tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34028994787065497432024-02-02T13:06:28.432-05:00Greying and Dating: How Silver Hair Affects Your Love LifeGI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.comBlogger103125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-58894483949399364652018-07-31T16:49:00.003-04:002018-07-31T16:49:57.579-04:00Only Half Crazy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4-zGxl8zTVT5SFQ4q7bcc7uq0KwsbnCLGG06ofEvZ0KKQVgBSfPG3ASWF51V4DLef6SGP8Rvm6blBOVvgZ5Xa2iSFChFo4f86dOsVV5r1DaJ7HzYRtrQN0JQymP8GjpTrekh0nqMp9Q/s1600/halcrazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4-zGxl8zTVT5SFQ4q7bcc7uq0KwsbnCLGG06ofEvZ0KKQVgBSfPG3ASWF51V4DLef6SGP8Rvm6blBOVvgZ5Xa2iSFChFo4f86dOsVV5r1DaJ7HzYRtrQN0JQymP8GjpTrekh0nqMp9Q/s320/halcrazy.jpg" width="180" /></a>As I've continued running and training for my half marathon I've seen three bumper stickers: 26.2 = Crazy; 13.1 = I'm only half crazy; and 0.0 = Because I'm not crazy at all. I fall in the middle as I just completed my first half marathon!! Granted, I was trotting slow enough to take a couple of pictures of an Eastern Box Turtle crossing (that's literal, not metaphorical), but I never stopped. To be honest, I was just so happy that I finished injury-free.<br />
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The pic is after my half marathon. Saturday was the 5k and Sunday the half.<br />
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It's been a really good journey to this point and I learned how I want to keep going. When I first started running, it was to lose weight. And as I ran, I liked it so I signed up for this half-marathon to see if I could do at 43 what I could not do at 23. Then I signed up for a 5k in between to keep my training on track.</div>
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As the months progressed, I ran not for losing weight but for health. I wanted to lose weight to make my runs easier. I also realize that I'm more into running a 10k than a half-marathon because running is not my only hobby. When you're running 10 or more miles, that's your WHOLE day. You dedicate a few hours to running and then when you get home it's bath time, nap, and lounge. </div>
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So what did it take to get me into running? </div>
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<li>Listening to the audiobook <i>Runs Like a Girl</i>- This is a brilliant book that shows this woman's journey from couch to marathon. It's funny, light, and inspiring. </li>
<li>Skirt Sports- These clothes were MADE for women runners of all shapes and sizes. They have the right compression, pockets galore, and the best running bras in existence.</li>
<li>No-tie shoelaces- Okay, this sounds ridiculous but being able to slip your running shoes on and off and not worrying if they're tied too tight or too loose is a game-changer for me.</li>
<li>Beats Wireless headphones- These earphones last HOURS. I didn't think I'd like them but not having to worry about your headphones in the way of your arms or extending long enough is a great benefit.</li>
<li>Tiger Balm- This is Bengay on another level; it will knock the tension out of muscles and keep them loose.</li>
<li>Yin Yoga- I do the Ultimate Yogi's 90 minute yin yoga practice, which is holding poses 3-5 minutes each. This has kept me injury-free from my running.</li>
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GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-27822608561574819862018-02-20T14:08:00.000-05:002018-02-20T14:08:29.458-05:00A Year of HealthIt's been a rough few years. Health-wise my body just fell apart. I can pinpoint the stress where it started but I had no idea that my health would just compile issue after issue to where it no longer worked properly.<br />
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I realized it fully when I went on a certain birth control. NIGHTMARE. Nearly 3 months of a solid heavy period, anemia, fibroids, and gaining 20 lbs spiraled me into despair. It took over a year to get that out of my system but the effects linger.<br />
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Then I took to yoga every day. Still no impact on the weight but it got me into a practice again. The most beneficial lesson was to stop seeing health as a means to an end (for example being a certain size or weight), but to see health as the end goal. Enter running.<br />
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Running is something that I've always felt self-conscious about. Do I run weird? Should I do this at my age? What if other people see me winded after a short period? But to be honest, the most important question always prevailed: Who cares? So I set goals: run once a week, sign up for a 5k, sign up for a... half marathon.<br />
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And I've done it! I completed my first 5k in over ten years back in October, I run nearly every week, I signed up for a half marathon this April, and I'm up to a 9-mile run. I'm doing at 43 what I could NEVER do at 23. I didn't have the discipline, the confidence, the faith then that I have now. This has led me on to healthier decisions and to just run for the mere enjoyment of running.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-73602985961129910522017-09-14T11:22:00.004-04:002017-09-14T11:22:45.329-04:00Self-Help ThisI'll admit it, I'm addicted to "working on myself." I've always been like this but more so than ever. Anyone who has lost someone close to this can relate. When you are watching someone go through cancer or losing someone close you have two options: maintain the status quo and stick your head in the sand about the tragedy; or fall apart and just deal with the tragedy. I chose the latter.<br />
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Those in my family that maintained their status quo escaped to a lovely place called Denial Island where they sipped mocktails and told themselves that no, my mom was not dying of cancer and the world was rosy. When she did pass, they awoke to the reality of it all and I'm sure they have many regrets.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTiWcgO4rILQ0k4krAAZsCrYb7JkhRttnCf41p6LhneAFbxjrEZOeQ0wN-cY-RqsWr1-oCgwScQhIfuKpHBreEHLcndElLMYCSUrsrdmwwvJ9HxkPW4QAhSfkxVuLqbkWF-EhO_ESq6s/s1600/me+and+mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="453" data-original-width="604" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTiWcgO4rILQ0k4krAAZsCrYb7JkhRttnCf41p6LhneAFbxjrEZOeQ0wN-cY-RqsWr1-oCgwScQhIfuKpHBreEHLcndElLMYCSUrsrdmwwvJ9HxkPW4QAhSfkxVuLqbkWF-EhO_ESq6s/s320/me+and+mom.jpg" width="320" /></a>Those of us that stayed in the moment with Mom have few regrets about that time period but awoke to the harsh realities of self-awareness: knowing that your best was highly lacking and that all of the poor behavior you glossed over could no longer be hidden. Because at that time you have no energy to maintain- you just somehow get through. It's not graceful and it's not pretty and sometimes there are casualties left in the wake. This is a pic of my mom and me. Ugh, still dyeing the hair but you can also see my beautiful inspiration for going natural.<br />
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Five years later and I feel like I'm still cleaning up some of my messy behavior- the key culprit is not maintaining my stress. For instance, if I don't have a proper 1-2 week vacation each year I'm on edge. Between the work, the commutes, being an officer and volunteer at my DAR Chapter, volunteering in so many other ways, plus all the neighborhood events, I barely have time to breathe. And I love the volunteer work because that's instant gratification: to see someone's life improved because of a simple gesture, even if for just a moment. But when you're stressed, you're never giving your best.<br />
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So as I read through yet another self-help book a friend lent me, I realized, "Holy crap, I'm way more f'd up than I thought!" Goody. According to this, my nearly 20 years moving around for my career has taught me to become evasive to relationships. And that's true- the first sign of neediness from a man and I run for the hills, or to my next station. I avoid dating locals who have never lived elsewhere because the idea of staying put in any one area used to cause me to break out in hives. The government is all too eager to take advantage of people like me who are willing to move and bring their experience into a new Division.<br />
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Recently I got a call from a good and respected friend about an opportunity coming up in another Division. Hmm, perfect timing as I've been in a place over three years, HOA fees are rising, and there's an eclipse- a universal sign, no? And that's sort of how my career has been- just fall into the right place at the right time, accepting the path of least resistance. Only one thing- I said no. I had just declared that my forever home will be in Maine. I LOVE it there and I've dreamt of living in New England ever since I saw the first episode of <i>Who's the Boss?</i> (don't judge).<br />
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By saying 'no' to a sure thing and 'yes' to walking off the cliff into the unknown, i.e searching for jobs in Maine, I chose my happiness over my career. That's the first time I've done that in a long time. Yes, I have the luxury of having a job in DC until I make my move, but it's still scary (terrifying really) and equally exciting to take that leap of faith. The opportunity I turned down was a big one and will never happen again.<br />
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So I guess this all loosely ties together in saying that I'm choosing a better life for myself. I'm choosing to deal with my commitment issues (on both men and really settling down into one area), and also to stop hiding behind my career and sleep-walking through life. I think my mom would be proud.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-22514058212637655812017-04-04T09:05:00.001-04:002017-04-04T09:09:52.104-04:00Living with a Man<div>
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I live with a man and his name is Colin Farrell. No, mine is the four-legged variety and, dare I say it, much more adorable. He even brandishes the full title of totes adorbs!<br />
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We're going on nine months of living together and it wasn't until the other day that I realized exactly how much of a boy dog my boy dog really is. So I thought I would put together a little list of things I've discovered on how it is to live with a new boy in the house.<br />
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1. We don't have the same schedules<br />
Apparently Colin doesn't understand that I work all day. I wake up and he thinks it's play time. Yes, let me rush out of bed to walk you and feed you. I'm good with that but I'm still wiping the smeared mascara from my eyes when you're in full-on play mode. It's the same before bed. "No, Colin it's time for Bedfordshire. Mommy has to get up and do this all over again tomorrow." What about the mile walk we just took? Or the playtime with the neighborhood dogs? Or our playtime and cuddle time?<br />
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2. We NEVER agree on t.v. shows<br />
I own it, I sometimes have bad taste in t.v. Okay, terrible taste. I knew this would become a problem when I cohabited with someone else but I did not think my dog would have such strong opinions. Without fail, if there is a Real Housewives show or Hallmark movie he jumps up onto the couch "pretending" that he wants to cuddle. But he sits on the remote and changes it to sports EVERY TIME. Then he proceeds to roll around to hide the remote underneath him while he directs my hand to scratch his belly. He will continue to do this until I hide the remote from him. It's a daily fight.<br />
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3. We don't agree on socializing<br />
Technically, I'm an introvert. I can function in society but after a full day of meetings and people, I need a dark corner and fetal position to regain energy. Compared to Colin I'm an extreme extrovert. Colin has decided that I am the only biped that he needs to know. Well yes, I'm the staff. And to be honest humans aren't all they're cracked up to be. My version is occasional contact with the outside world whereas Colin is known as the Mrs. Kravitz of the neighborhood: he peeks out at the neighbors through the window and collects information about them. Perhaps this is why he wants nothing to do with them??<br />
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It is different sharing your space. You have to reset your routine and there are always growing pains- like the fact that half of my socks have been chewed up and right now the right sock I'm wearing has holes in the bottom. Yes, there are adjustments but once you get through those growing pains you can't imagine your life without him.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-48013095871470201562016-05-19T16:18:00.000-04:002016-05-19T16:35:23.875-04:00Meet Colin Farrell!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOh9z5iZqnTijUNoTOnT5kI-Gsmp_lf9yPybR_BxrIp5qQTl8EP7DOOpPVeP6YVWC1U0FBrjcCQ57oIGwlTH0X3JwhGztL6Mmg6lsMTgbSzRhSLL8h0YkBEf4RDJXNMRSTijWnwBCj20/s1600/IMG_7026%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCOh9z5iZqnTijUNoTOnT5kI-Gsmp_lf9yPybR_BxrIp5qQTl8EP7DOOpPVeP6YVWC1U0FBrjcCQ57oIGwlTH0X3JwhGztL6Mmg6lsMTgbSzRhSLL8h0YkBEf4RDJXNMRSTijWnwBCj20/s320/IMG_7026%255B1%255D.JPG" width="240" /></a>Okay, MOST of the time he is Colin, he's really only called Colin Farrell when he misbehaves. I've already had to say, "Colin Farrell, get your nose out of that girl's crotch!" a message now both the two-legged and four-legged versions have had to hear.<br />
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I love my new dog but I will admit this has not been an easy journey. Now doing a 360 review of my experience I'm going to write this so that others may have an easier time when they're ready to adopt a pet.<br />
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<b>Research</b><br />
Everyone should know what dog will fit their activities best. There are advantages to puppies and there are advantages to older dogs. Different breeds have different needs as far as needing mental challenges, jobs, and exercise.<br />
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I knew from Michelley that I love the intelligence, sweetness, and quirkiness of the Sheltie so I felt secure there. My only caveat was that I didn't want to get a sable that looked like her. I <i>should </i>have also been more specific that I want to train this dog for herding and therapy work. It takes different mindsets and being specific can help match the right dog for you. Colin will be great at these but it was a leap of faith.<br />
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<b>Rescue Dogs</b><br />
This is the first place I went. People with full-breed dogs get shamed all the time from owners with lovable mutts. The first thing they ask is if you would adopt a pound puppy. I love all animals but I don't feel like I need to justify liking a certain breed.<br />
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I did try to adopt rescue Shelties. The process is ridiculous and defeating. "Are you home 100% of the time?" they ask. "No, I telework once or twice a week and go into the office three days." "Mmm, no, you can't have this dog. "Are there dogs in your neighborhood?" they ask on another. "Yes! It's a very dog-friendly area." "Mmm, no, this dog doesn't like dogs. Sigh.<br />
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<b>AKC Breeder of Merit</b><br />
I thought this was a HUGE deal. I know I like Shelties so okay, I'm going to look at AKC Breeders of Merit. Sounds like this means something right? No, it means the breeder paid for that certificate. According to an interview on the Today show, AKC has only 9 inspectors of kennels and no idea how many AKC registered breeders there are. So how are the standards ensured?<br />
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I only know this now because I really delved into what it meant. I was surprised at allowable practices. For instance, my dog came from one of these. But she never told me that his bark was softened, a controversial procedure where they puncture the vocal chords, he had worms and was severely underweight, and didn't have some of his shots. Had I known ANY of this I wouldn't have adopted a dog from her. I don't want to encourage her business.<br />
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<b>Visit the Kennel</b><br />
Yes, if they discourage you write them off right away. I looked at another place and it was a six-hour drive so I google earthed it. Terrible conditions, no open space for the dogs to run around, and backed up next to train tracks. Um, no.<br />
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What I should have done is visited the kennel in PA where Colin came from. Because when she brought him down he was terrified of me and all people. By then I had committed to this dog. Yes, that's on me and it took several hours for him to come up to me. Let's just say the first few days were not necessarily happy ones. Once I got past the fact that I was not adopting a well-adjusted dog but instead rescuing and rehabilitating a dog full of fear of the world, well I was committed. Now every day is a little happier because one day he wags his tail, another day he allows a neighbor to approach him, and yet another he plays with abandon.<br />
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So although this experience was not what I first anticipated, it certainly is rewarding. I view Colin as my little rescue dog which he certainly is. Regardless of where he came from his life is now one where someone truly loves him for who he is and will work to give him the best life possible. I trust that God has a reason for bringing us together and I look forward to a lifetime of adventures with my little Swiss bear.<br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-34626370572250618522016-04-06T10:26:00.002-04:002016-04-06T10:34:21.228-04:00Dating Through the AgesGoing grey has really changed my self-perception and my awareness of the world. When you make the decision to go grey you really are making a stand for yourself. You undergo a lot of criticism and some of that criticism turns into accolades, some to quiet acceptance, and some remains criticism.<br />
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You also learn that your dating pool doesn't really change. It only changes when you change the way you see yourself. So if you see yourself as successful and together, then that's what you attract.<br />
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Now it's the dating mix, the mix of age ranges. I'll always get the same: men my age, men entering the winter of their life, and little puppies.<br />
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Older Men<br />
Let's start with the older men (age before beauty!). The older men I attract are searching for their lost youth. It annoys me to no end. They're typically trying to display how much energy they have and how in shape they are. All the while I'm thinking, "Really? You're still insecure and shallow after all these years?" I also find that they're searching for someone to make them the center of the universe. Their problems are always bigger, their successes must in turn be bigger, etc. I watch my friends in these relationships and realize they don't have a partner they have a man baby. Now it's different when they're fathers but still that need to be the center of the universe has tended to remain.<br />
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Puppies<br />
I have to categorize these men into two groups: the 20-somethings and the 30-somethings. For some reason I attract a lot of 20-somethings. Makes me feel like a pedophile, it's weird. The good thing is they're not at all threatened by your success which is refreshing. For the most part I figured it was some kid living at home that wanted a place to crash. That or they want an experienced woman in the sack. I don't think that's out of the question. However recently a Millennial actually convinced me to give him my number. Well, that's what research is for! It starts out well enough and then he jumps right into what he likes about older women. He also texts on a Friday afternoon for weekend plans. It's too much of a hassle in DC to go out during the week so I always have weekend plans and politely declined. "You're even booked <i>tonight</i>?!" Mr. Presumptuous asked incredulously. "Yes." See there's no finesse, no wooing, and it doesn't mentally spark my interest. And if you can't mentally spark an interest with me, it's a no-go.<br />
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The 30-somethings are a mixed bag. I spent the weekend at a wedding with 30-year-olds. Lovely people who had some interesting life stories. There was always that one or two in the group that got blackout drunk. One in particular made an inappropriate comment. I knew he was just what I call "wasty pants" but some other girls heard it. They couldn't let it go. Instead there was this big drama created under the guise of protecting me. No this was all about drama, something I have no room for in my life. The whole thing got blown way out of proportion and reeked of mean girl mentality towards this guy. But then I noticed that little things often get blown out bigger than they need be. When I dated men in their early 30s there were arguments about stupid things that I'd scratch my head over. It just all became too silly and too dramatic.<br />
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Age-Appropriate (for me)<br />
By 40 Life has kicked you down a few times. If you've lost a close loved one there is just so much you let go of- little things just don't have the impact they once did. Men my age understand that a woman my age wants some advance planning for a date and definitely in the beginning. The ones that really peak my interest are the ones that give good woo. I like some good woo: someone who picks me up, holds the door open for me, has a conversation <i>with</i> me, and ends the date respectfully with a kiss. There's something to be said to not revealing everything about yourself and letting tension build.<br />
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I've found through this research that I'm not missing out from these
younger or older guys. Now I understand that these are just my experiences thus
far and there are always exceptions to the rule. But I've found that I'm
happiest with someone nearer my own age. It helps clarify what I DO want in a partner and I think that's half the battle.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-75821592306312804942015-12-10T13:15:00.001-05:002015-12-10T13:15:53.640-05:00Product Watch: Best ShampooI have hair the consistency of a horse's tail, and an unruly one at that. My hair has ALWAYS been coarse, thick, and curly. Before you wax poetic, it's not that lovely kind of curly where you have billowing tresses perfectly framing your face. No, it's more like crazy cat hoarder who always looks disheveled and might be a little touched in the head.<br />
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Sigh.<br />
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I have learned that product is not so much my friend as it is my necessity. My hair has tried every shampoo, conditioner, and leave-in serum on the market and yet I just came by the greatest shampoo and conditioner yet: Sake Bomb by Drybar. I LOVE this shampoo! I have tried everything from Living Proof to Biolage and everything has left my hair rather lackluster. I'm always surprised that raved-over products on Sephora look terrible on me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9PIvL_d9E2uluwt8QbjwVwNWL3SKUv42WiJbTZSBdvpV3YSTeElFsbUpM9GxU4UyggkGXChZpC8gMXketHk2LAsNOVUUGOsR19DFDynjW8F_M3AzBko0hL7HXWJZKI6QRjbxo-8Blt8/s1600/d1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW9PIvL_d9E2uluwt8QbjwVwNWL3SKUv42WiJbTZSBdvpV3YSTeElFsbUpM9GxU4UyggkGXChZpC8gMXketHk2LAsNOVUUGOsR19DFDynjW8F_M3AzBko0hL7HXWJZKI6QRjbxo-8Blt8/s200/d1.jpg" width="141" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlfyWQ1KDykYWUYbkUWs8cqcs8d3RjvZ1cUZrjEHSfSa6Z9q_I1KpR5ggCDOGlq7NKsiQZfi_6pEYgV8Owav3LGD5wJhkeKp0MObVNvGKdeBTL-N0iquT5G7qRhZKjTXVaw42tlgPLdk/s1600/d2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIlfyWQ1KDykYWUYbkUWs8cqcs8d3RjvZ1cUZrjEHSfSa6Z9q_I1KpR5ggCDOGlq7NKsiQZfi_6pEYgV8Owav3LGD5wJhkeKp0MObVNvGKdeBTL-N0iquT5G7qRhZKjTXVaw42tlgPLdk/s200/d2.jpg" width="154" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzEfdCj-lr_1C8Inr_wCC7vGDaKvCQsSdniLIW-81U-f26hcL3QN9bBwV5N3cDJfNaRNs9uAo-hRsT_ub251oQp4IhwvoiqBP81yyFax-qTv5hrQJYXLmeoAxtMI_HRkdb5LVLLXhuUA/s1600/d3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCzEfdCj-lr_1C8Inr_wCC7vGDaKvCQsSdniLIW-81U-f26hcL3QN9bBwV5N3cDJfNaRNs9uAo-hRsT_ub251oQp4IhwvoiqBP81yyFax-qTv5hrQJYXLmeoAxtMI_HRkdb5LVLLXhuUA/s200/d3.jpg" width="167" /></a></div>
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And so as I washed my hair with Sake bomb, I went selfie-crazy. Well, it was for this blog post but it was awesome to have a great hair day! And though this is all in fluorescent lighting it will at least show how soft my hair is after these products. So after a lifetime and closet full of products, I can finally start to pare down. All I need is the following:<br />
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Sake bomb shampoo<br />
Sake bomb conditioner<br />
Purple shampoo for brightening occasionally<br />
Perfect 10 leave-in for heat protection against blow dryer/curling iron<br />
Coconut oil for occasional deep conditioning<br />
Aveda control paste for humid days<br />
Kerastase Elixir Ultime for post-style seal of any stray hairs<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdkex-FwN5R0QueER7PUhoM9bpSid3TJGmlMuZemosEpTGBh98Bhlqs3BhQjT1GXpv4DcID3g8SOuGdVgMULLz0-sCR4dFJmIHKTbz3eNLy_i4MQyS0xc5iCQKKCSvALQP28HZ2GKYkM/s1600/day2.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLZf9Iz4Ez8Obp2UmIMXJZP0FzK_22QQ15MLKHUjEJt8yLToXLSIi58bujdceA1mmSUju5JSRU-lmr61EGbY89KXhtA5I03wfeq5Gp2SWSeDDfO-oY85lVgXKbTHtg-rZ549qQeSzosI/s1600/d2a.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLZf9Iz4Ez8Obp2UmIMXJZP0FzK_22QQ15MLKHUjEJt8yLToXLSIi58bujdceA1mmSUju5JSRU-lmr61EGbY89KXhtA5I03wfeq5Gp2SWSeDDfO-oY85lVgXKbTHtg-rZ549qQeSzosI/s320/d2a.jpg" width="320" /></a>GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-86707183315369238332015-11-18T10:15:00.000-05:002015-11-18T10:15:52.577-05:00A Date for ThreeLast week I had a date with an attractive and interesting guy. Little did I know it would be a date for three. Although physically there were only two of us that showed up at Bar Dupont, in actuality his ex was everywhere.<br />
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Mr Ex has been single-ish for six years now but, as I quickly learned, is still married. That's actually not the worst part. I realize that Life is not always black and white. After some probing on this bizarre subject I found out that they're Swiss, have two lovely children that he does not want deported if they divorce. Can we say complicated?<br />
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Already my alarms are going off, when he gives me the full details. May I just say Eek? Mr Ex's ex has not worked in over 20 years, doesn't really take care of the kids and he supports two households: his and his ex's. Whoa, what?! She doesn't work, she doesn't really take care of the kids, but you pay for her livelihood? You also put her through college twice, equal to the number of times she dropped out on your dime. And oh! You put a girlfriend through school and supported her non-working ass and she dropped out too?<br />
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I think your cock is doing the thinking for you, Mr Ex.<br />
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Unfortunately I have no poker face. I sat there in horror, mostly that he has been suckered by at least two gold diggers and now he's confessing this all to me- a virtual stranger. Alas, a virtual stranger who blogs. But as I have the Asher Curse upon me, meaning that everyone tends to tell me their life stories, I just sat and listened. I should have had that extra glass of wine.<br />
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Needless to say that over the next couple of hours I heard the downfall of Mr Ex's life; how his ex maxes out his credit cards on the dates she goes on, how his mother passed recently, how he is completely unavailable to his kids, how he accidentally drank a friend's $25,000 bottle of wine and poured most of it out... ugh, I can't go on. I sincerely bid him the best of luck and went home in an Uber.<br />
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Perhaps the one funny part was the next day when I was telling my friend about the date. "But was there chemistry?" she asked. Seriously? Have you not heard the story (and there were many other shake-your-head moments omitted here). Good God, no! There comes a point when a cool handsome guy is a meaningless shell- it matters what's going on inside. Even the mere thought of a relationship with a guy in that much drama and crap... no, No, NO!!!<br />
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If I have not said it clearly before, I reiterate it now: if you're in a relationship that is relatively happy, go hug that person and thank him/her for not being a total headcase. If you are single, Honey I'm deep in the trenches with you, perhaps on the front line.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-9802880394287042412015-10-20T08:55:00.002-04:002015-10-20T09:12:38.109-04:00Breathing New AirI recently went on a trip to Northern France. It wasn't a long trip just 10 days, but it came at a time when I definitely needed to get away.<br />
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With the sudden passing of my dog, wondering whether my job is worth dealing with the constant political crap from Congress, and meandering around with no real purpose... Yes I needed a vacation. It got to the point where I couldn't hear one more negative thing from anyone or I was going to burst. <br />
I'll be the first to tell you that if you get to that point you should have taken your vacation a few months prior.<br />
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For me I make traveling a priority. It isn't that I have wealth beyond means it's just what I prioritize. So this year I made it a priority to go somewhere big for vacation. Last year, I stayed closer to home but still traveled the Northeast.But then I thought about my family (who prioritizes different things) and how this might be a once-in-a-lifetime trip. And with that come all of these pressures to make it the best trip possible. Thank goodness I don't look at it that way.<br />
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I pared it down to what I really needed: 1) forget about my life in DC for a bit; 2) take some pretty pictures; and 3) breathe new air.<br />
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Honestly I think these goals saved the trip for me. Nothing went smoothly and as far as pleasant and relaxing trips this one would never make the list. But did I accomplish my goals? YES! And because I let go of any expectations past those 3 little goals I had amazing moments. I breathed the air of Bretagne/Brittany, saw jaw-dropping castles, and stood on the grounds of William the Conqueror and D-Day.<br />
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I was also rewarded with moments when I could feel the presence of my Mom and Michelle. I could feel my dog walking through the maze of Chenonceau with me. And I had a truly miraculous moment when I looked upon the English Channel at St Malo. I remember a conversation with my mom over 20 years ago that one day I would go there. She believed me, she believed IN me and I could tell her in that moment that if she hadn't had so much faith in me I would never be there. Immediately a rainbow appeared. That's so like my mom to respond with beauty and grace. The next day I knew exactly what direction I needed to turn my life to and the fear of floundering disappeared.<br />
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As far as pretty pictures, well, here is a sample taken from the true
star of the trip, my phone. Between the Google Translate app and the
camera, my phone delivered and made sure that I could speak only French
to the French. And I'll say this, for as much as I butchered their
language, everyone was so lovely. Most importantly I learned that letting an experience be organic will allow Life to teach you and guide you. Had I tried to force it to be something else I never would have figured out my next stage in Life and THAT is truly a blessing.<br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-14859228902801984402015-09-30T14:37:00.001-04:002015-09-30T14:37:56.230-04:00DIY Bookcases 4: FinishingYeah, when you get all the framing done there's this moment of panic when you think, "AAACCK! I have a little uneven gap!!" Especially if your house has had any time to settle chances are everything isn't perfectly flush. And then you have these screws that aren't perfectly flush...<br />
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Have I identified that I am NOT a carpenter?? If you didn't guess it you'd know now. This is an imperfect project. After all it was built by yours truly. That doesn't mean that it doesn't look good or I'm not proud of it but I do know that a skilled carpenter would not have made my myriad of rookie mistakes.<br />
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For the nails I used a whipped putty to cover the holes. For the screws, I used a wood putty. This is a great molding putty that can turn screw heads into looking like little wooden knobs or smooth the surface. Again, if you have a nail gun I think that's preferable and then all you have to do is cover the holes with a little putty.<br />
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After that it's my favorite part- CAULK. I have come to love vinyl caulk- it covers all manner of sins. Gaps? vinyl caulk to the rescue! It seals everything and makes it a smooth, cohesive unit. You'll need two bottles of this and I recommend asking a worker at the hardware store which brand to get. That plus a caulk gun and you'll spend under $15 to elevate your bookshelves and really make them look finished. Look at the picture and see what it looks like before and after- amazing, right?<br />
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Next, I bought some semi-gloss white paint. For some reason it did nothing so I ended up taking my leftover matte white paint from the ceiling and painted two coats. Then I went over with a coat of the semi-gloss paint. I'd recommend two coats of that though.<br />
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Another day spent organizing my books and there's the finished product! All done for about $350.00<br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-15699858556050793342015-09-30T12:34:00.002-04:002015-09-30T12:34:39.336-04:00DIY Bookcases 3: FramingSorry! Been on vacation and before that I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get things done.<br />
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The most important part of making a factory bookshelf look custom is by framing. Make sure you place and anchor the bookshelves evenly, then measure, then re-measure, then measure again... for good measure. You want the boards to overlap by about 1/4" (lesson learned!) because you never know if there might be the ever slightest sway of a bookshelf on uneven flooring (again lesson learned!).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGCJRJbPOFodAuWEg_V_gyFjU5DW4chyphenhyphenCMkwL5KU6o0gxzYgtM5KXwCtyovbEt_YUPUL8gBGgbacUBs2wPLi_WrweCEYD7TNOs31Z8DPnPsydj1SBjtVN5aNoTLXWfeoAnxprpIZGKS0/s1600/Last+iPhone+import+738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdGCJRJbPOFodAuWEg_V_gyFjU5DW4chyphenhyphenCMkwL5KU6o0gxzYgtM5KXwCtyovbEt_YUPUL8gBGgbacUBs2wPLi_WrweCEYD7TNOs31Z8DPnPsydj1SBjtVN5aNoTLXWfeoAnxprpIZGKS0/s200/Last+iPhone+import+738.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBD8UZTqKM8wQJkHzeczOW33wPq5RAnxHY1OiQYcB8zIk2hRr2ZY69LQJG0RvYUaecaMTGjJ7ZypfabIcL_D_7E4l22-4fC9ejgrpbQsqT7uPslvGMavdPYxzmyL5hXhxjt0x2-Qyofbc/s1600/Last+iPhone+import+737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>After you have your measurements bribe a friend with a truck or SUV for a day of fun at Lowe's or Home Depot. You want a 3/4" board and I chose poplar because it has less dark veining and will require fewer coats. One board should cover everything. They'll do the cuts for you there though I found buying an $80 circular saw came in very handy for getting the length of the boards cut perfectly. After you have that you can start adhering them to the bookshelves. Apply a line of wood glue (seen right) and nail or screw the board on. I chose flathead screws but that required a lot of pre-drilling. I would almost recommend a nail gun for finer tuning.<br />
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After those initial boards were put on it was time for the top pieces. I anchored a 2" X 4" across the top and (with the help of a friend to hold it) screwed in the top poplar boards. After that I nailed the crown moulding and trim (annoying little buggers and hard as plastic), as well as the baseboards. And then, voila! You have a framed book case. Next up- finishing.<br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-43083443705167530272015-09-06T21:50:00.002-04:002015-09-06T21:50:40.084-04:00DIY Bookcases 2: It Takes a VillageThere are two downfalls to doing a home project on yourself. The first is making sure that the materials fit into your car. The second is carrying said supplies to your home.<br />
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When I first went to IKEA I stacked 6 74" shelves onto a wobbly trolley. In a comedy of errors, I somehow managed to get these stuffed into my car. But even with the back seats laid flat and the shelves shove to the rear view mirror, this occurred BARELY.When I got home I sighed in resignation as I had to lug these up the stairs to my little corner nook. Then the villagers arrived.<br />
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The villagers in question are the two coolest kids in the world: Reese and Walker. These brothers are 11 and 8 respectively, very chatty and friendly, and the most thoughtful kids around. They always have a ballgame going on in the courtyard, help the neighbors with pruning and weeding, and pause the ballgame (played with a woofle ball) whenever a neighbor leaves their home, for fear of hitting them. See? Thoughtful.<br />
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I had carried the first two shelves in when Reese came down to help his dad unload the car. He looked at me balancing two more shelves on my shoulder and ran over to grab an end. Walker followed not long after and decided to get the middle of the shelves rather than help his dad. Sorry, but seeing our little Marine unit carrying shelves is kind of funny. Never mind that I ended up returning them and replacing them with bookshelves a week later, the help was still awesome.<br />
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Walker then begged to help me put them together. "I want to <i>learn things</i>. I want to <i>do things,</i>" he said. So I put off assembling the bookcases until he had a free day. I went to Starbucks that morning and got myself a latte and him a hot cocoa. I had just assembled the first bookcase when he came in. I laid out all the tools, the materials, and the instructions and we went step-by-step together. He learned the difference between a flat-head and Phillip's screwdriver, how to paint, how to hammer (I started the nails off and he finished them off), and how to read directions. He also learned how to fix mistakes, like when you hit a nail crooked.<br />
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His favorite tasks were hammering nails in, which after about six nails he would rush into the kitchen for a cocoa break. Throughout he was willing to listen, learn, and apply what he learned. Great kid!<br />
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Most of all he learned how to break down a project into steps. I learned this when I first moved out as the only time I worked on projects was with my dad. Yeesh! Scary times. After the first five minutes of excitement he would follow-up with a bout of angry cursing, beating parts into submission, and eventual throwing of anything handy. Ironic, as those items are rendered un-handy when you throw them. I wanted Walker to have a different experience. Instead when Walker looked panicked at a crooked nail I just replied, "If this was going to be perfect it would have been made by God, not us." He got to learn in a relaxed environment and at the end he got to see the results of a job well done!GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-79334890140751831642015-09-02T14:41:00.001-04:002015-09-02T14:41:55.656-04:00DIY Built-in BookcasesI like my little cottage place but it is little. It was built in 1940 and the closets are exactly big enough for a 1940s wardrobe: your Church dress and your work dress. There are many pluses to my place but square footage is not among them and making the best use of space still leaves everything looking cluttered.<br />
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I have a phobia of hoarders. I have family that fall into that category and I walk in and feel overwhelmed. That being so, I still have too much damn stuff! I donate AT LEAST twice a year. Result? Still too much damn stuff.<br />
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So I have a serious addiction... books. Yes my vice is literacy. An awful thing! Actually when you look at my bookshelves, yes it kind of is... See these are not all of my books. I also have 5 more bookcases around the house. Okay, but one is for cookbooks by the kitchen. Two are in my bedroom. One holds various DVDs and miscellany, and the last organizes all my important documents and this really cool old set of encyclopedias. Sigh, I'm a book hoarder.<br />
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Here is my before shot. You can see the cases buckling under the weight (they're double and triple stacked!):<br />
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So the first idea was to have floating shelves all the way across the wall. But even though I'm not an engineer I worry about the weight. It's a lot of books, after all! Yes you can reinforce with heavy duty anchors but still... So after having bought lack wall shelves and the paint to do an accent wall I realized that this would be a huge fail. Sigh, taking the shelves back.<br />
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What I AM going to do instead is line bookshelves up along the wall. Yes, new ones from IKEA, have 3/4" panels cut for the spaces and the top, and then add crown moulding. Voila! Custom built-in bookcases. I ordered the Billy Bookcases from IKEA and expect them delivered next week. Let the projects begin...GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-3453127208525019872015-08-26T08:52:00.002-04:002015-08-26T08:52:33.688-04:00DIYerI am in the serious mood to do projects. I have this insane pull every time I know someone is going to visit me. I just always feel like my place is never "finished" or refined.<br />
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I look at the neighbors' places and we fall into one of two categories: those that look like staged homes ready to hit the market and those that look like we might have 8-10 cats hiding. I'm somewhat in the middle but leaning toward the latter.<br />
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I will say that for many their homes look tidied because they're parents have all their childhood things. But I took any childhood belongings with me years ago when my mom sold her house. Then when she passed away I inherited a lot. I will say that Wendi and I donated over 17 truckloads of things to charity. We also gave most of the crystal to family. And her clothes? Well she was 4' 9 1/2" and wore a size 4 1/2 shoe. All donated (except my favorite Shooting Star shirt!).<br />
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That still left us with albums, boxes of pictures, sets of china, and jewelry. To be honest my favorite keepsakes are my Great-Grandmother's bread board and a wooden spoon that my mom cooked with all the time. Every time I look at it I can think of her stirring potato soup, making sun tea, or fixing us Kool-aid. It's a happy spoon.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gUI45OQsgmRAOsuqlxi3SEZyzMN9Wu9KRZUTRK_olAY_q3bUvFlas4ADXiSGHgPtbL-gXCFmGfmPeUWxmdse0xmFKzOavOIzFMqHesK5hq8ONVXIFucFI_X9CeRVopuW_qgqe4Mxwxw/s640/blogger-image-2062858747.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3gUI45OQsgmRAOsuqlxi3SEZyzMN9Wu9KRZUTRK_olAY_q3bUvFlas4ADXiSGHgPtbL-gXCFmGfmPeUWxmdse0xmFKzOavOIzFMqHesK5hq8ONVXIFucFI_X9CeRVopuW_qgqe4Mxwxw/s320/blogger-image-2062858747.jpg" width="320" /></a>So with only 1,000 square feet it's hard to decide what to work on next. I decided mine is to re-paint my bedroom. Right now it's this vanilla that the whole house is in (except for my lemony tower room I painted this Spring), and it looks like a mish-mesh. Just random pictures hung and no real intention or style. I like my grey ombre rug and my grey cello chair but that's about it.<br />
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I didn't even bother with a before pic as there was nothing interesting about the room. I cleared out several books to donate, grouped pictures the way I wanted them, and added some crisp white curtains. I still have yet to replace my bed frame but you can see what a cool vibe the grey gives the room. I feel like it is very grown up-y. Most of all I feel like this space is now very intentional.In the very near future I will need to hang pictures and the like but for now I am just feeling out the space.<br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-34319359246528423152015-08-18T14:31:00.003-04:002015-08-19T11:13:36.077-04:00Man de la LarbertI have had many head slap moments in my life... too many to mention here but for some reason one in particular appeared quite vividly today. It's odd really, as I haven't thought about this in some time but apparently the Universe would like to humble me and so I must write.<br />
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Glasgow Scotland, September 2012<br />
I spent a lovely couple of weeks exploring Scotland with my sister. We went all over, from Iona, Culloden, the Orkneys, and Edinburgh. I won't mention my embarrassing driving experiences nor how I said I was Canadian to get less of a sourpuss face from the island natives. But I will mention the time I went to see Bannockburn.<br />
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If you know your Scottish history you'll know of the very important battle that occurred 700 years ago for Scottish independence. So after my sister took off for the States I headed up to Stirling and then over to the bus for Bannockburn. Little did I know that this battlefield was not *gasp* preserved as a memorial site but instead is a pasture with a plaque. So I sat there looking for some obvious monument markers when a lovely lady sat next to me.<br />
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She jabbered on cheerily and even with my 5 years of Scots Gaelic lessons I could not discern the Broad Scots she was speaking in. Here are snippets that I understood: <span style="color: blue;">icebox, American, dance, soldier, <span style="color: black;">and </span>icebox <span style="color: black;">again. Apparently an icebox was the star of the story and I feel a bit remiss that I didn't get more of the story. I had lost all sense of direction by this point and then she said something about how she wished she were going to Glasgow because we'd have a grand old time. Wait-- GLASGOW??!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: black;">D<span style="font-family: inherit;">UCK. Now I have to backtrack a third of the way back up the Country and I still haven't seen Bannockburn. Now I'm irritated at myself and-fantastic! I'm lost. I just want to get to my hotel and eat a nice meal. Okay so the train station is nowhere in sight so I'm feeling defeated. Just then I see an attractive guy. I approach him and he offers to walk me to the station. Awesome. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: black;">We walk along exchanging stories. He works in the financial sector<span style="font-family: inherit;"> and is</span> originally from Larbert just south of Stirling. He walked out of his way to deliver me, even though his train station was along the way. He waited for my train and in that pinnacle moment I shook his hand and thanked him. What a dumbass move on my part, if I may say so.<span style="font-size: 11pt;"> I should have offered to buy him
dinner, a drink, tuck him into my hotel bed- SOMETHING. I never even got his name. And so I shook his
nameless hand. Forehead slap. </span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: blue;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So why am I thinking of him now??</span> That I cannot tell you but I can say that missed opportunities are just that: missed opportunities. Even if you don't think of something for years when it creeps up on you, there must be some <span style="font-family: inherit;">reason for</span> it. So I'm putting <span style="font-family: inherit;">this out </span>into the Universe out that if <span style="font-family: inherit;">this</span> gentleman from Larbert comes across this, THANK YOU. I was having a crappy day and you made it <span style="font-family: inherit;">a lovely memory</span>. I even checked out your town and the old Parish there per your suggestion. And if we shall ever meet again, dinner is on me.</span></span></span>GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-21273606620756122362015-08-12T12:34:00.002-04:002015-08-12T12:34:54.783-04:00Why Hello, Cello!None of us is immune from loss and I am certainly no stranger. The only thing I know to do is allow the feelings as they come and throw myself into something productive. This has resulted in prioritizing time with loved ones over acquaintances, more volunteer work, and artistic expressions.<br />
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After my mom passed, many of the hobbies fell to the wayside and Michelle, my close friends, and family became priorities. They were always priorities but now even more so. I also took to knitting for people, something I picked up when my mom was sick so I could knit her a cashmere cowl that was both soft and warm.<br />
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Now that Michelley has passed there is a lot of silence. I don't want to run away from it and throw myself into meaningless endeavors. What I do want is to live a life with meaning and intention. For some reason the worrying about what the future will bring has fallen to the wayside. It has been replaced with an awareness of what feels right, what doesn't; what is important, what's not; and finally what to fight for, and what to let go of.<br />
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<a href="https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/304351_10150277097677503_2146504_n.jpg?oh=f9f14399d1e6007101eb60dec26ede01&oe=56569418" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" class="spotlight" height="320" src="https://scontent.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/304351_10150277097677503_2146504_n.jpg?oh=f9f14399d1e6007101eb60dec26ede01&oe=56569418" width="240" /></a>A few years ago I picked up the cello. As one of my million bucket list items I rented a cello, found a teacher, and went every other week to lessons. Surprisingly it felt right. That doesn't mean it <i>sounded</i> right but pish posh. Michelle surprisingly liked my playing, even when it sounded like a distressed cat. But I kept at it and a year later decided to buy a cello. I continued to take lessons until I moved to DC.<br />
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Once I moved here there was a new world to get used to. Honestly, my cello became more of a decorative piece in my bedroom than anything else, I'm sad to say. When Michelle first passed the silence was deafening. I felt her presence those first few days and felt like she wanted me to play the cello. So I start tuning and <i>SNAP!</i> a string breaks. Standard Jilly Modus Operandi (SJMO).<br />
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The next day I cart off to the violin shop and get a new string. Just being in the shop rekindled that love I have for cello, well hearing other people play cello. I went home and started with one of my Scottish airs. Nope, too soon. So I broke out my old Suzuki books and started to play. What had once taken me months to get through I finished that book in 6 days. Book two was no different and so I bought a book of easy cello Christmas songs. Sight reading, felt natural, only a few things to really tweak.<br />
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Every time I sat down to practice it felt better and better. And then this week I decided I had to practice the dreaded <b>vibrato</b>. Ugh. First off, no beginning cellist or stand up bass player likes vibrato. Our strings are heavy and something about moving your elbow up and down while simultaneously stabilizing I have worked on this so much, my normally patient teacher wanting to pull his hair out. I could not get it. I would peruse youtube videos, pester my teacher for more training tips, do bizarre air exercises, drink a glass or two of wine to relax. Nothing, nada, zip. Until this week. I picked it up to try and then immediately I got it. "Fluke," I think as I try the other fingers. It sounded okay... on all of them. I still thought it was a fluke but then it kept happening again and again.<br />
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I am now convinced that I have a little intervention from my Sheltie angel. She probably met Pablo Casals and decided that I needed to improve drastically if she was going to have to listen to me from Heaven. But I am enjoying myself again and more so I am finding purpose. I want to be a good enough player that I can join a quartet and play Christmas music at rest homes. Little by little I play my cello, clear my head, and find purpose and meaning again. Thank you, little Sheltie Angel! <br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-49230448993715257262015-07-31T11:32:00.001-04:002015-07-31T11:32:32.536-04:00And Speaking of Eulogies...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRn2h_TWKv6NlgpNFG41ajM04DzEKVWXp3TlndgTUFaPRIEuBCNSDmUdGkgCT_Mp0ggNzcEUMICmte0P-ygHIve3aX9ZJaKAEnul3yFlnXjZhPfamcBfSIDQOn9WLXlWAxUlSBD95S71c/s1600/Michelley1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRn2h_TWKv6NlgpNFG41ajM04DzEKVWXp3TlndgTUFaPRIEuBCNSDmUdGkgCT_Mp0ggNzcEUMICmte0P-ygHIve3aX9ZJaKAEnul3yFlnXjZhPfamcBfSIDQOn9WLXlWAxUlSBD95S71c/s320/Michelley1.jpg" width="240" /></a>Last week I lost my little girl, Michelle. She was recovering from a 6-week bout of pneumonia. A couple of nights after her latest check-up she was coughing badly and hyperventilating. This time she didn't respond to the oxygen tank, or medicine, or sedatives.<br />
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There was really only one option and it was to end her suffering. I won't go into details but she went downhill rapidly. I wrote her eulogy, read it to her, and then I nodded at the vet. Most dogs go to sleep after the first shot, but not my Michelle. I held her and looked deep into her eyes and said "I love you" a million times. She held my gaze until the end. I shut her eyes. She was only 10.<br />
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I am devastated. I love that dog so much. She is brilliant, loving, strong, stoic, hilarious, and regal. She was commonly known as the Grande Dame and I her staff. She had some trouble getting up the stairs (but not a bit when I burnt bacon!) and she would go to the two steps to the platform, turn back as if to say"I am ready to be carried now." She would lay on the lawn at Mt Vernon and everyone would say how she just seemed to own the place. She pretty much did. I know she was thinking that I just need to get my finances in order so when George Washington's estate hits the market (or Vanderbilt's, she wouldn't be choosy), it should be bought for her.<br />
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And she's right.<br />
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This is a dog that loved her people; she had a special yip just for Shelties. She spoke Scots Gaelic and would smooch and snuggle on command. She also had a strange obsession with Highland cows and bagpipes but that's another story. I always told her I would take her to the Shetland Isles because in my mind the main island is a large grassy knoll with free-range Shelties frolicking on the hillside. I'll take her ashes there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHfXG6sIs_WYApWRRQwnPJUQ0RP4Dh9oOKIQyAu9a5JrwLy8fi7QTIWstC_YOj64k8FfVFV1xSvOUvJt3zL1gutHwIOmAdl5i4EXblIy6XVFl4Tkfd8TaCt0PUYNs1AkzomK2EA0w-zc/s1600/puppyMichelle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiHfXG6sIs_WYApWRRQwnPJUQ0RP4Dh9oOKIQyAu9a5JrwLy8fi7QTIWstC_YOj64k8FfVFV1xSvOUvJt3zL1gutHwIOmAdl5i4EXblIy6XVFl4Tkfd8TaCt0PUYNs1AkzomK2EA0w-zc/s320/puppyMichelle.jpg" width="320" /></a>But grief is grief and it takes time. I've been throwing myself into playing my cello every day (which she surprisingly loved even when it sounded like a cat in distress). I am grateful for 10 years of wonderful memories, from her puppy/Tasmanian devil days of shredding everything with razor sharp teeth, to our morning and nightly Sheltie hugs where I would hug her and she would hug me back with her chin, to those wonderful Sheltie snores. I will also miss her barking her hellos to everyone, including the national call-outs and International calls I do for work. Without fail she barked through every single presentation I've done when teleworking. <br />
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So now I just work through the loss and the quiet and the absence of her. And I realize that Michelle knows I love her more than anything and I know she loves me more than anything. That alone shows me that love continues to grow within us for our duration. I have so much more love because of Michelle and God bless her for that alone. Now she has crossed over the rainbow bridge and I only hope to live a good enough life that I will one day pass, she will sniff the air and come running to greet me. God bless you, sweet little Michelley.<br />
<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-88918353924447530412015-07-31T09:08:00.000-04:002015-07-31T09:08:14.289-04:00A Living EulogyIt was my 41st birthday last weekend and it was lovely and understated. I actually prefer a lovely day having one good meal, relaxing, and talking to a few close family members and friends. The ostentatious parties, the expensive gifts- I don't really need that. Sure if you're turning a round number: 30, 40, 50- that's okay but 41?<br />
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Many years ago my sister and I started this tradition with birthday gifts. Every five years we do something big for the other (35, 40, 45, etc.). This includes flying out to see the other and a nice check for that person to have some fun with. This year my sister turns 45 so we'll meet for a long weekend in Vegas. But on the other years we simply give each other a $25 Amazon gift card and mandate one book that the other must read. This results in my always reading historical fiction with a romance and my sister reading esoteric novels written in a Modern-day version of Old English. I can hear my sister sighing now.<br />
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And since we've endured a slight torture with those off-year book suggestions we decided to incorporate a lovely tradition: a living eulogy. We first did this when our mom was in her final days with cancer. We both wrote our eulogies and read them to Mom- I mean why not guarantee the person you love is the one that hears this? And since we often take those we're closest to for granted, my sister and I decided to start a list of all the things we love about the other.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1OQt6j3rbRiKLtQSD0svLasYaGjvdz-YSscS_n-HSwGB1X9z39OCsQAhnalk0VOywQ2zhWSxrnkMZar3RWKb8vJHuh54KHJrCiVbk58Iznv4g8iNdLbPcV9pdywmQ9df0rALQHzD4Is/s640/blogger-image--922953007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1OQt6j3rbRiKLtQSD0svLasYaGjvdz-YSscS_n-HSwGB1X9z39OCsQAhnalk0VOywQ2zhWSxrnkMZar3RWKb8vJHuh54KHJrCiVbk58Iznv4g8iNdLbPcV9pdywmQ9df0rALQHzD4Is/s320/blogger-image--922953007.jpg" width="320" /></a>I would say that this was not an easy road to get to. No two people could be more different than my sister and me. In fact... it took me a minute but we have a love of history in common. And we both like bagpipes... yep! that's about it. I mean look at us! My older sister with her sable hair, dark eyes, and dark complexion. I am all light- hair, eyes, skin. But when Mom passed we had one more thing in common- we lost our best friend. And as we took care of her through her illness and dividing the work with the estate, we also had equity in common. Finally as the world moved on and we processed all that goes through loss- the letting go of small things, the earned patience, we had personal growth in common too.<br />
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It's not like we didn't have these things in common before but it was the first time we didn't focus on our differences and instead really took a good look at the other. I think it's easiest to take those closest to you for granted. It's also easy to not work near as hard to find commonalities. But perhaps I'm past the need to find things in common and instead look at what that person's strengths are that will help me grow into a better person.<br />
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I won't go into the details of our private letters but I will say that the impact is overwhelming. Not only do you realize that someone really SEES you but you also realize that they love, respect, and even admire your attributes. It's a very emotional moment and one you can't wait to do for the other. GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-70170101572543896472015-06-30T11:46:00.003-04:002015-06-30T11:46:40.442-04:00Tweaking the UniverseI had a conversation with a friend recently about dating in this day and age. We both preferred to meet people organically- through friends or peers, but that's getting harder and harder every day. Where will you meet these people? Every day I ride the Metro and every day I see hundreds of new faces- new faces buried in their emails, their texts, their mobile games. Some are old school and carry books or newspapers but the result is the same: we live in a world crowded full of people and no one interacts.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yVZ7IrZDO2qjyaqJOcTdwalk-AWCtiLDC8U1BdO0aGmCXIrlGpMhQMgSg-lZJit-TTaSePx8B2zrjXa_NHM67w69fdP7GmvIeOGWLbWXFxy4PRAfn0-SHTBAZvK979vjaU6Tk4zOq-o/s1600/AidanTurner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yVZ7IrZDO2qjyaqJOcTdwalk-AWCtiLDC8U1BdO0aGmCXIrlGpMhQMgSg-lZJit-TTaSePx8B2zrjXa_NHM67w69fdP7GmvIeOGWLbWXFxy4PRAfn0-SHTBAZvK979vjaU6Tk4zOq-o/s200/AidanTurner.jpg" width="150" /></a>Seeing as I have a better chance of attracting someone online then I do standing buck naked in front of them, it's simply changed the way we date. I have heard of those couples that met on the metro, exchanged numbers, and rode off into the sunset but that's now an urban myth. Did she accidentally break his iPhone thereby having to replace it within the hour? Because I know nothing short of that is going to make someone look up from their riveting game of Candy Crush. So much for that organic meeting ground.<br />
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I was out at an Irish pub with a friend this weekend. We had met for dinner and to watch whatever band was on hand. As we left and were walking to our cars, an out of breath gentleman approached us. Being female, in a city, and being startled by a breathless man, we were on alert."Excuse me," he says, "but weren't you just in the bar back there? I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner sometime."Okay, that's the cliff notes version. There was a lot of stammering and flubbing but you get the gist.<br />
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In the movies
there are sparks and he's not a short nondescript guy that's balding, but
instead he's Aidan Turner. My reality needs tweaking. :) ALSO in the
movies the recipient (ie Moi) understands perfectly the scenario,
slightly blushes, and hands her number as the butterflies rise when they
brush hands. Again, my reality needs tweaking. When this happened, I'm
trying to discern if he's "touched." He's nervous and flustered and my
staring at him like he might be the dangerous village idiot only seems to make things worse. FINALLY slight comprehension
sets in and my initial reaction is to say I have a boyfriend. But I'm
glad I didn't. Instead I gave him my email and smiled.This is an ORGANIC meeting; I'm so shell-shocked by it that I am now averted to meetings like this. What we've come to...<br />
<br />The
next day I receive a message laying all of his cards on the table: he has
two wonderful children that he adores. He is also married, getting
ready to file the divorce papers. If any of this is a deal-breaker he
completely understands. Um, yes, that MARRIED part. I was very polite
and said that I would never be comfortable going out with a married guy
and even though relationships are not black and white
but instead very complicated, it's just not a scenario I want to be in the middle of. I think at best you're a rebound then and at worse, the soon-to-be-ex-wife may not know. Anyway, I wouldn't disrespect the sanctity of marriage nor a fellow woman in that way.<br /><br />Still I see this as moving in the right direction. But let's tweak that vision and next time the Universe can insert a very single Aidan Turner in there!<br />
<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-48669016142236403082015-06-22T13:22:00.001-04:002015-06-22T13:27:27.755-04:00Michelle Ma BelleI love this Beatle's song and it also happens to be the name of my little Sheltie. This song has many memories for me including a college ride with a long-time friend who asked me the words when I sang it. See, he never knew the words and since I seemed to know them would I mind sharing? Little did I realize I was being set up. Not even after I sang, "some dumb monkey won't play pianoed song" did I realize how ludicrous my version was over the simple French prose "son de mon qui bon tres bien ensemble." Pardon my spelling, but how was I to know they knew French?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvUOB-yJWQ25SKLCfdv50CrO-_fqkFNvE74RVc8rD70NIvOKKGQe9nvF0I8wkiNAxBX2s82eT3ba5gR9R32H-f8qr2gC4UrTTo-_x85sTC0dM0a3IL9ESt2lDEoSdYaqFyCcmnY9hP-8/s1600/Michelley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbvUOB-yJWQ25SKLCfdv50CrO-_fqkFNvE74RVc8rD70NIvOKKGQe9nvF0I8wkiNAxBX2s82eT3ba5gR9R32H-f8qr2gC4UrTTo-_x85sTC0dM0a3IL9ESt2lDEoSdYaqFyCcmnY9hP-8/s320/Michelley.jpg" width="240" /></a>I can't help but smile when I hear her name because Michelle really is the funniest little dog. It's known nationwide that if I'm on a webinar presenting Michelle will pick that time to bark, perhaps reminding me of all the life I'm missing out there presenting, while I could be barking at squirrels. It's no longer an anomaly but an expectation that she will indeed contribute. This has occurred on countless national report-outs, webinars, and even international calls to the Minister of Colombia. Michelle has become quite famous.<br />
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She's also famous with everyone she meets. In the neighborhood she is known as the Grande Dame, enforcing royal protocol. That basically means that we must all attend the wishes of Miss first and leave the Staff (i.e. me) to clean up the mess. When I cook and the oil is too hot- zip! Michelle runs up the stairs to leave the Staff to calm the situation. She is not my guard dog. <br />
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So the reason I've been absent is that I've been taking care of my little sick puppy dog. Last week she was panting heavily. I thought she was dramatizing the fact that no, it's not 40 degrees F (4 degrees C) and I know anything above that is uncomfortable in her mind. So she's ALWAYS panting. But this continued another day and her staring at me non-stop was beginning to freak me out. It was when I heard her breath get really labored that I took her to the emergency clinic.<br />
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Here I am thinking she got overheated and might need some fluids and then the vet tells me she's in an oxygen tank and needs to stay there until she can breathe on her own. OR, she says, I'll have to make a tough decision. WHAT??!! She's only 10 years old. I was devastated. Michelle had tried to tell me and I didn't get it. I failed her. I stayed until midnight and went home and prayed. I was lost. I got a call at 5 am that she wasn't doing well at all. I went immediately to see her. The new vet on call tried lasix, which clears fluid around the chest. From the x-ray they couldn't tell if that's what that mass was or if it was a tumor.<br />
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I called my vets from home for their advice and they recommended to try everything. Luckily Michelle responded. Within 24 hours she was breathing on her own. Another trip to the cardiologist confirmed that she has pneumonia. She stayed a total of 3 days at the clinic but she's home now.<br />
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I must say that an experience like that is a little death. The Jill and Michelle team of old is gone and is re-formed into this stronger union. I understand my dog so much more and she understands me. I just silently laugh and roll my eyes when she barks at a bird, a squirrel, a blade of grass. I love and accept her unconditionally. In return she gives more smooches, more snuggles and lots more taily-wags. She's the best part of my day and she knows it. I couldn't be more grateful.<br />
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<br />GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-27934283661064144672015-05-19T14:19:00.003-04:002015-05-19T14:19:39.365-04:00DIY: Floating ShelvesOne of my favorite blogs is <a href="http://contentinacottage.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Content in a Cottage</a>. Unlike me, she always has fantastic photos and short but sweet descriptions. It's just one of those blogs that makes me smile. On one of her blog posts I saw these fantastic dishes. I searched high and low and finally found that there are several china patterns that are similar.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YJcDS0muxzw99JoZtyHus3jw32ThS6Fbsse4AxEOPUwHoTDpWCqKBKr9Hyd51LvK0s1mbq_mI1bg7kv5sIT1JX8RwrEaAEwTUY-SLlG-Ohu80QCNhlS0A3cMHLQLwTzLK_bJiNkYOb0/s1600/kitbef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9YJcDS0muxzw99JoZtyHus3jw32ThS6Fbsse4AxEOPUwHoTDpWCqKBKr9Hyd51LvK0s1mbq_mI1bg7kv5sIT1JX8RwrEaAEwTUY-SLlG-Ohu80QCNhlS0A3cMHLQLwTzLK_bJiNkYOb0/s200/kitbef.jpg" width="150" /></a>I thought I would start a slot collection process but then I saw a full set for 4 on ebay. I put in a ridiculous offer and the seller accepted so I found myself in a predicament: where do I put said fabulous dishes in my ever-slightly-larger-than-the-original-teeny-tiny-galley-kitchen I have??<br />
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Already, I have been in great need of space in this tiny kitchen. I love to cook- love it. So of course that means I have appliances and cookwear and I need the space to keep it. I had this counter top over a little bar as you enter the kitchen and I use it to hold my dog products: her cookies and arthritis chews. I also keep my Sodastream machine there that I use to make carbonated water. Yeah, it doesn't look too good.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLefQcb4m77fD3p3xtg7769omkVSvba8QlV57XwZ8fW_uNNrJ43EvgHffnq6b0stMIYKvoQSc2SWblkqgzNXndWhYhJEmfnSvXX81M3Zvbu83jCKonZYkfLoB1OZ70tZlFBhu85ppALmU/s1600/wood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLefQcb4m77fD3p3xtg7769omkVSvba8QlV57XwZ8fW_uNNrJ43EvgHffnq6b0stMIYKvoQSc2SWblkqgzNXndWhYhJEmfnSvXX81M3Zvbu83jCKonZYkfLoB1OZ70tZlFBhu85ppALmU/s200/wood.jpg" width="200" /></a>Initially I thought I would try to match the white cabinetry and add one for this space but when I looked at ideas for Pinterest the idea of floating shelves came in. I thought it would give the space a lovely French Country feel. So I had the boards cut to size and then I set to all the work to sanding, staining, and protecting them. With three brackets placed and a level, I was able to create strong shelves that don't have a lot of messy hardware.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxSGbx55S8mi4qPaY9K7v0l-l6OUb0uSdzZV9gs4TZWYPqgHlsBSy1Mf1hMlijJ_yuXlA1VaFRp6IUl68ZLhOS20pL_5OjjHZmUCQ1O8uKYfJGXVENT8kUZftcrcQFtanpPWQ2iAeDG4/s1600/kitaft.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDxSGbx55S8mi4qPaY9K7v0l-l6OUb0uSdzZV9gs4TZWYPqgHlsBSy1Mf1hMlijJ_yuXlA1VaFRp6IUl68ZLhOS20pL_5OjjHZmUCQ1O8uKYfJGXVENT8kUZftcrcQFtanpPWQ2iAeDG4/s1600/kitaft.jpg" /></a>I found a stain in Provencal and voila! I have an organized space for Michelle's doggy stuff, I can display my new dishes and my favorite Colonial coffee pot that my mom gave me, and I can also highlight those odd baking tools that I love: pie birds and Springerle cookie presses.<br />
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It's a simple fix but what a difference it has made! My kitchen looks organized and intentional, and that means a lot to someone who loves her little cottage but is sorely lacking in space.<br />
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Later on I will tile a back splash all around but next on the agenda is the patio. No rest for the wicked!<br />
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GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-8504038762681399672015-05-13T14:09:00.000-04:002015-05-13T14:09:02.682-04:00DIY... Striped WallsI own my first home which at 40 may seem very late to many. But I'm also doing this on one income and my vagabond lifestyle of yesteryear just wasn't too interested in ties. Apparently people also get help from their parents which just seems weird to me (cut the cord and earn your own living!) so I borrowed some against my TSP, put in a down payment, and bought a two-story condo in one of the most expensive places in the Country. I never do things the easy way. Sigh.<br />
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I love my place though. It's in a dog-friendly, quiet, historic village in Alexandria and it has this lovely cottage feel. It also gets cracks after the mini-quake a few years ago but the good thing about condos is that I don't pay for the fix!<br />
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I DO, however, pay HOA fees out the watoosie and I have to clean up after the plaster mess left behind. They'll technically "paint" but it will just be touch ups and would look uneven. The biggest mess was in the guest room, which I also call the Tower. I love this room- I watch tv, do yoga, knit, hide out from the world on a hard day- it's my special retreat. It's also tiny but as a hangout it's perfect for me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7S3vS4kTUIcrRmDUVe8_llV7_mRW7PoqA0o1UyxytYws5Zho3DZpMnQMsCcwq2iNXtHaHqGnydcsMeZczkKmG9sABol0y7Z04VjwApxLPJUCWYYU4-uGgSxFa9J8u0ys8rBMrZSOqcs/s1600/towbef.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-7S3vS4kTUIcrRmDUVe8_llV7_mRW7PoqA0o1UyxytYws5Zho3DZpMnQMsCcwq2iNXtHaHqGnydcsMeZczkKmG9sABol0y7Z04VjwApxLPJUCWYYU4-uGgSxFa9J8u0ys8rBMrZSOqcs/s320/towbef.jpg" width="320" /></a>Originally I thought I would get the same color albeit not matte paint, for it drives me crazy when I'm attempting an inversion and I feel the powdery cheap paint dusting on my feet and floors. There was a whole progression of contemplating *gasp* actual color on the walls. I decided to get some new pillows and brighten the space a bit and finally decided on yellow.<br />
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My sister told me about vertical striping on the walls to make them appear taller. What a cool idea- painter's tape and a level and it could be done. So I went on Pinterest and after much soul searching decided to paint 16" horizontal stripes in two tones of yellow: summer moon and chickery chick. How do those names not instantly lift your spirits? My sister is very Traditional in her design choices and I am very Cottage in mine so I took her idea and I think I gave an updated look to the Tower (now the Lemon Tower):<br />
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I feel like it went from generic small bedroom to updated Hamptons
room. I painted 3 walls with the stripes and left the 4th the pale
yellow color to give the illusion of depth. <br />
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My accent pillows are a cheerful blue and apple green and isn't that the happiest room you've ever seen?? I love everything about this room and I LOVE this pullout couch. I took my friend shopping with me and made her try out every pullout couch until she found the comfiest. That's the one I bought. It is super comfy. I even keep my dog's (aka Michelle, aka Gran Madame) stairs in case she wants to come up for a belly scratch.<br />
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This will be the room where I do my first hand stand but in the meantime it remains my retreat and instantly lifts my spirits to be there.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-62543327264984356842015-04-20T09:30:00.001-04:002015-04-20T09:33:22.661-04:00End of an Era (1950s, that is)<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, after nearly five months with the Greek, he became way too comfortable in revealing his whole self. All I can say is yeesh. At first I thought- what a nice guy, he seems so into getting to know me, so interesting himself, down-to-earth, and I saw a possibility of a future. Everything is true except the last point.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have said it before and I will say it again: people tell you exactly who they are in the first 20 minutes. There are signs. I knew well the signs from his, shall I say, conservative politics, and his statements in absolutes (read immaturity) that this may not, indeed have a future. However I feel you just continue until you REALLY know if a) you want to make that person family and marry him; b) part as friends; or c) just part altogether.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After a particularly revealing conversation driving home the realness of the above-mentioned flags, I decided upon option "b".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I can summarize this into a Cliff Notes version:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Him:</span><span style="font-size: small;"> I’m more like a Tea
Party guy, I believe in traditional marriage roles, Women’s lib is a bad thing,
I should live in the 1950s I’d be a lead Prof at MIT. WTF??!!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">My responses, consecutively: </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Tea Party- </span>NOOOO, No No No No! Thank goodness you’re Greek and
therefore will never vote here otherwise I’d have to vote in EVERY election
just to cancel you out. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Traditional Marriage
Roles- </span>If you want to live by 1950s
values then you can’t have double standards. For example no intelligent wage-earning
woman wants to work full time, clean after herself and double her workload by
adding YOU to the mix. You should only date someone that makes less than half
your wage so her standard of living doesn’t go down by being with you. I make
too much money, i.e. more than you. Therefore I'm out of your league.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">Women’s Lib- </span>What do you actually BRING to the table, because waving a
penis around means nothing. Sperm? Yes, I can get that at a bank or a bar. I certainly don't need to take care of you to get that. And seeing that I'm the principle breadwinner (when shouldn't that be YOUR 'traditional' role?), you're not even living up to your basic, and only, responsibility.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">1950s god-</span><span style="color: #1f497d;"> </span>In the 1950s you would still be in Greece or here earning a low wage. The American world was not a friendly place to non-WASPs in 1950.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Even though it was hot topics the tone wasn't
contentious. He saw this as a debate, one that he lost every point on.
The only thing that seemed to hurt him was killing the dream of his
being a 1950s MIT god. <span style="color: black;">Being Greek he thinks the world sees Greeks as they see
themselves- the epitome of humans on earth. The reality is that no one cares: people never say to themselves, “gee if only I were Greek, Life would be so much better.”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black;">I'm not even upset or disappointed at this point. Just sort of mellow and cool about the whole thing. It wasn't wasted time it was just another great lesson learned and understanding more the kind of person who would (and wouldn't) make a great partner for me... and vice versa. I mean at least we can speak openly and honestly and there's value in that. And who knew I would ever call a Tea Party supporter a friend? Its just that I would never want a life with him so I'm happy to part on friendly terms.</span></span></span>GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-74243572902840221462015-04-14T09:25:00.004-04:002015-04-14T09:25:52.494-04:00Fake Profiles on Match.comI can't tell you enough how I dislike online dating. However it seems the new "organic" way of meeting people. But when you move to a city and everyone is tired from the commuting and getting used to a new schedule you come around to find the idea of online dating appealing after all. Well, sort of.<br />
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I guess in my head I never wanted to have the story, "Oh we met online," yet I have met a lot of men online and a handful I've kept as friends. Still I occasionally sign up as I feel like I'm supposed to really put myself out there. I weed through the sea of insecure and often odd men and find a few gems where we connect and meet up. Then a month goes by, I forget the membership until the alarm comes up on my calendar for me to cancel the account.<br />
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And that's when it happens... I get a lovely email from an exceptionally interesting and handsome man and I sign up for one more month.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfhdHywPZCiOe4iMoohYXEDxNHy6FLZtFJoMAGh0-s1aFW5tv1s6WxFBxezWSgkUGQbUCtrLhklC1KFehI9oSGF3InZuvCSDXAA6w6hz1PSWHJn99Mvi9tXXxrr8dZEleds7t2Ue_X7I/s1600/foo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRfhdHywPZCiOe4iMoohYXEDxNHy6FLZtFJoMAGh0-s1aFW5tv1s6WxFBxezWSgkUGQbUCtrLhklC1KFehI9oSGF3InZuvCSDXAA6w6hz1PSWHJn99Mvi9tXXxrr8dZEleds7t2Ue_X7I/s1600/foo.png" height="273" width="320" /></a>At first I though I was Murphy's Law when this happened as soon as I cancelled. But after a couple more times, I began to get suspicious and surfed the web. Was my profile highlighted? Maybe, but the forums that came up showed that there are a great deal of people out there thinking Match.com creates fake profiles.<br />
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I thought this all sounded a little too conspiracy-theory until I read their accounts: good-looking person that's perfect on paper and very good-looking sends them an email either right as their subscription ends or is about to end. They send their phone number and ask you to text if you're interested. Several text messages occur until one day they disappear.<br />
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This very thing happened to me and with one of particular note, Darren. Darren was a very handsome man, seemed down-to-earth, family-oriented, a couple of years older, and very into getting to know me. All things I love, of course. He sent me such a nice email and followed with his phone number. We texted and were making plans to meet up then Pow! He disappeared. His account on Match was nowhere to be found; it was like he never existed. I followed up. No reply.<br />
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I wrote this off as he met someone else, etc. etc. and then I saw these forums. I got curious and still had his email with profile pic. So I saved the pic and decided to do a reverse image search. Sure enough, a fake profile was created- this guy is not Darren from DC but rather a Lebanese guy named Ali. The care that had been put into creating that fake profile was astounding: no less than 15 pictures with friends, family, etc.<br />
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I was stunned at first but honestly, it made me feel slightly better. After all, I wasn't really rejected, I just fell for a scam. And I don't have to feel pressured into renewing my match subscription. One should note, Match.com will often block you permanently if you decide to cancel your subscription. However for the online daters I would recommend the following steps to prevent encountering a fake profile:<br />
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1) Really look at the photos: is there just one? I mean I'm lazy about putting up a lot of photos but I always have at least a few.<br />
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2) Now look at the quality of the photos. Are they candid or do they look like they were taken at a studio? So often we just look at the person that we overlook that the lighting is perfect and this might be a model shot.<br />
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3) If you really want to know, do a reverse image search. Engines such as Image Raider and TinEye search thousands of social media sites. It's a good way to see if the person is who they say they are.<br />
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This may sound like drastic measures but it's becoming very common to see fake profiles- people wanting to live vicariously through someone else, someone who may be married and living out a fantasy, or dating sites that want to look like they have more enticing members. Whatever the reason, it saves a lot of time and investment to take a few precautions to realize if these people are legit.GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3402899478706549743.post-81158173553501575082015-04-01T08:54:00.004-04:002015-04-01T09:01:18.589-04:00Green BrokeI grew up around horses and horse people. In fact I was helping to break horses from the age of four. My Grandpa would start the wild horse on a lead, then put a saddle on him/her, and when they got used to the saddle, well the next logical step was to put on an uncombed 4-year-old tomboy. Immediately I would be thrown and just as quick I was expected to get back on, ride for a few minutes, then my Grandpa (the real expert) would take over.<br />
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So growing up around horses and breaking horses we always left them a bit on the wild side, or "green broke." I often define this as the horse knows the rules but he may just buck you off for the hell of it... or rub you off on barbed wire... or run like lightening toward a low-hanging branch.<br />
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Anyhoo, I have often (and still do) use this term to describe myself. It's a bit more appropriate than you'd like to think. I also used this analogy before my sister's wedding: we were always considered Grandpa's wild ponies and those ponies choose who rides them; no one breaks their spirit.<br />
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As I was straightening my hair this morning I looked at those crazy little new growths and thought, "Damn. Green broke." They're no longer wild little forest children, they've been beaten into submission enough to know the rules. That doesn't mean they don't just stand at a 3 inch attention straight out of my scalp. Little bastards.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFr_AREITxpCEib9IgT_VeFwfiLgNeCqoOqu1hYn_SVBTDYnGVNps4dkvG3YLm5eZiImDbZsm0YDkQMIBzpgMgYsZV32RoUr_-Q5o3YN2IP9cIBTF6mSn6ALJQXysvFYULgo6g07sDgE/s640/blogger-image--361510903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFr_AREITxpCEib9IgT_VeFwfiLgNeCqoOqu1hYn_SVBTDYnGVNps4dkvG3YLm5eZiImDbZsm0YDkQMIBzpgMgYsZV32RoUr_-Q5o3YN2IP9cIBTF6mSn6ALJQXysvFYULgo6g07sDgE/s320/blogger-image--361510903.jpg" width="240" /></a>A while back I showed how to train the cowlick (which Auto-correct turned to 'Catholic' and henceforth I received the first hits from some Middle Eastern countries I had not before seen on here). I used a blow dryer to tame them. But to tell you the truth, I hate blow dryers. It takes FOREVER to dry my hair and since I want to curl or straighten it, I only want to do styling damage once. Now I have learned the art of using barrettes to tack down these crazy cowlicks to each side so they won't rear up on me. <br />
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It works and as you can see from this photo, shot at 5.20am nonetheless, that those wild little spurts of new growth you get when you stop dying your hair DO eventually grow up. That's a great benefit to not coloring your hair- you gain a lot of new growth. My hairline came down a full inch. They come in standing at full attention but eventually do behave. My wispies are only teenagers right now but I do hope that, unlike me, they grow out of their green broke stage and become well-behaved adults. </div>
GI Jillyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09963499233219492672noreply@blogger.com2