08TNTrip-7180web.jpg" width="257" /></a></div>
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We're gonna catch a big one!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8l1q7dYfepMh3EWmb-7wPHlF9ynNrzo34-YarCoBY8E8nV7raZRh2BmzDXRxTR6CmreW77A2oC_OiIytWA8m9rm4HEoxihEqdtdQndtbpXwn6UBlttYcWnkAmMn9DeOSWlAs02ifnveL/s1600/2013_08-TNTrip-7191web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB8l1q7dYfepMh3EWmb-7wPHlF9ynNrzo34-YarCoBY8E8nV7raZRh2BmzDXRxTR6CmreW77A2oC_OiIytWA8m9rm4HEoxihEqdtdQndtbpXwn6UBlttYcWnkAmMn9DeOSWlAs02ifnveL/s320/2013_08-TNTrip-7191web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Lucky for us, he's asleep.<br />
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But that coyote is wide awake!<br />
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Maybe we should hunt deer instead.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiB8AN7suAoDeYsAGG4hzEB4I6N5P3e46Oux_Tai8NMmKR9XxdfuCE2vxeY9iyJbO8o7-3rokutM9mH3CEIljoyUYzz6PJxZTezG3GJEeFPqUduoxGGktVULvOHp6p6pt7l-jS4jxucZf2/s1600/2013_08-TNTrip-7116web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiB8AN7suAoDeYsAGG4hzEB4I6N5P3e46Oux_Tai8NMmKR9XxdfuCE2vxeY9iyJbO8o7-3rokutM9mH3CEIljoyUYzz6PJxZTezG3GJEeFPqUduoxGGktVULvOHp6p6pt7l-jS4jxucZf2/s320/2013_08-TNTrip-7116web.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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No, let's just play it safe and hunt golf balls!<br />
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What a beautiful day.</div>
CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-72899812558355418992013-12-13T07:00:00.000-05:002013-12-21T07:11:49.565-05:00My Reasons this Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Nine days until Christmas! I know today is December 13th and that there are really twelve days. But by my count, I only have nine days left to prepare. Everything must be done in nine days because we will be heading South for the holidays. That's what Santa does...heads South...so we are too.</div>
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Nine days are not enough. Reason #1 is this guy.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF04FH8p7kfBjL84nB7vW4g2hYwHJJgxTvrROq2E0H7zleNXvqsl8JmcSMT7x79Qo_STPyDVhV2A_45y1tdgjSJpzHJfKWtjbQs8zb5zK9qhsLREq3zOqAP-cq5wiGBReabqPQ-zqygjtu/s1600/2013_08FirstDaySchool7313we.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF04FH8p7kfBjL84nB7vW4g2hYwHJJgxTvrROq2E0H7zleNXvqsl8JmcSMT7x79Qo_STPyDVhV2A_45y1tdgjSJpzHJfKWtjbQs8zb5zK9qhsLREq3zOqAP-cq5wiGBReabqPQ-zqygjtu/s320/2013_08FirstDaySchool7313we.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2013 - First day of school</td></tr>
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His list is too long. I couldn't possibly accumulate all his wishes in nine days. Nor is there enough money to answer his demands. Let's just say the possibilities of Legos are endless and the bank balance isn't. But that's what grandparents, aunts and uncles are for. And Santa.<br />
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Reason #2 is this guy.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">August 2013 - First day of school</td></tr>
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His list is too short. Actually, he has no list. When forced (seven days ago) to attempt a list, he surfed the web and emailed me a list of links to various websites.The list of "http://www.yougottabekiddinme" that he sent included three international cites for specialty t-shirts. Once shipping and currency exchange were factored in, these three t-shirts would have cost almost as much as one of the Legos on Reason #1's list. I don't think even Santa is going to come through with this.<br />
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And did you notice that Reason #2 <i>emailed me links </i>when I asked for a Christmas list? That is what technology has done to the time honored tradition of the child's Christmas List; turned it into an unsentimental, cold grouping of bits (and bytes). I'm okay with that in this case because it was very efficient. It took me only about five minutes to realize that I wasn't paying international, expedited shipping. But don't worry about Reason #2, he'll get some nice alternatives.</div>
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One thing I do know that both of these Reasons are getting this year are some new socks. That sounds very Dickensian and that's good 'cause Christmas needs something Dickensian these days. But it also is good because these guys are obsessed with socks. Not just any socks though, they are obsessed with Nike Elite socks. If you have adolescents in your house, you know what I am talking about.</div>
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Nike Elite socks are the ubiquitous footwear that is sweeping upper elementary and middle schools across the country. My Reasons had never asked for anything in the way of clothing until these came along. They were happy to wear whatever was on their body, no matter what it was, who chose it or whether it matched or not. Once Nike Elite's came along, that all changed. Now as far as their feet are concerned, fashion matters.</div>
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So Santa and I will be snapping up all the Elite's we can find this Christmas. Actually, I can not speak for Santa but I will probably only be snapping up a few pairs for each Reason. They are $15 a pair! I have to set aside a little money for haircuts...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day of school with new Elites!!!!!</td></tr>
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And yes, they didn't want to wear shoes for their picture so we could capture the Elites. They are that amazing! So they say.<br />
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-926702977060531732013-12-10T12:20:00.000-05:002013-12-21T07:15:50.823-05:00Hey Nineteen!I am a muse. It just hit me this morning and it sounds sort of silly when I say it out loud but it's true. I am my husband's muse. To be fair, he is mine too but that's another post.<br />
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My husband is a <a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/music" target="_blank">songwriter</a>. In all the years we have been together, he has written countless songs about and for me. He has written many other songs about many other things as well but so many of his songs are about moi. I am Linda to his Paul. His Yoko to his John. Or maybe Sharona to his Knack.<br />
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Today is our anniversary. Nineteen years. We don't do big anniversary gifts. But he broke the rules and gave me another big one. His gift to me was reading a new set of lyrics to a new song. I won't share it here but just know how special those words are to me. You may get to hear them one day (after copyrighting is in place).<br />
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So to my husband - Happy Anniversary! In some of his words:<br />
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<i>We've Just Begun! Baby Can't You See?</i> You are <i>My Cup of Tea! Sweet Lover, I Think of You </i>and there <i>Ain't Much More Than That. </i>Whether you like it or not, <i>I Ain't Going Nowhere </i>and I do see <i>The Blue in You</i>. 'Cause you are <i>My Lovin' Kind </i>and my <i>Piece of Heaven</i>. See you <i>Late Tonight!</i><br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;">italicized words are song titles by B. Scott for C. Scott</span></i><br />
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<i><br /></i>CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-84220286770418391472013-11-29T11:11:00.001-05:002013-11-29T11:14:55.310-05:00One Post at a TimeAnd you thought that I forgot about my blog <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2013/06/i-forgot-my-password.html">as well as my password</a>. Not so. I know my password and the URL of my blog very well, thank you! I have just been mentally blogging for the past 5 1/2 months. Sorry not to have shared my mental blogs with you but if we take this one blog at a time from this point forward, things just might work out for us.<br />
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I thought the easiest way to ease back in to my blog, one post at a time, would be in a quick list sort of way. In the past five-point-five months, my life has included these fragments:<br />
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<li>I finished <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2013/03/yogini-in-making.html">my 200-hour yoga teacher training certification</a>. I could write several other posts (which I might) about my training experience, but just know that <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2013/03/yoga-is-like-breastfeeding-and-vegas.html">my original list of observations for my training</a> were bang on - yoga teacher training is like breastfeeding and Vegas!</li>
<li>Yoga teacher training had as much if not more impact on my life off the mat than it impacted my life on the mat. Just ask my husband and my sons. And that is where is matters...off the mat.</li>
<li>Enough about yoga...</li>
<li>Changes off the mat were primarily the reason for my blogging absence. I was/am more present in my actual life and spend time in the moment, enjoying and experiencing. There was no time to blog. Now the pendulum may swing back and pick up time for a blog or two somewhere in mid swing.</li>
<li>Ok now enough about yoga...</li>
<li>We celebrated Thanksgiving with part of our families and greatly missed those not with us. We are blessed in so many ways, every day.</li>
<li>My hubbie and I both went to the University of Tennessee. Part of both our families live in Tennessee. Part of our hearts still live there too. Our boys are growing up with a divided sense of home. Their true home is in Maryland but their family home is in Tennessee since we spend so much of our vacation time there visiting family and checking on our roots. Many holiday and family traditions are made and played out at the foot of the Smokies.</li>
<li>This past week we indoctrinated the boys into another Tennessee tradition. This one is decidedly un-yogalike....UT Football! There is nothing quite like the roar of 100,000 UT fans, all dressed in that special orange, singing Rocky Top at the top of their 200,000 lungs. </li>
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<li>The UT vs. Vanderbilt game was the first game for our boys and was the first one in about 20 years (how can that be!) for my husband and me. Despite the 20 degree temps, the face burning wind gusts and the very disappointing last minute loss, it was a warm, cozy Tennessee tradition which we all agreed will be revisited next season. We are thinking of an earlier season game where we can wear fewer layers. What do you think?</li>
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Good ol' Rocky Top!</div>
CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-49203202499433694542013-06-10T09:04:00.000-04:002013-06-10T09:06:42.274-04:00I Forgot my PasswordYou know you have been away from your blog for too long when you have to go through the whole "forgot my password" routine twice in as many weeks. There was a time when I was logging into my Blogger account multiple times a day and knew my password as automatically as I know my name. Recently my blog has been neglected so much so that I forgot the password that I set for it originally in 2009 and have pecked out countless time since then. Alas, I reset to a new password and promptly forgot it within a week as well.<br />
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I never had to write my Blogger password down before thanks to my previous frequent, memory reinforcing use. But now it's written somewhere safe along with the login information for my other infrequently used accounts, like Craigslist (set up that one time I thought I would sell all sorts of house junk but decided I didn't like inviting strangers to my house to see the good stuff I was keeping) and that online flower shop (that I use every now and then but can never remember which one is the good online flower shop and which one stinks at sending online flowers.)<br />
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I thought these recent password memory disturbances could be explained away by my limited use of the unnatural, illogical combinations of alphanumeric characters, oddball symbols and grammatically incorrect use of capital letters required by programmers everywhere. Until I read <u>Still Alice</u> by Lisa Genova. And then I thought, maybe it's me.<br />
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Alice is a fifty year old Harvard psychology professor who starts to notice memory lapses and her dramatic increased consumption of sticky notes and lists. Then one day she finds herself lost and confused in a very familiar place. What comes next is Alice's surprising diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's disease. Alice narrates her downward spiral into the lonely place of Alzhiemer's where cherished memories are stolen and communication skills are lost. Because Alice's situation begins looking very similar to many multitasking, over scheduled, under rested, middle-aged women, this book will make you think twice about the need for your lists and your dependence on the organizational bells and whistles of your smart phone. Is it good use of technology or a crutch keeping a genetic memory thief at bay for just a bit longer?<br />
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Either way, I've got my blogger password and other such important information tucked away safely. Just hoping I can keep remembering where that some place is.<br />
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<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-73514557369883659852013-06-07T07:04:00.001-04:002013-06-07T07:04:57.986-04:00Five Minute Friday<br />
There is a moment right before it when you realize what's coming next. You feel powerless to change the outcome; it is going to happen. Unless... you flail, reach, grab and grasp to stop this thing. Your flailings change the choreography, the steps to the finale. Step-ball-change, step-ball-change, shuffle step, shuffle step, heel, toe, heel, toe, shuffle step, toe catches, aaaaahhh here it comes, knees buckle, hips sway, arms and body join in a desperate arabesque until you find your partner's arms, pulling together into promenade position and your fall becomes a stumble, barely perceptible from the mezzanine.<br />
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Today's<a href="http://lisajobaker.com/2013/06/five-minute-friday-fall/" target="_blank"> FMF</a> word was "Fall".<br />
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<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-13657485608486331522013-05-12T09:27:00.002-04:002013-05-12T18:00:58.495-04:00Happy Mother's Day...And Thank You<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">You might be tiring of my recent fascination with writing about my loved ones using the prompting perspective of "He (or she) is from..." My apologies if this tactic is not speaking to you. But I find it a very inspiring method to pull out the characteristics of a person and display them in an honorary way. I hope you can take one more...and this is one is for my mom.</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7ddZQErfCxM7VyFwlYJIluWonbaUCxRYKGdiDFdvEM1tPfSfZKTtM_RCdHhScp4X7Es9Yj4jP2KOBkZZqRr4jXT8nNXvbEow4mKRoZvW6HTrOIIpi2YqZJ_f1BTXibyUxGNuIVN6ocmr/s1600/Mom&Me001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN7ddZQErfCxM7VyFwlYJIluWonbaUCxRYKGdiDFdvEM1tPfSfZKTtM_RCdHhScp4X7Es9Yj4jP2KOBkZZqRr4jXT8nNXvbEow4mKRoZvW6HTrOIIpi2YqZJ_f1BTXibyUxGNuIVN6ocmr/s640/Mom&Me001.jpg" width="118" /></a><br />
She is from exotic places in my childhood mind.<br />
Baton Rouge, Waco, Memphis, Webster Groves, Frankfurt.<br />
Places where proper ladies wear proper outfits,<br />
say and do proper things.<br />
She is from her mother, my Oma, both cut from fine lady cloth.<br />
She is from decorum and tradition.<br />
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She settled in the ordinary life of wife and mother.<br />
Where she is from, they make extra- out of the ordinary.<br />
She is Clara Barton at Boy Scout Camp.<br />
She is Jackie Kennedy at the PTA helm.<br />
She is Oprah substitute teaching your class.<br />
She is Barbara Streisand singing in the church choir.<br />
She is a Carol Burnett, Erma Bombeck, Lily Tomlin mash-up.<br />
She is Julia Child whipping up fried chicken and Angel Pie.<br />
She is Martha Stewart planning your party.<br />
She is Mother Teresa championing your cause.<br />
<br />
She is from the safest places in my childhood, from laughter and happy tears.<br />
She is from Christmas morning and Barbie Doll birthday cakes.<br />
She is from sewing on patches, hemming it up and ironing it again.<br />
She is from Better Homes & Gardens and Ladies' Home Journal.<br />
<br />
She is from you can do it, even if she didn't.<br />
She is from holding you up before she has her own footing.<br />
She is from a place where personal joy is found in giving to others.<br />
She is from let me help, I'll do it, it will be okay.<br />
She is from a place where she will gladly carry all your burdens so you won't have to.<br />
<br />
<br />
I am from a place where embellishments and praise grow<br />
from deep rooted seeds of truth.<br />
I am from where you don't fully appreciate your mother<br />
Until you wear her apron, pearls and high heels.<br />
Where I come from, you thank your mother for all the work, love and sacrifice<br />
She put into helping you arrive at where you are and continue on to where you are going.<br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day Mom!<br />
<br />
<br />CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-2075316166942779532013-05-10T10:00:00.003-04:002013-05-10T10:17:32.393-04:00FragaliciousToday is the day for Friday Fragments and I have a few.<br />
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<a href="http://www.halfpastkissintime.com/p/friday-fragments.html" target="_blank" title="Half-Past Kissin' Time"><img alt="Half-Past Kissin' Time" src="http://i520.photobucket.com/albums/w323/CarbaraB/Blog%20Graphics/8208e380-8d78-46f6-9fee-b1f11c0a510c_zpsab991844.jpg" style="border: none;" /></a></div>
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First let me say, I love Mrs. 4444's new button for Friday Fragments. It may not be that new as I haven't been fraggin' in quite some time and the button could have been around awhile. But it's new to me today and it made me smile.<br />
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Next on the fragging agenda is that <a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/home.cfm" target="_blank">Bo Weevil</a>'s latest album, "Holding Hands with Grace," which was just released on Tuesday, May 8th, is now available on iTunes for all you Apple product nuts out there. You can read all the lyrics and liner notes by visiting the <a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/holdinghandswithgrace.cfm" target="_blank">Bo Weevil website</a> (for all you people who know what liner notes are and remember what it was like to hold an album in your hands.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLka_YHD5v2sLjji4yfjrxVWR0bTwwbNSYWj3MAnsrTkD-SpaxtEU8Bb4qNakkdhSPZ3tsjl6z72JcIZHMIRHdd1h4wXm-BNR2_unCHv2M_6dgMdiqaPsmV2mLxTmlJgP1A75Hy-CkHCR/s1600/HHWG_Cover_JPG.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLka_YHD5v2sLjji4yfjrxVWR0bTwwbNSYWj3MAnsrTkD-SpaxtEU8Bb4qNakkdhSPZ3tsjl6z72JcIZHMIRHdd1h4wXm-BNR2_unCHv2M_6dgMdiqaPsmV2mLxTmlJgP1A75Hy-CkHCR/s320/HHWG_Cover_JPG.JPG" width="312" /></a></div>
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The entire album is dedicated to Bo's late mother, Pat and our late niece, Anna. The title track is in honor of Anna. Proceeds from the download of the title track will be donated to the Anna Daley Fighting Saint Scholarship Fund created this year in her memory. Read my post <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2013/05/holding-hands-with-grace-one-year-later.html" target="_blank">here</a> for a bit more on the scholarship.<br />
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This is Bo's finest album yet with wonderfully clever lyrics and haunting guitar melodies. It is heartfelt and true and you will be effected by his songs. I promise.<br />
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Continuing to frag on, this week was the highly anticipated 4th grade field trip to Annapolis. You might remember a <a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2010/05/forty-year-old-fourth-grader.html" target="_blank">certain mother going on that field trip with her other 4th grader some years ago</a>. My current 4th grader has been waiting for his turn on this trip since that day back in 2010. And that certain mother has been waiting for her second turn since then too. It was not to be however. We spent our day not learning about <a href="http://www.usna.edu/Chapel/crypt" target="_blank">John Paul Jones' crypt</a> at the Naval Academy or crossing the blustery Chesapeake Bay Bridge in a noisy school bus. Our day was spent quietly snuggled under blankets with small wastebaskets within arm's reach.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDEY_WgJl1I5GXMPa487wPe4O3ntVaAwlR3gZGS_QA0xqyKHZG21vhgpFfPAvyBU9vV50wWl2ArQbEhddtS6qqNqkqjtKcmKUpLDto7BSS3l00PVAvOAlGdvepl6PG94eql0eD1mdewhQ/s1600/0508131253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJDEY_WgJl1I5GXMPa487wPe4O3ntVaAwlR3gZGS_QA0xqyKHZG21vhgpFfPAvyBU9vV50wWl2ArQbEhddtS6qqNqkqjtKcmKUpLDto7BSS3l00PVAvOAlGdvepl6PG94eql0eD1mdewhQ/s320/0508131253.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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There were a few tears of disappointment shed about missing the trip. And the real 4th grader was a bit sad too. But I got to spend a quiet day with both my boys and that is a gift, even if there was vomiting involved. As someone said, "you get what you get and you don't get upset".<br />
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And the final frag, I couldn't leave that last line alone. I had to know who said that. I like quotes and I like to know the source. And now after Googling, I am a bit embarrassed to say that I just quoted from the literary classic "Pinkalicious" by Victoria and Elizabeth Kann.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Pinkalicious-Victoria-Kann/dp/0060776390" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoVXQMCf_9Dmzyvl2XfcFqFI7jdxJjqQvBveYz13wMVzrbk-5ymcoEt27gIr7J83DPwU-AJLweUVi1s-aX0ie666JnKWy3xJAO4PSxBRzT8dFuWQOY0LM4c1CzjsOQc3ljqUWSqpAcwW9/s1600/51+w6l79C8L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU15_.jpg" /></a></div>
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I am sure that this is a fine piece of elementary literature. Being a mother of boys, I do not know for sure. And I typically avoid concocted words that end in "-alicious." Although I am not usually a fan of pink, I must say that Pepto-Bismol a few days ago could have been classified as pinkalicious.</div>
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Next time, I will just frag on rather than digging deeper.</div>
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-84523231275586986142013-05-08T05:52:00.000-04:002013-05-08T05:52:05.503-04:00Holding Hands with Grace, One Year LaterToday marks a full year since we lost our Anna. I have asked many times in the past year, how do we go on? The answer to my question every time has been the same as it is today...we just do with strength and will and with as much grace as we can muster.<br />
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My husband wrote a particular song, "Holding Hands with Grace," during Anna's illness. He had lost his own mother, Pat, to cancer just two weeks before Anna's diagnosis and was grieving her loss. Anna's diagnosis set the world further upside down for us. With Anna's struggle and strength in mind, writing the song was my husband's way of working out the sometimes incomprehensible things in life and laying down that need to understand.<br />
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The song is a comfort to us and our family. My husband was even able to sing it at Anna's family memorial service in Tennessee in June 2012.<br />
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On this anniversary, Bo Weevil (my husband, Anna's uncle) is releasing his latest album titled "Holding Hands with Grace". The album is dedicated to Anna and Pat and the wonderful memories shared with them in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/holdinghandswithgrace.cfm" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJmQWvr6wB2MvXYJ0CEuQoGyTyQv_nE4LmRCc6aJy6IBrZukxBG19I0MFopwKuW6izlDcpBvJKxiNh9dvgLfGfQRpq7gPrfFrwG0JIPvEUbHehLWc_7OgaweE4KL4tamyc0McRgVKhgNk0/s320/HHWG_Cover_JPG.JPG" width="312" /></a></span></div>
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The full album and as well as individual tracks are available for download by clicking<a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/holdinghandswithgrace.cfm" target="_blank"> here </a>or on the image above. The full web address to access is <a href="http://www.bo-weevil.com/holdinghandswithgrace.cfm">http://www.bo-weevil.com/holdinghandswithgrace.cfm</a><br />
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Since HHWG is so strongly connected to Anna, proceeds from the download of the single HHWG will be donated to:</div>
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Anna Daley Fighting Saint Scholarship</div>
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Saint Charles East High School</div>
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St. Charles, Illinois<br />
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This scholarship was established by Anna's parents, Sean and Lisa, to award graduating seniors who exhibit high academic achievement as well as personal qualities of integrity, leadership, community service, spirituality and, in true Anna Daley Fighting Spirit, the ability to transcend life's challenges and to make a positive difference in the lives of others.</div>
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While the 2013 scholarships have already been funded, Anna's mom, Lisa has set forth a challenge to get the 2014 scholarships started with as many downloads today as we can. Let's see how far it goes!<br />
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And to readdress the question, how do we go on? We remember Anna:<br />
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<i>"living a life of love, a joyful look upon your face. 'Cause you're Holding Hands with Grace."</i></div>
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<i> - Bo Weevil</i></div>
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CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692218899232353305.post-55763325096784132192013-05-06T06:33:00.002-04:002013-05-12T07:58:27.312-04:00He is from....His Own Land<div style="text-align: center;">
And into the<a href="http://www.tempoandspeed.com/2013/05/he-is-fromthe-land-of-first.html" target="_blank"> Land of First</a> was born another.</div>
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This new One was not to be Second, for Second would mean another of the same.</div>
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Or another lesser than the First.</div>
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This new One would be Second in chronology only.</div>
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This One would be a sort of his own, a First in his own way.</div>
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And he would take us along on his surefooted trek through the Land of Second to None.</div>
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He arrived and jumped right in lock step to the flow that had begun before him.</div>
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He marched a few steps along with us and then showed us another way to move.</div>
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Easy, relaxed, hopeful, joyous.</div>
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He is from Blanket and Guess How Much I Love You.</div>
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He comes from a place where babies sleep through the night, smile more than cry and<br />
give good kisses.</div>
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He is from the moon and back.</div>
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He is from Mama, I can do it myself.</div>
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He is from creativity and look what I made!</div>
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Where he comes from they ask what if we did this?</div>
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And, want to play the game I made up?</div>
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Where he is from, you go first, I can wait.</div>
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I don't mind, sure I'll share.</div>
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But he does not come from I don't matter.</div>
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He is from a place where giving in is not giving up.</div>
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He is from the endangered and recessive: a natural redhead.</div>
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He is from his Mama's line of gingers,</div>
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his Daddy's line of Scottish eyes of blue.</div>
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He stands out here.</div>
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He is from his Daddy's musical heart.</div>
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He is from melody and tone and rhythm.</div>
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He is from singing along and dancing around.<br />
Where he comes from they play it by ear.<br />
He is from harmony.</div>
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He is from the place where things come easily</div>
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But he understands when to work hard.</div>
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He is from keep your eye on the ball and wait for the right pitch.</div>
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He is from good sport, good game, good game, good game, good game....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dBNTdvf5KOO3AQ9pJ0lkNtqs06cmJnxmo4uduu7WYAttc8ZirdYRFPYSSuYtNozoBHBvRWECk57M2-3rFJj-Hgv8sg8AGzRHve3YZUe3Z8DUWj6TdJxXVPCYcyD8SPzj2UApYn3Tsjtf/s1600/baseball-9350web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5dBNTdvf5KOO3AQ9pJ0lkNtqs06cmJnxmo4uduu7WYAttc8ZirdYRFPYSSuYtNozoBHBvRWECk57M2-3rFJj-Hgv8sg8AGzRHve3YZUe3Z8DUWj6TdJxXVPCYcyD8SPzj2UApYn3Tsjtf/s320/baseball-9350web.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
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He is from books and more books and words and stories.</div>
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He is from read to me, let me read to you.</div>
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And let's read it again.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhST5Gn50QYzmH6b0TTlRrEfXa50MFRshLTBjlLK9XYfLam9KtxAaUA3MLy1Ky9Y59QR7bmm0zm3xqwcGauCOXL6uiSLHgtFauuJTyCJwYquDQgsBj_qNkP0xt1n7l3vcQOW_NFTU55D8e4/s1600/2011_06Reading-2215web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhST5Gn50QYzmH6b0TTlRrEfXa50MFRshLTBjlLK9XYfLam9KtxAaUA3MLy1Ky9Y59QR7bmm0zm3xqwcGauCOXL6uiSLHgtFauuJTyCJwYquDQgsBj_qNkP0xt1n7l3vcQOW_NFTU55D8e4/s320/2011_06Reading-2215web.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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He is from comic genius, word play and quick wit.</div>
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Where he comes from laughter spills all over everything and smiles are free.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDE9rdr0aq8vyZIV0jEErcdmIxx4rNe8flU9gr_7GahW0xNlau_OoP3LIq5mXh_NDoV2sMRw97l6k0xP13a16we_CJo0eIBvjlYt5BxtQG1aKAcIN9TfkUaI52U3PznV3YsPYPZe5UuwpN/s1600/2012_10Halloween-5854web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDE9rdr0aq8vyZIV0jEErcdmIxx4rNe8flU9gr_7GahW0xNlau_OoP3LIq5mXh_NDoV2sMRw97l6k0xP13a16we_CJo0eIBvjlYt5BxtQG1aKAcIN9TfkUaI52U3PznV3YsPYPZe5UuwpN/s320/2012_10Halloween-5854web.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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He is from a place I want to go.</div>
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He is from ease and peace</div>
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He takes you there when you need reminding</div>
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That is the place where you come from too.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-SUsQ7JSXlghyphenhyphen5m8WgY_wi_54WJLBlAT1Pz9Z9ANNdpJgl0UpRl8AsdTkKt32HxvtUx4WsOZe8SFUAhVpz5ru-Erqa7mv4ImZyEk0GUvdeAqF7GQur0vaXvcvsvBhLdcpysHKGBhtbzF/s1600/2013_05-BBDay-6954web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-SUsQ7JSXlghyphenhyphen5m8WgY_wi_54WJLBlAT1Pz9Z9ANNdpJgl0UpRl8AsdTkKt32HxvtUx4WsOZe8SFUAhVpz5ru-Erqa7mv4ImZyEk0GUvdeAqF7GQur0vaXvcvsvBhLdcpysHKGBhtbzF/s320/2013_05-BBDay-6954web.jpg" width="279" /></a></div>
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Happy Birthday, King of Second to None!</div>
CDScotthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12409899728174942297noreply@blogger.com6