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Let This Thanksgiving Be A Time Of Healing - Back To The Fold

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I was 75% into a non-traditional, yet festive Thanksgiving Day blog when the words just stopped. It was light and frivolous and very likely to show up one day soon. But it didn’t fit my mood. Originally I wasn’t going to do one at all. People are busy today. Plus there is really nothing new under the sun about the holiday. We know the origins. We are all extremely grateful for our blessings. We live an abundant and wonderful life all things considered. But something kept nagging in the back of my brain. So I decided to just relax a minute and see what else came through my turkey and pumpkin pie haze. So for the next few minutes, without too much filter or editing, I’m going to just speak (aka type) from my heart. Thanksgiving (and the holiday season in general) is about family. Friends. Gathering and Celebration. We all put on our best and fresh faces and garments. Pull the finest china and goblets from the back of the hutch. Light the candles. We look around at the happy fac

Treat Me Like A Dog….(Does)

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I will be the first to admit that I am not a big dog (or cat for that matter) person. I am not anti-dog, just have never invested the time, money and energy into raising one. However, I know plenty of people who adore their four-legged furry friends. They are considered part of the family. And I take no issue with that. In fact with the more modern view of canine co-habitation some of the traditional expressions seem dog-gone mean. "Sick As A Dog"…"Going To The Dogs"…"He’s A Dog". And while that last one in particular is meant to be an insult, I would like to suggest we evaluate exactly what it would mean if "He" or "She", behaved more like a DOG.  I believe we might all have better relationships if we took our cues from the canine variety. Let’s Take A Look They Are Extremely Loyal – This marks the highest and most valuable trait.  Dogs are with you no matter what. Bad hair days all the way to bad everything days. The good
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I am writing this on the evening of my 52 nd birthday; sitting on the dark porch of a rustic mountain cabin listening to the beautiful sound of a rushing creek literally feet away. This is a perfect spot to celebrate the victory of another year well lived and the promise of a new one dawning. As I have driven around these mountains this weekend with all their twists and turns and passed trees of magnificent color my heart is full. I am richly blessed and abundantly thankful. And as I pause here on this secluded spot hidden from my noisy and sometimes complicated world, I want to talk a minute about acceptance . When I look up acceptance in the thesaurus, the three words that speak to me the most are: Approval, Recognition and Permission. All three of these combined embody the sentiment that I am fully aware and give myself the permission and green light to own these personal discoveries. That is actually quite a liberating accomplishment. Very few days go by where I am

Come Sail Away

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This was meant for Columbus Day, but I missed the mark just a bit. (Yes, the pun was intended.) Hopefully it will still resonate with the Explorers of Life out there. I love the following quote. It inspires me because it speaks of bravery, adventure and even my favorite….Hope! If the highest aim of the captain were to preserve his ship, he would keep it forever in the port. Becoming the Captain of a ship is a high honor. The title is not bestowed lightly or achieved with ease; but earned through a demanding and rigorous process. There is also great responsibility as he (or she) is tasked with all aspects of operation; the seaworthiness of the craft, navigation, the crew. This ship is the visible evidence of all their hard work and a source of great pride. The very last thing a Captain would want is to see any harm befall the treasure he has been charged with. But this magnificent vessel with swabbed decks and polished brass cannot just float grandly in the safety

Speed Dating Or Speed Trap (It Is About Time )

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I recently missed an opportunity to go to a Speed Dating Event. And by missed, I mean, I chose not to go. Not because of lack of interest. I have been curious about it for years. The Greased Lightning of Love.  I am just not sure how well I would do. I am a wallflower, watching the room from the corner kind-of-girl.  At these events, they don’t put the tables in the corner. You have to jump right in at a break neck pace and bring your A Game. Whatever alphabet my game has typically works at a snail’s pace. (Can we all say Over-Thinker?) The origins of speed dating, in a very interesting piece of trivia, traces back to 1998 when a Los Angeles Rabbi trademarked the term and the concept as a way for Jewish people to meet and marry. Seriously... I would not make this up. (Just sit on that information for a minute.)  Now, I absolutely am not an expert in Jewish traditions, culture or dating habits, but I find it extremely fascinating that a Rabbi came up with the original In-Perso

Serial Daters (Silly Rabbit, Two Scoops of Magically Delicious Chaos)

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As a single girl I have learned over the years that we all have different relationship goals. Some want to get married. Some want a steady romance, but not ready for marriage. Others actually like being single and the ‘goal’ is to stay that way. And then there are those, whom by choice or mental instability go the route of the serial dater. A serial dater is defined as one who dates and/or has multiple partners. A revolving door, if you will, of playmates and activities. They enjoy the variety.  No pressure to focus on just one person.  It has even been referred to as a “healthy option to avoid obsession”.  Yeah, that’s a stretch for me, but nice try. There are those that believe it decreases boredom while increasing amusement. However that usually comes at someone’s expense. And speaking of expense, it is not the path to take if you are on a tight budget. Going out several times a week can put a huge dent in your pocket. Serial dating can also take on different forms. It

The Morning After

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I will admit that this is not the entry that I had originally planned to post. The one last week leaned more on the serious side, so I wanted something lighthearted and frivolous. I did not realize as I was preparing a new one that yesterday was the 15 th Anniversary of 9/11. And in reality, my first attempt was in fact just that, frivolous and trivial. It just did not feel like the right way to go.  Now I do not claim to have a better way to retell anything about the tragedy that unfolded. I have no new information. Nor do I ever have any intention of using this blog, or any of my writings, to post anything political in nature. That being said, I do have some thoughts that I want to share with you. I want to talk about The Morning After. The moment a tragedy or adversity strikes in our world there is a rush of adrenaline. And even shock. In those initial minutes or even hours our minds are blank and our emotional equilibrium is off. We need time to process the events.

The Scope of Things (To See or Not To See)

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Imagine, if you will, two rooms at the end of a hallway. (Let me guess, there is a horror movie that starts this way.) There is only one object in each room. One holds a microscope and the other a telescope. Can you guess which room I would like for you to go into?  Actually I want you to step into each of them. Different reasons/hopefully different outcomes. Let’s start with the Microscope Room. The purpose of the microscope is to detect and investigate objects invisible to the human eye. It is used with great success for detecting maladies or inconsistencies that if caught in time can be fixed, cured or eradicated. Tiny slivers are encased in slides and viewed and logged with great care. When I first started jotting down ideas for this entry, my initial thought was to suggest avoiding this room altogether. That would have been ill advised. It is true, however; that so many of us, especially women, spend way too much time in this room already. But for all the wrong re

With Friends Like These......

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So I mentioned at the end of my last post (I know, it was so long ago you probably forgot), that I was thinking of changing the name of my blog. Well, as you can see, I went with Hope Boulevard. I am “hoping” that it will embody the direction that I am trying to go. And I could not think of a better first entry for this new direction. This past weekend I spent three days/nights on the coast with some of the best people around. We are all members of a Meet Up Group – 40-50 Year Old Singles. We rented a house on Folly Beach. All 16 of us! It is not the first time the group has taken a trip like this, but it is the first time I have been able to go. I will admit I was a little nervous.  Some of the people I have known from the first minute I joined the group. Others, including my roomie, I had never met before. I am a bit on the introverted side; not always comfortable in groups. I wasn’t exactly sure how I would fit in the mix. But I was excited too and ready to make some

Grand Theft Auto (Who Needs a Rehearsal Dinner)

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All is Fair in Love and War and Divorce. I have shared with you the story of meeting (and parting ways with) my first husband. It is only fitting, I suppose, to do the same with Husband #2, Russ. (The problem now is I will have to remarry and divorce again in order to make this a running series.) I would also like to make a disclaimer. Russ passed away over a decade ago. We had already divorced, but it was still a sad time and a tragic set of events. I would never want or set out to speak ill of someone who has already passed on. This is the story of one event that took place on the eve of our wedding. I have also checked the Statute of Limitations in the State of Virginia, so we should be all set. Russ was one of the kindest and most generous men I have ever met. He was always helping someone, in more ways than I can recount. He was also always being taken advantage of. I met Russ when I was 22; which made him 20. We were both living in Virginia and working at