tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42787024817271034002024-03-13T10:52:22.033+01:00Views from EverywhereTravel, nature, photos, Switzerland and the worldviewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.comBlogger859125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-49109189913794581192024-03-13T10:51:00.004+01:002024-03-13T10:51:31.436+01:00Free writing<p> I have, over the years, occasionally done free writes with friends. </p><p>This is our latest production:</p><h2 class="date-header"><span>Tuesday, March 12, 2024</span></h2>
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
Free Write: Quote from a Book
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<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;"> <br /></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggFXUxP-c9nwpWUGI9uZme7EnerIVVTcjkphDoOwVvhtspJP6MOG6m1IfbsW88As_IV4D_5S5I3aJ0Hbd8xkmk1SNj-jVgUDzR-e30WuVGiOQ57Or2LHhHHeTdc3Lw7Oerh4kl2Vsis7qwWmy-rVbdKjXXs8PUwv8G4rrMqHjtOWwMtNd_KNU0pw/s571/van.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="571" data-original-width="571" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggFXUxP-c9nwpWUGI9uZme7EnerIVVTcjkphDoOwVvhtspJP6MOG6m1IfbsW88As_IV4D_5S5I3aJ0Hbd8xkmk1SNj-jVgUDzR-e30WuVGiOQ57Or2LHhHHeTdc3Lw7Oerh4kl2Vsis7qwWmy-rVbdKjXXs8PUwv8G4rrMqHjtOWwMtNd_KNU0pw/s320/van.webp" width="320" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Prompt:</span></b> A quote from Diane Johnson's<i> L'Afaire. </i>"It was clear the driver was hurrying on his rounds, perhaps fearing the people would be stranded in the worsening storm."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Goal:</span></b> To write ten minutes using the prompt without stopping.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Note: </span></b>Julia
and Rick knew what their ending was before they started. D-L had no
idea until she had the three-minute warning to finish up. It was clear
to her that it could be a chapter and her ending would morph into
chapter 2. The fun of these group free writes is the similar and
different each of us takes.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><b>Rick's Free Write</b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">To say that Pierre was
distracted was understatement. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">His daughter had
announced that morning that she was leaving home, and slammed the door. As he
watched her strut down the street, small suitcase in hand, his wife, Emilie,
had one of her anxiety attacks.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">It had taken an hour
to get her calmed down, and even then she was still touch and go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">He had to make his
deliveries or he wouldn’t get paid. But he decided to look for Marie first. She
wasn’t on any of the streets around. Probably holed up at her friend’s,
Samantha, the American expat. Or had hopped a train to visit her boyfriend at
Uni. Snobbish prig.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">He finally had to
abandon the search and start delivering his dry goods to neighborhood shops.
Instead of the usual cheery greeting, he got a lot of gruff “You’re late”’s.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Two more deliveries to
go and the rain was coming hard now. He pressed the accelerator to round a
corner and heard a thump about the same time as the lightning and thunderclap.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Should he investigate?
No, he had to deliver before the customers closed their stores.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Marie lay on the side
of the road, bleeding and soaked, and unconscious.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">D-L'sFree Write</span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It was clear the driver was hurrying on his rounds, perhaps fearing the people would be stranded in the worsening storm.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Jacques wanted to go faster but the danger of skidding was too great.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As the wipers did a semi-good job of keeping the windshield clean, he tried to look for any skiers but saw none.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Global warming? Bah! Global cooling. This winter there had been more snow than there had been for the last 12 years.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">What was that up ahead? It looked like a woman and a boy running, skies slung over their shoulders.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He braked and skidded. If they hadn't jumped, he'd have hit them.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">They rushed to his van, threw their skies away and jumped in.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Go!" the woman yelled. "Go!"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">It was then he saw a man emerge from behind the row of pine trees lining the road. He had a gun, some kind of hunting rifle.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">He
stepped on the gas, praying he wouldn't skid. A bullet pinged off the
back of the van. "Get down," he yelled to the woman and boy.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Only after three curves, did he feel they were safe from the gunman and he slowed to a less dangerous speed.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Do you want to tell me about this, or do you want to go to the police station? he asked.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Julia's Free Write </span><br /></b></span></p><p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>”It was
clear that the driver was hurrying on his rounds, perhaps
fearing that people
would be stranded in a worsening storm”.</span></span></p>
<p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>She didn’t
often take this route, nor public transportation, but with her
grandson sick in
the hospital, she realized more how fragile life could be and
was not willing
to take any extra risks, especially with the latest weather
forecast predicting
a bad storm.</span></span></p>
<p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>She still
had her driver’s license at 85 and was sometimes afraid of
losing it.</span></span></p>
<p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>She made it
to the hospital and had a very good visit – her son and wife
were there as
well, all hoping that having survived the avalanche that killed
several of his
friends, he would make it.</span></span></p>
<p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>None were believers,
yet in times of crisis, thoughts tended to send up a “prayer”.</span></span></p>
<p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>And
she was on her return trip and the storm had truly broken. A
flash of
lightening, a deluge of hail. Just as he skidded off the road.</span></span></p>
<p class="ox-4fd5005dbf-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>In the
front of the bus, she was the first in the water: St. Peter was
there to meet
her. As she looked at him, she said “fair enough, I’m glad you
took me and not
Joel”!</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i>Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends. Her blog can be found: <a href="https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/" rel="noopener" tabindex="9999" target="_blank">https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/</a> <span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;"><br /></span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;">Rick is an aviation journalist and publisher of <a href="https://theexpatwriter.blogspot.com/www.aviationvoices. com" target="_blank">www.aviationvoices. com</a></span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;"> </span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;">D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at:. <a href="http://www.dlnelsonwriter.com">www.dlnelsonwriter.com</a></span></span></i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><p></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-10938310243002240552024-03-07T11:43:00.003+01:002024-03-07T11:43:29.879+01:00Middlebrow<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am
middlebrow<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A word long
forgotten although it isn’t even that old, when I came across it today, I</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Thought now
there’s a good one that needs to be resuscitated. Like that is possible in a
world of ever-shrinking words and vocabularies. Straight from </span><a href="http://www.wordsmith.org/"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">http://www.wordsmith.org/</span></a><span lang="DE-CH" style="mso-ansi-language: DE-CH;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #555555; font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">MEANING:</span></p>
<table border="0" cellpadding="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 1.5pt; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184;">
<tbody><tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0;">
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;" valign="top">
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">adjective</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">:</span></p>
</td>
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;" valign="top">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">1. (describing a person) Having tastes and
interests that lie somewhere between sophisticated and vulgar.</span></p>
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<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> </span></p>
</td>
<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">2. (describing a work of art) Neither
sophisticated nor vulgar.</span></p>
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<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;" valign="top">
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">noun</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">:</span></p>
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<td style="padding: .75pt .75pt .75pt .75pt;" valign="top">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">A person who has conventional tastes and interests.</span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Maybe I
could relabel it “mibro” and it would catch on?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-50651236224522704142024-02-28T11:51:00.003+01:002024-02-28T11:51:23.514+01:00Free writing<p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">For many years, I had a friend living with me
that is a professional writer.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Visiting her in Southern France she, I and
another friend used to sit in a coffee shop, one of us would pick a person
passing by, then we would write about that person for 10 minutes. Such fun –
sometimes the stories were similar, but often totally different.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">I have been fortunate to pick this hobby back
up with her and her husband. Below the results of our most recent free write.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-outline-level: 3;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">I can highly recommend free writing – any
subject, your imagination and ten minutes can produce wonderful results.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name">
Free Write The Old Man
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<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbLaqZYP2R8o11IATlXTJNlRNA11piv7-l0u6YXw-fvWU3obQPGd8d0R1N-XQzH3qmaZQYMAT4lsK-wMXxGoAS1RVTejuXwtqCtNfUw0qB_YaCZ5UZB1sOnB9CfVcaWP05oxFnoJoFvmXTY1azf0Pq_rI0zCLQ8xgJ1KAqlrZxD1iZ-69JM62wVQ/s1024/oldman.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbLaqZYP2R8o11IATlXTJNlRNA11piv7-l0u6YXw-fvWU3obQPGd8d0R1N-XQzH3qmaZQYMAT4lsK-wMXxGoAS1RVTejuXwtqCtNfUw0qB_YaCZ5UZB1sOnB9CfVcaWP05oxFnoJoFvmXTY1azf0Pq_rI0zCLQ8xgJ1KAqlrZxD1iZ-69JM62wVQ/s320/oldman.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p><i>Note: We found a rather scruffy man with a full beard and long hair in the café as our free write prompt. </i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Rick's Free Write</span></b><i> </i><br /></span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">He was sitting at the
corner table in the back, where he sat every morning about this time – except Friday
and Saturday when the <i>boulangerie</i> was closed. (I know, odd days not to be
open, but this was a small village, and the residents did as they pleased,
regardless of convention.) I nodded to him as I sat down at a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>table kitty-corner, and he dipped his head
slightly, <i>comme d’habitude</i>. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">We never spoke. Well,
not never. Once, months ago, when I first encountered him, when I was new to
the village, I had tried to engage him in chit-chat. But he didn’t reciprocate.
Just kept munching bits off his croissant and nursing his espresso.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I’d guessed he was in
his 70s, like me, but looked older. Shaggy gray-on-gray hair and unruly beard.
A weathered face that suggested working the farm fields for many years.
Presumably retired, but then again, maybe 9:30 in the morning was the end of his
chore time at the farm.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I watched as he struggled
to his feet, then shuffled toward the door, partly dragging his left foot.
Maybe he’d be run over by something. Or just severe arthritis. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">He left, <i>comme d’habitude</i>,
without a word.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">I wonder what he
thought of me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Julia's Free Write </span><br /></b></span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">He is in
the bakery CUM MINIMART EVERY TIME I GO IN.</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I imagine
he is a daily customer although he never seems to interact with
anyone.</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I further
imagine, sleuth deduction based upon appearances, slightly
scruffy around the
edges, that he has no one at home.</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">And what
was his life?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Where did
he work?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Where in
this small village does he live?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Born and
raised here in the village?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">A farmer
who no longer has a farm?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">An
industrial worker?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">Has he
travelled – if only into the neighboring town? Or has he always
been only here?</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">More
questions than answers, until…</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;">I mentioned
him to friends in the village: “Oh, didn’t you know? He had a
major
construction company, travelled all of Europe doing business.
Then when his whole
family died in a fire 30 years ago, he sold it all and lives on
his own in that
mansion on the hill.</span></p>
<p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><i>Remarks:
story based on similar stories of two other men: one oe whom is
Martin Gray,
author of “For Those I loved” and a man in the next village over
from mine,
whose name I don’t know.</i></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #2b00fe;">D-L's Free Write</span></b></span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Olie's coffee grew cold, but he was in no hurry to go home.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Home. Hah!</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">An
apartment. The only reason it was furnished was that his son insisted
he take furniture from the house he and Lydia had shared for 47 years.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">The waitress knew better than to ask him if he wanted another cup of coffee.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">He had perfected his growl, launching it through his thick beard and shoulder-length hair.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">He thumbed through the <i>Tribune de Genéve</i>. War! War! War! The world had gone crazy.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">His leg hurt. He shifted it. He wouldn't tell his son, who would insist he go to the damn fool doctor.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">The café buzzed with people, two, three or four to a table. Blah! Blah! Blah!</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">A woman entered with a brat, a boy of maybe three or four.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Olie scowled imagining that the brat would throw a tantrum if he couldn't have whatever.</span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;">Instead, the boy walked over and stared at him. "Why do you look so sad? Did one of your reindeer die?"</span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i>Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends. Her blog can be found: <a href="https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/" rel="noopener" tabindex="9999" target="_blank">https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/</a> <span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;"><br /></span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;"> </span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;">Rick is an aviation journalist and publisher of <a href="https://theexpatwriter.blogspot.com/www.aviationvoices. com" target="_blank">www.aviationvoices. com</a></span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;"> </span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;">D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at:. <a href="http://www.dlnelsonwriter.com">www.dlnelsonwriter.com</a></span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;"> </span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="xxmsonormal" style="background: white; margin: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span><i><span style="font-family: times;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #242424;">Rick created the art work using Midjourney. <br /></span></span></i></span></span></p><p class="ox-7db4a6c772-MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-13879492368388380202024-02-10T14:42:00.001+01:002024-02-10T14:42:47.749+01:00Complaining can be ...<p><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> Useful and productive.<br /></span></p><p><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">10
days ago it was the 24<sup>th</sup> anniversary of my husband’s death.</span>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I
still live in the same village and do try and go up to the cemetery a few times
throughout the year, especially on the day, if I am in town.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Our
cemetery is currently being renovated – a construction site full of its own
problems and literally everything is being changed except the accumulated
graves.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I
was able to go up on the day, but when I returned on the weekend, there was
absolutely no way of entering the lower part, where he is buried.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I
took photos and wrote an email to the Mayor’s office, trying not to be totally
nasty, but I did emphasize that this was NOT admissible.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I
duly received an answer saying that obviously the access was badly marked
(actually none as there is a wall, there were gates where the construction company
enters, there were barriers in between upper and lower parts and there is a
fence with construction “paper” on the other two sides. Perhaps an animal could
enter: a human not. But they did say that they had discussed it during a
meeting of the construction team. I answered that I would check this weekend.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">I
did and imagine my surprise, a totally acceptable opening and they even put
down the white</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Pathways
in order that we didn’t have to walk on mud!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Sometimes
complaining gets results!</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0_r7pdaTy527Qt0C_SWqRG9mvjolslmQEmn8ytziaRJeNLFhS42oyhDwf4fZ-bM7_clMZSHT9UBwk7cMhNbCDB3OQlWzLcDluWoyr5NhyR8Oh7W_SeLsE3IzfUBu6VupHc0Lv08rQA3CNbkwR-BTirbt6qjEYJXaWAcB4nbfY1FQHt068GE3OZEz5Skrx/s1417/20240210_132826.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="1417" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0_r7pdaTy527Qt0C_SWqRG9mvjolslmQEmn8ytziaRJeNLFhS42oyhDwf4fZ-bM7_clMZSHT9UBwk7cMhNbCDB3OQlWzLcDluWoyr5NhyR8Oh7W_SeLsE3IzfUBu6VupHc0Lv08rQA3CNbkwR-BTirbt6qjEYJXaWAcB4nbfY1FQHt068GE3OZEz5Skrx/s320/20240210_132826.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><br /> </span><p></p>
<p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-38616715031855437262024-02-06T17:03:00.001+01:002024-02-06T17:03:05.613+01:00Laughter<p><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">The
National Geographic put out, at least in 2014, a lovely book containing quotes
and photos for the 365 days of the year.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Today’s
caught my attention.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">A
French writer, Jules Renard, wrote</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">“We
were put here on earth to laugh.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">We
will no longer be able to do so in purgatory nor hell.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">And,
in heaven, it wouldn’t be appropriate”.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Not
sure that I want to go anywhere where laughter isn’t appropriate. Sometimes
even</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">The
most solemn occasion or sad circumstances bring on a laugh if nothing more than
to break the seriousness of the event. Life without these moments would be dull
indeed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eon-4m335k2Pt6HZ8nqxdDSqY3-6QiDDVrMdxITbNSzDq53w7NdaqtuusEejxTo0tsgWe4FLJSZ7j2vNeU8RZwe-mKkEtjIEHx7zEE6M6_H_xAZrnYFenMPnoDugJ92RE-2h1TLnK8uGymz5_TzfUF9S0u0eRR6NtEmZtCl-p0ZKVBp5Gj5yphqaIAGY/s864/world-laughter-day.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="864" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eon-4m335k2Pt6HZ8nqxdDSqY3-6QiDDVrMdxITbNSzDq53w7NdaqtuusEejxTo0tsgWe4FLJSZ7j2vNeU8RZwe-mKkEtjIEHx7zEE6M6_H_xAZrnYFenMPnoDugJ92RE-2h1TLnK8uGymz5_TzfUF9S0u0eRR6NtEmZtCl-p0ZKVBp5Gj5yphqaIAGY/s320/world-laughter-day.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> <br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-24305062801873308292024-02-02T17:24:00.002+01:002024-02-02T17:24:31.314+01:00Life’s little moods<p><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #555555; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A THOUGHT FOR TODAY:</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Our sincerest laughter with some
pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley, poet (1792-1822)</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">And
loss is loss, be it a day, a month, a year, a decade or even 24 years.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">February
2, 2000 was one of those days, my children lost their father, I my husband.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">And
if the tragedy of the loss has diminished the remembered pain survives.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Putting
away grief – and the Christmas tree – are some of the hardest things to do.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;">Today
I did both.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-17055765285511910082024-01-30T15:04:00.002+01:002024-01-30T15:04:33.225+01:00Theophoric<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Was the
Word-a-Day today and I must admit that when I saw it, I immediately thought –
ok they’ve come up with a new name for these evangelicals who think that the
whole world should be ruled by religious laws and are euphoric on their own
brand of fanaticism.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Disclaimer:
I am not picking on evangelicals, as the same religious fanaticism can easily
be applied to many throughout the world. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But in
context of USA politics which we are all following closely, evangelicals came
to mind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But then I
stopped to read the definition and to my surprise it had nothing at all to do
with what I surmised to be the definition. Rather it simply means “</span>Having
or derived from the name of a god.<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> »</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So, if
needs be, yet again a lesson in ‘don’t think that you have the absolute, or
even the best, idea of what anything means’.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b> <a href="https://wordsmith.org/" style="color: black; font-size: larger; text-decoration: none;">Wordsmith.org</a> the beauty of language</b><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> <br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-38486548687662085362024-01-28T17:49:00.001+01:002024-01-28T17:49:21.347+01:00A beautiful day…<p><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">For no
reason – or for many reasons.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">First
bright point in the day to come was the sun.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Breakfast
was the usual, but the coffee is always good.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Then my son
and his family visited and we all took a walk <br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To the lake
to feed the ducks and the odd swan.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Enough
bread for ALL of us to toss at will.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Watching
the two-year old trying to feed – precious.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Lunch was
over abundant at Le Lotus Bleu.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The short
nap and coffee afterwards just wonderful.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Soon I will
see friends for cocktails (or mocktails</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Depending upon
age and mood).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A wonderful
and beautiful day.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wYnIw1ubv2T-bGjlJhd9aP7eXR59ryk91_ceIk7ggEzOk3sHpG_SPx1wnSHEdJwJteiWtAcmGvtq1vCxvJXKs7Bnaeq64HwzQ4606_-i9yLfk8205AhGnN0_OOh_LNTCtBXoj4PgafG6mqXQAMTcMY1hgTFKMLaSrzlg2PFJSl4Ke70KpfGy1iPNSzrm/s276/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="276" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9wYnIw1ubv2T-bGjlJhd9aP7eXR59ryk91_ceIk7ggEzOk3sHpG_SPx1wnSHEdJwJteiWtAcmGvtq1vCxvJXKs7Bnaeq64HwzQ4606_-i9yLfk8205AhGnN0_OOh_LNTCtBXoj4PgafG6mqXQAMTcMY1hgTFKMLaSrzlg2PFJSl4Ke70KpfGy1iPNSzrm/s1600/images.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Braverman Greenspun<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-2658897315352970682024-01-26T18:56:00.001+01:002024-01-26T18:56:00.252+01:00A walk around the square… or<p> <span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">20 minutes
to kill.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The other
day I needed to take someone to an appointment which wouldn’t last long. As
there were no parking spaces in the immediate vicinity I went “the other way”
and found myself in part of the original Old Town of Geneva, but not on the
cathedral side.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">20 minutes
took me first to the Henry Moore statue up on the bluff overlooking the city
and across from </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZh6TYkBCvVxmxj4bwcdUdHSvZmO48ULdS_3bFpQ9NFJ6FVhyphenhyphenpiZtktclqm966n1q16l_OUh7IVUrnqAySaI3sq-c3f0oE7IQxPpT55nMQNR_BkS5gTWLf6lhB1zXt-6TqTCe9RbnpBQz9KFtDO-Cz2MkB7vFuQD0wNpVdiO0cG3fTSeYByECBZYeaz68/s4000/Moore%20sculpture%2020240125_100218.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTZh6TYkBCvVxmxj4bwcdUdHSvZmO48ULdS_3bFpQ9NFJ6FVhyphenhyphenpiZtktclqm966n1q16l_OUh7IVUrnqAySaI3sq-c3f0oE7IQxPpT55nMQNR_BkS5gTWLf6lhB1zXt-6TqTCe9RbnpBQz9KFtDO-Cz2MkB7vFuQD0wNpVdiO0cG3fTSeYByECBZYeaz68/s320/Moore%20sculpture%2020240125_100218.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reclining figure: Arch leg<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The Museum
of Art and History (MAH). Intriguing the red digital put out of seemingly
endless numbers. I will need to ask the next time I am there what it is
supposed to mean.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp1vBBsqgR9pa04pd2n5hOP4TuMlxZHOfqXu6uAuAZf8NneOvHdNpf5qLEaJYEYjRigYNemsXKgfbT2sKSk6hYVbbJX4GDIv-qZQ3BPnwTjQEUxvcj5dAAaEbVQZPQXZGGmFXqaQ1OXMYltfiR0ca0DQbViaa1AduKN0bk9EGMk-CIs2FXzbDH-WOpF-j/s4000/Museum_MAH_20240125_100209.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXp1vBBsqgR9pa04pd2n5hOP4TuMlxZHOfqXu6uAuAZf8NneOvHdNpf5qLEaJYEYjRigYNemsXKgfbT2sKSk6hYVbbJX4GDIv-qZQ3BPnwTjQEUxvcj5dAAaEbVQZPQXZGGmFXqaQ1OXMYltfiR0ca0DQbViaa1AduKN0bk9EGMk-CIs2FXzbDH-WOpF-j/s320/Museum_MAH_20240125_100209.jpeg" width="144" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Then
backtracking towards the car I came across a statue to the Admiral Le Fort –
who served Peter the Great. Fitting as the Russian Orthodox church is not far.
But again, why a Geneva, admiral of the Russian Fleet?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qk8_yAbciubM5LusE7ZZUx3zuF5UEJVrk_D3bAXQ9r7k9GbOMn_HbBG2ZPYepfgoY22k2w2OcsQqwr_mtF5KGPBf3BZwxvAzc9yksA7aS511ZQutOzkc6Pul7kfi1VWv31gFos5f8SeNjuCxroxDwoKMmrNDZJOaYkXgxUe7yBn-MI2MJavgdlYZB9kg/s2683/Le%20Fort%20statue%2020240125_100715.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2683" data-original-width="1785" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5qk8_yAbciubM5LusE7ZZUx3zuF5UEJVrk_D3bAXQ9r7k9GbOMn_HbBG2ZPYepfgoY22k2w2OcsQqwr_mtF5KGPBf3BZwxvAzc9yksA7aS511ZQutOzkc6Pul7kfi1VWv31gFos5f8SeNjuCxroxDwoKMmrNDZJOaYkXgxUe7yBn-MI2MJavgdlYZB9kg/s320/Le%20Fort%20statue%2020240125_100715.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rEk5cNlU9Cd7Eof98QI3kx4HDtaQ60SjtM_fZX1BmL2zVSZMVAEdiHSJPselcH_3Xs_Pz4KeWRwy9QXsEykHphAnw-AVytZKg3exImxDCJbJfioEPkNs9ugWl8N5EMBb0xxsmkmzFVt5f26SRw18gyg_lkRsa7S1853p3Ij_jVtlacHSIJAfjAdXEGI7/s3447/RUssian%20church%2020240125_095548.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3447" data-original-width="1800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rEk5cNlU9Cd7Eof98QI3kx4HDtaQ60SjtM_fZX1BmL2zVSZMVAEdiHSJPselcH_3Xs_Pz4KeWRwy9QXsEykHphAnw-AVytZKg3exImxDCJbJfioEPkNs9ugWl8N5EMBb0xxsmkmzFVt5f26SRw18gyg_lkRsa7S1853p3Ij_jVtlacHSIJAfjAdXEGI7/s320/RUssian%20church%2020240125_095548.jpeg" width="167" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A beautiful
sunny day that raised more questions than it answered.</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-37813350516966072442024-01-23T18:49:00.000+01:002024-01-23T18:49:04.280+01:00The P.S.s of life<p><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In a lovely
little book put together by Eliakim Katz called “Old Age comes at a bad time”,
which, in turn is a quate from Sue Banducci, Arthur Schopenauer, a German
philosopher said “The first forty years of life gives us the text; the next
thirty years supply the commentary.”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ah, but we
are living longer now so I am going to add a P.S. the next however many one
gets are the asterixis, the quotes, the exclamations points, in short the punctuation.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Perhaps at
71 one adds an Asterix whilst explaining one’s text or commentary, then one
starts quoting one’s younger self, only to end up putting exclamation points on
getting through the day with minimal aches and pains.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Let the
P.S.s come.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span><img alt="Punctuation, Memes, and Choice – Open English @ SLCC" aria-hidden="false" class="sFlh5c pT0Scc iPVvYb" src="https://pressbooks.pub/app/uploads/sites/4119/2017/12/judgy-meme.jpg" style="height: 164px; margin: 0px; max-width: 236px; width: 236px;" /></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-29121011927267291412024-01-22T18:12:00.003+01:002024-01-22T18:55:35.397+01:00The beauty of accidents<p><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Now I know
what you’re thinking: accidents – beautiful – not in my world.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But I am
talking about a very minor accident: a waitress who spilled water.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It beaded
on the black table sets and made a very pretty pattern.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">No, not all
accidents cause beauty, it’s enough that this one did.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_lZKoHGlymFLntz7liv1quR7VBwkNLhyJ45IdmRUj9k_upXcyjrq-A0JjujdvwxMUDN05A0s5ZKM_Y0JzBTmar8YeFuNyq_X_P8d-AI0cW4nhh8ONW7NRDMkMmNfAd-r6C_hMVrvTiSRBZLHeMgriHqEhE7j-tps03pMrK6X8Z8d1D_A0Hw-KO9aNZpR/s2472/20240121_132333.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2472" data-original-width="1765" height="534" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_lZKoHGlymFLntz7liv1quR7VBwkNLhyJ45IdmRUj9k_upXcyjrq-A0JjujdvwxMUDN05A0s5ZKM_Y0JzBTmar8YeFuNyq_X_P8d-AI0cW4nhh8ONW7NRDMkMmNfAd-r6C_hMVrvTiSRBZLHeMgriHqEhE7j-tps03pMrK6X8Z8d1D_A0Hw-KO9aNZpR/w380-h534/20240121_132333.jpeg" width="380" /></a></div></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-59686086892711593572024-01-21T18:37:00.001+01:002024-01-21T18:37:00.186+01:00Miracles<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As Albert
Einstein said « There are two ways of living one’s life: as though nothing
was a miracle, or as if everything was a miracle”.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The second
version is obviously the better attitude.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I have had
my share of “miracles”, two of whom are my sons.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Today is a
celebration of that wonderful day when our first-born arrived in our lives.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">46 years
later he has become a wonderful man, husband and father – as well as a person who
is straight, honest and – with the advent of the family – more aware of the
specialness of family.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style> <br /></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-62367442085306872982024-01-19T11:15:00.000+01:002024-01-19T11:15:01.568+01:00Starting small<p> <span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">With the writing that is. It will take awhile to get back in the groove so to speak - a phrase that was popular in my youth, but that is probably no longer ever used.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #555555; font-family: arial;"></span><span style="color: #555555; font-family: arial;">I
have mentioned several times how much I love “</span><span style="color: #555555; font-family: arial;">A THOUGHT FOR TODAY</span><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #555555; font-family: arial;">” from Wordsmith.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #555555; font-family: arial;">This
one is from several years ago, but ever so pertinent to our lives at the
moment.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="color: #555555; font-family: arial;">With
a world filled with seemingly only bad news and problems one needs to keep
Joseph Addison’s (1672-1719) saying in mind.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;">« </span><span style="font-family: arial;">Three
grand essentials to happiness in this life are something to do, something to
love, and something to hope for</span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;">«.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: arial;">I also take
note that he ended his sentence with a preposition – something that I have
spent my whole life trying to avoid. I guess there’s room for change.</span></span><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-77054813517094224402024-01-17T11:09:00.003+01:002024-01-17T11:09:41.994+01:00Write, write, write<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Write,
write, write</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Said my
older son,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Write,
write, write,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Repeats my
younger one.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There is no
season,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">There is no
time,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When for
any reason</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It’s not
fine</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So write,
write – right!</span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-89938749384410702812023-09-19T18:04:00.000+02:002023-09-19T18:04:37.471+02:00Grief and Remembrance<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Grief
doesn’t disappear,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It crashes
into one likes the waves on the rocks,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Then
recedes quietly as it came.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Before the
next wave.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It comes
like a thief, stealing one’s breath</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">and
thoughts – an uneasy return to the past.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One learns
to adapt - to “live” with grief,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">one never
learns to forget it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The memories
surface at their own pace</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And one’s
will is no match,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One can
only ride the tide</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">And wait
for calmer waters.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Grief is an
ongoing fact of life.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One with
which one learns to live,</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But never
accept.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">RIP little
sis, you were loved, you are remembered!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-76803812520403946662023-07-28T09:54:00.003+02:002023-07-28T09:54:20.281+02:00Take heart – twenty-five years<p><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Just a
short blog for all of those of you who have been recently diagnosed with breast
cancer.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Today marks
the day of my first operation – 25 years ago! </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">We are also
10 years past the mastectomy of the same breast… and I’m still here.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">A third of
my lifetime, won due to the fact that I live in a country where medical</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">insurance
is obligatory, where care is good and where, mostly, doctors listen to</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">patients
(that first lump was outside the normal radius and my gynecologist didn’t</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">feel it
until I pointed it out).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">If breast
cancer is still killing, it is killing less as we diagnose faster and have
better tools for eradicating it.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Keep
checking, I hope that all who are diagnosed today follow my path and “live to
tell the tale”.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">💗💗 💖💗💓💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗<br /></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-86594451193542950192023-02-08T11:46:00.000+01:002023-02-08T11:46:17.601+01:00Feeling good only costs 10 cents<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEymbi42NuJ7_KpVIwLFoF-1tJWqW3SoFT3FnNeWLDOJY1Z28SKZ3RVii-tP36jXJfH80xZKQ5mv09tRsB2lYeEpDDiPyWBRYZTVtdyBvdbnIaivBebtflYFK97ayv-SVCoVEUUlkFpmnGX-I-3hTmn2_2qjiUi_sotxYIUXkTiH9BXPEWWwUxmZ_jA/s474/10%20centimes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="474" data-original-width="474" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoEymbi42NuJ7_KpVIwLFoF-1tJWqW3SoFT3FnNeWLDOJY1Z28SKZ3RVii-tP36jXJfH80xZKQ5mv09tRsB2lYeEpDDiPyWBRYZTVtdyBvdbnIaivBebtflYFK97ayv-SVCoVEUUlkFpmnGX-I-3hTmn2_2qjiUi_sotxYIUXkTiH9BXPEWWwUxmZ_jA/w200-h200/10%20centimes.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10 Swiss centimes<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzjEfMxlUUVH555-sKD4WBNUXQ9NI-s83n4zvicmARxX6ejTewH2F7xL-XkVoeVVfvJvDYJEdxl3AtMjBYrycYPyXrR06bI1Hc5IQrGCmd1izU5tK33uh6QsYlj9JiOrKQIClWiq3KnqXrDNGV67_7DVCQcWjMI8HOtVwkK92shzVca3JwmTYsruTtQ/s170/10%20euro%20cents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="168" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGzjEfMxlUUVH555-sKD4WBNUXQ9NI-s83n4zvicmARxX6ejTewH2F7xL-XkVoeVVfvJvDYJEdxl3AtMjBYrycYPyXrR06bI1Hc5IQrGCmd1izU5tK33uh6QsYlj9JiOrKQIClWiq3KnqXrDNGV67_7DVCQcWjMI8HOtVwkK92shzVca3JwmTYsruTtQ/s1600/10%20euro%20cents.jpg" width="168" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10 Euro cents<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTkE9M_J28WWDyShsWgf5KxxcH2T2S8Mjg2wpCxiKNW8KawUNl5DcBJWb0gWW9PXhQxma6NyoKDBLjiqkfpM8Kugx4sSDkxForDvNNsj6c8rlvrgI1aR4r5z9aV7nrprZFhTNCdsDFv9x0MMktDzYQlrtArMTYu9uaYPUrhfbCu6rDFqa5kCG4LenhQ/s236/10%20cents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="236" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibTkE9M_J28WWDyShsWgf5KxxcH2T2S8Mjg2wpCxiKNW8KawUNl5DcBJWb0gWW9PXhQxma6NyoKDBLjiqkfpM8Kugx4sSDkxForDvNNsj6c8rlvrgI1aR4r5z9aV7nrprZFhTNCdsDFv9x0MMktDzYQlrtArMTYu9uaYPUrhfbCu6rDFqa5kCG4LenhQ/s1600/10%20cents.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10 USA cents<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal">You know how busy we all are, how we run from one task to
the other, one errand to the next: a merry-go-round of “things to do”. If we’re
lucky, we stop to “smell the roses” or recognize happiness when it hits.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">This morning I was on my third errand, which involved
parking in one of the commercial centers. Upon going to pay my parking ticket,
the chap before me couldn’t get the machine to accept his bill, one that was
within the limits of what the machine should accept. He turned it over, nothing
to be done. He was then going to use a credit card (for 1 franc!) but</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Must of thought that he had pressure as he looked first for
change. After the fiasco of the bill I had offered to pay, but that was
refused. However, when the coins he had came up short by 10 cents He did allow
me to me to chip in. He left happy, I left happier!</p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-59873254801261213512023-02-04T18:13:00.001+01:002023-02-04T18:13:00.167+01:00Both in the same day… or<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Finally
seeing my sons.</span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">It
was a rather un-planned week, but by the end of it I needed to get some mail to
my younger son, who, although he no longer lives at home, is still using my
address. (As does his girlfriend – I guess I’m the “stable” one in the family).</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">This
doesn’t bother me in the slightest until the mail piles up.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">I
had finally bundled it up and forwarded it, only to have it returned to the
parents of the friend who’s apartment he is subletting. Good thing they live in
my village.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">So
it was, and having received more mail, becoming rather urgent that I transfer
this. Arranged to meet him at one of our larger DIY stores out where he would
be teaching that day, but got hung up in a meeting (another story) and as was
getting late by the time I was free arranged to meet him directly at his
school. By the time all that had happened I still went on to the DIY center,
was starving to popped up first to the restaurant for a bite. I was just coming
out of the line when I heard behind me “I think, Ma’am, that we perhaps know
each other”. And turned to see that my older son was just putting away his
tray.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;">Serendipity
as it can be literally months before I see both sons the same day!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWannP0F8N9bL-LcbujZSWiSLFZDW5hDYl_AGnS4LZOSDW1FBBvAfrqBpIzOFQgEW0A8a4Iadrsi0f_-HjDpmu2oScRbGeCxBdX40-vI77LOVMXgdcUrIYA9U85LbqHBbqUUNtMdOpuP2SZBm4nfxUZ_QiMtDWa3HvRDzqUZVHB8pUx7JAN6FwfnHbw/s755/serendipity%20wordle.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="458" data-original-width="755" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWannP0F8N9bL-LcbujZSWiSLFZDW5hDYl_AGnS4LZOSDW1FBBvAfrqBpIzOFQgEW0A8a4Iadrsi0f_-HjDpmu2oScRbGeCxBdX40-vI77LOVMXgdcUrIYA9U85LbqHBbqUUNtMdOpuP2SZBm4nfxUZ_QiMtDWa3HvRDzqUZVHB8pUx7JAN6FwfnHbw/w400-h243/serendipity%20wordle.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-79333186673746794652023-02-02T18:12:00.003+01:002023-02-02T18:12:29.878+01:00A blast from the past…<p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrs8oF3iyb2tiOO0BHekSi0SL8hK1RL4Nwb9aoBRZ67D3ylR98MXMtsYEiuZTLgThQY5vnPptOeByZZ7clzTj6Uskn8Nv2SeD1UyhLXhmywhbjfPi74_RGLVepg6Ac-LGqpve2Q_6izCjlmWqvM4YldybnCAVbRVSBnlgSYh6YPuVGTGaJsFybSqa1gg/s1300/Image-of-blast-clipart-0-explosion-cartoon-vector-clip-art-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrs8oF3iyb2tiOO0BHekSi0SL8hK1RL4Nwb9aoBRZ67D3ylR98MXMtsYEiuZTLgThQY5vnPptOeByZZ7clzTj6Uskn8Nv2SeD1UyhLXhmywhbjfPi74_RGLVepg6Ac-LGqpve2Q_6izCjlmWqvM4YldybnCAVbRVSBnlgSYh6YPuVGTGaJsFybSqa1gg/s320/Image-of-blast-clipart-0-explosion-cartoon-vector-clip-art-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A blast from the past<br /></td></tr></tbody></table>
</p>Twenty-three years ago I lost my husband; his heart and body
simply couldn’t take any more after two valve replacements his heart was
failing, a transplant was in the works, but he had a lung hemorrhage before it
could take place.
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal">Over the years we have adjusted, the good memories remain,
the pain is blurred, as are the links to that part of my life.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Today, however, I ran into the first person from whom we
rented offices all those years ago. His wife and I breast fed our sons together
– so this was 45 years ago!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I recognized him, not sure that he really recognized me, but
just the encounter was enough to transport me back through the years. I don’t
need a time machine, friends and acquaintances do well in its’ stead.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /> </p>
<p><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-47931739533598825062023-01-09T17:24:00.000+01:002023-01-09T17:24:15.475+01:00Proust’s madeleine<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJxdRkQJun0_c9GyOg-fszXzynNoB7Ulvvv_8LyIUPVmbLfSOmUc8YcloijbO_PxoixbuYw6dcwxtGtDDJDels4pJn5twdXI8VdnhrRhL9WBSx003eba1ffUEBKUwfvlwNmY9rbYdNKiOx4UvzbIIz00lPUzvyQ92QdQRU3MgafKLMv_fji2Dz_h-Lg/s450/madeleine-clipart-19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="450" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGJxdRkQJun0_c9GyOg-fszXzynNoB7Ulvvv_8LyIUPVmbLfSOmUc8YcloijbO_PxoixbuYw6dcwxtGtDDJDels4pJn5twdXI8VdnhrRhL9WBSx003eba1ffUEBKUwfvlwNmY9rbYdNKiOx4UvzbIIz00lPUzvyQ92QdQRU3MgafKLMv_fji2Dz_h-Lg/s320/madeleine-clipart-19.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;">Now
for those of you (probably quite a few) who have never heard of Proust, never
mind his madeleines, he was a French writer and philosopher who in his book “In
search of Lost time” uses the madeleine – a small French cookie – to explain
memory and how our memories are often linked to tastes and smells</span>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;">I
have had a couple of proustien experiences lately. One at Christmas when my
older son gave us each a cinnamon roll: straight back to my aunt and mother’s
cinnamon rolls of the weekend. Oh the memories, oh the flavours – thank you
son!</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;">The
second such was today in one of my local grocery stores. There in the front on
a table of Asian specialities were boxes of Fortune Cookies! Hadn’t seen one,
never mind opened one in a long, long time. Of course I had to buy a box, and
of course I had to open it: Written in Chinese and in English my first
“fortune”.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;">“You
possess a broad mind to pioneer the new century”. OK, I can live with that,
even though it is neither a new century, nor to I perhaps have the energy to
pioneer anything, never mind that another body part is probably “broader” than
my mind.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;">Wonder
what my third (my life always goes in threes) proustien memory is going to be?</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJei6ahK-z8sCUSBklg1NxQYipSBjoxYvDT7zXAKBCgqCKfOQXWO139VfLP8wIcsxAdVVRoy-Yd1tRq2uDslwVl0Esourx1l-BGnz0X4kVdMC8kbK2W2ztKVnKcoU-RKb4-8SrAWcqSp4kile53oXfx3uRsEWBZxV1Ktz_1w8sWJMdoWcDA6xBraVug/s3000/20230109_163436.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="1800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHJei6ahK-z8sCUSBklg1NxQYipSBjoxYvDT7zXAKBCgqCKfOQXWO139VfLP8wIcsxAdVVRoy-Yd1tRq2uDslwVl0Esourx1l-BGnz0X4kVdMC8kbK2W2ztKVnKcoU-RKb4-8SrAWcqSp4kile53oXfx3uRsEWBZxV1Ktz_1w8sWJMdoWcDA6xBraVug/w240-h400/20230109_163436.jpg" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14pt;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCI_uI3ct5XR5-PnuwbIdCa9GjlJFxzvlNobeafytMIkn73F_KfTYFZ4y4rr9qERimBQJruzlOsY-c9bd3uwQECp_-dqx9e3-CVwIrQ9j6PwxQ-mO3v1x50m5xMJxrUAnM9tBGlqxICew-yAdl56QkE3rjGBxKMx2OpWKbUqtGM0VccpCnj3lm_zR0KQ/s2249/20230109_170437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2249" data-original-width="1800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCI_uI3ct5XR5-PnuwbIdCa9GjlJFxzvlNobeafytMIkn73F_KfTYFZ4y4rr9qERimBQJruzlOsY-c9bd3uwQECp_-dqx9e3-CVwIrQ9j6PwxQ-mO3v1x50m5xMJxrUAnM9tBGlqxICew-yAdl56QkE3rjGBxKMx2OpWKbUqtGM0VccpCnj3lm_zR0KQ/w320-h400/20230109_170437.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /> </span><p></p>
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already – and I’ll be writing and saying</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(probably forever) where does the time
go? So Happy New Year a tad after-the-fact.<br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yesterday was a beautiful, mild, sunny
day and we took advantage of it to drive</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Up to a lake through rolling hills and
more green than one expects at this time of year. Lovely (cheesy) lunch then
home – after dark: winter is still upon us.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh_V2RIupKXLKWGwwGTN8UBCIvcL874xWzXiQFm2ni1b5BSC_BAyarquYKwWdE5iuXUgxhzdv_R12uAV28HszxB7so-u1rHIJrl5AHEuW20_yIMnXnqgQV1VAFvvquXzv9yFCRKKkhAJhTgHTvXolEtJzAm_B-_I8V-ss_QA-EJGnxW15eswk0vFJuA/s3428/Lac%20du%20Joux.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1439" data-original-width="3428" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAh_V2RIupKXLKWGwwGTN8UBCIvcL874xWzXiQFm2ni1b5BSC_BAyarquYKwWdE5iuXUgxhzdv_R12uAV28HszxB7so-u1rHIJrl5AHEuW20_yIMnXnqgQV1VAFvvquXzv9yFCRKKkhAJhTgHTvXolEtJzAm_B-_I8V-ss_QA-EJGnxW15eswk0vFJuA/w400-h168/Lac%20du%20Joux.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lac du Joux<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Today is, as they predicted, gray and
rainy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So the big spurt to finish putting away
Christmas deco, including the tree, then sweep up (yes even artificial trees
loose there needles – ok so it’s probably about 40 years old…) and in general
tidy up for the new year. School starts tomorrow and many of us, even retired,
tend to live in sync with school vacations.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m tired, time for a nap – or just
being – maybe I should catch up on some of those taped Romcom movies.</span></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I am the oldest of three sisters, followed by that lone
brother.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Growing up I was more the babysitter than a sibling, but oh
the blessing of having sisters (and a brother who brought into the family
another lovely sister!).</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">We lost my little sister ten years ago – colon cancer, get
your checks – and whilst packing up her belongings I took her placemats as the
colors and pattern pleased me. They have been used occasionally during the
fall, but not as often as I could have. They ended up in a cupboard with the
exception of one used as a doily on side tables acquired a few years ago.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My other sister, who would have loved to have been an
interior decorator, often (o.k. always) has suggestions to make on my interior
decorations. We are chalk and cheese, but this time she hit the jackpot. We
were discussing, rearranging, rediscussing and re-re-arranging cushions on my
lovely sofa when she saw the one placemat. Pinned it into place over one of the
pillows and indeed it did look good.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">She took home four of the others and the day before
Thanksgiving I received cushion covers made from these placemats in the mail.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Gorgeous.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I now live with a permanent reminder of both my sisters – in
my living room where I see them multiple times a day. Truly one of the
blessings in my life.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3unozI1nibzadB3pbEuzIS9P_uqr5oKnqWqY_mfA2V0nVGoW2F_dioTGHV-MqWoHmQ-cbUJsQw8Za3gb0fAlVWpOYcHYWyElHZ54o6LfgRGky4X5lm7-bhrv_Usf7CbXOiKar5YiydlT44qDnxYQhzDFU98gColbvok2nNW2uxGiSL0lGLa4yUxgDA/s3841/sofa%20cushions.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1758" data-original-width="3841" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL3unozI1nibzadB3pbEuzIS9P_uqr5oKnqWqY_mfA2V0nVGoW2F_dioTGHV-MqWoHmQ-cbUJsQw8Za3gb0fAlVWpOYcHYWyElHZ54o6LfgRGky4X5lm7-bhrv_Usf7CbXOiKar5YiydlT44qDnxYQhzDFU98gColbvok2nNW2uxGiSL0lGLa4yUxgDA/w400-h183/sofa%20cushions.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The two more colorful ones on the ends<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> </p>
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<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">The only holiday that I truly miss from my childhood is
Thanksgiving.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Oh, I have splendid memories of Christmas, of birthdays, both
mine and those of my siblings but they still exist.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have lived in the country of my second nationality now for
almost 50 years. When the children were little I made the effort of producing
Thanksgiving dinner on that Thursday even if it was a work day and school day.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Over the years I have been with American family and
celebrated it well. I have also had Thanksgiving in various restaurants here as
there is a large expat community.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">But this year, there is nothing – and, I guess as a result
of age, I find that I miss it.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Still instead of mourning what isn’t I will choose to
celebrate what is:</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">A good life, decent health, a great place to live, friends
and family strewn throughout the world; travel, grandchildren, and even the sun
is shining today. Truly a life and conditions for which I give thanks!</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcNBl6cce9TXenLM2j1Nb6ZRS9-j9rV3XuvAcXQKI8_kkXKCRivDqUplwPSSnvLWi9oS1FoUwLX8d11h-RR05F6V_IlqAw9bUVvkSx-fywkJO0XAHljrvfzMg8stMC7VZOeiwR_-ANm68DaulWqNQFVuIFZWDPhO7ED4oz0bOhIXtvj6dhacufrcEcQ/s4416/IMG_0928.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4416" data-original-width="3312" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMcNBl6cce9TXenLM2j1Nb6ZRS9-j9rV3XuvAcXQKI8_kkXKCRivDqUplwPSSnvLWi9oS1FoUwLX8d11h-RR05F6V_IlqAw9bUVvkSx-fywkJO0XAHljrvfzMg8stMC7VZOeiwR_-ANm68DaulWqNQFVuIFZWDPhO7ED4oz0bOhIXtvj6dhacufrcEcQ/w300-h400/IMG_0928.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
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</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBumA1xnRKTyEsI0YaQOP8NCpuyd_WrougXqcE4f_p1J7LBwBxutsaY8Y_XJjvrVpvX6DisEK2OFoU6tngXwZ7aZbRJhj88nTKQzKHbXo3bn8nWeU5qykZPzYpdcJdgdcdcBiYLBvzpcUh5Y2faahqN3jyiFqtxwOwNrFqZc-7ksTA4E0gJfav17lrXw/s2054/Auer%20chocolates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2054" data-original-width="1660" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBumA1xnRKTyEsI0YaQOP8NCpuyd_WrougXqcE4f_p1J7LBwBxutsaY8Y_XJjvrVpvX6DisEK2OFoU6tngXwZ7aZbRJhj88nTKQzKHbXo3bn8nWeU5qykZPzYpdcJdgdcdcBiYLBvzpcUh5Y2faahqN3jyiFqtxwOwNrFqZc-7ksTA4E0gJfav17lrXw/w324-h400/Auer%20chocolates.jpg" width="324" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Auer salty butter caramel chocolates<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>Now admittedly I had to ruminate over the title for quite
some time as my first
<p class="MsoNormal">Pop-into-my-head title was Love Bites. That might not have
played to well in some cultures. Then I thought of Love Bits. OK not to bad,
but still not quite right. Then there was Bits of Love, but hey that could have
been most anything.</p><p class="MsoNormal">Then, eureka, Morsels of love presented itself.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">After all that just about a title you may be expecting a
very erudite article: no.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Yesterday</p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>The door bell rang and I actually heard it</p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>I made it to the door just as the person was
starting to walk off (I am rarely at home, very sporadic in my answering the
door, etc.)</p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Cambria; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>A friend handed me a small gift bag and before I
could even react was down the drive, back in the car and gone.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Ah ha, in the bag (from my favorite chocolate store, but
that doesn’t always mean anything as I have been known to pack other presents
in anything that comes to hand and my family and good friends know that the
sack isn’t always, in fact is rarely, indicative of the present therein) was a
delightful small package of my all-time-favorite chocolates!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Not sure what I have done to deserve them, but oh will they
be (ok two already gone) greatly enjoyed!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Morsels of love from good friends.</p>
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{margin-bottom:0cm;}</style></p>viewsfromeverywherehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00389160110740565264noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4278702481727103400.post-33023533713406513372022-10-30T13:42:00.001+01:002022-10-30T13:42:24.062+01:00Giving up, or.....<p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal">Giving up, or….</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Getting Smart!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have spent a quiet weekend at home: that makes for
one-in-a-row.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">And during said weekend have finally started to tidy up,
sort, straighten and dare I say,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Even get rid of a few bits. OK very few, but every one gone
is yet another gone.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">One of this weekends achievements, and yes I have decided
that it is an achievement,</p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Has been letting go of that 5’000 piece puzzle. It has been
over a year that it has sat on the winter garden table. I made good progress
for about the first month, then life intervened, people were more important
(and always will be) and I ended up getting a plastic to put over it so that I
could leave it in place whilst the table was being used for other events.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepww9llcky35DdGQFVM1q_mlMkJTc11-zxQ9U7dSgW4JAvjU7aXXz5mrxvhm-uiVuXyzOmZzA6bKdzB94ueEJ72iFZu-kOVSnoNHO0Adfb8ufMlSqsqavhxLjN7x9L_lRXUp0PFThYd3VE07QzxYZhwOWSl5-irSFG-rX79Y_BK10BfLan0ZTPR8iqQ/s4000/poya%20puzzle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="4000" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjepww9llcky35DdGQFVM1q_mlMkJTc11-zxQ9U7dSgW4JAvjU7aXXz5mrxvhm-uiVuXyzOmZzA6bKdzB94ueEJ72iFZu-kOVSnoNHO0Adfb8ufMlSqsqavhxLjN7x9L_lRXUp0PFThYd3VE07QzxYZhwOWSl5-irSFG-rX79Y_BK10BfLan0ZTPR8iqQ/w400-h195/poya%20puzzle.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">My older friend in the mountains actually did finish hers.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">For the first time in my life however, I have decided that
some things just aren’t meant to be and this is one that isn’t going to happen –
or at least not in the immediate future. Perhaps a few years down the road it
will come with me somewhere else and I’ll have the time and patience.</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Meanwhile, I can finally start on the smaller puzzles,
several of which have accumulated during my period of “I am me, I am stubborn,
I will finish this puzzle”.</p><p class="MsoNormal"> </p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYmgL2VatBnAqxsgnnida2EN7EuVSHqMCFts8fiJvLTY_wGX5Iwo_w5ClZHxHe321RaxKKigy6qH6qCKwsPOZ5Cx5Cdm2J98MIl3HapvbzXSxjireBV2fDsTn2nSLDnYUsFfkIy-ujjkhOXDeUq_h4ZevHFr_VenMme9ru8SujmleJB-FTaAbTf62gA/s2291/Puzzle%20cat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2291" data-original-width="1756" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYmgL2VatBnAqxsgnnida2EN7EuVSHqMCFts8fiJvLTY_wGX5Iwo_w5ClZHxHe321RaxKKigy6qH6qCKwsPOZ5Cx5Cdm2J98MIl3HapvbzXSxjireBV2fDsTn2nSLDnYUsFfkIy-ujjkhOXDeUq_h4ZevHFr_VenMme9ru8SujmleJB-FTaAbTf62gA/s320/Puzzle%20cat.jpg" width="245" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlQhnovek83Io7q_gAhX_UegbglKCYhvajN9Bl9fyEIEHPifD8XtbWAJbgoz0agSdiO7BsFiXwHgdCIJf7pf20_GBQa9odxL3kojbU9zO1dCMCISZKGa6xfG4vHq8CtyF3YDUKhgJzhfdOMloqER4yY-d6Opv0irRm29pgDdU2o1r3zQxQoTISs56nw/s2105/Puzzle%20fox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2105" data-original-width="1690" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRlQhnovek83Io7q_gAhX_UegbglKCYhvajN9Bl9fyEIEHPifD8XtbWAJbgoz0agSdiO7BsFiXwHgdCIJf7pf20_GBQa9odxL3kojbU9zO1dCMCISZKGa6xfG4vHq8CtyF3YDUKhgJzhfdOMloqER4yY-d6Opv0irRm29pgDdU2o1r3zQxQoTISs56nw/s320/Puzzle%20fox.jpg" width="257" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal">I have finally gotten smart!</p>
<p class="MsoNormal"> </p>
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