tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27566964473777756332024-03-05T21:32:50.990-08:00{good but hard}Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.comBlogger1115125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-14843872584707032262017-06-19T17:06:00.000-07:002017-06-19T17:11:23.131-07:00"I Cannot Even Smile Here"<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">"I spent my boyhood behind the barbed wire fences </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">of American internment camps...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">We were American citizens. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">We were incarcerated by our American government </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">in American internment camps </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">here in the United States. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-style: italic;">The term 'Japanese internment camp' is both grammatically and factually incorrect...</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-style: italic;">A</span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-style: italic;">nd it seems to me important for a country, </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-style: italic;">for a nation to certainly know about its glorious achievements </span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-style: italic;">but also to know where its ideals failed, in order to keep that from happening again.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-style: italic;">" George Takei</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday our family visited Manzanar, the internment camp which incarcerated over 10,000 Japanese and Japanese-Americans during WWII. Neither Matt nor I remember learning about the internment camps as children, despite the fact that over 120,000 people nationwide were sent to them during the war, and we thought it was a good age for our girls to see and experience this part of our nation's history. Plus we had never visited Manzanar ourselves. </span><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">We explained to them that we need to study </span><i style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">all</i><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> the parts of our history, so that we can act with bravery and equity and learn from the mistakes of our ancestors. Manzanar --and the imprisonment of Americans and immigrants of Japanese ancestry --was one of those mistakes. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">In preparation, I got both of the girls some internment related books: </span><u style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bracelet-Yoshiko-Uchida/dp/069811390X" target="_blank">The Bracelet</a></u><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> and </span><u style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1880000199/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_dp_T1_Gidszb3R24DR3" target="_blank">Baseball Saved Us</a></u><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> for Ruby (which she was already familiar with thanks to her first grade teacher), </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1250104149/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_dp_T1_YjdszbB734EB6" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Paper Wishes</a><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> and </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/158246345X/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_dp_T1_Bjdszb2E9Y645" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Sylvia and Aki</a><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"> for Monrovia. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtQpOrTz_gVqdoc552veeWDm2LMSIvtBerwkZL1kdlzHwGKxqhS74xgtfebTSeWQAMsZUoxXodkHfJrKl2p4ulT36xIgVZnGwH51fHoAlTjaJ4g6wmdddSPRRsbyiuf-5uvPmKVE7ugE/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="205" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtQpOrTz_gVqdoc552veeWDm2LMSIvtBerwkZL1kdlzHwGKxqhS74xgtfebTSeWQAMsZUoxXodkHfJrKl2p4ulT36xIgVZnGwH51fHoAlTjaJ4g6wmdddSPRRsbyiuf-5uvPmKVE7ugE/s200/download.jpg" width="166" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIQuTPa_cKKSnlJbYX0lHiZkQcrOmUxfwcJva_XNe1fWf3JEBg6D6ftg32FY_HPADwAyhaiXhjEbHRd03U1d1HbFOU9AE975CXGNdFFXfbT-16tD8JN4PDtkK4axK7ZCjnIC61Ie1aFc/s1600/61-dEXqKjLL._SY393_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="395" data-original-width="499" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuIQuTPa_cKKSnlJbYX0lHiZkQcrOmUxfwcJva_XNe1fWf3JEBg6D6ftg32FY_HPADwAyhaiXhjEbHRd03U1d1HbFOU9AE975CXGNdFFXfbT-16tD8JN4PDtkK4axK7ZCjnIC61Ie1aFc/s200/61-dEXqKjLL._SY393_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">(A quick primer on internment camps:) </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span></span><span style="background-color: white;">Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor December 7, 1941, led the United States into World War II and radically changed the lives of 120,000 men, women, and children of Japanese ancestry living in the United States. The attack intensified racial prejudices and led to fear of potential sabotage and espionage by Japanese Americans among some in the government, military, news media, and public. In February, 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt signed Executive Order 9066 authorizing the Secretary of War to establish Military Areas and to remove from those areas anyone who might threaten the war effort. Without due process, the government gave everyone of Japanese ancestry living on the West Coast only days to decide what to do with their houses, farms, businesses, and other possessions. Most families sold their belongings at a significant loss. Some rented their properties to neighbors. Others left possessions with friends or religious groups. Some abandoned their property. They did not know where they were going or for how long. Each family was assigned an identification number and loaded into cars, buses, trucks, and trains, taking only what they could carry. Japanese Americans were transported under military guard to 17 temporary assembly centers located at racetracks, fairgrounds, and similar facilities in Washington, Oregon, California, and Arizona. Then they were moved to one of 10 hastily built relocation centers." (<a href="https://www.nps.gov/manz/learn/historyculture/japanese-americans-at-manzanar.htm" target="_blank">National Park Service</a>)</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Manzanar was one of those ten camps. Described (<a href="http://newsroom.ucla.edu/stories/debate-over-words-to-describe-japanese-american-incarceration-lingers" target="_blank">and those descriptors debated</a>) over the years as Japanese internment camps, war relocation centers, American concentration camps, they were surrounded by barbed wire, guard towers and armed by military police. Despite the fact that their "relocation" was described as a way to protect them, one prisoner asked, </span><span style="background-color: white;">“If we were put there for our protection, why were the guns at the guard towers </span><a href="http://www.archives.gov/education/lessons/japanese-relocation" style="background-color: white; transition: all 0.25s ease-in;" target="_blank"><span style="color: black;">pointed inward</span></a><span style="background-color: white;">, instead of outward?” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TitilliumRegular, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We got out of the car with the sun beating down on us. The wind and heat were unrelenting, and even for the few minutes that we were outside the girls were complaining about both. Manzanar is in the harsh desert climate, so in the winter the temperatures are below freezing and in summer the temperatures go above 100, with wind constantly blowing sand and dust all year long. I couldn't imagine being housed in the flimsy wooden barracks in such extreme temperatures, especially with small children.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the remaining guard towers, eight of which surrounded the perimeter of the camp.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The entrance to Manzanar, which was guarded by military police as well as an internal police force.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The camp was surrounded by barbed wire.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The structures are long gone, but this land once held tons of buildings, including (ironically) a factory to produce camouflage nets for the war effort, a post office, a newspaper, a town hall, a hospital, churches, Buddhist temples, mess halls, and barracks for ten thousand people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Ruby working on answering questions to become a Junior Ranger (since Manzanar is run by the National Park Service.)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5z_HMVbpRrWU3ERRi05fGqCtBLfyu9vtGwlVWnUKfus3xzIWzhm2OYzt9vjFN_El94tJz2zRQcd_WVcKpHHfTldSRqzpzXsrwl9rpxBr2ieWL6PM4Y6-e4OD420RWdH9HjME9CuBB3U/s640/blogger-image--1141887171.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK5z_HMVbpRrWU3ERRi05fGqCtBLfyu9vtGwlVWnUKfus3xzIWzhm2OYzt9vjFN_El94tJz2zRQcd_WVcKpHHfTldSRqzpzXsrwl9rpxBr2ieWL6PM4Y6-e4OD420RWdH9HjME9CuBB3U/s640/blogger-image--1141887171.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">"Make sure that something like this never happens again to anybody." ~Kay Sakai Nakao</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfF1dfsnt0ZfI4LnNtZk1FR3jLM0voB3mRRi1-F1H2UE_0cD3ZxK5zpcUOijsjKrTP_U0zonZFAUJFcGv6AAoZP7pQ2u_7SjraJYUuUW66vG9hhl1dgSe3RKCzcJs8JPD4vfZkvawNXc/s640/blogger-image-1815722788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpfF1dfsnt0ZfI4LnNtZk1FR3jLM0voB3mRRi1-F1H2UE_0cD3ZxK5zpcUOijsjKrTP_U0zonZFAUJFcGv6AAoZP7pQ2u_7SjraJYUuUW66vG9hhl1dgSe3RKCzcJs8JPD4vfZkvawNXc/s640/blogger-image-1815722788.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Looking at the model for Manzanar when all of the structures were intact and it was an operating facility.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There is something so powerful about the photographic image; it leaves no room for pretending that we have always been just and loving and inclusive of the other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEyDOrm2o1usjhzewatNzwanMpeZ-x0rbUgagO4y2AF0-CDHDG1yqtjtX9qKC3OZFeDfMXw_i5f48GuSoD7dJWVcu4yIPiYDvCGtYCqjUNlAWWqYIbox6gEJGFii4bZMOeEX0UhLKriA/s640/blogger-image--1449721572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSEyDOrm2o1usjhzewatNzwanMpeZ-x0rbUgagO4y2AF0-CDHDG1yqtjtX9qKC3OZFeDfMXw_i5f48GuSoD7dJWVcu4yIPiYDvCGtYCqjUNlAWWqYIbox6gEJGFii4bZMOeEX0UhLKriA/s640/blogger-image--1449721572.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnFL3wf5tHHJu7-GtikUvtneW15rqJdOfv4P0exJG9f8nIn3FojVVPlbAN7gtThsfGtk1hHxJDfXLG4z6TKH0ZrPzkV5U7OUoePSs41w6O3f5bkpZW2fWw0AHJk-H0Z8KVPcl2FTDNsE/s640/blogger-image-188018684.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNnFL3wf5tHHJu7-GtikUvtneW15rqJdOfv4P0exJG9f8nIn3FojVVPlbAN7gtThsfGtk1hHxJDfXLG4z6TKH0ZrPzkV5U7OUoePSs41w6O3f5bkpZW2fWw0AHJk-H0Z8KVPcl2FTDNsE/s640/blogger-image-188018684.jpg" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">All ages were imprisoned, and with little notice were only able to bring two bags of belongings, and only that which they could carry:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38DAnR2RoZV3CoUpcV9gSzX-pZF_JqSVQohpmIqFKUvGmZqtt-kP4e34Lpey09bj68LqwGFHW_pTYewdbvMlhWoYbEVKQusjWoUapj6__2oomwdNrpRRSn1Q_oC-MoN1s7Bmb_WTVo_w/s640/blogger-image-1100495379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj38DAnR2RoZV3CoUpcV9gSzX-pZF_JqSVQohpmIqFKUvGmZqtt-kP4e34Lpey09bj68LqwGFHW_pTYewdbvMlhWoYbEVKQusjWoUapj6__2oomwdNrpRRSn1Q_oC-MoN1s7Bmb_WTVo_w/s640/blogger-image-1100495379.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9doo0yYpCICz1S5875MCHK31y6qt34dTDW3X-KY2NICl8uDo5CCGs2DBYG6vZnIKZrzKMs7c9vzLVTT8FDiItn_IEgcePbTrOWjm6Yb-MaBWg9V3TL9pY8h7DdD0uVjripnrN0cJTsY/s640/blogger-image--1823145365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL9doo0yYpCICz1S5875MCHK31y6qt34dTDW3X-KY2NICl8uDo5CCGs2DBYG6vZnIKZrzKMs7c9vzLVTT8FDiItn_IEgcePbTrOWjm6Yb-MaBWg9V3TL9pY8h7DdD0uVjripnrN0cJTsY/s640/blogger-image--1823145365.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuyI60DvlZBXXKDxf-a5Ol0uXYiDWjPIogjtKrOj2XWGf8571nFnsvX9OJlt9DeBAzBrE5a59XirV5Sdk3DMYd-lGv9hDxsx9yoWfrgOxBQYJuTKEUXSwP5Mc7udKGlZokeoy2A3sy6jE/s640/blogger-image--62719648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuyI60DvlZBXXKDxf-a5Ol0uXYiDWjPIogjtKrOj2XWGf8571nFnsvX9OJlt9DeBAzBrE5a59XirV5Sdk3DMYd-lGv9hDxsx9yoWfrgOxBQYJuTKEUXSwP5Mc7udKGlZokeoy2A3sy6jE/s640/blogger-image--62719648.jpg" /></a></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOil297iSfT950bp-5saVNg81IQ0f2tsa0BFg9fbuxgUT58sKYLYTlEqFCZQ5ucRkCh9ZjFahTN3Sw1_ZgiFqWOtAZ0mCLtDuSgYnfVDIZhketz3VkUH5trw3gVhe8dd3JLIlo2goPZRw/s640/blogger-image-425270893.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOil297iSfT950bp-5saVNg81IQ0f2tsa0BFg9fbuxgUT58sKYLYTlEqFCZQ5ucRkCh9ZjFahTN3Sw1_ZgiFqWOtAZ0mCLtDuSgYnfVDIZhketz3VkUH5trw3gVhe8dd3JLIlo2goPZRw/s640/blogger-image-425270893.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Monrovia drawing a picture of what toy she would have brought to Manzanar. Those imprisoned set up a toy lending library so that children could have toys.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7m3r6vt-72wECpvTMQqfeKTC_K-trSxuX0xylg4Gzgp6_fjh1s0KdmnbjAeBR0bFyz2zTz3wbJwHxMNt_Qze6Pm4t1X4wZ7gZmAoJY1ABANIfE8gnUpUm3XzJtiNPIBjxkkjZ75wkiN4/s640/blogger-image--211088131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7m3r6vt-72wECpvTMQqfeKTC_K-trSxuX0xylg4Gzgp6_fjh1s0KdmnbjAeBR0bFyz2zTz3wbJwHxMNt_Qze6Pm4t1X4wZ7gZmAoJY1ABANIfE8gnUpUm3XzJtiNPIBjxkkjZ75wkiN4/s640/blogger-image--211088131.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Profound quotes that resound just as loudly today, as we consider as a nation who to wall out and who to ban.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWosdcntMG0VpC6ByojsXboxukRinAH5NfhZxRqWPgkRrSMx4Zz08LZpYR2ps5PMbsWoHZbaK6au1r4xDNMhfZvGNximrOBuFHlwmjbpuxUY-8SVeNOzhSCy_XXEmyQ6ZS6t8Bt1ryjS4/s640/blogger-image--446463905.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWosdcntMG0VpC6ByojsXboxukRinAH5NfhZxRqWPgkRrSMx4Zz08LZpYR2ps5PMbsWoHZbaK6au1r4xDNMhfZvGNximrOBuFHlwmjbpuxUY-8SVeNOzhSCy_XXEmyQ6ZS6t8Bt1ryjS4/s640/blogger-image--446463905.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Imagine this valley filled with 504 of these barracks:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFH1b1M2VwZzA3NQwI_UvDu7nUEZ5JrxeLJ3g5d3HcuJZqKekdVf7OfYeoAv1n9237AxLsB1ERFGcmIcMoG9nPVOTSsKuFfGvg68WZ-LHcLwJ06UDVlvzPhwQxjYFNaJ3N__RwGG-I-mk/s640/blogger-image--983937336.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFH1b1M2VwZzA3NQwI_UvDu7nUEZ5JrxeLJ3g5d3HcuJZqKekdVf7OfYeoAv1n9237AxLsB1ERFGcmIcMoG9nPVOTSsKuFfGvg68WZ-LHcLwJ06UDVlvzPhwQxjYFNaJ3N__RwGG-I-mk/s640/blogger-image--983937336.jpg" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #555555;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">Building 14, Block 1: By September 1942 more than 10,000 Japanese Americans were crowded into 504 barracks organized into 36 blocks. There was little or no privacy in the barracks—and not much outside. The 200 to 400 people living in each block, consisting of 14 barracks each divided into four rooms, shared men’s and women’s toilets and showers, a laundry room, and a mess hall. </span></i></span></div>
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<i style="color: #555555;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: xx-small;">Any combination of eight individuals was allotted a 20-by-25-foot room. An oil stove, a single hanging light bulb, cots, blankets, and mattresses filled with straw were the only furnishings provided.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Multiple families would have been house in this room, their spaces divided by a hanging blanket.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheT_swQ8Gc9fnmUQUzDgTKBrvMxAtMjecEpiKEHSW0Bkg5f8GJz5IYSIQh2WcSt1XrJvP-Tv49ziDmaL_YbKu-STaIVG03CCvhGsIg-pa0uKolDvJSrcfZWZTdUPwY7c6NinsPKxfVrs/s640/blogger-image--1750208282.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhheT_swQ8Gc9fnmUQUzDgTKBrvMxAtMjecEpiKEHSW0Bkg5f8GJz5IYSIQh2WcSt1XrJvP-Tv49ziDmaL_YbKu-STaIVG03CCvhGsIg-pa0uKolDvJSrcfZWZTdUPwY7c6NinsPKxfVrs/s640/blogger-image--1750208282.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A basketball court outside of one of the barracks:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNjkGe4zc7WfCJQuPGoERm6OoMwaGKY_chcld5dYh_wKUXky7DtoBsFFQZBlMvDn6EZZZwYHEzjDOKOaV-dyfzwWwG7owx6ZvOBdJfjj6GFuUFE1Y2fhKCAUGiUh_43E-UoNxlFjIPgE/s640/blogger-image-657496601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNjkGe4zc7WfCJQuPGoERm6OoMwaGKY_chcld5dYh_wKUXky7DtoBsFFQZBlMvDn6EZZZwYHEzjDOKOaV-dyfzwWwG7owx6ZvOBdJfjj6GFuUFE1Y2fhKCAUGiUh_43E-UoNxlFjIPgE/s640/blogger-image-657496601.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As we left, Monrovia said to me, "Mom. This place is terrible. I cannot even smile here." She was very upset that the buildings had not been left as they were for people to see and experience and learn from. Her best friend at school is Japanese American, and she kept thinking about how if we had lived during World War II, that Natalie and her family would have been sent to an internment camp, just because of her ethnicity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">At the edge of the camp's property lies a memorial and cemetery. Almost 150 people died during their time at Manzanar, and some cremated remains are buried here.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The monument’s Japanese Kanji characters read, “Soul Consoling Tower.”</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">America works really well for some of us, and once we work our way into that portion of the population for which it works well, we tend to want to exclude some other population whom we are afraid will hurt us or take away our jobs or in some way diminish our quality of life. We have done this for hundreds of years, and our collective memory of prejudice and injustice is often very short.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">There were acts of resistance to the internment at Manzanar: some locals resisted by asking to come be teachers at the camp school. Others refused to sign the military's loyalty pledge and were sent to another camp at Tule Lake. Some went on strike after military police shot and killed a couple of men protesting at the camp.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To me the acts of resistance that were most striking as an artist were the proactive and ongoing choices among those prisoners to cultivate beauty and celebrate their Japanese culture despite the fact that they were imprisoned solely because of their ethnicity: creating peaceful Japanese gardens and ponds in a harsh desert climate, holding cultural events, incorporating their own recipes into the food served at mess halls, making art and music that spoke to their heritage within the reality of their internment camp experience. Resistance through making. Resistance through resilience. Resistance through growing new plants. Resistance through beauty.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Today we can honor this part of our past by speaking and acting against fear that makes entire populations into the other. We can resist movement by our government to demonize and blame certain groups. We can love, learn from and speak up for those who are seen as being such a threat that we must build a wall to keep them out or write executive orders to ban them. We can resist by visiting places like Manzanar to remember who we were then, and who we should be now.</span><br />
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-85029764043305798472016-08-29T12:24:00.001-07:002016-08-29T12:36:29.718-07:00monrovia's tips for teaching a student with hearing losslast summer, monrovia had the idea to make a video for her new teacher explaining in her own words what would most help her succeed in the classroom when it came to hearing loss. she planned out everything she wanted to say, and we sent it to her new teacher before school started. (<a href="http://goodbuthard.blogspot.com/2015/08/a-short-course-on-hearing-loss-in.html" target="_blank">you can watch that video here</a>)<br />
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this summer we agreed it would be good to do it again, so she came up with all of her ideas about what she wanted to say in the video and we made a second one for her new third grade teacher. of course she is 8 years old, so the way she explains things isn't necessarily the way <i>i</i> would, but it's her project, her words, and her hearing loss, so i tried to get out of the way and not micromanage! (she also has a deaf teacher who goes in to train her teachers and troubleshoot weekly, and i make a binder for her teacher with hearing loss strategies and resources, so these three minutes in the words of an 8 year old are only an intro to her hearing loss!)<br />
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it's pretty interesting to hear what she wants her teachers to understand. (of course it makes sense, but i never knew it was easier for her if she stood in the front of the line!) we sent this to the principal the week before school started, and he sent it to any staff working with monrovia. grateful to be at a full inclusion school, and for our daughter to be in an environment where she feels confident enough to share this video with her teachers!</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/UdLP-cT9isE/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UdLP-cT9isE?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-11823932614566310122016-08-29T12:04:00.001-07:002016-08-29T12:32:04.904-07:00and just like that, back to school<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
how is it the end of summer???? we had such a good summer. a really, really good summer. i am always incredibly thankful that one of the perks of matt's job is that he gets four weeks of vacation, and that he can take them in the summer. since i am self-employed i can shape my schedule as needed. while neither of our jobs rake in the big bucks, we are gifted with flexibility and time, which means in the summer months we get quality time together as a family. (the only challenge is finding ways to take inexpensive vacations!) this year it felt like the summer raced by, and suddenly last monday it was time to go back to school!</div>
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back to school = bittersweet</div>
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i love having time with my girls, and the older they get the faster the time seems to whoosh! i also love working in my studio and working on freelance projects, and even with camps and activities for the kids in the summer it is nearly impossible for me to get much done with them home on vacation. </div>
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back to school = the morning hustle to get the girls out of bed, dressed, fed, lunches made and in backpacks, shoes on, jackets on, in the car, through the traffic, parked, and up the hill by the time the bell rings. not my favorite time of day, and i need to lean into being a more patient, loving parent in the process of getting my kids out of the house. somehow i expect my small humans to be perfect little morning robots and.....they are not. somehow they hope that i will not yell at them to get out of the house (because for the love we do this 5 days a week all year long!) but.....i do.</div>
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anyway, lucky for all of us there was no yelling the first day of school, and i even got my crap together enough to take pictures of my little babies before they headed off to new classes!</div>
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ruby, my big first grader</div>
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monrovia, somehow now a third grader</div>
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how can they drive me crazy and simultaneously reduce me to tears thanks to their first day of school cuteness? i don't even know. <span style="text-align: left;">this year both girls are with seasoned, structured, warm teachers, and have at least one friend in class. i always get so ridiculously stressed out about what classroom they are going to be in, and each year they do just fine. people, what is wrong with me!? </span></div>
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up the hill!</div>
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(every. single. morning. drama walking up this hill. you guys - it's not that steep! it's not that long! and yet every day the whining and the complaining! you'd think it was everest.)</div>
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back to school = back to seeing favorite friends every day! i can't believe ruby is in first grade. my baby is not-so-much-a-baby anymore. </div>
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back to school = worktime for mama! hooray! so back to my studio, friends!</div>
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update: we are knee deep into new school year transition over here. god bless every single teacher because i only have two kids at my house and by the end of the week they were a hot mess! i can't imagine a classroom full of these tired kiddos. </div>
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we've had tears, friend drama, recess drama, half-eaten lunches, mama talking in a loud-frustrated voice (ok, yelling) to get out the door, kids crawling into our bed in the middle of the night because who knows why but something about school, happy friend reunions, so many big feelings, new schedules and lots of morning coffee. </div>
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and inevitably if i just ask what they did today at school, "eh, i don't know. nothing."</div>
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here's to the bittersweet! to the exhaustion of parenting! to the roller coaster of raising children, and sending them out into the heartbreaking and beautiful world of friendship and learning! here's to going back to school all over again through your children's eyes! here's to getting to school on time!</div>
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-42417128952156587772016-08-11T19:58:00.002-07:002016-08-11T19:58:55.387-07:00love & other stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
earlier this summer i got tagged by two of my friends in the post-yourself-with-your-spouse-for-seven-days challenge that was going around on facebook.</div>
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(look at those babies!)</div>
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i didn't do it until now because<br />
a. i'm not really good at keeping up with 7 days of posting anything (ahem, see this blog)<br />
b. i have many friends who aren't married or together with someone, and for some this is a choice; but for others? not so much. they are amazing human beings who haven't found their person yet but want to. so i felt conflicted about posting pda photos for a week straight.<br />
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that said, i do think it's good to celebrate healthy relationships, and i don't say enough how thankful i am for matt. so i'm going to write on here, just once, instead. with lots of pictures.<br />
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first, real talk: this year is our 14th wedding anniversary and wow! has life thrown us curveballs we never could have expected, as life tends to do. then there is the usual marriage stuff: we are really different humans. if you give us the same task it is likely that we will approach it in opposite ways. we fight, we correct each other, we apologize, we laugh, we learn new things about each other, we cry, we yell too loudly (ok that's just me), we fail each other, we retell the same stories & listen to the same stories, we forget why we were so mad at each other, we remember why we fell in love in the first place, we say things regret, we stay silent, we need time alone, we need time together, we dance, we have drinks in the backyard and talk late into the night, we cook, we micromanage, we mess up, we celebrate, we do errands and go on trips and go to work and parent and clean the house and get gas and fold laundry and feed the chickens and get the girls to school and get them back home again and....live a whole life together. there are things that drive me crazy about my husband, and i'm guessing the list of things i do that annoy him is at least twice that long.<br />
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BUT. it's good. it's so so good.<br />
together figuring it all out is GOOD.<br />
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some things i love about being married to matt:<br />
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his faith practice informs everything in his life & our relationship - from the people he spends time with, to how quickly he admits that he is wrong, to the way he appreciates beauty, to the time he takes to be still, pray & listen. it also makes him incredibly others-focused....which honestly can be frustrating when i'm wanting to hunker down and not care about anyone else but myself! i'm inspired to work towards the common good and not just what benefits me. he is humble and willing to learn from others. i learn from his rhythm of self-care that fuels him to then care for others. i also learn from the way he listens before acting or speaking. he creates sacred space - at funerals, baptisms and weddings, at the bedside of someone dying, sitting with someone in grief - and he holds and honors those moments that are often rushed through, even in our christian faith tradition.<br />
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he's authentic & has integrity, and he's the same person behind closed doors that he is in the public sphere.<br />
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he's a crazy good dad. thoughtful, gentle, patient, and creative. he's made vocational & financial sacrifices to prioritize time with our children, which can be challenging when we live in such a city where the cost of living is astronomical. he has real conversations with our kids about what they are thinking about, and who they are becoming. he loves our girls in their uniqueness, and he celebrates who they are. he sits and listens to them. he plays with them. we co-parent not in theory but in reality; he juggles a ton of work and life to be present for our family. he makes me such a better mom & balances me out (and hopefully i do the same for him.)<br />
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matt's a really hard worker. he's seriously so efficient. i mean we both suffer from the inability to create realistic to-do lists, but somehow he knocks out SO MUCH work in a day.<br />
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paint two rooms, clean the entire backyard, wash all the floors, do 5 loads of laundry and then run over to help a friend on a house project on a saturday afternoon? no problem.<br />
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unlike me, he doesn't make a big deal about how much work he's doing. he doesn't need credit (um- i totally need credit and lots of compliments along the way), and he freely offers to help others.<br />
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<span style="text-align: start;">it takes me an hour to wash the amount of dishes he can do in 15 minutes (which is one reason in our old-no-dishwasher-house, <i>he</i> is our dishwasher & does 90% of the dishes!) </span></div>
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he celebrates and learns about things i care about. so for example, not only has he learned all about bono, but he knows a ton about art. he reads about it, looks at it, thinks about it, talks to our kids about it, talks to other artists, writes about it, asks me questions about it.</div>
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he makes life so fun. </div>
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ruby has inherited this gift, and this facial expression is exactly matt in 6 year old girl form:</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">he works out with me! he's always up to support me whether it's running, walking, yoga, hiit, tabata, weights...he'll do whatever i'm doing (yep, i'm talking about <i>you</i> jillian michaels dvds) or he'll make sure i have time to go solo. i remember years ago when we were dating, how he would run the lake with me, and slow down to my pace (about 3 minutes a mile slower than his) without saying a word.</span><br />
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(i'm not kidding this day we almost died thanks to the humidity)</div>
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he poses for pictures with me. even though it is so far from his favorite thing! i keep telling him he'll be glad when we are 80.</div>
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he takes alone time to recharge, which really makes our relationship so much better. (it took me awhile to figure that one out but it's true.)<br />
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he loves and invests in other people's kids, not just our own. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dRg4uKomvtJWzxvIQp-68bdcwAu3d9FBkRa_iebFkV237zd17NYlvuuKQnaCqeqpb1FOLywyjTUVjjaWlCTN70MFtOBpPyqXgyDRexhViAwlc-1a2p6hyphenhyphen2egXuRKE-BRoYYAx4cjq5A/s1600/IMG_8023.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dRg4uKomvtJWzxvIQp-68bdcwAu3d9FBkRa_iebFkV237zd17NYlvuuKQnaCqeqpb1FOLywyjTUVjjaWlCTN70MFtOBpPyqXgyDRexhViAwlc-1a2p6hyphenhyphen2egXuRKE-BRoYYAx4cjq5A/s400/IMG_8023.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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also: that he can eat at chez panisse and a taco truck in the same day, his gardening skills which somehow make me look like a gardener too even though all i can handle are succulents, his love of punk rock and hip hop, that he turns our backyard into an obstacle course whenever kids come over, his kitchen skills, his archaic flip phone, that he watches tv with me every tuesday night so i can get my fix, that he buys me 73 little presents for every holiday because i love gifts, that he makes me better cocktails than i can buy anywhere in oakland, that he almost always drives because i'd rather not</div>
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and that he's always and forever coming up with ideas on how to make the world a wholer, more beautiful and grace-filled place to live for everyone no matter who they are.</div>
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so there you go. </div>
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we're married and </div>
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i like my husband most of the time and love him all of the time.</div>
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-58551920053379836662016-08-04T08:49:00.003-07:002016-08-04T08:49:43.820-07:00nothing like a coat of paint<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
we did a few projects this summer to freshen things up around our house, and i am realizing that we are turning our house into a box of crayons.</div>
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first up? the girls' room. it's been pale purple since we moved in and painted it monrovia's favorite color 6 years ago, so it was time to repaint in ruby's favorite color!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zj__FbjoruRtxkPAhV4oLA1R00xvUZ5TVON76F9p048egmtlizfbBU2BsUbQZ9uLJv3Dc5PzSVOsrEW5S8F5dSIDO5MW3jvxSjhqjmmcJDWDTTX4tnxrSe7JjSZgSqDciU3YCLH-gSk/s1600/IMG_5273.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zj__FbjoruRtxkPAhV4oLA1R00xvUZ5TVON76F9p048egmtlizfbBU2BsUbQZ9uLJv3Dc5PzSVOsrEW5S8F5dSIDO5MW3jvxSjhqjmmcJDWDTTX4tnxrSe7JjSZgSqDciU3YCLH-gSk/s400/IMG_5273.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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yellow!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Q-VwiyyGW3c4MrKbFwFbdkc-FxbWrGcMIhDMJg8zoK0MbjEdwkVA6q4oTVCAH9i2OxT2UvGOYfBkofs0-Ds6CjdGM9HfdqMue5Qj41LJm3e-DP1-rS2sPX-LMb5gOprC44t83VMZkeE/s1600/IMG_5292.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Q-VwiyyGW3c4MrKbFwFbdkc-FxbWrGcMIhDMJg8zoK0MbjEdwkVA6q4oTVCAH9i2OxT2UvGOYfBkofs0-Ds6CjdGM9HfdqMue5Qj41LJm3e-DP1-rS2sPX-LMb5gOprC44t83VMZkeE/s400/IMG_5292.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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bright & clean!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5OOHiRd_kBd1Zmp78BMCC7wtc6qOpieiFY59dT2S4eZiPCSyGpMYGcXJGTBXVJSWX7GmeoMpRSiNUMC6DT5QksTOi0-3ai4j9z6nA5NRHM0CW4XwPq4VwlFjWtTWQ39NffN3MD5psOE4/s1600/IMG_5301.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5OOHiRd_kBd1Zmp78BMCC7wtc6qOpieiFY59dT2S4eZiPCSyGpMYGcXJGTBXVJSWX7GmeoMpRSiNUMC6DT5QksTOi0-3ai4j9z6nA5NRHM0CW4XwPq4VwlFjWtTWQ39NffN3MD5psOE4/s400/IMG_5301.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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meanwhile, we needed to paint and finish our back doors- the stucco has been driving me crazy.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OZs2J7wdX5lx95cDQyAsxjtevLOO8__gXxb53j-PEc_p6_s8MzVN7W9ViwHcqH53QtKl4Q52_edafH-mDQqoiGhFtJ1j-tH_dsZU2vCOfKelqgET97ky12XEf5GAJiEqp_DAcgi7Na4/s1600/IMG_0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-OZs2J7wdX5lx95cDQyAsxjtevLOO8__gXxb53j-PEc_p6_s8MzVN7W9ViwHcqH53QtKl4Q52_edafH-mDQqoiGhFtJ1j-tH_dsZU2vCOfKelqgET97ky12XEf5GAJiEqp_DAcgi7Na4/s400/IMG_0008.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihntER7Xi4QJvz3100I-TKt0m_0I8Me9pHLWPgJ75Y6WzGwemnVNfqsMDNo5-i6n3yyRxoX8pAZcGb039Vg6Ax8psoCwslKGJtmyp-sSOtlynj58PEGDIn_DLdfSYv-qljJ8nZTSKofF8/s1600/IMG_0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihntER7Xi4QJvz3100I-TKt0m_0I8Me9pHLWPgJ75Y6WzGwemnVNfqsMDNo5-i6n3yyRxoX8pAZcGb039Vg6Ax8psoCwslKGJtmyp-sSOtlynj58PEGDIn_DLdfSYv-qljJ8nZTSKofF8/s400/IMG_0009.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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since we painted a few years ago the area we painted is now lighter and flatter, so we will probably have to paint our entire back wall, but for now it's sooooooo much better!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9jajUCszql6rJztmkr0_FmlqepRA6AdP4lIIt0ycyJ_ffUEpzuwSM7fPVYyfPV8NaRGZI68HqZ1THZs_b0AGIWteijy3rG5fG4zxN39gH3sT54JjTiFybu0KhukQTzz0o3Wn1NQVZd8/s1600/IMG_7500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT9jajUCszql6rJztmkr0_FmlqepRA6AdP4lIIt0ycyJ_ffUEpzuwSM7fPVYyfPV8NaRGZI68HqZ1THZs_b0AGIWteijy3rG5fG4zxN39gH3sT54JjTiFybu0KhukQTzz0o3Wn1NQVZd8/s400/IMG_7500.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
i wanted an acid chartreuse color on our doors, which is kind of crazy and totally not historically appropriate for our home, but i super loved how it turned out!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeA3v95cONCncWM0FdqJevLL2g3B3cWVnOw08JnoSmtzEL-EUcHhpRr0LI9VPkkId91i4C76DHiVoI0exLt5Ly_QjCCUsWvMv-Z1bD3y9_7esT8YuIj6CRlm_XJ0fDqX0StLZkQ4rYpZw/s1600/IMG_7672.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeA3v95cONCncWM0FdqJevLL2g3B3cWVnOw08JnoSmtzEL-EUcHhpRr0LI9VPkkId91i4C76DHiVoI0exLt5Ly_QjCCUsWvMv-Z1bD3y9_7esT8YuIj6CRlm_XJ0fDqX0StLZkQ4rYpZw/s400/IMG_7672.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-18722646128865141562016-07-11T10:35:00.003-07:002016-07-11T11:38:39.713-07:00the best moments<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkIPK9e_5DnA21ONXG8AEWRDMkw52qn7gCAbVbTZjjxnwC-ylC__8i_CYMVNHf2ULnek7ZFN53LpVW2JD3NSDBwzZGzFknfcSaQ_DaWXe7f47rzjS9hbrOkHkhocdsUERdeGKTUjKPVzA/s1600/IMG_0425.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkIPK9e_5DnA21ONXG8AEWRDMkw52qn7gCAbVbTZjjxnwC-ylC__8i_CYMVNHf2ULnek7ZFN53LpVW2JD3NSDBwzZGzFknfcSaQ_DaWXe7f47rzjS9hbrOkHkhocdsUERdeGKTUjKPVzA/s640/IMG_0425.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
the best moments are the ones like this.<br />
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having a hard day today; feeling like i am treading emotional water or just at a standstill in some parts of my life- so i am thinking back to this walk last week with my ruby. little words - none of which i remember now- and constant rain, and the sweetness of being with my daughter.<br />
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do you file those moments away for the days you need them? i try to, because when i am in a rough patch (even if it is a very brief patch) i need glimmers of goodness to remind me of all the redemption and beauty and wholeness that exists in my life. i am in a bit of a downward spiral this morning, and i am letting interactions with people in my life have more power than i should.<br />
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days like this i need to<br />
move<br />
pray<br />
remember that i am a lover and prone to all the big feelings<br />
hope in the promise of relational healing<br />
bake<br />
create<br />
make lists of points of joy<br />
spend some time with people who know and love me<br />
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what do you do when you feel stuck or sad or overwhelmed?Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-12412634424594712222016-07-02T19:43:00.002-07:002016-07-02T19:43:30.065-07:00happy july!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
happy july!</div>
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we are on family vacation</div>
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+</div>
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thankfully</div>
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feeling a million miles away from life at home.</div>
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hello from my little munchkins to you</div>
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-34559879359108362082016-07-02T19:34:00.002-07:002016-07-02T19:34:30.401-07:00(happy oh happy)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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today is my mom's birthday!</div>
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if you know her, and many of you do, you know that my mom is a pretty special woman.</div>
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of course she is not perfect (in fact, she'd be the first the declare that...in her self-deprecating way she might say that a little too quickly), but she is a great mom. i still learn from watching her; one of the things she keeps modeling for me is that no matter how old you are, it's important to be open to what those around you may be teaching you. </div>
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my firstborn is a <i>lot</i> like i was at her age, and so as her parent, i realize some of what my mom was dealing with when she was raising me. i get these flashes of deja vu when my girls --especially #1-- say or do something and it's because i am recalling interactions i had with my mom when i was my girls' ages. parenting forces me to now love my children because my own mom loved chatty, creative, opinionated, headstrong, often complaining me. plus my parents had FOUR of us, all very unique and needing different expressions of love. it's no joke this parenting gig! i am usually struggling through the finish line of each day with just two kids! </div>
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my mom is still quick to tell me ways that she failed or fell short as a parent, and of course there are ways she could have been a better mom. there are about 40 ways every single day i could be a better mom too, but her willingness to own that makes it easier for me to do the same with my daughters in the moment. </div>
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i've always loved the painter mary cassatt. (i could write an entire post about that, but for now suffice it to say she was a woman artist in a world of male artists.) her tender portraits of mothers and her children capture such throwaway moments- the kind that just last for a minute or two but that are the bedrock of a relationship. now we have phones full of snapshots and selfies of these moments, but when she was painting, she was depicting sacred feminine spaces that were rarely the subjects of fine art. this past june i went to the met in new york, and loved this painting of cassatt's:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Co0jPlkvKKrpacDowEGkqTaToCudmyDmswMoT258f2EDgAMLR-InJR5DUUA3X7LTNzQScXq6euMEE76uWnRYsR-lIbmyNL6Y69gNHRvhh1Fs_K7WddtFM1qxUg8gHmwRF4DXCFboMXc/s1600/IMG_3245.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Co0jPlkvKKrpacDowEGkqTaToCudmyDmswMoT258f2EDgAMLR-InJR5DUUA3X7LTNzQScXq6euMEE76uWnRYsR-lIbmyNL6Y69gNHRvhh1Fs_K7WddtFM1qxUg8gHmwRF4DXCFboMXc/s640/IMG_3245.jpg" width="516" /></a></div>
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it reminds me of my mom, and how i used to climb up on her lap to snuggle or be comforted, how my own children now do the same, and how even as an adult my mom is a safe place for me. </div>
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so on her birthday i say </div>
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<i>thank you, mom for letting me put my small hand in yours</i></div>
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<i>for letting my climb up on your lap</i></div>
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<i>for teaching me how to have faith when all seems like darkness</i></div>
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<i>for showing me what it means to love well</i></div>
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i hope we celebrate (at least) 30 more of your birthdays! </div>
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-61125603559600106492016-06-16T16:16:00.001-07:002016-06-16T16:16:28.311-07:00summer workin'<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTVvLw9mSAWBpLMEvIrpnyEMpb4Nqdh7uqAhe69FP_8z9gWQo3mIYR1bUg_ghxtBOm2uP3BRpXRyTp70BRwcEFdxFolfln_98ka2e9Da2yMQh1dN2tecVzz2wGCgXbyB6ImBBV2Jpxgk/s640/blogger-image-622514112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihTVvLw9mSAWBpLMEvIrpnyEMpb4Nqdh7uqAhe69FP_8z9gWQo3mIYR1bUg_ghxtBOm2uP3BRpXRyTp70BRwcEFdxFolfln_98ka2e9Da2yMQh1dN2tecVzz2wGCgXbyB6ImBBV2Jpxgk/s640/blogger-image-622514112.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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happy summer!</div>
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i am still in lovely (although super cold and windy) tahoe,</div>
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and enjoying a respite from the daily grind at home.</div>
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(how incredible is this view?)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAvQFI8meFsYgRwSWF-vSuHFjd7VDZdCzuYnD_C_2H77DMGroAvzA5q86HdhynMLO5XTlf7XNpZ5X0gLCUuWFhBbX1Zi0XROv0SfOOLp18YrEjgpPkV96IXkpDSeizJxkdmWJcmx94Xo/s1600/IMG_4633.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmAvQFI8meFsYgRwSWF-vSuHFjd7VDZdCzuYnD_C_2H77DMGroAvzA5q86HdhynMLO5XTlf7XNpZ5X0gLCUuWFhBbX1Zi0XROv0SfOOLp18YrEjgpPkV96IXkpDSeizJxkdmWJcmx94Xo/s640/IMG_4633.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="text-align: center;">i'm also hustling to knock some new illustrations and sketches out for a monday morning deadline.</span><br />
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thankful for matt and the way he takes over parenting/meals/play and planning so that i can work (even on vacation!)</div>
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i think it's kind of funny that without fail, every single summer, within a day of leaving my house on vacation? a freelance deadline comes up. instead of lounging by the lake i am lounging by my laptop in the main lodge, trying to get enough of a wifi connection to email my new design ideas. it's inevitable, but as a freelancer i don't really have a choice. if i want more work i have to say yes. </div>
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somehow the pressure makes me more productive, and i've scrambled the last couple of days to come up with a bunch of ideas, "scanned" them by taking pictures of them with my phone, tried to tidy them up and correct correct as much as i could on my phone and just finished emailing them off. the fact that it is pretty chilly out and that we haven't been able to get in the water or stay for very long at the beach has made working this week a little easier.</div>
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i try to only spend part of the day working, or work when matt and the girls are resting or reading so that we still get a healthy dose of family time.</div>
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now? back to my family and the windy beach and no more staring at a screen!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43CCzxDC2TSmGE32nVQrxeu2FZLD48ghih-Hk_IMazBVlD9z0y-B5WnQSvWQES6_AB004245HA5Y94hFgnXefbaBGezEgtGhPs3SerYIqwDRb7_95T6YMSqsF7UXLt_C3i28YphV5GHQ/s1600/IMG_4651.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43CCzxDC2TSmGE32nVQrxeu2FZLD48ghih-Hk_IMazBVlD9z0y-B5WnQSvWQES6_AB004245HA5Y94hFgnXefbaBGezEgtGhPs3SerYIqwDRb7_95T6YMSqsF7UXLt_C3i28YphV5GHQ/s640/IMG_4651.jpg" width="474" /></a></div>
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hope your day - whether you're working or playing - is a good one!</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-43189348896415262132016-06-14T10:28:00.006-07:002016-06-14T10:28:53.781-07:00sacred spaceon vacation.<br />
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matt reading mary oliver poems to ruby<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNIXNTa_UCIgapAG9THh_6KNhH7O7r-ku-HzfPn1Brnv_LPtHduCzDvdW_pk36Hk6u1IU6hFNRnraBNiQoyPnsY8EWaZQgRo2792h_lG84vIfXPlw6C4zDkrDdjFOZ_lFdLRekk50hwU/s640/blogger-image-745314339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYNIXNTa_UCIgapAG9THh_6KNhH7O7r-ku-HzfPn1Brnv_LPtHduCzDvdW_pk36Hk6u1IU6hFNRnraBNiQoyPnsY8EWaZQgRo2792h_lG84vIfXPlw6C4zDkrDdjFOZ_lFdLRekk50hwU/s640/blogger-image-745314339.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
climbing on the rocks for hours<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUwbA_fLuFBeknJvxA5iPU6TdJgIZvgI5DPKid5w-m9dN8LTw-rjkQxxeBVFZX5Dmq92ItgwhgxOeQl8Vs2f3FkC6zte4QOV0gnQHP-q8Cm-Yjsuvn5R0PUTBDpO-4673xrA_NCR6t90/s640/blogger-image--454381224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqUwbA_fLuFBeknJvxA5iPU6TdJgIZvgI5DPKid5w-m9dN8LTw-rjkQxxeBVFZX5Dmq92ItgwhgxOeQl8Vs2f3FkC6zte4QOV0gnQHP-q8Cm-Yjsuvn5R0PUTBDpO-4673xrA_NCR6t90/s640/blogger-image--454381224.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
quiet moments with my girls on the beach<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAww0DaZriqNCAZGCu-EBEjgEFdA8UrkSYkNvcaPpy36QPTtRD3jHpID1_sn4fjQWybkWA7kaZQZQPkXr5gOktfind_We_rtpF2psD7xBvQOx9NBciv0xdQDzhnphhVWSMGEy5mkdLV6M/s640/blogger-image--807847845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAww0DaZriqNCAZGCu-EBEjgEFdA8UrkSYkNvcaPpy36QPTtRD3jHpID1_sn4fjQWybkWA7kaZQZQPkXr5gOktfind_We_rtpF2psD7xBvQOx9NBciv0xdQDzhnphhVWSMGEy5mkdLV6M/s640/blogger-image--807847845.jpg" /></a></div>
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watching the ever-shifting sky</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAww0DaZriqNCAZGCu-EBEjgEFdA8UrkSYkNvcaPpy36QPTtRD3jHpID1_sn4fjQWybkWA7kaZQZQPkXr5gOktfind_We_rtpF2psD7xBvQOx9NBciv0xdQDzhnphhVWSMGEy5mkdLV6M/s640/blogger-image--807847845.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CyNe2JWqgALF8u02zJ0gDrsaIj8bbfBOAabSninMIfhbc4O0ZVxe-oLYGrDqilzuvttuSHyRykhZ8HaOJuL7OrWOt6ZIrZRk0ZeWog8nnCq_wuTYTIN7F_WfWaok3uTr6upcH19gvvE/s640/blogger-image--384653201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CyNe2JWqgALF8u02zJ0gDrsaIj8bbfBOAabSninMIfhbc4O0ZVxe-oLYGrDqilzuvttuSHyRykhZ8HaOJuL7OrWOt6ZIrZRk0ZeWog8nnCq_wuTYTIN7F_WfWaok3uTr6upcH19gvvE/s640/blogger-image--384653201.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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dusk in the water</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CyNe2JWqgALF8u02zJ0gDrsaIj8bbfBOAabSninMIfhbc4O0ZVxe-oLYGrDqilzuvttuSHyRykhZ8HaOJuL7OrWOt6ZIrZRk0ZeWog8nnCq_wuTYTIN7F_WfWaok3uTr6upcH19gvvE/s640/blogger-image--384653201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcFz5WBgktlVTvkeFw1vkP6jH2p36idXke0oYQcxMeaQkW550jtvtLzea0eXwuTxW6xYA93GQUvmw33ynpuAwtu5FMqAs1_ZZqeLsQ9dYAPCkeblISad_8_8rocl_T5Q7NN0aqbVDw58/s640/blogger-image--110661795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcFz5WBgktlVTvkeFw1vkP6jH2p36idXke0oYQcxMeaQkW550jtvtLzea0eXwuTxW6xYA93GQUvmw33ynpuAwtu5FMqAs1_ZZqeLsQ9dYAPCkeblISad_8_8rocl_T5Q7NN0aqbVDw58/s640/blogger-image--110661795.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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sitting on the deck</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjcFz5WBgktlVTvkeFw1vkP6jH2p36idXke0oYQcxMeaQkW550jtvtLzea0eXwuTxW6xYA93GQUvmw33ynpuAwtu5FMqAs1_ZZqeLsQ9dYAPCkeblISad_8_8rocl_T5Q7NN0aqbVDw58/s640/blogger-image--110661795.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAPeIIQvtCeuy-LCLtzdQfvwLOz4lh349GXFQ0qFpWWn8pdWVLBYURRNbObvP-iMLf8MfhLZ_6OJsnnMoRR1Q03bZ5x0Z7_duwPwvqA_xFcJ5LRPg698NXuiq6Sihan2tSvKafgv6yvk/s640/blogger-image--1764930697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIAPeIIQvtCeuy-LCLtzdQfvwLOz4lh349GXFQ0qFpWWn8pdWVLBYURRNbObvP-iMLf8MfhLZ_6OJsnnMoRR1Q03bZ5x0Z7_duwPwvqA_xFcJ5LRPg698NXuiq6Sihan2tSvKafgv6yvk/s640/blogger-image--1764930697.jpg" /></a></div>
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the older i get the more it feels that the seemingly throwaway moments are the most sacred and profound ones, the ones that get etched deep into your body's memory so that even if you forget them specifically they are written on your being somewhere? </div>
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they become a part of you.</div>
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i think so.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-49508503991528719632016-06-14T10:10:00.002-07:002016-06-14T10:10:35.492-07:00who am i and what am i doing? (the vocational version)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHmSgfTpPXU5bcl2SXQXelsOuI4nEgFSadmau2OE3Cxw8nheQXPA-X5CWyoElDAHWCHbQz8vBogMihN_2TpFWjgZKrtX_N-0eKbx6jYPGvrqkjDRx6amghcCNSzQG98CIjsYN4JmUFQ0/s1600/2015-09-15_1442337071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijHmSgfTpPXU5bcl2SXQXelsOuI4nEgFSadmau2OE3Cxw8nheQXPA-X5CWyoElDAHWCHbQz8vBogMihN_2TpFWjgZKrtX_N-0eKbx6jYPGvrqkjDRx6amghcCNSzQG98CIjsYN4JmUFQ0/s640/2015-09-15_1442337071.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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(in my studio)</div>
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this friday we drove up to tahoe for our annual week of vacation. it was a quick turnaround, with school ending just the day before, but once we got on the road i was so grateful to be heading away from our regular grind. we always drive through davis, which is about an hour from oakland, and the town where my undergrad alma mater uc davis is. (matt graduated from davis too, although no - i wasn't a child bride; we didn't get married for another six years...but that's another story.) we pulled off the freeway there to grab some lunch, and the traffic was backed up way onto the offramp. then as we inched our way to the light every lane was at a standstill. why was there so much traffic mid-day in davis of all places? could it be graduation? so early in june? i grabbed my phone and did a quick search and sure enough, it was graduation weekend. </div>
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not a big deal...except.</div>
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i graduated from uc davis too.</div>
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in 1996.</div>
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yes, as in 20 years ago!?!</div>
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graduation doesn't feel like yesterday, but it doesn't feel like twenty years either. despite the fact that i have been posting about time racing by (it is), i am totally content with my life and what it looks like. that said, about a week ago i got a text from a friend saying, "i told my husband i think i'm having a midlife crisis. do you think that's possible?!" mid-life crisis is my middle name, so of course i said, "yes, totally possible. you probably are. me too!" </div>
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here is the thing. i have now been out of college for 20 freaking years. </div>
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i've been out of graduate school for nine! </div>
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that's a lot of time, and i only have ONE life, </div>
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so reflecting on twenty years, </div>
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reflecting on nine years, </div>
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reflecting on how i am using my time can be sobering. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZOsBg4DC5dQiEDoCBnZD_-qgr5WU_gGrF_I5U5ADBgWgknZvjzxrfMduGSVCIUAGdWXRjQg8Q0COEaHkk7B7wqhQBkQQQazPfaFhQ9leMIYh_Fm6tJsRwDfIHqeMO66Y2zmQFwHZw1A/s640/blogger-image-530879184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4ZOsBg4DC5dQiEDoCBnZD_-qgr5WU_gGrF_I5U5ADBgWgknZvjzxrfMduGSVCIUAGdWXRjQg8Q0COEaHkk7B7wqhQBkQQQazPfaFhQ9leMIYh_Fm6tJsRwDfIHqeMO66Y2zmQFwHZw1A/s640/blogger-image-530879184.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(detail of work in progress)</td></tr>
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this school year (september until last week) is the most time i've had to work since my children were born eight years ago. before monrovia was born matt & i talked about how we wanted to handle childcare and our jobs. we decided at that time that as much as was possible that we would try to be with our kids before they went to school full-time. as an artist and illustrator, and with the flexibility of matt working with our congregation, we figured we would be able to be the primary caregivers for our kids even though it meant significantly less income for us, and we knew it would affect my own professional progress. (sidebar: this is a privilege and a luxury that many aren't able to do. others wouldn't choose this route, and that's fine too. for us it was a good choice.)</div>
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when we found out monrovia was deaf and that she would be starting school almost immediately as a baby, we had to reassess what that was going to look like, because it was different than we anticipated. when she was a baby, she went in a pack and play in my studio. when i drove her an hour away to deaf school i brought my freelance deadlines with me and worked on a couch at the school. when she slept at night, i stayed up late working sometimes until 2, 3 and 4 am. matt shifted his schedule around so that he could volunteer at our preschool co-op or take monrovia to appointments. this routine continued when ruby came into the picture. </div>
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workable, yes. a small season in the long journey of life, yes. ideal for cranking out lots of work and making huge strides in my career? not really. but worth it? still yes.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQR7HysVs4pvrH3x1jh9LRDv5VguMpLIzO5cRGPYpY1eR_LM3SoeiXmj0zzpfeddH1aa7mY8kKuVHDPMo852JX2ABxiVy-6H0vL5ot_CVlOaXMe714RdA2Gy4BXO_M51fOgdJj69UnJg/s640/blogger-image--1029262579.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtQR7HysVs4pvrH3x1jh9LRDv5VguMpLIzO5cRGPYpY1eR_LM3SoeiXmj0zzpfeddH1aa7mY8kKuVHDPMo852JX2ABxiVy-6H0vL5ot_CVlOaXMe714RdA2Gy4BXO_M51fOgdJj69UnJg/s640/blogger-image--1029262579.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(detail of painting, <i>whitewashed</i>, 2016)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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some of the conflicts and the loves of in no particular order: </div>
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i love painting. i love making illustrations. and yes, i love being a mom. </div>
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<br /></div>
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and yet.</div>
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for so many years these loves have waged a certain war against each other for my limited time. </div>
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<br /></div>
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i don't have a regular job with a boss and co-workers and annual reviews. </div>
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<br /></div>
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i have me. in the studio. </div>
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<br /></div>
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trying to decide where and how to allot my time: </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>how many hours to my paintings? how many hours to my illustrations? </i></div>
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<i>should i lean in to my fine art studio practice? </i></div>
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<i>or put more energy into my commercial/freelance work?</i></div>
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<i>should i divide <a href="http://www.susannahprinz.com/home/" target="_blank">my website</a> into two separate sites? or keep it as one?</i></div>
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<i>should i start working on that book project i've been wanting to do, </i></div>
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<i>or is that just one more project that stretches me thin?</i></div>
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<i>should i be more savvy when it comes to social media? </i></div>
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<i>when do i leave the studio to go on field trips? </i></div>
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<i>or help out when the teacher is desperate for a volunteer? </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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then throw in the question</div>
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<i>is my work even good enough for me to be still pursuing it </i></div>
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<i>or should i move into some kind of more stable job with benefits & structure?</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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but what would i do?</div>
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what else would i even want to do?</div>
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<br /></div>
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i still face a blank page or blank canvas and wonder...</div>
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<i>is what i am going to fill you with worth being made?</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JKMEObdTYbZuBsm1v2dHOAgxEwdxgCh_t-FfOSekJPYJeEqvdQ78de5F3p5eIjd-1z3tWysOo_Ahs0jTx5KtJ-y5NM8YldPIEULHX4ZLhAlc9aEBD1ymX5nGYu2gkuRRpHUwSsSRpzg/s1600/2015-10-14_1444852463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-JKMEObdTYbZuBsm1v2dHOAgxEwdxgCh_t-FfOSekJPYJeEqvdQ78de5F3p5eIjd-1z3tWysOo_Ahs0jTx5KtJ-y5NM8YldPIEULHX4ZLhAlc9aEBD1ymX5nGYu2gkuRRpHUwSsSRpzg/s640/2015-10-14_1444852463.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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bottom line: what do i have to show for 20 years out of undergrad? i'm supposedly mid-career but i'm not mid-career. i don't regret the choices matt and i made so that i'd be mostly home with our girls, but i see how it's affected my professional accomplishments, and sometimes i feel lame about it. i still have a lot of fear and insecurity about the work i make- both my paintings and illustrations. and they feel so very different. they are both a part of me, but to look at them at face value they look unrelated and random. </div>
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<br /></div>
so a few weeks ago i went away for a couple of days to think, plan, be still, draw, think about all of these questions that rattle around in my brain and fill me with doubt. a couple of full days with no distractions, no kids, no housework, no school drop off or pick up for the girls, no wifi.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj56MmVfR3V_rqYq8OVGCbPzsfYkrxcPtiH4m9TXAUJGoU5xvxP62RIkz9kryCd3LNy6D7sU6CgQIeSjwtbKJKfZNyeWsjW7vKyNeBIKBZ1Rc8lrlGIu3xg2KUEIlqPHDC1BIUGFBiDzE/s640/blogger-image-1173464956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj56MmVfR3V_rqYq8OVGCbPzsfYkrxcPtiH4m9TXAUJGoU5xvxP62RIkz9kryCd3LNy6D7sU6CgQIeSjwtbKJKfZNyeWsjW7vKyNeBIKBZ1Rc8lrlGIu3xg2KUEIlqPHDC1BIUGFBiDzE/s640/blogger-image-1173464956.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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i spent hours writing and thinking about where to put my time, and how to divide up my energy. </div>
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do i pour my time into this?</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBx0obmG3OEqk0JL9JrhbKHoLfjjvI4c8oH91thKrriq2ak7Juc_7B4ZpkLUABmzHr85aNl9yGa97ZO3FOu6aFTynHf6xicaybPqweeFPkqsCUvmjsHQKbb2b9OHfzug9rFT2XU2lHODs/s1600/IMG_3246.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBx0obmG3OEqk0JL9JrhbKHoLfjjvI4c8oH91thKrriq2ak7Juc_7B4ZpkLUABmzHr85aNl9yGa97ZO3FOu6aFTynHf6xicaybPqweeFPkqsCUvmjsHQKbb2b9OHfzug9rFT2XU2lHODs/s640/IMG_3246.jpg" width="520" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(work in progress)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
or this?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZKwMXNLdC1XQfAZfoHUqnxkLJEBNf16aPbJT6y9Sa8JJlIwkQtOL6DcXth5Cx84aVGoFaVQzmpQAXiWAUWduDmNB8xI-S123DK6Klu0bTZd-IzfRlV5GUVAENa-qcUX-eHJ6vDFjx-U/s1600/IMG_3257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6ZKwMXNLdC1XQfAZfoHUqnxkLJEBNf16aPbJT6y9Sa8JJlIwkQtOL6DcXth5Cx84aVGoFaVQzmpQAXiWAUWduDmNB8xI-S123DK6Klu0bTZd-IzfRlV5GUVAENa-qcUX-eHJ6vDFjx-U/s640/IMG_3257.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(the bottom three cards- all my designs- happened to be lined up in a local store)</td></tr>
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in the end i decided something really revolutionary and profound, and it was this:</div>
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<i>WHATEVER.</i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>whatever</i>, as in...i am both of these things and all of these things and i make paintings and greeting cards and illustrations and i am a mom who takes longer to get things done in my studio because i am also raising two human beings. so <i>whatever</i>! to the voices in my head that say that blurring the lines and spilling over and failing and trying again and working in slow motion and across genres is a negative thing. <i>whatever</i> to my preconceived ideas of where i should be at 41 years old. </div>
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when it comes down to it, i think that <a href="http://goodbuthard.blogspot.com/2016/05/who-am-i-and-what-am-i-doing.html" target="_blank">the very same way i have to reframe my self talk with my body and health</a> i have to rethink my inner dialogue about making, how i see success, the reality of what my expectations are professionally. first and foremost i have to stop comparing my life's work to other artists & illustrators, because their story is not mine. and that's a good thing. i am working on owning the conflicting loves of my life to see them as a strength rather than a deficiency.</div>
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i came home from my personal retreat with more than just <i>whatever. </i>i looked carefully at my current commitments, accomplishments for the last year, ideal projects i'd want to do and came up with some specific goals; i am reworking my website, starting the book project i've been wanting to do, expanding my illustration work, finishing a series of paintings, and spending time looking at how much i can actually volunteer with the girls' school. </div>
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<br /></div>
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so whatever to our imagined and real critics. let's kick them to the curb, shall we? </div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>and your homework...tell me: are there voices in your head that make you question yourself or compare your life's trajectory to others? maybe it isn't professionally. maybe your personal life- friends, relationship status, whether you have kids or not- looks different than you expected or hoped. how do you combat your insecurity or doubt? </i></div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-13333311338738573642016-06-12T19:19:00.001-07:002016-06-13T08:59:08.790-07:00lord have mercya year ago this week, we were in lake tahoe on vacation. i opened up facebook at some point and saw the news about dylan roof's horrific shooting in a charlestown, south carolina church, killing nine.<br />
<br />
today, again on vacation in tahoe, i happened to check in on facebook and my feed was full of terrible news: of the mass shooting in orlando last night.<br />
<br />
a year later another slaughter of lives.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
i have a heavy heart tonight as i think of the families of those wounded and killed. grieving for the hate that leads some to kill. weary of the broken parts of our world.<br />
<br />
most of you know that i come from the christian faith tradition, and to live and move in that faith means to believe that somehow and somewhere god is at work to bring healing in even the most devastating, ugliest places.<br />
<br />
it also means to believe when it feels impossible to believe; our actions as human beings against each other, often in the name of god, cause so much damage and breakage.<br />
<br />
but when impenetrable darkness surrounds as it does now-<br />
in the massacre of 50 sacred human lives-<br />
before any hope or goodness can be named<br />
before god can be seen<br />
there is a lament.<br />
<br />
a deep and holy lament that cries out<br />
why?<br />
how long?<br />
where are you?<br />
how can this be?<br />
<br />
many times when i've been at a loss for words </div>
<div>
or<br />
when i don't understand<br />
before i have the strength & wisdom to act<br />
all i can do is pray<br />
the ancient prayer<br />
<i>lord have mercy. </i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>lord have mercy.</i></div>
<div>
hear our prayer.<br />
move us to act for goodness, justice & mercy.<br />
<i>lord have mercy.</i><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-59944645936635670102016-06-12T11:33:00.001-07:002016-06-13T08:43:36.432-07:00yep, i did whole30 & survived!<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://goodbuthard.blogspot.com/2016/05/who-am-i-and-what-am-i-doing.html" target="_blank">a few weeks ago i posted about my experience doing the whole30</a>, and since them i’ve gotten a few texts, emails, and in person questions asking me more about it, so here you go! whether you’ve done one yourself, or think it’s whacko, or are considering doing one yourself, read this and let me know what you think!</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">whole30 is a month long food experiment (at least that’s what we call it in our house) in which you strip away foods that may be causing negative effects in your body in order to push reset. these foods can cause inflammation, affect your metabolism, your sleep, etc. so you to take them away for 30 days and then slowly reintroduce them back in when your body is in a blank slate status so see which of them you should probably live without and which don’t seem to affect you that much. </span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><a href="http://whole30.com/" target="_blank">you can read much, much more about whole30 on their website</a> or in their related books, but here’s the skinny: for thirty days, <b><i>you eat only</i></b> whole, unprocessed meat, seafood, vegetables, fruit, and good fats.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><b><i>you don’t eat</i></b> any kind of sugar/sweetener (real or fake and that includes the “healthy” ones like honey, agave, etc.), alcohol, any grains, legumes, soy, dairy, or carrageenan/MSG/sulfites.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">this doesn’t seem too hard until you start reading labels and realize that the aforementioned ingredients are in freaking everything. sugar, soy and grains are snuck into so much of the food we eat! there are foods that are whole30 compliant that fit the parameters and help make a whole30 successful, but it takes time to track them down.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">oh, and you can’t weigh yourself for the duration of the 30 days. this is not just because whole30 isn’t a diet or weight loss program (although you will probably lose some weight if you do it- both times i did it i lost ten pounds), but because it is about shifting and transforming your relationship to food, which for many of us (ok, at least for me!) is also connected to the numbers on the scale. <a href="http://goodbuthard.blogspot.com/2016/05/who-am-i-and-what-am-i-doing.html" target="_blank">see my previous post about this and my 5 billion body issues.</a></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">last thing? whole30 is all or nothing. dramatic i know! but it’s 30 days of no slips, no cheating, so sneaking, no secret eating, so tasting just one bite of this or sampling a spoonful of that. this is what held me up for so long. i really didn’t think i could go for thirty days without eating a teensy bit of something on the forbidden list. spoiler alert: i did it without any mess ups! twice! </span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1"><br /></span></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">in case this post sounds like i sailed through the thirty days without complications? SO not true. some days it's going to suck. you're going cold turkey on lots of staples and your body may freak out. i had major digestive issues the third week, got cranky without sugary treats, really missed the ritual of wine or a cocktail after a long day or in social situations, wanted to default to some of my fast and easy routines (like toast for breakfast), etc. i longed for homemade baked cookies and alcohol! i really wanted to mindlessly snack. but i got through it, and then was glad when i did.</span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<div class="p1">
<span class="s1">based only on my personal experience, <b>here are some tips that i think help going into a whole30 food experiment.</b></span></div>
<div class="p2">
<span class="s1"></span><br /></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>look at your calendar and make sure you can really commit for thirty full days.</b> both of the times i’ve done it, i made sure to plan it knowing that it didn’t coincide with important social events (ahem, like my birthday, my cousin’s wedding, matt’s birthday). it isn’t that i couldn’t have done whole30 during those times, but it is much harder to stay compliant when you are eating a lot at others’ homes, restaurants or while you’re traveling. for my cousin’s wedding which was across the country, i knew that we would be eating at either friends and families houses or in restaurants while we were there, so it would make that time more stressful than enjoyable to be on whole30 in that context. that isn’t to say that i went crazy and ate whatever i wanted, since i had only recently finished my first round of whole30. i did choose carefully what i ate and drank, but also didn’t feel guilty about it because i was being intentional and selective. so yes, i had cheesesteaks, a hoagie, a clamshell (a powdered donut stuffed with custardy frosting), and my friend shelly’s amazing homemade scones. </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>get one of the whole30 books.</b> you don’t have to buy it; check it out of the library or borrow someone’s. mine was given to me as a birthday present. this isn’t imperative, as you can also look up stuff online; there are so many resources on different websites! i still liked having a physical guidebook with recipes, what to expect during the month and the philosophy behind whole30. i looked at it all the time, and made quite a few of the recipes out of it. </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>do it with someone else!</b> my first round matt did it with me, and my sister and some friends were also doing it at the same time. it really helped to be doing it with other people because we could text each other or complain or count down the days together. when matt did it with me he cooked a lot, which made it easier to stay on track. it also made it a lot more doable as a family!</span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>expect to spend waaaaay more time the first week or two grocery shopping and looking at labels. </b>i already look at labels, but there are so many ingredients that are thrown in to items that you would never expect and so many aren’t allowed on whole30 that checking every single thing you normally buy adds a healthy amount of time to your shopping trip. i love chicken sausages because they are an easy and healthy protein. guess what! almost all of them have 2% or less of sugar (plus other non-compliant ingredients) other items that took some time to find? compliant versions of chicken stock, coconut milk, dijon mustard, alternatives to soy sauce, kombucha. the first few weeks i did a lot of “can i eat this?” and then googling it in the grocery aisle or at home in my kitchen. </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1">if you have kids and you can swing it, <b>go shopping without your kids! </b>they aren’t so into the extra time that it takes to read the labels and hunt for compliant food. if you do take your kids along (which i inevitably had to), make it a trip where you’re buying just vegetables, fruit and proteins that have no additives where you have to scan the label. </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>expect to go shopping more often and to (probably) spend more money than usual. </b>shopping for whole foods means lots of trips to the store or farmer’s market. i found myself underestimating how quickly i’d go through fresh vegetables since you’re eating them at every meal. </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>prepare to chop a lot! </b>i don’t think it’s that much more prep than we usually do for meals, but since you aren’t using other fillers in your meals (sauces, pasta, rice, grains), you have to build flavor and variety with whole foods….which means chopping, peeling, dicing!</span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>leftovers are your friend. </b>make extra of any compliant recipe! i loved big ole recipes of soup, ragu, curry, etc. that i could eat throughout the week, streamlining meal prep. i’d throw them over cauliflower rice (frozen from trader joe’s or make it yourself) or sweet potatoes or potatoes. i’d make a big batch of compliant chicken sausage, roasted or grilled meat, roasted vegetables and then mix and match at different meals. hearty kale based salads can last for more than one meal. i’d also make a big salad without dressing, then add protein, more veggies and a homemade dressing whenever i was ready to eat.</span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>expect to make new recipes or figure out how to tweak recipes you know and love.</b></span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>follow whole30 accounts on social media. </b>on instagram<b> </b>i follow whole30, whole30recipes, whole30approved, and wholelifesisters just to name a few. i also follow whole30 on facebook. whole30recipes has great and diverse recipes every day! </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>give yourself 10 minutes </b>to let cravings pass. and guess what? they will! </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>exercise your “it’s ok to say no” muscle! </b>this one is really, really hard for me. i am so influenced by what others around me are eating, and i often sabotage myself by mentally making good choices and then changing my mind dependent on what others are eating. when people offer me food i feel bad saying no, or i feel obligated, or i feel high maintenance saying, “oh, sorry i can’t eat that.” but saying no isn’t as big of a deal as you think it is, and no one really cares. there are food pushers for sure (and you realize that if you spend any time with other people and food and you are on whole30 or any other type of food modification), but saying no repeatedly is a good way to remind yourself that you are in control of what goes into your body. remember: you aren’t passively inhaling food, you choose every item that enters your mouth. </span></li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>include your kids! </b>yes, really! my girls are pretty good eaters, but they both have complicated lists of foods they won’t eat. if you are shifting towards eating less crap and more whole food, shouldn’t they be too? this is what it looked like in our house: if we had blt’s, i had a blt salad (with compliant bacon) and my kids ate blt's on whole wheat bread. if we had chicken curry, i ate it over cauliflower rice with lots of vegetables and they had regular rice with a little bit of curry and lots of vegetables. if we had carne asada i skipped the tortillas & sour cream or cheese but had all the compliant fixings (salsa, guacamole, etc.) we didn’t make two entirely different meals: a whole30 one and a kid one. we just cooked healthy whole food and then let them keep some of the items that were taking a break from. for some families the hardest part for kids might be flavored yogurts and processed snacks. my kids don’t eat that many processed snacks; however in their lunches they might have some crackers or pretzels, and sometimes they’ll have pasta or a half-sandwich. otherwise they have veggies, fruit and nuts. i didn’t mix up their breakfasts and lunches that much and turn them into whole30 meals, but dinner was a shared activity. i also didn’t make it that much of a big deal with my kids. i just said, “mommy and daddy are doing a food experiment to see if there are certain things that don’t make our bodies feel as good or as string. sometimes we eat too much sugar or foods that aren’t a</span>s healthy for us so right now we are trying to think about how we can eat without them.” </li>
<li class="li1"><span class="s2"></span><span class="s1"><b>these were my friends: </b>(you still have to check the labels)<b> </b>gt’s brand of kombucha (no added sugar), applegate brand deli meat, saag’s chicken bratwurst, sweet and regular potatoes, trader joe’s ghee, coconut oil, cauliflower rice & their cruciferous crunch bag of kale/cabbage/brussel sprouts/broccoli, pederson’s bacon, avocados, la croix sparkling water! plus of course so many versions of salads and roasting everything! </span></li>
<li class="li1" style="text-align: center;"><b>a sampling of whole30 from my month:</b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHZFhZJ9oiacYVygtWDln7dL9GVjkT_EZd_aUHfr9I0Y1jH6s4P-n6-3Mlvh2l4afN8JasxMuuyv4sBBfsqnSrVNaKraTq2L6x5KlKBB5jxXqcAtI-BX_FoGbpGq2zfwKr9eTDiskmqA/s1600/IMG_0110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWHZFhZJ9oiacYVygtWDln7dL9GVjkT_EZd_aUHfr9I0Y1jH6s4P-n6-3Mlvh2l4afN8JasxMuuyv4sBBfsqnSrVNaKraTq2L6x5KlKBB5jxXqcAtI-BX_FoGbpGq2zfwKr9eTDiskmqA/s640/IMG_0110.jpg" width="480" /></a></li>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAn8HKA2ghuU9YhYIdCNhf0ZYmYjO_BYWXXnqX7gHC-MTvidLuu8w-hSItYRClMOHYp-yyEX4HeFr0sNN-kNZSo8McfTibl_TLXea3wGIqofAncDIswNglHoF3AB0ddTh_lHP6uPccfg/s1600/IMG_0272+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaAn8HKA2ghuU9YhYIdCNhf0ZYmYjO_BYWXXnqX7gHC-MTvidLuu8w-hSItYRClMOHYp-yyEX4HeFr0sNN-kNZSo8McfTibl_TLXea3wGIqofAncDIswNglHoF3AB0ddTh_lHP6uPccfg/s640/IMG_0272+%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8ANyLLd_FGXKo_Ij5xJUnJjqbTX20l7Mehof85xyqtYaoYx_iTzcZ2WiQjbLN1mSwSRG3bzapQwy-IrqjqGbbfK5kjq_2KoegPVdi-ad2XAJAUYfp-AuBLoIvQ58PNIGCZoQzZ8Up_I/s1600/IMG_0278.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD8ANyLLd_FGXKo_Ij5xJUnJjqbTX20l7Mehof85xyqtYaoYx_iTzcZ2WiQjbLN1mSwSRG3bzapQwy-IrqjqGbbfK5kjq_2KoegPVdi-ad2XAJAUYfp-AuBLoIvQ58PNIGCZoQzZ8Up_I/s640/IMG_0278.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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(those bean or lentil looking things were actually seeds)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbymwPQMkJ-Bwez16umpXkReIytfzRZdQNip3nVwrkAKbN20T7RFnCfXxtZk149kNb6MAcywEVnjrtC3AoX6rMrMaZYsVCyz6bF3Bksb6CaovIBnD2_C26PqJvEFlxi6Vr553c4w5tFk/s1600/IMG_0435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="598" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVbymwPQMkJ-Bwez16umpXkReIytfzRZdQNip3nVwrkAKbN20T7RFnCfXxtZk149kNb6MAcywEVnjrtC3AoX6rMrMaZYsVCyz6bF3Bksb6CaovIBnD2_C26PqJvEFlxi6Vr553c4w5tFk/s640/IMG_0435.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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(a typical breakfast for me-even though i don't usually eat eggs! scrambled eggs with veggies and compliant sausages. otherwise i ate dinner leftovers :))<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkooMlHU3kDbm1nyY4bWRBL9C-ryT-dCO-FlI_aHH5KO1ajVuEMu33iMqERhiHsNPAmoxOfQghCuc51hBrzCRmMfmrU-hc7XQZgKLH22S73glJ4ICb3Vz8Bx_zwnMe6KiXymmItaxEI-Y/s1600/IMG_0660.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkooMlHU3kDbm1nyY4bWRBL9C-ryT-dCO-FlI_aHH5KO1ajVuEMu33iMqERhiHsNPAmoxOfQghCuc51hBrzCRmMfmrU-hc7XQZgKLH22S73glJ4ICb3Vz8Bx_zwnMe6KiXymmItaxEI-Y/s640/IMG_0660.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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roasting up some of trader joe's cruciferous mix</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROZ6GLMHjhGHtd6sxuT1r898w49vT8FUIsoxwE-LwLDt8SfJ1v0vIn2jTc_DbUf3eIrD9X7qcenDtoYfhYdUSFVf7sXmF9Cb9Lv7sUkq67HF3e9OLNhzveWy6z6m8R9CXrpD_pAgK5Ys/s1600/IMG_3806.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhROZ6GLMHjhGHtd6sxuT1r898w49vT8FUIsoxwE-LwLDt8SfJ1v0vIn2jTc_DbUf3eIrD9X7qcenDtoYfhYdUSFVf7sXmF9Cb9Lv7sUkq67HF3e9OLNhzveWy6z6m8R9CXrpD_pAgK5Ys/s640/IMG_3806.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cPr-BdgZT4ODoZw-FkltTZcWteZTPAuvDoom5802fIJtwaWHv407xkAJpAN8TCnFesJ2XTRKQ-zcy20TgiLUJK2tJiM8Drx4TemmVKtxjrKA8UzoYI9zrx-LeBOo9vB7Rvf34zVptVA/s1600/IMG_4423.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5cPr-BdgZT4ODoZw-FkltTZcWteZTPAuvDoom5802fIJtwaWHv407xkAJpAN8TCnFesJ2XTRKQ-zcy20TgiLUJK2tJiM8Drx4TemmVKtxjrKA8UzoYI9zrx-LeBOo9vB7Rvf34zVptVA/s640/IMG_4423.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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typical lunch: grilled protein plus some vegetables</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ-HUeVpPO6An_DJ-hz1YqURVkyG_pXg4npsF_2QkLA28fAkk8PjJzQuYHNSIkaVnqGNZM9kKzKC64wlg15aUatR4QnTBOHbF-mzqshC3qvnDbWVvED5KY7qSbO3-W9_YGAU14mgLUnE/s1600/IMG_4426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwQ-HUeVpPO6An_DJ-hz1YqURVkyG_pXg4npsF_2QkLA28fAkk8PjJzQuYHNSIkaVnqGNZM9kKzKC64wlg15aUatR4QnTBOHbF-mzqshC3qvnDbWVvED5KY7qSbO3-W9_YGAU14mgLUnE/s640/IMG_4426.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="p1">
i didn't make this pretty curry, but chicken curry was a favorite!<a href="http://paleomagazine.com/coconut-chicken-curry/" target="_blank"> i used this recipe</a>, and added in lots more vegetables (including potatoes) than it calls for.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAI4zJxjEdOrbgOF-qBv87OznxaTa2w-1SGhvZWRNmRvuhuHifHIZ9c8oO-sDTUuwgjBEdeK3ww2jTxcJ6zcx8-2RErpefQ2lx80dvfOsvj6SJzNhGZntLPGtQhWcOPgSrPJp2umqxI4/s1600/IMG_0108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-weight: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAI4zJxjEdOrbgOF-qBv87OznxaTa2w-1SGhvZWRNmRvuhuHifHIZ9c8oO-sDTUuwgjBEdeK3ww2jTxcJ6zcx8-2RErpefQ2lx80dvfOsvj6SJzNhGZntLPGtQhWcOPgSrPJp2umqxI4/s640/IMG_0108.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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i'm not in the cult of whole30, but it did give me some great and sustainable tools to apply to the rest of my life, and i'm eating way healthier and cleaner than i was. it acted as a great reset for me, and the second round was easier in a lot of ways than the first.</div>
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questions? whole30 experiences of your own that are the same or different? still think i'm crazy? (that's ok too)</div>
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talk to me.</div>
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-59579086649364209852016-06-11T18:09:00.002-07:002016-06-11T18:11:01.120-07:00woohoo!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
and just like that?</div>
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it's summer!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4bjdi3-N79aAw9ihwAxsR9ciGd0HCBaAjL9599NbHk4Pm-a6ih_02Zx6UmST0Vpg9-8N3-JIBh6_iBYYMe4llTwDcW5Oba_3h0NiLzkiId6hvrm930tpx9hFQhiprwCJ-IIJHUeaDAM/s1600/IMG_4607.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4bjdi3-N79aAw9ihwAxsR9ciGd0HCBaAjL9599NbHk4Pm-a6ih_02Zx6UmST0Vpg9-8N3-JIBh6_iBYYMe4llTwDcW5Oba_3h0NiLzkiId6hvrm930tpx9hFQhiprwCJ-IIJHUeaDAM/s640/IMG_4607.jpg" width="492" /></a></div>
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end of school? and we headed away for a week of vacation right away.</div>
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i feel so lucky to be writing this with an incredible view of lake tahoe.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-4v0_DUxwf9SHME8Id4gFycoz9eiqcU4O9d5VwgQteaoLQ5KEH6ZCARgQPXtRqMnHDSW8NivUgNm71uNVvBW9peWu03pFimIv0BDqLmaZ9oTjOrPFFLQKqOSkqN7jtoXxKKQ5kBRID4/s1600/IMG_3870.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL-4v0_DUxwf9SHME8Id4gFycoz9eiqcU4O9d5VwgQteaoLQ5KEH6ZCARgQPXtRqMnHDSW8NivUgNm71uNVvBW9peWu03pFimIv0BDqLmaZ9oTjOrPFFLQKqOSkqN7jtoXxKKQ5kBRID4/s640/IMG_3870.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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it is a huge gift to have a week away from work and life (although i will be working a little bit from here), in a peaceful place with a price tag we can handle. </div>
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outside right now it just started pouring rain (and thundering too!) </div>
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even though we are currently stuck inside our studio cabin, we are all as happy as we can be. </div>
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you can expect the following routine from our vacation week:</div>
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<ul>
<li>family games: chess with daddy (i opt out of games where you have to actually strategize), uno, checkers, connect four, dominoes, suspend</li>
<li>daily workouts for me</li>
<li>early morning paddleboarding for matt on lake tahoe while the rest of us sleep</li>
<li>lots of reading </li>
<li>family walks</li>
<li>many hours sitting on our deck, lounging on the beach here, getting dragged into the ice cold water by our children who are apparently able to withstand the freezing temperatures (i did the same thing as a kid vacationing in maine)</li>
<li>blogging </li>
<li>dining al fresco</li>
<li>rest time every day (for me that means thinking i will blog or read but i end up managing the girls while they read/work in their summer bridge books/try to be quiet, meanwhile matt attempts mediocre naps but we are in a studio cabin so there isn't anywhere for him to escape)</li>
<li>matt's cocktails! (since i am trying not to completely sabotage my clean eating and workout routine i am-sadly-rationing these very carefully)</li>
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very exciting, i know. pretty much the same every single day! but after a jam packed school year that has been racing from one thing to the next (and most of them wonderful commitments), the very mellow and unproductive time that is our week here is just what we collectively need. </div>
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lots i'm thinking about and lots to blog about, so hopefully i'll be blogging all the week long! </div>
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wishing you a restful weekend whether you are in vacation mode like we are, or in the grind of daily life.</div>
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-10557236971420774402016-06-09T09:52:00.003-07:002016-06-09T10:04:03.073-07:00life in fast forward<i style="color: #1d2129; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">"I like to think of motherhood as a great big adventure. You set off on a journey, you don't really know how to navigate things, and you don't exactly know where you're going or how you're going to get there." —Cynthia Rowley</i><br />
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in so many ways this feels like yesterday: holding hours-old monrovia in the hospital.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8vFlJekUHHkMfdVtvYOXw0pmwAnhpiTHunOBQDVg-ZWKsQZXeOom2fdqiSk1VdbInYnRREUceaY-NDvesc5KQaoR_bbQpBx0OqmxIuj0gsHwOuJpmYFeL5NoRZb8eqRQARXMCSGxkrc/s1600/IMG_5175.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8vFlJekUHHkMfdVtvYOXw0pmwAnhpiTHunOBQDVg-ZWKsQZXeOom2fdqiSk1VdbInYnRREUceaY-NDvesc5KQaoR_bbQpBx0OqmxIuj0gsHwOuJpmYFeL5NoRZb8eqRQARXMCSGxkrc/s640/IMG_5175.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAbOc6ODA7x670vtD4fW1uklpfEkmrGpji7yEoaEagG686pTT8MbZOt1LtSGUw5PxiorlNijZfaBAXNjQpxs9Ts1vKJRBM-Op8MWDsZB9w35Q9Hh2YtVby2__I643DrSg5XlVarSTWv8/s1600/IMG_0111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlAbOc6ODA7x670vtD4fW1uklpfEkmrGpji7yEoaEagG686pTT8MbZOt1LtSGUw5PxiorlNijZfaBAXNjQpxs9Ts1vKJRBM-Op8MWDsZB9w35Q9Hh2YtVby2__I643DrSg5XlVarSTWv8/s400/IMG_0111.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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i don't think i'd ever been so tired at this point...so tired or so elated. giving birth and cradling this baby my heart had already cracked wide open within minutes and love for this little human had filled it up to overflowing. </div>
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how strange parenthood is, how quickly you can slip into this new role as if it was always inside you, waiting. at the same time? so much is unfamiliar and foreign and that contraction doesn't go away as you pass into each new stage. i still feel simultaneously as if i am a mother deep in my core and yet i don't know what i'm doing on a daily basis. </div>
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a gazillion moments since those first hours of her life - heartbreak and delight and laughter and tears and annoyance, and well you know, a gazillion real life moments. all of those moments, most of which we will forget or will find fading in specificity, add up to who we are today. </div>
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it can't be, and yet it is! this morning i sent my baby off to school for her last day of <i>second</i> grade! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyQFnPYUFFDq52EPPgYB78iia_Xv7uRh0-HfnysqmbUYq5A5sCqpPUAZtUZB_fkA7S2-vjX8gHv3_NpeypdV8cmWFvKGblow2teV3CX6BlvAna8Xrp1l4LUIUQEK25sOIQdoA1hpQicQ/s640/blogger-image-619266335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyQFnPYUFFDq52EPPgYB78iia_Xv7uRh0-HfnysqmbUYq5A5sCqpPUAZtUZB_fkA7S2-vjX8gHv3_NpeypdV8cmWFvKGblow2teV3CX6BlvAna8Xrp1l4LUIUQEK25sOIQdoA1hpQicQ/s640/blogger-image-619266335.jpg" /></a></div>
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she has had such a good year at school. to be honest, there have been so many very hard moments with friends, and it's been challenging to know how to parent her well in the midst of social conflict. growing up is hard! (insert lots of tears and tantrums here) being a mom is hard! (insert some tears and whatever the adult version of tantrum is here) but even with those inevitable growing pains, second grade has been wonderful. </div>
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m with her (wonderful-funny-does-all-the things-she's-supposed-to-so-monrovia-can-hear-in-class-kind-structured-warm-patient-problem-solving) teacher. we love her. </div>
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then there's this one! who knew i could love a little baby as much as i loved monrovia? and then ruby was born and my heart stretched a little bigger, as it is made to do.</div>
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she is so very different from monrovia, and i just love all the ways she's a force in her little world.</div>
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here she is headed off to the last day of kindergarten today! </div>
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last night she was in bed, looking at a richard scarry book, trying to sound out the words & all at once i wanted to rewind back to infancy and fast forward to see what kind of a grown-up she'll be.</div>
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kindergarten has been magical. really. she's learned so much this year, and even though she will likely <i>always</i> be my-stay-in-bed-a-little-longer-and-ask-if-she-has-to-go-to-school girl, she has flourished. she, too, has such an outstanding teacher, who is kind and supportive and gentle. all things that my sensitive but fierce ruby needs. </div>
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what does next school year hold? who knows.</div>
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of course i want the best for my girls - the ideal arrangement of students in their class, and the most suited teacher for each of them; i want them to thrive! but i know that being a parent is not just about giving them the best of things. it's about teaching our children how to negotiate life when it is less than perfect, when the teacher isn't great, when the kids in their class aren't the optimal combination, when things are rough for whatever reason. (i know that in my head, but that doesn't mean that i don't complain and absolutely hate when the circumstances aren't what i would choose.)<br />
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i ask a lot of time these days.<br />
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i want it to slow down so i can soak in beautiful moments: watching ruby flip effortlessly on the play structure bars, lounging on the couch with the girls as we all flip through books, running through the sprinklers in the back yard, snuggling early in the morning, comforting monrovia after a hard day with friends. i want to fast forward through the rough: the girls' irrational tantrums, feeling overwhelmed as a mom, the hectic pace of life, the insane amounts of laundry produced in our household, the juggling act that it is to parent and work and do life. and yet we've got the gift and burden of moving through all of it at the same pace, with the delight of the good moments hopefully softening the weight of the crappy or mundane ones.<br />
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a year from now, as third and first grades come to an end, i will be astonished yet again at how all things press forward so relentlessly. time marches on, right? and it drags us along with it!<br />
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everything that the coming year holds will be by then woven into each of our stories, and my kids will have taught me how to be a mother for 365 more days, one day at a time.Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-45482400656025213502016-06-06T16:19:00.001-07:002016-06-06T17:25:10.840-07:00today's awesome mom award...doesn't go to me.<div><br></div><div>at 1:54 i got a text message from monrovia's teacher saying "your girls are out on the yard". it seemed kind of cryptic and i thought, maybe they are both having an extra recess and she thinks they're being cute together or something? about two minutes later i realized "oh my goodness it was a minimum day today and my kids of already been out of school for 40 minutes!" </div><div><br></div><div>happy last week of school! i rolled in just shy of an hour late, to my children who were now waiting for me in the office. </div><div><br></div><div>oops. yes, I knew it was a minimum day and then somehow as i worked in my studio i completely blanked. </div><div><br></div><div>luckily my kids didn't seem to care because they got extra time to play. as you can tell they didn't hold my slacking against me. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOE5IrvVMuaRwy0HPmbd3tDdfAIzVYMmOroxla02NsZUdjfcvXcswyVI4nTT3pTg1GzUt9VHlpoLL_4GmgtiAXKLnzs3yAjH3lTFxCTTqfviLLWzVpUuyJUEGAhqmkDi7gJcwhtLM_no/s640/blogger-image-1991107086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmOE5IrvVMuaRwy0HPmbd3tDdfAIzVYMmOroxla02NsZUdjfcvXcswyVI4nTT3pTg1GzUt9VHlpoLL_4GmgtiAXKLnzs3yAjH3lTFxCTTqfviLLWzVpUuyJUEGAhqmkDi7gJcwhtLM_no/s640/blogger-image-1991107086.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpFMbV6DMnaEjackk_-HklomUlVyUMZjRLzkjVoxUNBQmzh52mT4ncg4g5zLC054zLH4fr4RNQ6cgqbvsBe9j9Fmvc4vjpF45t8vW3oNwRGgbG2icrIEllYMaIm4ou85N81TyPvPSwLc/s640/blogger-image--1431367555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmpFMbV6DMnaEjackk_-HklomUlVyUMZjRLzkjVoxUNBQmzh52mT4ncg4g5zLC054zLH4fr4RNQ6cgqbvsBe9j9Fmvc4vjpF45t8vW3oNwRGgbG2icrIEllYMaIm4ou85N81TyPvPSwLc/s640/blogger-image--1431367555.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-81067746946636580192016-06-05T19:46:00.000-07:002016-06-06T10:17:51.476-07:00farm to classroom!one of my favorite things to do with the girls is chaperone their school field trips. i am lucky to have a flexible schedule, so i can often go with them and shuffle my work around. every time i have these amazing conversations with the kids - whether we walk, take the city bus, or i drive - and i get to know the girls' classmates in new ways.<br />
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this field trip, the last one of the year, was to the farmer's market in oakland's chinatown. the kids had made little journals ahead of time that they used to ask the different vendors questions: when was this food picked? how does it grow? where is your farm? how far did it travel to get here? how much per pound is your fruit?<br />
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we took the city bus downtown:<br />
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after we got off the bus, we walked a few blocks down to the farmer's market. monrovia's teacher giving the kids the guidelines for their time at the market.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcK1eh_ernhLH_9dBZjMPkURgbq00Rmr-qhEj3rfJ89qXIqjEae0CEQvAXBsCNJK9KvTfJXsz4Hd3QB2Aae2Yuiyhyvqk685FGgo6b-YnB0GSsTcCUTthQDNP_AIQQ1TbCG-1WZZ9k7y8/s640/blogger-image-985991223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcK1eh_ernhLH_9dBZjMPkURgbq00Rmr-qhEj3rfJ89qXIqjEae0CEQvAXBsCNJK9KvTfJXsz4Hd3QB2Aae2Yuiyhyvqk685FGgo6b-YnB0GSsTcCUTthQDNP_AIQQ1TbCG-1WZZ9k7y8/s640/blogger-image-985991223.jpg" /></a><br />
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the cuties i was responsible for walking around the market.<br />
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some of the vendors were so generous with samples and answering the kids' repeated questions. they sliced open new pieces of fruit and vegetables, and explained how to cook or prepare some of the more unusual varieties. they cut deals with the kids when they didn't have quite enough money to buy something.<br />
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we lucked out because it's stone fruit season so there were peaches, plums, apricots, cherries, and pluots in abundance! and really? we live in california so we always luck out in the produce department.<br />
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the kids each had their journals to record the farmers' answers, $2 to spend on fruit and a reusable bag to bring it home in. (when they got back to the classroom they cut up all the fruit and made a huge fruit salad!) even though they were only buying fruit they still stopped to look at all the booths.</div>
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considering cabbage</div>
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tasting honey</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMfry3FlHcQGHUrZXaev2N99atvdtchQq8gm2j49PWrsE10Je0xpnQeOqsP_giA2MdXfTHX2qoc8h1iYb3JpmkcKGA_uH-wk3-AVjigxB2_5q6a4ZWX4ihZqOuLWQIfWN-TW_QVwknt3M/s640/blogger-image--2097025815.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qPWZGoYhThKD1UumgJ1Lot4ilMX1ZgA_Nrio-jBavn4ONRwNAxOFM1dD5lpGtQEQ8pw9fbu6SZnDl7zRe3YvLV9pmMeC_gC_gD1QyZa6fcme9kKT8n0WXpvLAU__XXXWjTjDMiXrd6Q/s640/blogger-image-669647960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qPWZGoYhThKD1UumgJ1Lot4ilMX1ZgA_Nrio-jBavn4ONRwNAxOFM1dD5lpGtQEQ8pw9fbu6SZnDl7zRe3YvLV9pmMeC_gC_gD1QyZa6fcme9kKT8n0WXpvLAU__XXXWjTjDMiXrd6Q/s640/blogger-image-669647960.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6qPWZGoYhThKD1UumgJ1Lot4ilMX1ZgA_Nrio-jBavn4ONRwNAxOFM1dD5lpGtQEQ8pw9fbu6SZnDl7zRe3YvLV9pmMeC_gC_gD1QyZa6fcme9kKT8n0WXpvLAU__XXXWjTjDMiXrd6Q/s640/blogger-image-669647960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>how beautiful are these daikon?</div>
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i brought these home and my children devoured them! (they tasted a lot like radishes)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4EnhazaJRN8qHafbz37rP4iWobSlnJ6Ty6v4fYZjEDudj4KqE-48hZZo1OKx-19pcHdW_8-5DIYKnCsc5janMOes8yT_WoPVw5qeHH-Ruo4tr-xXnO3rOCHPE-JRepb1FUkaGKSrK9c/s640/blogger-image--635353879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4EnhazaJRN8qHafbz37rP4iWobSlnJ6Ty6v4fYZjEDudj4KqE-48hZZo1OKx-19pcHdW_8-5DIYKnCsc5janMOes8yT_WoPVw5qeHH-Ruo4tr-xXnO3rOCHPE-JRepb1FUkaGKSrK9c/s640/blogger-image--635353879.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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this elderly man was playing beautiful music in the midst of the market, and although he didn't speak english, he motioned to a couple of the kids and had them sit down, positioning their fingers so they could play. it was a beautiful cross generational-cultural-linguistic moment & one of the reasons i love oakland!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY4EnhazaJRN8qHafbz37rP4iWobSlnJ6Ty6v4fYZjEDudj4KqE-48hZZo1OKx-19pcHdW_8-5DIYKnCsc5janMOes8yT_WoPVw5qeHH-Ruo4tr-xXnO3rOCHPE-JRepb1FUkaGKSrK9c/s640/blogger-image--635353879.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMi9zincYntvnk-WJB9Qrk8cKNmnKIc8kYtjfetfpTr9j9ktZ8ae76ekvkJ2DEwlECchrVz3WDPpbCMG8NhqjUV6wh5B_7pP_1ZGZEy_IL2FIoIhRDcabHq0j_As16eESVLKFgfkChmA/s640/blogger-image--94174551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMi9zincYntvnk-WJB9Qrk8cKNmnKIc8kYtjfetfpTr9j9ktZ8ae76ekvkJ2DEwlECchrVz3WDPpbCMG8NhqjUV6wh5B_7pP_1ZGZEy_IL2FIoIhRDcabHq0j_As16eESVLKFgfkChmA/s640/blogger-image--94174551.jpg" width="361" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCMi9zincYntvnk-WJB9Qrk8cKNmnKIc8kYtjfetfpTr9j9ktZ8ae76ekvkJ2DEwlECchrVz3WDPpbCMG8NhqjUV6wh5B_7pP_1ZGZEy_IL2FIoIhRDcabHq0j_As16eESVLKFgfkChmA/s640/blogger-image--94174551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJ6cb2ArphAhJdkORkE-n9D1Y1fLpQfhEPFHKVMHuN2cGnsKFQCwFhEGexqQttTaqn_11qoeuKciH6sn5XKGdc_5Ar2wdecQLGKzaGFNdfxMENBOEyVtYR6M_3cBib7yDIlb2vf4f0rg/s640/blogger-image--1815666346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJ6cb2ArphAhJdkORkE-n9D1Y1fLpQfhEPFHKVMHuN2cGnsKFQCwFhEGexqQttTaqn_11qoeuKciH6sn5XKGdc_5Ar2wdecQLGKzaGFNdfxMENBOEyVtYR6M_3cBib7yDIlb2vf4f0rg/s640/blogger-image--1815666346.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJ6cb2ArphAhJdkORkE-n9D1Y1fLpQfhEPFHKVMHuN2cGnsKFQCwFhEGexqQttTaqn_11qoeuKciH6sn5XKGdc_5Ar2wdecQLGKzaGFNdfxMENBOEyVtYR6M_3cBib7yDIlb2vf4f0rg/s640/blogger-image--1815666346.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkhYc2sCkF1_jWtI-SrIlpGP-9hRKMoMt5EAfSg6rt5kN8HiZzmV-CyOiCV1FUZmCsviMRBQ4UXtZQBvIWT9F-qgQTkzBw9Ym1m__CVOzUE4ukzQgeI7a75bNn1hTU_dKrigCOAVltws/s640/blogger-image--499917070.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkhYc2sCkF1_jWtI-SrIlpGP-9hRKMoMt5EAfSg6rt5kN8HiZzmV-CyOiCV1FUZmCsviMRBQ4UXtZQBvIWT9F-qgQTkzBw9Ym1m__CVOzUE4ukzQgeI7a75bNn1hTU_dKrigCOAVltws/s640/blogger-image--499917070.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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there was so much goodness in this field trip: taking public transportation (they were remarkably well behaved), kids learning about where the produce comes from, trying new foods, comparing different varieties of the same fruit, discovering what goes into farming, meeting the people who grow the food, and even finding out how early some of the farmers wake up to come to the market (one vendor said 1:30 am!) we even ran into canvassers from one of my favorite non-profits, <a href="http://www.plantingjustice.org/">planting justice</a> and i made the kids listen to their spiel! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcK1eh_ernhLH_9dBZjMPkURgbq00Rmr-qhEj3rfJ89qXIqjEae0CEQvAXBsCNJK9KvTfJXsz4Hd3QB2Aae2Yuiyhyvqk685FGgo6b-YnB0GSsTcCUTthQDNP_AIQQ1TbCG-1WZZ9k7y8/s640/blogger-image-985991223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEgLhWZt8SFIi_kJIwGrtjOmiuzp-G5vK_w_CsxwIwNbxnKussxuc7y87O52vqhApMZhzZCg6AX9n5lILMe6OAiyfNKnh7w2wQjh6mIJARSRVMIEb339yfDjSOjSCW7706_6WmS_6Mcw/s640/blogger-image--1270876297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIEgLhWZt8SFIi_kJIwGrtjOmiuzp-G5vK_w_CsxwIwNbxnKussxuc7y87O52vqhApMZhzZCg6AX9n5lILMe6OAiyfNKnh7w2wQjh6mIJARSRVMIEb339yfDjSOjSCW7706_6WmS_6Mcw/s640/blogger-image--1270876297.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
each year i fall in love with a new class of kids, with all of their quirks and charm and drama. i feel incredibly lucky that we've chosen to fashion our life so that i can go on adventures like this (and that my vocation gives me the ability/flexibility to). i think because i get to go and i know lots of parents or caregivers don't, i try to make all the kids feel like they have a special grownup along with them who cares about them and wants to hear about their little lives. you really never know what they're going to say- sometimes they blurt out things that are hilarious "are you 99?" and sometimes it's heartbreaking, "my mom can't get a visa to live here with us so i get to fly to see her this summer."<br />
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i probably won't be able to always go on as many field trips as i have the last couple of years. i also realize that as my kids get older they won't want me all up in their business, talking to their friends, and sitting next to them on the bus. for now i'm savoring these moments, and remembering that this season won't last forever! (um...in fact it's speeding by! i can't believe my little ruby is finishing kindergarten. insert sobbing emoji here)<br />
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(ps speaking of food....no one gave me any favorite summer recipes, so here's your second chance! ;))Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-26703814460147704992016-06-02T22:22:00.001-07:002016-06-02T22:22:07.016-07:00stop the 67 ways you're multitasking and read this<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSlFswrVPEdIf737FLL4p7ekUIfHPHe2FaqUeCRM_k2WBRj8ZeH5IDMMPUjmgzs-uCQIOlxPvRV9gYIiB8c2v-7R8c0l-zxAsqwtoXVlbca480TfwXVIKLWL82OEFKWEWF7EijxBFcqQ/s1600/IMG_4043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJSlFswrVPEdIf737FLL4p7ekUIfHPHe2FaqUeCRM_k2WBRj8ZeH5IDMMPUjmgzs-uCQIOlxPvRV9gYIiB8c2v-7R8c0l-zxAsqwtoXVlbca480TfwXVIKLWL82OEFKWEWF7EijxBFcqQ/s640/IMG_4043.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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i know there are 8,000 things pulling on you today, telling you they are important.</div>
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maybe it's your children, or your boss, or your deadlines, or your internal compulsion to be productive, or your partner, or your laundry needing to be washed or needing to be folded or needing to be put away, or your stack of bills on the desk, or your unanswered emails, or your garden needs watering or your yard needs weeding, your dishes are calling, the end of the school year is looming large, your job is all-consuming, the show you are binge-watching, your instagram or facebook feed that you just can't turn away from, your to do list is longer than the hours in your day, the need to call your mom or your sister or your friend...you are behind and in the weeds and overwhelmed and behind as usual.</div>
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i know. those are real things, and you can't pretend them away or act as if they are meaningless.</div>
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but i want to remind you that something, or rather someone, else is important too. </div>
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guess what! it's you.</div>
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i am historically the worst at this, but i am telling you right now that you have to pause and take time for yourself. i feel as if we have so many things - all valid in their own right to varying degrees - pushing in on us and pulling us in all sorts of directions. some of them you have to do because it's your job, or you're a parent, or you have a true obligation to follow through. but inevitably i find myself, and the things that are good for my soul, the practices that are most life-giving and sustaining, at the bottom of my to do list, so i don't get to them many days. </div>
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so hi. i, the queen of poor self-care, am reminding you today that you need to shorten your to do list. take 5 minutes to be still and listen. 5 minutes to drink your coffee in the stillness of the morning. 10 minutes to pray. 15 minutes to take a bath. 20 minutes to read a book. 30 minutes to sit outside in the sun. 45 minutes to go running. 50 minutes to do yoga. 60 minutes to get down on the floor and play with your kids. most of the stuff we are crossing off our lists can wait that long, don't you think?</div>
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this year i have been leaning in to self-care, and the more i do it, the easier it gets. so instead of thinking i am wasting time by working out or writing or sitting in the sun or playing pretend restaurant with monrovia and ruby, i am prioritizing it. i think i am becoming more whole somehow in the process, or at least more elastic and flexible when i have a hard day. i promise all that stuff will still be there in a few minutes, demanding your attention.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-7929876364469767262016-06-02T17:01:00.003-07:002016-06-02T17:05:40.634-07:00and poof! it's june<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXH7UJiZJK1bcmRP0wbvNWbKZvaj6eDe2czNZK2_dP4eKoV6HKbr7LznxmhyphenhyphenSkNp96O5Z1iT3YizTkjmHqBnDWCmV3ZRTTmoxLij_r9EZQyOutdUVjIZsU6knSRA9vAu-qJQNirRNBhJI/s1600/IMG_0016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXH7UJiZJK1bcmRP0wbvNWbKZvaj6eDe2czNZK2_dP4eKoV6HKbr7LznxmhyphenhyphenSkNp96O5Z1iT3YizTkjmHqBnDWCmV3ZRTTmoxLij_r9EZQyOutdUVjIZsU6knSRA9vAu-qJQNirRNBhJI/s640/IMG_0016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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happy june!</div>
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a. my first question: how is it june? we have one more week of school left around here, which let me tell you is already making my tear ducts work overtime. i reaaaaaaaaally love the girls' teachers and the kids in their classes, and my mama heart isn't quite ready for them to move along to first and third grade. yesterday i was talking to ruby's kinder teacher and i started tearing up and getting emotional talking about our plans for the summer. i know, this is nothing earth-shattering, as #tearsareforwinners and i'm a champion. he was very gracious and understanding (and admitted to getting teary at that morning's fifth grade assembly) but i was a little embarrassed.</div>
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b. summer means my kids are home with me all day. <i>(they will be at camps two weeks of the summer during which i'll be working, but otherwise they're here with me)</i> this can be awesome because i love my kids + they are hilarious, funny and imaginative, and we are lucky that matt gets four weeks of vacation, so we have some fun adventures planned. but this also means that if i want to work in my studio i have to be super creative (um, in addition to the super creative i should already be in there) in terms of carving out time to work. this just gets amplified if i have freelance deadlines to meet. i am working hard to avoid studio time at all hours (which is what i usually resort to), as i know it isn't optimal to be operating on minimal sleep to be a good partner, parent, friend -- much less for my own health. so got to figure that out. </div>
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so my friends, i'm curious! i know many of you do not work from home like i do, or you don't have kids or your kids aren't the ages of mine (6 and 8), but i would love to hear from you in the comments. i'll post some ideas this week of things that have been successful in our house during the summer, but would love to hear from you! (yes, i will be stealing and borrowing from you. no need to reinvent the wheel when i have such smart people in my life) </div>
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when it comes down to it i want to be a fun, endlessly creative, energetic, supermom but let's be honest: my get-through-the-day goals as a mom are to minimize power struggles and fights between my children & keep them alive while doing fun things that don't involve 43 steps, pinterest or going to the store. (this includes them moving their bodies, helping out around the house, doing something educational, using their imaginations, and not turning the house into a pit of despair.)</div>
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talk to me: </div>
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<ul>
<li>how do you foster creativity and non-screen time in the summer? </li>
<li>what rituals or rhythms do you have in place to clean, learn, play, etc in the summer? </li>
<li>what are some of the fun things you have planned as a family? </li>
<li>if you have kids, what kind of bridge activities or workbooks will you be using to keep your kids learning or at least retaining over the summer? i usually get workbooks for them, but they are pretty boring </li>
<li>what's your favorite summer recipe? </li>
<li>fun book recommendations for me? </li>
<li>any good book ideas for my girls?</li>
<li>miscellaneous brilliance?</li>
</ul>
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(by the way, for some reason comments aren't working if you try to post from your phone. they appear to and then they disappear when you try to post. but if you read this from facebook just comment there, or lug out that laptop and go old school.)</div>
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-18504516271118777132016-05-31T15:12:00.000-07:002016-05-31T15:18:04.009-07:00whoops<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
m has the best, most amazing audiologist, sarah. she is the person who sat across from us as we held a squirming newborn and told us that our baby had profound hearing loss. she's also gotten us out of countless cochlear implant emergencies, lets me texts her at any time, and has the best toys of any medical office. (which is good when you have to lug two kids to an appointment and m's appointments can be hours long.) she's genuine and generous and gives so much to the families she works with. </div>
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in short? we love, love, love her. </div>
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at m's last appointment, while sarah was working on programming her new implants, m was doodling, and decided to draw sarah a picture to put up in her office. keep in mind that at times monrovia flips some of the letters when she is writing words, since sounding out is still a struggle for her. </div>
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my sweet, big-hearted girl was working away and wrote this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY3YUgFRFVqDQ1Uasclb2XVhST5Y12saIbZ1_xJXbLZWHwnzxbM25IPENDdFu9p-Myo2YbvWDmfH3GU9FmAdQ1llWG0ZVqrg936gpRtpzhGGdwMTUZc2oc4ix6HTu37Odq1sRtEisO2w/s1600/IMG_2836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWY3YUgFRFVqDQ1Uasclb2XVhST5Y12saIbZ1_xJXbLZWHwnzxbM25IPENDdFu9p-Myo2YbvWDmfH3GU9FmAdQ1llWG0ZVqrg936gpRtpzhGGdwMTUZc2oc4ix6HTu37Odq1sRtEisO2w/s640/IMG_2836.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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yes, that's right. instead of writing superhero? take one more look. </div>
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monrovia earnestly passed her sign to sarah & said "you can put this up in your office!"; unable to suppress our laughter, all the adults in the room started laughing (monrovia was totally confused.)</div>
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and just like that sarah has a new nickname in her office. </div>
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(ps sarah really is a superhero)</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-43172698710191194792016-05-31T14:48:00.003-07:002016-05-31T16:07:26.223-07:00i scream, you scream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrm1PMdiUHhf_a5EhFc_3dWAamNeyC91_Wtv3MD-E6elIFocF1M4yhLe0kYEwy5msrEHz1x_mwWW_HCZo5fdSE87wu-alBnhZNukbk50ITWh5bfd3h3r2gR5AxsYYW7Efm7pUJOIxP10/s1600/IMG_3889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGQHOXvWKtVGRG_SmcR0vmCtimdaZqZ7hHeyz7n0h14L6zK1NMk0qYi0soYg5M3GueLxVYAhHLh21dL6K9Y4F_eBmDuwUC_69KXZNs2Hk9LWEBRnPEAnyN0VXdFXsPw38XT1Fa3_jA7Y/s640/blogger-image--2123608553.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmGQHOXvWKtVGRG_SmcR0vmCtimdaZqZ7hHeyz7n0h14L6zK1NMk0qYi0soYg5M3GueLxVYAhHLh21dL6K9Y4F_eBmDuwUC_69KXZNs2Hk9LWEBRnPEAnyN0VXdFXsPw38XT1Fa3_jA7Y/s640/blogger-image--2123608553.jpg" width="640" /></a>ruby deliberated for months and months over what her 6th birthday party theme should be. some of the contenders? everything is awesome party, an art party, an inside out party based on the movie, a princess lego party ("then the girls and the boys will be happy"), a star wars party (this one was definitely because some of her favorite kids love star wars- at that point she'd never ever seen a clip from a star wars movie)! when she mentioned an ice cream party i latched onto that one because who doesn't like ice cream?!</div>
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so ice cream party it was! all week long the weather predicted rain, and then on the day of, it was clear by mid-afternoon. hooray!</div>
<img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUrm1PMdiUHhf_a5EhFc_3dWAamNeyC91_Wtv3MD-E6elIFocF1M4yhLe0kYEwy5msrEHz1x_mwWW_HCZo5fdSE87wu-alBnhZNukbk50ITWh5bfd3h3r2gR5AxsYYW7Efm7pUJOIxP10/s640/IMG_3889.JPG" width="640" /><br />
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the birthday girl</div>
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usually at parties we have actual food, but this time we offered...sugar! ice cream, toppings, cookies, and for the adults? cocktails. my plan was to sugar up these kids like crazy, let them wiggle their bodies for a couple of hours, and then send them home to crash with their families. (you're very welcome.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JwaOf__PBkkKGvcROALoRBuQP6cWH_axVdbb6PwH5_SZ-6SU7GAQu1F0BRq1uS3igEldBurakhJM8CMFgsuM-5PvzJ8gQRw-SaqNc-VEytoz6PiPW2FR3R2CPwYj-0xXPrqS0r3fStc/s1600/IMG_3869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JwaOf__PBkkKGvcROALoRBuQP6cWH_axVdbb6PwH5_SZ-6SU7GAQu1F0BRq1uS3igEldBurakhJM8CMFgsuM-5PvzJ8gQRw-SaqNc-VEytoz6PiPW2FR3R2CPwYj-0xXPrqS0r3fStc/s640/IMG_3869.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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i picked up these ice cream containers then personalized them with cute stickers that said "ruby's ice cream shop" from <a href="http://www.zazzle.com/">zazzle</a>! </div>
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<i>(sidebar: i was stressing out because my stickers weren't showing up and then viola! customer service expedited them to me and they made it! super helpful! thanks, zazzle!)</i></div>
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my girls were so excited about these colored ice cream cones! </div>
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i was so excited about this cute sprinkle tablecloth from target!</div>
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the finished sprinkle cookies <a href="http://goodbuthard.blogspot.com/2016/05/sprinkles-make-party.html">i posted about last week (recipe there too!) </a></div>
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sugar with a side of sugar:</div>
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and i threw in some natural sugar in the form of fruit, which i think i ate all by myself:</div>
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in case you decide to throw a kid ice cream party, let me save you some time: by exponential numbers, rainbow sherbet was the favorite, far outpacing vanilla and cookies and cream. i should have ditched the cookies and cream and just had vanilla and rainbow sherbet. who knew?</div>
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so serious about their ice cream</div>
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cuteness & ice cream on little faces everywhere you looked!</div>
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with a few adult conversations thrown in</div>
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monrovia decided she couldn't finish her sundae because all the sugar was making her tummy ache.</div>
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um, what?</div>
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who is this child?</div>
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then we had stations for the kids to get all of their sugared up energy out!<br />
the surfing station, which was the equivalent of a bull riding station because most kids were trying to stay on and toss everyone else off while being as crazy as possible:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1JQHZ6_iFlwvZ0LT6B6hyfkdoLvj24fPtpnwl9WaIuRsRwpBAbOm-CXP5mZmlaPWGAD4I9wRxxiaVW4gIS35T7DDx_UHCzG6C4_aLTEUaiR3IEDK-_RRz6sKlSAhko9RSJfVmuKlg90/s1600/IMG_1519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp1JQHZ6_iFlwvZ0LT6B6hyfkdoLvj24fPtpnwl9WaIuRsRwpBAbOm-CXP5mZmlaPWGAD4I9wRxxiaVW4gIS35T7DDx_UHCzG6C4_aLTEUaiR3IEDK-_RRz6sKlSAhko9RSJfVmuKlg90/s640/IMG_1519.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
the hula hoops became a conga line....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6amU3x8_zp8tPTiCRumATOU1TOHZh57vvP-_X__A3ysnOEF-qCA1NKwQOttilSDk9pw1cb9VFW3WYkXSZHABMmZ5ykBmH6oa4_E-8UJ8F3RzFo1_ZnUdLJVwewir2Qmc29vNxNE5k4hE/s1600/IMG_1547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6amU3x8_zp8tPTiCRumATOU1TOHZh57vvP-_X__A3ysnOEF-qCA1NKwQOttilSDk9pw1cb9VFW3WYkXSZHABMmZ5ykBmH6oa4_E-8UJ8F3RzFo1_ZnUdLJVwewir2Qmc29vNxNE5k4hE/s640/IMG_1547.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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and used for human tricks!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAT2XxZvNQBXWwIDJ_0ExCiPBldc_PP-U_Fh97zJ5FrV8UQ2CsQATIHf5E81eDyXYAJfq6WG8c_FJYYi88FJNPslfCuBQeuwhVOk9r0fZ_qLrSBLBaloCp7y_yjcu5Enl42JazUEXdEGY/s1600/IMG_3888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAT2XxZvNQBXWwIDJ_0ExCiPBldc_PP-U_Fh97zJ5FrV8UQ2CsQATIHf5E81eDyXYAJfq6WG8c_FJYYi88FJNPslfCuBQeuwhVOk9r0fZ_qLrSBLBaloCp7y_yjcu5Enl42JazUEXdEGY/s640/IMG_3888.JPG" width="480" /></a></div>
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(please ignore the fact that we have still not fixed and repainted the stucco around our doors and windows as evidenced by those pictures)</div>
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there was also the swing and climb station:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01HPJ5USbp6teBcEO6ldFxvDjP5o3XjJWERB55fVeoIhyphenhyphenvTLClUbzi_cNwZ8abV-uVBcSWvsHkQbuGca7p6ZWDxTUwCkZZOvsW9jj1eSOqTKWbItRhPNi2JBRNpbu7PSE-1DQM45Kmo0/s1600/IMG_1529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01HPJ5USbp6teBcEO6ldFxvDjP5o3XjJWERB55fVeoIhyphenhyphenvTLClUbzi_cNwZ8abV-uVBcSWvsHkQbuGca7p6ZWDxTUwCkZZOvsW9jj1eSOqTKWbItRhPNi2JBRNpbu7PSE-1DQM45Kmo0/s640/IMG_1529.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnnsagzC1zmh_ciGwgQndt10ww6SdBaGCOBVZAtdhSdv4ztUM4JmBJ4fJWFTLem8HSmyJLfuCHM0T_ZFaDg2ny7lK-9Q54Q45RMC8OzTepF2Aht5FRAj2sw9CpwzGhtd7OUlVo0zzZak/s1600/IMG_1532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghnnsagzC1zmh_ciGwgQndt10ww6SdBaGCOBVZAtdhSdv4ztUM4JmBJ4fJWFTLem8HSmyJLfuCHM0T_ZFaDg2ny7lK-9Q54Q45RMC8OzTepF2Aht5FRAj2sw9CpwzGhtd7OUlVo0zzZak/s640/IMG_1532.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
the hammer things station:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNeKGEMOMRhaaRsic7gT1PivOCLKSN4FUlIj-SCVB9sG2zz43QxdFjLmyN0XH0YOiAyX8dmtGOZ_xqBPoJLiNbyO56dDqvwU4bLKZwDh7uGq3eVYUL-8d_j1vrslx5LFcfevkYQDdlA0/s1600/IMG_1536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikNeKGEMOMRhaaRsic7gT1PivOCLKSN4FUlIj-SCVB9sG2zz43QxdFjLmyN0XH0YOiAyX8dmtGOZ_xqBPoJLiNbyO56dDqvwU4bLKZwDh7uGq3eVYUL-8d_j1vrslx5LFcfevkYQDdlA0/s640/IMG_1536.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhsYQkL7lZxi9zdtAgMwIRXumdOgrsqNJxw6X-Ay6FKEh9_f2ZgCBaMfK0SS6ZS0fZCTaxfRxmPsImOryzYa_8_0UMKwdMyCoILqibbdk4RWXJ0Ep979z3dVLjL5Yiw8AdcUVjtGP31U/s1600/IMG_1537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhsYQkL7lZxi9zdtAgMwIRXumdOgrsqNJxw6X-Ay6FKEh9_f2ZgCBaMfK0SS6ZS0fZCTaxfRxmPsImOryzYa_8_0UMKwdMyCoILqibbdk4RWXJ0Ep979z3dVLjL5Yiw8AdcUVjtGP31U/s640/IMG_1537.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
and the bounce house station!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpJG7ZPdFngXt3jz_2lIu-0o5F7bkzb0U7YBNUmkENdyENdHdrmMxtGErOcLNyICPcqS1np4k-31jJaPSfuygqWIbUUumLO4Wyl-XITnvFeOM_Juyf11FbQ0xmD0g6iX8Ig2AYRvm2TU/s1600/IMG_1539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRpJG7ZPdFngXt3jz_2lIu-0o5F7bkzb0U7YBNUmkENdyENdHdrmMxtGErOcLNyICPcqS1np4k-31jJaPSfuygqWIbUUumLO4Wyl-XITnvFeOM_Juyf11FbQ0xmD0g6iX8Ig2AYRvm2TU/s640/IMG_1539.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
(of course it isn't a party without a few tears, and ours was no exception. the bounce house brings out all the big feelings:)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjihCRRAGMdYr3NKK9Y2wPQ2PKSi1NzRCFvhi4pw3hEvAPGtNSxbLYiTbbQFuQR5zgdoCjNtGk0xl_mEp7LnXiWwsUxy8vQ9c0tTNlNcpOJxlqAEZIcg32csA0B0NpIksHtYhuA5Dq-4/s1600/IMG_1541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIjihCRRAGMdYr3NKK9Y2wPQ2PKSi1NzRCFvhi4pw3hEvAPGtNSxbLYiTbbQFuQR5zgdoCjNtGk0xl_mEp7LnXiWwsUxy8vQ9c0tTNlNcpOJxlqAEZIcg32csA0B0NpIksHtYhuA5Dq-4/s640/IMG_1541.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>(by the way-my friend keith, pictured here, told me to take this picture to capture the fullness of the day. doesn't every single party or playdate have some crying involved? oh, is that just my house?)</i></div>
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sweet girls from ruby's class<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfE9FeE5YkyZJwcJscIAudvl0-rJ3jDQjLfhn8Nn2ltDVz284Tg_kzJifOdQ9uHvNbtw_pTpyXS0RD6LcQVcOQAMq4mN7DRgdMbkl1t79_u_71p5eiVQ3xeceJdjjeKUYBWh2bfpNKpn8/s1600/IMG_1545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfE9FeE5YkyZJwcJscIAudvl0-rJ3jDQjLfhn8Nn2ltDVz284Tg_kzJifOdQ9uHvNbtw_pTpyXS0RD6LcQVcOQAMq4mN7DRgdMbkl1t79_u_71p5eiVQ3xeceJdjjeKUYBWh2bfpNKpn8/s640/IMG_1545.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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and then thanks to the wind, ruby blew out non-existent flames as we sang her into her sixth year!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCI1gCyMBbFr7dgB4NHux3g6mQ5dryWWz5ksZzFwmIScwmEaUOC6m4cXDH4rXgBTx_qhWYXQV04kPnpOvRAD-HXNGk_HVBziw4664HktrVDy4zIsFd-41HXJ84fckE-CmwTg2vsYP5TGo/s1600/IMG_1550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCI1gCyMBbFr7dgB4NHux3g6mQ5dryWWz5ksZzFwmIScwmEaUOC6m4cXDH4rXgBTx_qhWYXQV04kPnpOvRAD-HXNGk_HVBziw4664HktrVDy4zIsFd-41HXJ84fckE-CmwTg2vsYP5TGo/s640/IMG_1550.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRbIPAFyBZBqFDuadJWAcLUbKEwM_DdvqxC1RWijm0EduUrNOvdkGchiGUft4RNZ_WiCaHXUEHtzi0rvwNT_uQnKGAt8DU5KAyrZk1K7BMAWW72sUSF-3cdSzG-gDLepI3SdyUh05DMJI/s1600/IMG_1554.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRbIPAFyBZBqFDuadJWAcLUbKEwM_DdvqxC1RWijm0EduUrNOvdkGchiGUft4RNZ_WiCaHXUEHtzi0rvwNT_uQnKGAt8DU5KAyrZk1K7BMAWW72sUSF-3cdSzG-gDLepI3SdyUh05DMJI/s640/IMG_1554.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOczTOL0xQwLob0UbbsKPNGeo0HHc8B9qLdfZaa_RrO_ZogOCkx52Qm-T4TttJuhfuWeC0ioop8ZwyDV9iLU-KwArKEuEEbcSTC6oSX8R_-baj_C9b2Xj_NTInQ4rKOOWECHTp6nyt8kY/s640/blogger-image--930945097.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOczTOL0xQwLob0UbbsKPNGeo0HHc8B9qLdfZaa_RrO_ZogOCkx52Qm-T4TttJuhfuWeC0ioop8ZwyDV9iLU-KwArKEuEEbcSTC6oSX8R_-baj_C9b2Xj_NTInQ4rKOOWECHTp6nyt8kY/s640/blogger-image--930945097.jpg" /></a></div>
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after two hours of a steady sugar stream, we sent the kids home with non-sugar treat goodie bags.</div>
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inside were stickers, pencils, miniature puzzle erasers, and a personalized coloring book i made for the kids!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PTeq4pBMgmLtYEdgbKpv7EgJNeIKlZPe_6-U3Xy3sATxdwXwZsnC0Nb-lBJWZW3KCmhT5BqIZm8uM-AbJ5-0J3KJmiSl-wgfrPoCUpy2Ddv5n0THZyZ7oq8EGbz_p5xmbwDZTcTjaRw/s1600/IMG_3816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7PTeq4pBMgmLtYEdgbKpv7EgJNeIKlZPe_6-U3Xy3sATxdwXwZsnC0Nb-lBJWZW3KCmhT5BqIZm8uM-AbJ5-0J3KJmiSl-wgfrPoCUpy2Ddv5n0THZyZ7oq8EGbz_p5xmbwDZTcTjaRw/s640/IMG_3816.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2Ue0AbjmpjW3lmmG19AIxiN6s0ANq3pQf8gVaS-13uMCT3ZknsZvS7cr9m4S70iROAQZM1trKNkYHaBxqNkO8uOGey98nZ-ysl3KzgRBKsxUmj9Ogw9nNbN8dwmuyL_0fyYrYlz_maE/s1600/IMG_1524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD2Ue0AbjmpjW3lmmG19AIxiN6s0ANq3pQf8gVaS-13uMCT3ZknsZvS7cr9m4S70iROAQZM1trKNkYHaBxqNkO8uOGey98nZ-ysl3KzgRBKsxUmj9Ogw9nNbN8dwmuyL_0fyYrYlz_maE/s640/IMG_1524.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>
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the stickers on the outside of the bags said "thank you! ruby"</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideR0k4UKO701q6UUaXj3BPhuGYEccgjE2UksJCFAgeqz3PUxkTYP17Nfkzj87-3kEjq9w8jdW4yiecglKy8a1rIcMR1qN3-3iRzhiuT-z_ZZgvSJADX28zZtOgEOi_m_K80V0twC-hkE/s1600/IMG_1525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEideR0k4UKO701q6UUaXj3BPhuGYEccgjE2UksJCFAgeqz3PUxkTYP17Nfkzj87-3kEjq9w8jdW4yiecglKy8a1rIcMR1qN3-3iRzhiuT-z_ZZgvSJADX28zZtOgEOi_m_K80V0twC-hkE/s640/IMG_1525.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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here are two pages from the coloring book! it was so fun to make!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-j_Q2E2KN6MTJbvDolzeA_dpBe80Fy8fvMD46j2xl-A5eaSPMcBJcwsrD66Uk-eGnVaonfCB7JkN8C4S3wDDZlFpFSX2DS2PYDkHk8N9KClmve3fTX5pJ7jEo1IUtNN31UY6T-tlBvcs/s1600/IMG_3817.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-j_Q2E2KN6MTJbvDolzeA_dpBe80Fy8fvMD46j2xl-A5eaSPMcBJcwsrD66Uk-eGnVaonfCB7JkN8C4S3wDDZlFpFSX2DS2PYDkHk8N9KClmve3fTX5pJ7jEo1IUtNN31UY6T-tlBvcs/s640/IMG_3817.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUNlcYzXF9fxTpQvmhnWNA6QAwkaTEPC4pmon2MfphlpfxIHLwRHQE3bqfAEObQalTy1SRxOEnmBVQDWswKxu8O5UtH6U5Atgmtwxmpfc633tvT_rvuELx-oZqu83S6Alk9OQmLGE6V-o/s1600/IMG_3818+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUNlcYzXF9fxTpQvmhnWNA6QAwkaTEPC4pmon2MfphlpfxIHLwRHQE3bqfAEObQalTy1SRxOEnmBVQDWswKxu8O5UtH6U5Atgmtwxmpfc633tvT_rvuELx-oZqu83S6Alk9OQmLGE6V-o/s640/IMG_3818+%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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our birthday girl was thrilled, and felt super loved by everyone who came and celebrated. matt's favorite moment was overhearing her as she raced around the corner, "who wants to play with the birthday girl!?" if you know ruby, you know that she is less prone to seek attention (ahem, unlike her sister), so we knew she was having fun. our hope for her party was that she would feel special, and that it would be a time where kids and adults were able to hang out, play, talk, and laugh. that i think it was. </div>
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i love parties because they have the potential to be spaces outside of work and obligation where you can connect with other people, whether it's old friends, someone you've never met, or family. that's one of the reasons we have so many of them! (another reason is so we are forced to deep clean our house or finish house projects every so often! nothing like the pressure of guests!)</div>
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to more parties, to making new friends and seeing old ones, to many more years of life for our ruby, and to ice cream! </div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-46572557378344319192016-05-27T11:35:00.001-07:002016-05-27T11:57:37.506-07:00things i don't understandtoday's post is brought to you by some of my personal pet peeves:<br />
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>someone who makes websites, please explain. i hate when i type in aaaaaaall my bits and pieces: my name, address, zip code, phone number, credit card, security code, blah blah and scroll to the bottom and hit the button to proceed to the next page and boom! your page refreshes with an alert that you forgot to scroll down to the correct country name, all while erasing all the info you just typed in. you hit the backspace because maybe it's on the page you just left. and no. erased. um, seriously? you are going to make me re-enter every single piece of information again just because i didn't scroll through 43 countries to get to united states of america?! don't you already have my complete address? thank you for stealing those minutes of my life, internet.</li>
<li>why it's easier to gain five pounds than lose one.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgje7U2aum7dQU5TuQXzWgDs9Ehvu5LHJ18hkOV-2qKtBb170KbcZ6_T1OvmTEz5ieCrO0vY3f3w2Wl7WMlTSviQRclb-TjWZySp0ineBpb9rpCn8Ko5Jiz3WK8tROi0P-IssUQR2-TmiA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-05-27+at+11.05.20+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgje7U2aum7dQU5TuQXzWgDs9Ehvu5LHJ18hkOV-2qKtBb170KbcZ6_T1OvmTEz5ieCrO0vY3f3w2Wl7WMlTSviQRclb-TjWZySp0ineBpb9rpCn8Ko5Jiz3WK8tROi0P-IssUQR2-TmiA/s640/Screen+Shot+2016-05-27+at+11.05.20+AM.png" width="640" /></a></li>
<li>why palazzo pants are back in style. i can dig through my old pictures from the mid/late 90's to prove just how unflattering that elastic waist-wide leg-lightweight fabric is, but do we need these in our life again? NO. (walk away from the rack, my friends. walk away)</li>
<li>how i can spend $100 at target when i really, truly just walked in to buy toilet paper and deodorant. every time! </li>
<li>how my two small children can completely destroy their bedroom in less than five minutes. it really is like a tornado hit their room, opening their lockers, drawers and hurling their hangers and bookshelves all over the place. </li>
<li>on that note? my kids brush their teeth twice a day. every time i walk into the bathroom when they are done the sink looks like some kind of disaster zone. they only have a total of two mouths and four hands between them. how can they create the amount of toothpaste residue spackled onto the hand towel and random places on the sink, toothpaste spit dribbled down the entire side of the sink bowl? plus the toothbrushes are scattered, the toothpaste cap is on the floor and toothpaste container is across the room on a shelf? oh, and the sink is steadily dripping. always.</li>
<li>how it is i can go from being the meanest mom in the whole world to the best mom ever in less than five minutes. on a daily basis, everybody. meanest, worst, nicest, best. </li>
<li>the appeal of seaweed snacks. it's like eating fishy tasting sheets of paper.</li>
<li>see also: video games, essential oil obsession, drones in public places (creepy?!), why people like bananas, people who obviously see you waiting for a parking spot and make eye contact with you but then don't signal in some way to you that they aren't actually leaving, they're just putting something away in their car or about to sit in the driver's seat with their seatbelt on and car on so they can text for ten minutes.</li>
</ul>
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really. feel free to explain any of these to me.</div>
Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-27444683949769435122016-05-26T16:13:00.002-07:002016-05-26T20:05:41.840-07:00to being brave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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a letter to my daughter as she turns six years old,</div>
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in some ways you are a paradox: </div>
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since the day you were born you have been a snuggler, rooting against me in infancy not just to nurse, but to be close to me, pushing your small head against my chin, pushing to feel the resistance of another body against your own. and at 6, you are still the same. in the wee hours of the morning when it is still dark outside you will crawl into bed between daddy and me, migrating towards whatever body you can to make contact. if i am sitting at my desk or at the table, you will climb up onto my lap, wedging yourself between me and whatever i am working on. in the kitchen as i chop and mix, you drag your chair in from the diningroom and push it right in front of the cutting board to help, whether i want you to or not.</div>
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even so, you are my child who needs space. you sneak up to your room and play alone for hours. i can hear the sound of your small voice as you talk to your calico critters, your my little ponies, your dolls, your legos. you need to be alone to reset. unlike your sister, who wants to interact in all ways and all times with any human in her space, you choose your proximity to others. you know well what you need, and when it is time to escape to the backyard to swing or climb, to cuddle on the couch with books, and to sit on my studio floor drawing.</div>
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i've always felt protective of you, my sweet girl. your sister is so confident in interacting with adults, and almost to a fault desires to please those around her; of course she is rewarded with praise and affection, while you are less willing to freely hand out hugs and smiles and the words-you-are-supposed-to-say to the grownups in your life who have expectations of you. it's easy for her to get the kudos and attention from others, and for you to get overlooked. yes, i want you to be polite and kind and social, but i'm also proud of your ability to stand strong and independent. you choose carefully when and how you will show attachment, and then when you do it is real and true and an authentic expression of how you are feeling. </div>
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as you get older, i want you to remember that i love you for all of these parts of you. </div>
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i love that you forge your own path. you stand with your friends, and stick up for others even at a cost to you. you play with the boys and the girls, and when someone criticizes that, you smile and play on. you care so deeply about your sister, and you've learned all you can about her deafness and her cochlear implants: how to charge the batteries, how to turn on her implants for school, how to get her attention if she can't hear you, how to speak up for her, how she can read your lips most easily. i know she is good at speaking up for herself, but i think someday you will be her second best advocate in the world, and you may fight some of her battles for her that as her mom i'll never know about.</div>
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you are my little girl with big feelings. you have about 48 stuffed animals on your bed and you love each one as if they were living and breathing; if one is missing the tears come fast and furious. you do crazy flips and brave maneuvers on the monkey bars, but every single movie in the world is too scary for you to watch without covering your ears and closing your eyes. you are so deeply moved by the world around you, and sometimes you don't know where to put those feelings, or what to say about them, but hold on to them. you'll need them.</div>
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<i>these will serve you well as you navigate this big world:</i></div>
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you are brave. </div>
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you try hard and new things.</div>
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you are strong.</div>
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you are independent. resistant to others' opinions.</div>
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you don't care about what other people think about you.</div>
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you are loyal & kind. </div>
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you love to play.</div>
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<i>and these will be hard and might make you hurt sometimes, but make you softer and more whole:</i></div>
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you wear your heart on your sleeve & your feelings on your face.</div>
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you love with all you have.</div>
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you are sensitive. empathetic. </div>
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you have a tender heart.</div>
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you love every animal you meet.</div>
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you want to be held close and loved well.</div>
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you are expressive and creative and always want to do your very best.</div>
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you are amazing my sweet ruby. </div>
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listen to your brave heart, and ignore those who want you to do what everyone else is doing. </div>
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it's overrated. and way less rewarding.</div>
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i love all the paradoxes that are you.</div>
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i love you,</div>
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mommy</div>
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Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-54149946130948805362016-05-24T09:09:00.002-07:002016-05-26T16:13:50.137-07:00sprinkles make a party!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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last week i saw this recipe for confetti cookies on <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/">smitten kitchen</a>, and i decided they were just the thing for ruby's ice cream themed birthday party! </div>
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sprinkles on the ice cream...sprinkles on the cookies...sprinkles = a fiesta in your mouth! </div>
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(sidebar: do you call these sprinkles or jimmies? when i was a kid in philadelphia we called them jimmies, but don't think they're called that here in the bay area. anyone?)</div>
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when i first found the recipe on smitten kitchen, she mentioned that there are no real rainbow sprinkles, and after trips to safeway, farmer joe's, beverly's, michael's, berkeley bowl? yep. red, orange, yellow, green, pink and white do not a rainbow make! where is the blue? the purple? after wasting waaaaaay too much time looking for blue and purple sprinkles i finally compromised with adding in some blue sprinkles from an small, over-priced container at michael's. (where are the baking supply stores in oakland?!)</div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">these cookies are a cinch to bake, pretty as can be, and tasty (which often sugar cookies are not at all!) this is essentially the king arthur flour recipe for sugar cookies, rolled in sprinkles, and flattened slightly. here they are before they went in the oven, so instagramable...</span></div>
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and viola! after 9 minutes in the oven, they popped out looking like this!<br />
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you can get the recipe along with commentary & pretty pictures on <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2016/05/confetti-cookies/">smitten kitchen</a> or follow it here:<br />
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<b>Confetti Cookies from Smitten Kitchen</b><br />
Recipe barely adapted from <a href="http://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/sugar-cookies-recipe" style="color: #656a7b; text-decoration: none;">King Arthur</a>, technique and language were tinkered with</div>
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If you’re using a food processer, no need to soften the butter or cream cheese first. If using an electric hand- or stand mixer, you’ll want them softened before you mix the dough. If you’re using vanilla bean, which I really love here, I find you can maximize the flavor you get out of it by rubbing the vanilla bean seeds right into your sugar, distributing it evenly and giving it a extra flavor-releasing abrasion. Then use the sugar as written below.</div>
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Yield: 4 dozen 2 1/2-inch cookies</div>
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3 cups (375 grams) all-purpose flour<br />
1 teaspoon baking powder<br />
1/4 teaspoon baking soda<br />
3/4 teaspoon fine sea or table salt<br />
1 cup (8 ounces, 225 grams or 2 sticks) unsalted butter<br />
1/4 cup (2 ounces, 55 grams or 1/4 of an 8-ounce brick) cream cheese<br />
1 1/4 cups (250 grams) granulated sugar<br />
1 large egg<br />
2 teaspoons vanilla extract or 1/2 a vanilla bean, split and scraped (see Note up top)<br />
1/4 teaspoon almond extract (optional)<br />
1 cup rainbow sprinkles</div>
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Heat oven to 375 degrees. Line two baking large sheets with parchment paper.</div>
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To make in a food processor: Place flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in the work bowl and pulse a few times to blend. Add butter and cream cheese in large chunks, plus sugar and blend until mixture is powdery. Add egg, vanilla and almond extracts and run machine until the dough balls together. You’ll probably need to scrape it down once or twice to get the mixture even.</div>
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To make with an electric mixer: Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a bowl and whisk to blend. In a large bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer, beat cream cheese, butter and sugar until fluffy. Add egg and extracts and blend again. Add flour mixture and beat just until flour disappears. In some cases, this dough will feel too soft to roll into balls in your hands; if so, let it chill in the fridge for 20 minutes or so before using.</div>
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Both methods: Scoop balls of dough — I like these cookies best with a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0000CDVD2/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B0000CDVD2&linkCode=as2&tag=smitten-20&linkId=N7FK3TOFKSETIVPZ" style="color: #656a7b; text-decoration: none;">#40, or 1 1/2 tablespoon, scoop</a>; the texture is less dynamic when made smaller — and roll them briefly in the palms of your hands before dropping them in a bowl of rainbow sprinkles and gently rolling to coat them evenly. I find that the sprinkles adhere much better to tacky exterior of balls of dough that have been briefly warmed by your hands — trust me here.</div>
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Transfer balls of sprinkle-coated dough to baking sheets at least two inches apart. Use the bottom of a drinking glass to press down on the cookies until they are about 1/4 to 1/2-inch tall. If you see any bare spots in the sprinkles that bother you, you can sprinkle a few more on top. Bake for 9 to 10 minutes until they look underbaked but lightly golden underneath. [If they’re not quite soft in the center, they will be fully crisped through the next day.] Let set on the baking sheet on a rack for a few minutes before transferring to cooling racks to cool the rest of the way. Repeat with remaining cookie dough.</div>
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<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2756696447377775633.post-32523118910796793132016-05-20T13:19:00.001-07:002016-05-20T13:19:34.452-07:00this amazingness was a whole year ago<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
oh u2, i don't care that i'm old, and you're old, and we're all old. i don't care that you deposit albums on people's itunes accounts and play stadium rock. </div>
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i don't care that your show is a well-oiled machine and that you are experts at playing to the crowds. </div>
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i don't care about any of that. </div>
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one year ago this week i was enjoying you, live, from the front row, and i couldn't have been happier. here are a couple of snippets from my phone:</div>
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<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxdytZV-HVUFXEUx2k0yszfkXDY4EFSCQYSOx6c6YlzrJ2YDqrPWvh3pQC-zrg7FR10SNvtxytCjYdpQ9GZwg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy_1J_OLFkQqSLfy0OdV2kwWzDvuLJj3AWiSZe193l4SloNUf7b2TnCEMV7WXKIbRKIPgA9N2GP0eu6GyJgCg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />Susannahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12659817050414584581noreply@blogger.com0