tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54805502081592936152024-02-08T03:40:51.843-08:00Dust BunniesSweeping out the random yet purposeful meanderings of a simple woman who wants to change the world!krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-47876020933514072082010-03-27T19:36:00.000-07:002010-03-28T10:52:28.530-07:00Cuz I AM a girl, after all.Okay, here you go. I submit to you, entirely unapologetically, for MY money, the ten hottest men found on TV today. I could pretend I don't notice, and that I'm far too evolved to care. But who the hell do I think I would be fooling?<br />
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The shows may still be filming, or they may not. Either way, you can still find these simply gorgeous humans, listed in absolutely no particular order whatsoever, somewhere among the hundreds of channels. Happy hunting. And, gentlemen....consider this an appreciative and heartfelt nod. Because, the truth is, I could swallow your characters whole. They're divine!<br />
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My humble apologies to the overlooked...<br />
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- Josh Duhamel: LAS VEGAS - Danny McCoy<br />
- Jared Padalecki: SUPERNATURAL - Sam Winchester<br />
- Timothy Olyphant: JUSTIFIED - Raylan Givens<br />
- Michael Weatherly: NCIS - Anthony DiNozzo<br />
- Chris O'Donnell: NCIS LA - G. Callen<br />
- David Conrad: GHOST WHISPERER - Jim Clancy<br />
- Simon Baker: THE MENTALIST - Patrick Jane<br />
- Nathan Fillion: CASTLE - Richard Castle<br />
- Joseph Fiennes: FLASH FORWARD - Mark Benford<br />
- James Denton: DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES - Mike Delfinokrinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-39367226029796896362010-02-10T12:57:00.000-08:002010-02-10T12:57:59.316-08:00The Death of Movie Theaters?Contrary to popular belief, it won't be the Blockbusters, Netflix & movies-on-demand that kill the American movie theater. It will be the ever increasing prices. It was 11:30 am on Veteran's Day. In an unusual confluence of events, we were all three home and wanting to go see a movie. Disney's Christmas Carol @ 12:30? Well, I thought it was still a bit early in the season, but there wasn't exactly a glut of family-friendly films out at the moment, so I was in. Taking my customary trip through the MovieWatcher's site, I dialed us in for three tickets - two adults and one child. $45? Really? $45 just to get in the door, to watch a 90 minute film? And that's not even with snacks!<br />
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I love movies. LOVE them, just like my Dad does. I love the insane, all-consuming volume. I love the comfy seats, and the fact that I can put the chair arms up and sit cross-legged or with my knees pulled up. I love the popcorn - even the faux butter that tops it. I love everything about the experience. When I was a kid, my parents used to take us to movies with great frequency. In fact, there was a period when we would see how many nights in a row we could manage. It does seem like there must have been a lot of great films back then, given that we managed an 8-night streak at one point in the early 70's. Then again, I was a kid. What the hell did I know? I grew up watching movies like Kelly's Heroes, Tora Tora Tora, Gone With the Wind, The Magnificent Seven, Sometimes a Great Notion, every Disney live action film made, and all the Clint Eastwood westerns.<br />
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So when I decide NOT to take my family to a film on a lazy Monday afternoon, it's significant. Because I also love sitting at home with my family, with a lovely dinner or bowl of homemade popcorn slathered in butter, and watching movies-on-demand on the 61 inch TV. And if I have to choose between the two, which I would dearly prefer not to, I will choose home, where a movie costs $1 to $6 for as many folks as I can cram into the living room and the food costs me nothing, where I can pause the movie to run to the restroom after my third glass of water, beer, or whatever else the film calls for, and where I can sit comfortably on my couch with the dog nearby.<br />
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Just sayin...krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-38947170087274701172010-02-09T23:49:00.000-08:002010-02-09T23:51:49.672-08:00Sticks and Stones"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me." I understand why my mom taught me this when I was a child. I understand that words are just sounds out of a person's mouth, and should not have the power to hurt me in any way. I held tightly to this phrase while I was growing up, squeezing it like a worn out blanket. I believed in it with all my heart, and it carried me through the moments of unkindness that occurred as I grew. I have repeated them over and over, to hundreds of children in my life. I have taught them to my own child, tender to the barbs of the sharp tongue.<br />
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Why, then, when someone utters two ignorant hurtful words, do I crumble? Mouthed words, directed at me, in a moment of anger. I don't know this person, have never seen her before, and will no doubt never see her again. Yet they implode me into an endless stream of tears and pain. I cry until I cannot cry anymore. The image of her face will not leave me. It is ugly with anger. I cannot for a moment imagine that people know what they become....how the face contorts into something fiendish. It is the very embodiment of "monster."<br />
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There is a tiny handful of moments that I could imagine ever becoming truly hurtful, ruthless, & venomous, and they generally involve my child. Any person who ever knowingly endangers her will know the outcome of this transformation. Any person who ever knowingly endangers any of my loved ones in any way will experience the unturned cheek. A mother's/sister's/child's defense is as daunting a foe as you'll ever encounter. And while I have been tempted to lash out at strangers who have irritated or inconvenienced me, or who were outright rude to me, I am without exception overcome by my parents' lessons on how to treat others. I find my safe place, far from the eyes and ears of the offending party. Quite frankly, screaming at the top of my lungs in the car has repeatedly proven a wildly cathartic experience. And I would rather the passengers in the passing cars believe me mildly crazy than to leave someone as devastated as I was left to feel.<br />
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Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can eviscerate me in an instant.<br />
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I wonder what she was feeling...krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-74652550132798258112010-01-13T13:40:00.000-08:002010-01-15T12:57:34.309-08:00How Do I Look?It has been over twelve years since any real interviewing occurred. Twelve years at one company, where conversations took me to the next step rather than interviews. In 1997, I was 37 years old - old enough to know that I didn't want to work anywhere that I couldn't be myself. Going against the tide of mounting warnings around me, I dressed casually but professionally and marched myself through four interviews. In all of them, I was honest, direct, and wholly myself. At the end of them, I was hired, beginning a twelve year adventure at Disney, not one moment of which I would ever take back or do over. What I learned in the interview process was that you can't read everyone, but you can read some, and you should never pretend to be anyone other than you are.<br />
I am now 49 and unemployed for the first time since I walked through those magical doors. The idea of interviewing fills me with dread. In an attempt to gently lift myself out of the deepening hollow, I remind myself that there is humor to everything, so there must be some here. What will this process be like for me NOW? as opposed to 12 1/2 years ago, when I felt, well, a frightful lot younger? Shall we take a look?<br />
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1. Do NOT put on a suit. Well, in fact, I don't own a suit. And just as with my last experience, I wouldn't dream of it. It in no way reflects who I am. If the suit is a deal breaker, the job shouldn't be mine. Easy peasy.<br />
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2. Unleash your energy. There is this fear that 49 year olds are just tired and worn out. Well, in fact I am. But all of that disappears when I talk about what I love, when my brain and imagination kick in to reflect on the power of learning and knowledge. I suppose I could go over the top. Naw, it's not in me to go over the top. Unleash it I shall.<br />
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3. Of paramount importance, and vastly different than my prior experience, by all means let's make sure the nose ring post isn't sticking out of the nose. I'm clearly going to have to make a decision here - to wear it or not to wear it. The "common sensors" around me would of course mandate "remove the damn thing." Heavens, what will it say about you? What will people think? Really? I am quite undecided for the moment. Besides, I'm still terrified that I won't be able to put it back in without stabbing myself unnecessarily.<br />
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4. Know what your short-term goals are. Sure, but I think that short-term is actually a bit more challenging than long term. Long term, I want to learn as much as I can, and enable the rest of the world to do the same. What the hell are the short-term milestones for this? And are they relevant to the jobs I'm looking at? Let's be damned sure they are, missy. Let's be damned sure they are.<br />
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5. Don't show your tattoos. No prob, unless I decide to wear a sleeveless shirt to meet with these folks with whom I desire to spend many, many years. Not going to happen. NOT going to happen.<br />
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6. Take some home-baked goodies along for the fine HR folks. Yeah, I added this one. I'm thinking nothing makes a statement like bringing something truly tasty that you made yourself. Pretty much a guarantee that I will continue to bring them over the years to come.<br />
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Okay, so the nose ring thing seems to initiate the most debate. I can handle that. As for the rest, as the immortal poet, Popeye, used to say...."I yam what I yam, and that's all that I yam." Turns out, I'm pretty much a rock star! xoxoxkrinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-77918087198899416042009-11-24T09:57:00.001-08:002009-11-24T10:25:12.389-08:00Thank You, Sweet Humans. Thank You.<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Thanksgiving is hours away, and I wonder how one can possibly give appropriate thanks for all the deserving in a single post. At the same time, I welcome the moment to reflect on my unfolding life. Giving thanks is an afterthought in our lives. It is not that we don’t feel it to our core. It is merely that we forget the power of words spoken out loud. I humbly offer the words which frequently threaten to spill from my lips. And offer the possibility that perhaps I will speak them more frequently in my life from this day forward.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful for my family, which should NEVER go without saying.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My grandmother, for showing me that one can never love too much, and for her peanut butter, pickle & mayo sandwiches.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My father, for his acceptance of me as I am.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My mother, for teaching me that if you love the world, the world will love you back, and for passing on to me her love of words.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My little brother, for being an authentic and loving example of strength of spirit and the power of love, and his outright belief in my ability to succeed beyond my own imagination.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My big brother, for his quiet and unwavering appreciation of the butterfly which has yet to emerge. We get there when we get there.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My husband, for showing me what it feels like to be loved without limits, imperfections and all.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .25in; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span></span><span dir="LTR"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">My daughter, for her unconditional love, brilliant spirit, authenticity, and unending laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful for my friends and colleagues, with whom I have toiled, failed and soared to great heights in this life. May our flight continue on a beautiful upward climb.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful for those who have walked into my path to challenge me. The journey would be shorter and far less sweet without you.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful for the amazing and wonderful humans that continue to emerge into my life every day, from places unexpected. Oh, the places we’ll go…</span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful for the moments in life which have made me weep, both with deep sadness and great joy, when I feel so powerfully alive.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful for Ronnie, and the hundreds of thousands of American soldiers standing tall in lands near and far away to keep us all safe and free. And to their families for accepting sacrifices which no one should rightfully have to accept.</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">I am thankful that I live in a world of human beings that, while imperfect, have the capacity to change the world and bring peace in my child’s lifetime.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">May each of us find in ourselves the words to express what is inside, and the courage to speak them out loud. I am thankful for each and every one of you - for the spirit that burns within you, the love that spills from your heart, the possibility that wakes you to each new day. May you feel some small part of that every day, and occasionally be knocked backward by the enormity of it. xoxoxox</span><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">This post was created as part of a global groundswell of gratitude called TweetsGiving. In conjunction with 12For12K, this celebration, created by US nonprofit Epic Change is an experiment in social innovation that seeks to change the world through the power of gratitude. Join us </span><a href="http://tweetsgiving.epicchange.org/" style="color: #2a5db0;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">http://tweetsgiving.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><wbr></wbr>epicchange.org/</span></a></span><br />
</div>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-45227406820290369802009-10-31T20:28:00.000-07:002009-11-03T10:22:41.889-08:00Trick or Treating in Burbank<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">This year we walked our neighborhood - our new neighborhood. No driving a few blocks to trick/treat with friends, although I must say we did miss them. Dad stayed home, promising to open the door and hand out candy, NOT hide away inside watching scary movies while the hordes emptied the basket in one fell swoop.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">The girls and I started out at about 6:30 - me, my daughter and her bestest friend - when it was not quite dark and there wasn't yet a chill in the air. Beauty and the beast, as it were. One a beautiful pirate wench, the other a gloriously dead cheerleader. We hit 7 or 8 blocks in all, spending a good hour and a half going house-to-house. Quite frankly, two 10-year old girls in boots and tights tend to want to go only so far on a chilly evening, and their bags were plenty full. Not like the old days when my brothers and I would walk for blocks in all directions, and come home with a full pillow case. Gad, how did my parents cope with that mass of sugar in the house? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Amidst the healthy crowds of kids, many of whom we knew, here are a few of the things that caught my eye:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">1. A father and son trick or treating together.They both had treat bags, but only the little boy was in costume. I thought this was a bit odd, but my husband offered the perspective that perhaps they'd never before experienced Halloween and were both excited about it. Okay.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">2. A roving pack of 6th or perhaps 7th grade girls with not a well-mannered bone among them. They pushed in front of my girls without hesitation to get to the door. After the second time this happened, I was compelled to point out quite calmly that they should perhaps let the smaller ones go first. They ignored me completely. Really? Nice job, parents. Really nice job. I'll be keeping an eye out for them next year.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">3. A couple of really scary clown faces. Nuff said.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">4. A big kid dressed in a dark brown sack of some sort and a dark rubber mask pulled over his head. When a diminutive, curious mom asked what he was, he responded "Harry Potter." Not by a long shot, buddy. Seriously? If you're going to go out and beg for candy, at least dress up. And, if you're over the age of 13 or 14, DON'T go!</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">5. There were three haunted houses, in varying degrees of terror. We walked three blocks to the big one to start the evening - a haunted recreation of the Burbank City Hall and AMC theater. The line was half way down the block, and it wasn't open yet. We moved on. Quite honestly, I don't think the girls wanted to go into any of them.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">6. A woman, walking down the street, swinging her little flashlight back and forth across the sidewalk and onto front lawns. Not slowing, not stopping to look for anything in particular, just, well, I don't know...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">7. Then there were the vans pulling up on Chandler and infusing the neighborhood with still more kids. This I understand, and yay that they come and have a great Halloween experience. And I also struggle with the need to buy enough candy to hand out to hundreds of kids who don't live in the neighborhood. Honey, I just don't have this kind of cash, and I'm still old-fashioned enough to want to know the kids who come to my door.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">All in all, it was a lovely Halloween. It was nice to be out walking in the neighborhood, which was busier than I'd expected but far less so than I'd prefer. The constant flow of kids through the streets, which I remember from my own childhood, was missing. It was a bittersweet experience - the juxtaposition of young costumed children giddy with delight, and the older kids either not dressed at all or dressed more appropriately for an adult party. The rows of houses on each block gone dark for the evening, many of them hiding in the back of the house and avoiding the holiday altogether.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">Perhaps what stood out most for me this year were the people that not only lit up their homes and opened their doors for the event, but were also part of it. They sat outside. They enjoyed the evening. I think that next year we shall perhaps do the same. Bundle up outside, with friends, drinks in hand, and toast All Hallow's Eve out loud with the passing streams of monsters, princesses, furry animals, and heroes, scary movies on the big TV, ghouls adorning the yard. Ooh, and maybe make some smores for the occasion. :)</span></span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-91827283846712128882009-10-28T12:17:00.000-07:002009-10-28T12:17:47.375-07:00A Brief Stroll<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Often the moments of personal benefit are borne of necessity. Walking my daughter to school is not the norm for me. It should be. There is no reason, earthly or otherwise, for me not to simply stroll the four blocks every day with my perfect child, books and bags thrown across our shoulders, gawking at storefronts and chatting about the day that lays ahead. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">The walk today was rushed, having left the house five minutes too late to truly enjoy the walk. I cannot recall any of the topics we discussed - only that the chat was easy, lovely, and happy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The walk home was slow, meandering, leisurely, and productive. A 2-block detour to Porto's for a crunchy loaf of freshly baked sourdough bread and a small, sweet Cortadito for the walk, and then back toward home. I make a quick stop at the bank ATM to make a deposit - a lovely change with no lines awaiting - and realize how quiet the street has become. Crossing over to the north side of the street, I stand and stare blissfully at the beautiful buddha and Ganesh statues in my favorite second-hand store. It's been far too long since I've wandered this cluttered place. I walk on, stopping to gaze curiously at the playful robots decorating a favorite new neighborhood haunt. Their handmade collections always make me smile.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The next block is haunted by a massive concrete structure whose beckoning doorways are constructed on the other side of it. For this reason, I generally walk on the other side of the street. Not today. Today, I am already here. And so I walk, head momentarily down. But my eyes are drawn immediately to the base of the tree that has entered my periphery. And I look up fully into this most beautiful creature. It's base is strong and bare. And there, just above the height of passing humans, sits the most lush and forest green mass of leaves - reaching high above the concrete roof. And there ahead, another, and another, and another. Fortunate that no one is walking toward me, I stare up at these giants of life, swept into the dark green curls that seem at once wild and clipped. I wonder at the bare trunk. Have we cut back any green shoots that grow down at our level, or have the trees managed this on their own? Have we readjusted nature to fit us? Or have they spared themselves the occasional prying and pulling fingers of human passers by? It matters to me, and I want to believe that they have chosen to blossom far above our heads. To protect us, shade us & delight us, safe from unintentional harm.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I have strolled much more slowly along this block. Breathing in the life of the trees, I cross to the next block - now one block from home. The same young man we passed on the way to school, is still working to rid the street of the mounds of wild leaves that yesterday's winds have heaved down upon us all. Good morning, we again greet each other. As I turn the corner and head toward the house, a woman sits in her car on the phone. She is one of many waiting for the italian deli extraordinaire to open. 9am comes far too slowly for those who want to slip inside and crawl into the glorious smells of this place. I smile, and head for home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Often the moments of personal benefit are borne of necessity. Tomorrow it will be borne of sheer desire to be in the world. Maybe I'll bring the dog.</span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-29573765470217916442009-10-08T18:38:00.001-07:002009-10-09T11:46:54.244-07:00With greatest admiration and adoration, I present to you our first guest blog. Here is the gorgeous and amazing Christina Kingston's DON'T QUOTE ME ON THAT<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;">Special thanks to the very cool, open-armed Karen Hohman Almeida (<a href="http://twitter.com/Krinhoh" target="_blank"><strong>@Krinhoh</strong></a>) for letting me, CtKingston (<a href="http://twitter.com/CTK1" target="_blank"><strong>@CTK1</strong></a>) guest on her blog.</span><br />
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<center><img src="http://i696.photobucket.com/albums/vv321/ctkingston/tinaDance2_KrinhohBlog2.jpg" /></center><br />
You know the quote that goes around all the time on social networking sites? You know, this one:<br />
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"Dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like you've never been hurt and live like it's heaven on Earth." –Mark Twain <br />
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I've never done any of those things, have you? I dance like the world is dancing against me. Sing to annoy and you better listen! Love like passion is pummeling me and live like <i>tomorrow</i> is heaven. Unfortunately for me, since tomorrow soon becomes today, I wind up having to wait yet another 24 hours for heaven and so on… One day maybe I'll get ahead of myself. Overall though, I'm quite happy, in so much as, heck, life is good, mostly.<br />
<br />
I love Mark Twain. I've read his books and even biographies. Interestingly I've never seen mention of him singing and dancing or loving without repercussion. Truth be told, Twain was a bitter old misanthrope, even as a kid. He was a depressive. A brilliant one, mind you, but sad all the same. <br />
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<center><img src="http://i696.photobucket.com/albums/vv321/ctkingston/Twain_KrinhohBlog.jpg" /></center><br />
I often see his quotes floating by in my Twitter stream, on people's Facebook walls, in bios on MySpace profiles and I could keep name dropping all the social network sites I'm on, but this isn't about me, it's about Twain. Mostly.<br />
<br />
I've always felt he coined two different types of quotes. The ones tossed off for the easily pleased who don't really "get it," and then the ones he gifted to those who look beyond the surface and "get it" till it hurts. Which one am I? Both. Which one are you? <br />
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<img align="LEFT" space="5" src="http://i696.photobucket.com/albums/vv321/ctkingston/TinaQuestioning_KrinhohBlog2.jpg" />Real curious, I once asked someone who quotes Twain all the time, like he's got Twain Tourrettes, I asked, "Which is your favorite work by him?"<br />
<br />
The answer surprised me. The Twain quoter said, "I've never read him, what kind of things does he write?"<br />
<br />
What? But it's of no never mind since the quotes live and breathe on their own, no assembly required. But I hope you've read Twain.<br />
<br />
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I sometimes wonder if Twain were here and on a social networking site would he accept my friend request? I usually conclude that he wouldn't and that usually makes me happy. I'd prefer he keep to himself so he has more time to finally dance like no one is watching. Sing like no one is listening. Love like he'd never been hurt and live like it's heaven on earth.<br />
<div><br />
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</div><div>Have you done those things? If not, will you? And would Twain accept you as a friend on a social networking site? If so, why? If not, why not? And would I look good with Twain's hairdo? Seriously, I'm considering it. Are you?<br />
</div>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-88511475337809849602009-10-02T14:28:00.000-07:002009-10-05T12:37:47.020-07:00Tell Me What's On Your Mind!No blog is complete without guests.<br />
<div><br />
<div>I am made complete in this life by the presence of others. And as in life, so shall it be in my blog.<br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>As brilliant or entirely inane as my own thoughts and meanderings may be, I open my arms and heart to those of you out there who would like to share here.<br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>You will not be judged. You will not be censored. As long as you bring no malicious intent, and of course you would never, your words are welcome.<br />
<br />
Share. Speak. Be out there!<br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>Stay tuned, darlings. The first guest blog is set to appear.<br />
</div><div><br />
</div><div>xoxoxox<br />
</div></div>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-25944464888073997632009-09-28T12:32:00.000-07:002009-09-28T12:32:38.579-07:00Dear Dell Corporation .Dearest Dell.<br />
<br />
I would like to most sincerely thank you for your brilliant customer service and continued attention to the issue of my non-working Alienware laptop.<br />
Your willingness to pay for my endless hours on the phone, as well as the lovely hold music that plays continuously while one is gently bounced from person, to person, to person, to person, clearly exceeds normal levels of compassion.<br />
I stand in utter awe of the conviction of your employees to remain firm, and persevere in their position, regardless of actual relevance to my clearly unreasonable demands.<br />
I apologize for perhaps raising my voice during these last two calls, especially since we have clearly established a close relationship during this past six weeks. I realize now that my expectation of having a working $2k laptop, nearly three months after purchasing it, is obviously unreasonable.<br />
And thank you, again, truly, for stopping the shipment of the replacement laptop, which would have sadly nipped our new relationship prematurely in the bud.<br />
My passion for you has become impossible to contain. I can no longer keep our relationship secret, and find myself simply bubbling over with endless recommendations to friends and family.<br />
May you too enjoy the benefits of this relationship, as I have.<br />
xoxoxoxoxkrinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-16572328749203774762009-09-12T23:16:00.000-07:002009-09-12T23:17:19.066-07:00Life Under TreesI'm curled in a bright yellow knit hammock, listing gently in the breeze. The dog restlessly paces the yard, whining softly at sounds and smells. Something has caught his attention but, in his old age, he seems to struggle to hear and see it clearly. He lies down on the warm cement just a few feet away and watches me, first intently and then blankly. The tree is green, spreading its branches and leaves overhead like a shelter. The sunlight dances across the very tops of the flowers which span the grey worn fence. It lights the topmost leaves of the tree. The rest have already become a cold green, bowing to early night. The leaves spread across the branches, across the sky. They are most spectacular. So simple. So beautiful. Protective. Like a shawl thrown gently across my shoulders.krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-20086047106526542742009-09-08T12:12:00.000-07:002009-09-08T12:12:25.317-07:00Anna Nalick Has It RightBreathe. Just breathe.krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-67683973207563991942009-09-03T18:27:00.000-07:002009-09-04T08:42:41.036-07:00Little Girl<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She is</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">small to me,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">even as she grows and stretches toward the sky,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">responding to the sun and rain as a flower moving toward its greatest height.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her hair</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">is of spun gold,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">which she today tints in the brightness of fuchsia,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the ends spattered with red - the color of life, not death.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her voice</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">is nearly imperceptible,</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">or as big as the sky.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her mood, her spirit, her energy determining the tone.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She is</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">at times</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the smallest child without direction.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, without warning, a woman generations in the making, all strength and boldness.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She defies</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">expectations, boundaries, and me.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She will dance with reason and always take the lead.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She absorbs</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the world around her.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is her nourishment, her sustenance.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She cries</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">without purpose</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">her tears sprung from deep inside, as she is sprung from me.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She smiles</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">with abandon</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">belying the fear, displaying no hesitancy in her step.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She hurts</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">easily</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">from words and bruises alike - the pain equal.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;">She is</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;">utter perfection,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;">the universe's greatest work,</span><br />
<span style="color: purple; font-family: Verdana;">and mine.</span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-1167217308660383992009-09-02T13:58:00.000-07:002009-09-02T14:05:58.288-07:00I Cry<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">My life moves</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">as a constant</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">and in one motion.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">There is a rhythm</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">nearly indistinguishable.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">Its match</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">outside of me</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">is absent.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">The rhythm against which</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I measure myself</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">is silent.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I am alone.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I move without purpose.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">Or I stand still.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I want to bury myself</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">deep inside the earth.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I crave the warm womb</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">the protection of the mother.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I yearn to be born again - reborn.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I long to feel the heat</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">of the sun in my bones.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">The force of the wind</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">pummeling my body</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">and penetrating my soul.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I wish to speak with the moon</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">when the skies are dark.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">To hold her in my arms</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">and protect her.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I wish to stand tall</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">high above the world.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">To take in life</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';">and gaze upon it</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">until they can see</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">and know</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">that they are loved.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS';"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I wish to be the earth</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">that upon which the world walks.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">To open my arms</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">and hold humanity</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">in an embrace of absolute love.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;"><br />
I cry.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">From a sadness so great</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">it threatens to explode me</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">into millions of tiny pieces.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">From a love so deep</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">it cannot be contained.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><span style="color: #660000;">I cry.</span></span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-16283215352093390492009-08-13T21:06:00.000-07:002009-08-13T21:47:32.632-07:00My Last Cover Letter<span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >Someone recently asked me the question, “Karen, what would you like to do next?” My answer was simple. “I’d like to blow the walls off public education, turn it on its ear, and recreate it.” I want to create powerful learning and experiences from K through LIFE, encourage people to step outside their comfort zones to discover the possibilities.<br /><br />I</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" > believe that education is the key to everything, which I realize may sound a bit over the top. Yet I am hard-pressed to find examples of struggles, accidents, injustices, or just plain misses that don’t somehow come back to how people were educated, or not educated. As the parent of a 9-year old, I feel fully the weight of my responsibility to raise this child to be smart, open-minded, fair, compassionate, loving, strong, and to think for herself. This is only one part of the partnership, of the community in place to create such a human being.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" ><br /><br />Education starts at home. It is either embraced or it is not. Children are taught, or they are not. Once we join hands with education outside the small circle of family, the community has truly begun, and the possibilities are limitless. We as humans can live to be 100, so how can we dare to fit learning into a 13 year block, with a start and a finish. Our abilities to provide for our families, contribute to our communities, fight for change in our countries, and preserve life on our planet are directly tied to our ability to learn, unlearn, and relearn.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >And yet education continues to be singled out for reduction and liquidation. It is slaughtered in the name of budget cuts without thought as to the impacts. At the mercy of a tax-based system, it will continue to fail, and we will fail in our responsibility to our communities and our country.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 153);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >So, yes, I am MOST interested in your organization. I think that your mission is dead on, and I have seen no one else take such an interest in education. It would be an honor to be part of the charge forward.</span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-45818272591018271172009-08-02T12:19:00.000-07:002009-08-02T14:47:52.414-07:00Because there is much to say, my friendsThe reality of leaving a place that has become home and family, not only for my head and heart but for my soul, has descended squarely upon me today. Sometime during the night, it seeped quietly through my skin, and was aborbed deep into my bones and my bloodstream. I succumbed to its presence, knowing that resistance would provide no relief, and I wept. And I have come to understand that this feeling is not yet ready to subside, that I will again weep for such a loss.<div>And so I sit here in my dining room, the sun shining on the world outside, a gentle breeze blowing my blinds and the chimes on the porch, and I pen what I hope will be an adequate goodbye, knowing full well that there is no such thing.</div><div>I walked into the walls of Disney 12 years ago knowing full well that for perhaps the first time in my life I was in the right spot. I knew nothing of the adventure that lay ahead, but the certainty of my place in it was immediate. I had come home, at long last, and after a very long search.</div><div>Twelve years, my dear friends. Twelve at the same time unfairly brief and exhaustingly long years. For twelve years, I have:</div><div><ul><li>Toiled with brave and courageous colleagues</li><li>Battled the dragons of bureaucracy, nearsightedness, and culture</li><li>Danced with the magical concepts of strategy and progress</li><li>Risen to the challenge of those who were unsure</li><li>Stretched the minds and imaginations of brave human beings</li><li>Been humbled by the vastness of possibility</li><li>Succeeded beyond my own imagination</li><li>Failed most humanly</li><li>Held the hands of people who will forever be friends</li><li>Loved openly and without fear</li><li>Found the gift of grace with the help of stars in human form</li><li>Remained true to myself</li><li>Learned more than I ever thought possible</li></ul><div>None of this could I have done alone. I believe without hesitation that no one walks into your path without something to be given, received, or learned. To those who challenged me, and who doubted me, I give equal appreciation and loving thanks. For I have grown immeasurably, thanks in equal part to you. To those who love me outright, I can offer no words to express what you have given me, and how I feel for each of you now, today, at this moment, other than how deeply I love you back. I thank you, with every inch of my heart and soul, for making this part of my journey, my life, so powerfully transformational, and so consumed with love.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was my hope from the earliest of days that I would leave a legacy that would make me and those who knew me proud. I could not have imagined how it would feel today, looking back and knowing that, because of who I am, I made a difference. I am SO proud. I am proud of myself, I am proud of you, I am proud of US. May the fruit of our partnership and friendship live on, and in some way move this company into the future. I have faith that it shall, and hope that you do as well.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will miss the magic. I will miss the walls of my womb-like office to which all were welcome. I will miss the anger, the sarcasm, and the laughter. I will miss the struggles and the ease of flow. And I will miss you. I will miss you so very, very much.</div><div><br /></div><div>May life unfold for each of you in the most powerful of ways. And may you be happy, truly happy. I take each of you with me. And though I won't be there in person, I will be close, always close. </div><div><br /></div><div>Me xoxoxoxoxoxox</div></div>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-50129922837025657502009-07-27T14:22:00.000-07:002009-07-27T14:43:44.241-07:00Why blog?A very cool cat recently tweeted the query, why blog? I had to think for a moment about what draws me to this medium. It is the same thing that has drawn me to years of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">journaling</span>, and what now draws me to things <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">likeTwitter</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Facebook</span>, and Blogger. It is my life, and my story. Life is all about stories. Everything we do, buy, give, take, learn, share, or swallow whole has a story. And somewhere in each of us is the the human desire not only to read stories, but to share our own.<div>Once upon a time, we had only two options. Gather people around you by the campfire, or write a book for most hopeful mass publishing. How far those stories would go, who would be affected by them, who might respond to them on some very personal level, was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">anyone's</span> guess and we could never know. But that has changed. Time and space unbounded, technology at the ready, the world waiting.....we look for stories. We look for them like we've never looked for them before.</div><div>I want to know who lives across the globe, who lives across the country, and who lives the next town over. I want to know what we have in common and how we are different. I want to know what we can learn from each other. And I want to learn now. I want to be part of this world, and not just riding along for a hundred years or so until my quarter is done and the horse stops. I want to live in this world. And to do that, I have to put myself out there. I want to get better, at being a loving mom, friend, teacher, learner, wife, sister and daughter. And to do that, I have to put myself out there. I want to save this world, and the people in it. And to do that, I have to put myself out there.</div><div>So I will talk, and share, and ask questions. I will connect to people so that I can find kindred spirits who want the same. I will speak, and speak, and speak. And I will hope that every once in a while a voice will respond in kind, from somewhere <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">heretofore</span> quiet, and a new community will begin.</div><div>Who's in?</div>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-21969253837969198392009-06-10T19:06:00.000-07:002009-07-06T08:21:08.493-07:00Leaving my Post..Change Myself, Change the World<div>Oh, the irony of the designations......I am leaving a post about leaving my post. It somehow sounds sadder in duplicate. Most of us work many jobs in our lifetime. I have worked more than I can remember in my 49 years, beginning with those voluntary spots in my youth. Some jobs we flee, some we walk quietly away from, and some we fight desperately to hold onto. Occasionally, we discover that our job has become part of our life, our family, our existence. It is away from such a job that I prepare to walk. The emotions are mixed beyond description, yet I will not walk away quietly, nor will I flee. I walk proudly from my position with the mouse. I leave a legacy of which I am infinitely proud. There is such grand truth in the statement that there is no limit to what can be accomplished if it doesn't matter who gets the credit. (Thank you, Mr. Emerson!) </div><div>I thank the universe for conspiring to open the door I was hesitant to open myself. I now stand before it looking fully at the world before me. I hope to change it, for the better. I hope to be part of a transformation that continues through my life, my child's life, and the lives of her children. Today I start with my community.</div>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-31807859104723295252009-04-20T15:36:00.000-07:002009-04-20T15:53:24.135-07:00My mom rocks!Still counting, but this is surgery #9 for my mom. The first was entirely unrelated to the disease necessitating the eight since. Spine, two shoulders, two knees plus a refurbishment, one hip, and now her aortic valve. It took about 11 doctors to finally get a diagnosis 40 years ago of the Ochronosis - a very rare disease that the NIH has been kind enough to devote some resources to. It is not fatal, but at varying rates of speed and in varying degress it eats away at cartilage and connective tissue in the body. So, limb by limb, and joint by joint, replacements are done. Turns out that the aortic valve contains the same tissue, so it had to be replaced. Bless the bovine whose valve was kindly given up for my mom. Day 11 following open heart surgery, and she is breathing strong, walking upright and faithfully, eating healthy and solid foods, and as fiery as ever. She was back checking email yesterday. 70 years old is truly a state of mind, and not one with which my mom has chosen to become familiar. Bless her for that, and I hope I feel the same way in 21 years.krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-20890999666949570532009-02-14T20:07:00.000-08:002009-02-14T20:44:35.969-08:00Three Out of Four<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"><strong>They used to be so small, these girls. Isabella, Meilani, and Sebi. Of course Reilly is missing tonight as the computers cry out Hannah Montana soundtracks, the volleyball flies through the living room, the markers feverishly create fashion originals on paper, the wii bowling pops up for a quick round or two, and pasta is consumed in very large bowls. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#990000;"><strong>The energy they create amongst each other is unchanged. The giggling still goes on, albeit periodically interrupted by the high drama of my own girl's persona. They change activities frequently and without warning.</strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#990000;">40 years ago I was their age. It is inconceivable, entirely inconceivable that so much time has passed.....and that I am suddenly so old. Yet I relish their energy. They make me laugh out loud. They are perfect, beautiful creatures. There is nothing more perfect than little girls who are the best of friends. They are unabashed, unfettered, and undaunted. Their energy could power the world a hundred times over - just a handful of them. These three - all four - I love each of them like mad.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Verdana;color:#990000;">There is nothing in the world so special as your own child and the friends that they draw into their circles throughout their lives. May they continue forever to walk through the doors of my home, to be part of my life as they are my daughter's. This is my family. xoxox</span></strong>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-12832369881143105172009-02-12T17:24:00.000-08:002009-02-12T17:35:18.397-08:00the state of things<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">Today I started a new group in Facebook.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">I get that it doesn't replace standing on street corners and knocking on doors.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">I get that it's a passive act. But sometimes a small act is better than no act, and often the greatest of acts follow baby steps.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">I get that it won't necessarily make me the most popular girl on the quad. But there are far more important things in this life, on this planet, in this world than what others think of little old me.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">My question is, what the HELL does the governor of this state think about when he sits down with his family at night? When he watches the news and reads the papers? When he lays his head down on the pillow at night, what bedtime stories does he tell himself in order to be able to go to sleep?</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">Today I started a new group on Facebook.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;">Today I took action.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:85%;color:#333300;"></span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-6420954224201360522009-02-07T21:51:00.000-08:002009-02-07T22:08:33.068-08:00Wii BowlingIt is my current opinion that when the wii-motes come out and the sounds of the virtual bowling alley fill the living room, the world outside could very likely evaporate and those in this living room would be none the wiser.<br />Not so long ago this evening, the girls were dancing up a storm and watching a new tween movie, over and over again. The adults....talking the usual politics and life, and cooking up a veritable vegetarian feast. Apres dinner, the yawns begin, and the kids get goofy. It must be nearing bedtime.<br />And then the voice. "Hey, I didn't know you guys had a Wii." Well, yeah. And so out it comes. The batteries refreshed, the miis set up, and the motes strapped to the wrists, the first game begins. And suddenly bed time is on no one's mind. It's as if the sun has suddenly come back up into the sky, and the day is fresh.<br />Who needs the bowling alley? Night bowling in the carpeted living room with people you love. It doesn't get any better. xoxoxkrinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-65462103134808858302009-02-04T18:13:00.001-08:002009-02-04T18:13:48.749-08:00I, Homer<span style="font-family:verdana;color:#cc0000;"><strong>Doh!</strong></span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-46119968127390053562009-02-03T19:47:00.000-08:002009-07-05T18:01:24.105-07:00For Elizabeth<span style="color:#330000;"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Dear Elizabeth.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">First, I love you to death and miss you like mad!!</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Second, I know that you are out there doing truly amazing things, living life to its absolute fullest, and making everyone proud.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Third, I'd like to share with you a set of lyrics that have been playing in my head for years now. Every time I think of you, it starts. And every time I hear the words on a radio, I think of you. And so, with a loving nod to both Dobie Gray and Uncle Kracker....</span><br /></span><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="color:#330000;"><em><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Thanks for the joy that you've given me </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">I want you to know I believe in your song</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">Your rhythm and rhyme and harmony</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">You've helped me along Makin' me strong</span></em><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">Thank you, my dear friend, for your love and kindness....and of course your brilliance.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">May our lives continue to cross as we find adventure on life's pathways. I could not have made it this far without you.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;">Peace. xoxoxox</span></span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5480550208159293615.post-67796576292799024742009-02-03T19:30:00.000-08:002009-02-03T19:37:18.930-08:00Balance happens<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">For once, the pieces are not all out of whack at once. There are three, you know. Life, Work, Self. When all are in a downward spiral, all perspective disappears. It begins to swallow you whole. Anguish is everywhere. Exhaustion is the rule, not the exception. And the days are either an eternity in passing or a millisecond.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">The trick is to remember to look up. Literally. Look up. The sunlight, the blue sky, the white clouds. The grey clouds and pouring rain. The flashes of lightning in a rumbling sky. The pink and orange halo of a southern <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">California</span> sunset. It is much bigger than the individual moments in which we live our lives. And it is beautiful. Step outside, just for a moment.....of yourself, of the building, of the moment at which you find yourself tortured.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Smile back at the sky, for it is truly embracing you every moment.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000099;">Trust me. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">xoxoxox</span> </span>krinhohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07803103559472006310noreply@blogger.com0