tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13089129114813173152024-03-05T17:24:31.062-08:00...on forever's very now we standSuzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-33549465737510633852023-02-04T08:24:00.000-08:002023-02-04T08:24:42.900-08:00Stormy. NightWe had a night last night. We knew the temperature would drop to -10 over night but we didnt expect to lose power too! The girls and I were having the most lovely day, baking cakes and wathing harry potter. They kept saying that this was the best day ever! Then we heard on the radio that the strong winds were taking out power lines. So we cleaned up the dishes and found all of our candles and flashlights. I even downloaded Despicable Me onto my ipad just in case. Then, the lights flickered, once, twice, three times. then about 15 minutes later the lights went off for about 3 seconds. Then, at 8:15 the power finally went dark.
Ophelia was so nervous that she was pacing the floor and she said that the only thing that would make her feel better was christmas music. So I put on christmas music and we danced and jumped around to get some of the nervous energy out. next we sat on the sofa and told stories by candle light. Sadie said that this was still the best day because we were doing something we wouldnt normally do. OPhelia said that we should turn off the internet more often. we went to bed around !0 and fell asleep to Despicable Me.
I didnt sleep much though. The howling wind made me think a tree might fall on the house.Then what? I dont know where we would go! what if the car battery froze! But I had to set my alarm to get up every 2-3 hours to put wood on the fire. Which only kept the house at 40 degrees. Luckily the loft keeps warmer than the rest of the house and we had lots of blankets so we were fine and toasty in bed.
It was quite an experience. Probably stupid to attempt but we had an experience we will never forget.
Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-31513786803319457472023-01-25T09:08:00.003-08:002023-01-25T09:08:53.507-08:00HibernationWhose dumb idea was it to make January the time to set new goals and change your life? for animals and plants its a time to go dormant, rest and save your energy for spring. this year I say nope. Mostly because its January 25th and I already feel like a failure for not going out and being a better person than I was in 2022.
As I write this I want to declare that I will have no more declarations but the whole sentence contradicts itself so I'll just leave it. happy hibernating all you rabbits. see ya in spring. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJf4b8pJo6KPlPCaj1-yal0Kso_eycXknzes8f7y3pmF5wrfFgAgUwImwweIex8TYL1yuu9qVPQ2ByZgTh43uHPu61kViU9VwFkt1JB51WWOhgKnrcpMs7_ki1tI3EHyRUysLOhMn8FU9lAbwP338IBU-BJx2IRReUsfS5MkkDfmtggV3hCHxk5Vsaqg/s4032/BE197768-7C41-48AD-9D0E-6E1CEE06FE42.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJf4b8pJo6KPlPCaj1-yal0Kso_eycXknzes8f7y3pmF5wrfFgAgUwImwweIex8TYL1yuu9qVPQ2ByZgTh43uHPu61kViU9VwFkt1JB51WWOhgKnrcpMs7_ki1tI3EHyRUysLOhMn8FU9lAbwP338IBU-BJx2IRReUsfS5MkkDfmtggV3hCHxk5Vsaqg/s320/BE197768-7C41-48AD-9D0E-6E1CEE06FE42.jpeg"/></a></div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-35269600884024109452023-01-18T07:22:00.003-08:002023-01-18T07:24:37.976-08:00Super powers<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD54B6W4ClH9iFqEId6ppTNKyCdL3zcJ98GMP383uId5ZQs1lF0ST0R0s74F4vm7G66frb4bw1L0iTZzAK91H0sZB8Oq3hUBmvMztAosGtL0m4AWTBoCPCi6G_RNQww0ExWnvCcz6bfFEno9v3V1pLPRMmbzK96CZ1Oa6OhzH9Mv2O1d5ydJmoKnF8Xg/s1800/95C490EC-90B0-4DD1-BC02-7BC1A5CAC8FF.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD54B6W4ClH9iFqEId6ppTNKyCdL3zcJ98GMP383uId5ZQs1lF0ST0R0s74F4vm7G66frb4bw1L0iTZzAK91H0sZB8Oq3hUBmvMztAosGtL0m4AWTBoCPCi6G_RNQww0ExWnvCcz6bfFEno9v3V1pLPRMmbzK96CZ1Oa6OhzH9Mv2O1d5ydJmoKnF8Xg/s320/95C490EC-90B0-4DD1-BC02-7BC1A5CAC8FF.jpeg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kfS9STraFfErVGQnbxRnWnhBZGE4MHQublQ-F5tgbxmd8xVBAhL9hefNYayuVtZ6Cc106xnnATd9-Akryoi0xJvEHL9w0aX_x-5Yc2GcySppb-Sfc-2Whk498O-mBmSOykyUGt0jupWDB6x8epPWL4GEFzn8JaEAEbLzH4vK6GgYFq3mFYiytwFhIQ/s1800/A2A67297-5436-44A4-A1C0-AFC8F263024C.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-kfS9STraFfErVGQnbxRnWnhBZGE4MHQublQ-F5tgbxmd8xVBAhL9hefNYayuVtZ6Cc106xnnATd9-Akryoi0xJvEHL9w0aX_x-5Yc2GcySppb-Sfc-2Whk498O-mBmSOykyUGt0jupWDB6x8epPWL4GEFzn8JaEAEbLzH4vK6GgYFq3mFYiytwFhIQ/s320/A2A67297-5436-44A4-A1C0-AFC8F263024C.jpeg"/></a></div>
oh its January, that must mean I'm wondering whats wrong with me and my life choices and scrambling to put some new habits into place.
Exhausting.
Here is something to consider: what if the things you've decided are wrong about you are actually your super powers?Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-17018987148302124782021-09-26T19:01:00.001-07:002021-09-30T06:00:48.834-07:00forgetting what I learnedThe little girl is Humphrey Bogart’s daughter, Leslie. I had to stop and just stare at her for a minute. I kept thinking “she is so perfect in this moment”. Why? What’s perfect? It’s not her youth that makes her so beautiful it’s that she hasn’t forgotten what it means to be alive yet.<div>When I say perfect I mean, the truest version of herself. Free of judgement and beholden only to whatever spirit moves her to act- hunger, silliness, the urge to paint or to poop. Knowing the next right thing to do is pretty much all you ever needed to know and the rest presents itself all in good time. These are the things I’m trying to relearn. </div><div><br></div><img width="100%" src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=13gf6sDbMY1xFeQ43iHWLqDAiBR_aibII">Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-60580779576453804562021-09-22T07:23:00.000-07:002021-09-22T07:24:19.997-07:00where to begin.<p>Ive had this blog for about 12 years. Writing posts and then getting self conscious and deleting them. So whatevs, here I am again. Maybe I’ll write some epiphanizing magic or perhaps just show you what inspires me for the day.</p><p>Yesterday, I started the 100 day project. There are actual rules and guidelines but I’m a little late. I’m really just doing it because I’m stuck and I need a way to fuel my creative process. </p><p>This morning I woke up to yesterday’s mess which is always an inspiration in its way. </p><p>Before and after. </p><p><br></p><img width="100%" src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=1wA80jqk7KkC2I8dXn0FrSr4x0bcknW-R"><img width="100%" src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=16G6qFwsT3YNDgdCTi3U3Rl39xYLTK11D"><img width="100%" src="https://drive.google.com/uc?id=1aNY0lEtOcCCe-Nw_Hp0C_A4iJ1MD58LJ">Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-90321307618461207392016-04-28T20:21:00.010-07:002023-01-10T09:47:20.784-08:00on the absurd meaninglessness of things we hold on toA friend relayed a story of another friend who was at yet another friends house- the house of a very organized hoarder. Of the many boxes, one was labeled "pieces of string, too small to use".<br /> that is all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbF5oO9YsZyGkOBkg_gCTkEfYCZv-qo-uRjqIRh00SVguTyeqWHpuK9bY8-hwa5pj7pjgaaC-HhChYxAXQy69E5xaEKEDwBC6yZhw-SWPrXY792tG0DL8IjyshMs0H81LIYzzscfBRfdb-j_vie0QeyXU2PHbcmxKZr3klJj00JrATLf7xSpsS3frnCQ/s4032/A3E3A404-190A-48FE-86D4-72E7B10503B0.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbF5oO9YsZyGkOBkg_gCTkEfYCZv-qo-uRjqIRh00SVguTyeqWHpuK9bY8-hwa5pj7pjgaaC-HhChYxAXQy69E5xaEKEDwBC6yZhw-SWPrXY792tG0DL8IjyshMs0H81LIYzzscfBRfdb-j_vie0QeyXU2PHbcmxKZr3klJj00JrATLf7xSpsS3frnCQ/w231-h309/A3E3A404-190A-48FE-86D4-72E7B10503B0.jpeg" width="231" /></a></div><br /><br />Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-1643526882653708772008-12-09T14:58:00.006-08:002023-01-10T09:56:44.856-08:00Peculiar kinds of HappinessRehab Babies are made from 100% recycled, eco-friendly, wuzzle fuzz and christmas floof.<br />
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A recipe I stole from Dr Seuss.</div>
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It turns out that when you read too much of Dr. Seuss in conjunction with E.E. Cummings you become unable to stop making everything rhyme in completely nonlinear and magical ways. </div>
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Whosoever whence and why</div>
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If you're unhappy, then learn to fly</div>
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-Toast</div>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJfmcjOrV5X1a3E7EfyLDJ4UqW3EGuCSg92luQdJ4Zr1m5SLS6WSRVzbSmD9VgSHXUyxU3WXkXfI6n7wSN2eULnkEJdEFjtZAivRTBcyPjht7756mjkU1HOUOiahkmpD8EIYo-AilaXmEyYIr2ODk9GqINXAw8zUDyboLMZ7ZjHIluyVbKgRcrnXh9w/s2089/1446D4EA-0137-4C14-8C46-913BB275DA4C.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2089" data-original-width="2089" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvJfmcjOrV5X1a3E7EfyLDJ4UqW3EGuCSg92luQdJ4Zr1m5SLS6WSRVzbSmD9VgSHXUyxU3WXkXfI6n7wSN2eULnkEJdEFjtZAivRTBcyPjht7756mjkU1HOUOiahkmpD8EIYo-AilaXmEyYIr2ODk9GqINXAw8zUDyboLMZ7ZjHIluyVbKgRcrnXh9w/s320/1446D4EA-0137-4C14-8C46-913BB275DA4C.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-10571086436173877332008-11-29T11:11:00.000-08:002023-01-11T06:32:04.037-08:00Clowns Are From Heaven<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaa8XJ4PkXV2FLjMWUMDVC42_NIfy-8jeCIwoKFMKRQ1jHtIl4q2u-J2KLzfzUFxWdy3AMWFnf4xnSA5EDZutUMqtds0KgwGUY9zWcAzMrqU9gGd_DYe8AGXfvntXG5zyYinID87EgJYF2/s1600-h/JB2126-001.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 397px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaa8XJ4PkXV2FLjMWUMDVC42_NIfy-8jeCIwoKFMKRQ1jHtIl4q2u-J2KLzfzUFxWdy3AMWFnf4xnSA5EDZutUMqtds0KgwGUY9zWcAzMrqU9gGd_DYe8AGXfvntXG5zyYinID87EgJYF2/s400/JB2126-001.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269433341109488818" /></a>
I am reading "the Quiet Girl" by Peter Hoeg. It is about a world famous circus clown with psychic abilities who ends up trying to rescue a young girl with the same abilities from some one's diabolical clutches (I have not found out who yet). Its set in Denmark and its literary category is "magical realism". How fantastic is that?!?!?! I hope that someday when people look back on my life they file it under magical realism.<div>Our hero's name is Kaspar Krone. He can sense in people the slightest fluctuation in emotion, health, and spirit. He encounters a woman along his adventure that is very sad and he offers to give her singing lessons as a way to help her. Something about this really stuck with me. It sound so simple and lovely to be able to help someone by giving them singing lessons.</div><div>
</div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-55147714709612846282008-11-02T13:33:00.001-08:002023-01-10T09:53:18.796-08:00Humanity, I Love youI wont bore you with the whole poem but my favorite part goes like this:<br />
...<br />
Humanity i love you because you<br />
are perpetually putting the secret of<br />
life in your pants and forgetting<br />
it's there and sitting down<br />
on it...<br />
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E.E.Cummings<br />
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On to Buckminster Fuller...<br />
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<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264195896792058338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl0xFOE9P9J3fSk2OOWrXvYIhXEflMQ_gjbrKJ1m1YTZ-HgTmQo0LS9pyusAMvJ3k-rvs4WEDqZk55fiKXh9vRyhJzNkZaHEQZZxp_i8T7D-oMh5SjMPVqDGCzpaQJbpmwt2Ox_DMljQmr/s400/o2treehouse2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 245px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>*Treehouse inspired by Buckminster Fuller Geodesic dome*<br />
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"...Animals don't have any money, and the sun and the wind doesn't have any money. Money is some kind of invention of humans... There is a greater intelligence operating in the universe than human intelligence and if you'll commit yourself in faith to that, you may find that you can get on."<br />
<img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5264193201036602226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIredrBDJARiBh8Nc-AHjC9WFddapdg6u9CLzl08qcGspBAVCpVVY004BuWsk70UhVucCIlvUMDr0am7PsMPRjwL7nVEEKnzjTqjIH9B_rJjby-_BQ2JqpFM3UBHbhpV4dOrssymhjSLzQ/s400/me+in+10.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 294px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></div>
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Lastly, Alexander Calder.<br />
"[Calder] is renowned for the invention of the mobile, whose suspended, abstract elements move and balance in changing harmony."<br />
Whatever this picture makes you think of him, I hope that someday, when you look at me, you will get that same feeling.<br />
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Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-22369453345841771962008-10-30T06:19:00.000-07:002023-01-11T06:33:39.730-08:00What Is The Point?I guess I'm a wee bit depressed lately. Probably everyone is right now, the world is a shifty place.
Two things happened today when I asked the universe for direction:
First, I heard a piece on This American Life called "People like you better if you put a lot of time into your appearance". Its about a guy who dresses up like superman just to make people happy and have something to talk about. He said that he started doing it 2 years ago after his wife died because he realized that she had no more tomorrows and he better start getting as much out of today as he could.
The second thing was that I typed "What is the point" (dramatic, no?) into Google and I got this video from the comedian, Bill Hicks...
<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q95kX_EP2Nk&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Q95kX_EP2Nk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>
Also remember this:
Buckminster Fuller once wrote, just as he was about to kill himself, that he suddenly realized it wasn't his right to do so because he 'belonged to the universe'. He then decided to dedicate himself to using his talents and gifts to further mankind through his experiments.
still waiting for my bolt of lightening....
Peace, Love and direction to you all!Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-81176125837566165362008-10-19T18:00:00.001-07:002023-01-11T06:49:52.749-08:00Bunny Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK36fvqQmM1dhj_8EkoH4ANZfGmZVwg8OwozaQUs50Yo_ERccUhJq0JiRYpQHnaTSJ7VzoB7I0_JgkhQD9RTlq3b8k0UVjTRgKp1L6n3TPC02USTIj5dxHqMMy4Yt3RqGdFu98nOsmt_rf/s1600-h/bunnylove.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK36fvqQmM1dhj_8EkoH4ANZfGmZVwg8OwozaQUs50Yo_ERccUhJq0JiRYpQHnaTSJ7VzoB7I0_JgkhQD9RTlq3b8k0UVjTRgKp1L6n3TPC02USTIj5dxHqMMy4Yt3RqGdFu98nOsmt_rf/s320/bunnylove.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5259036704531827186" /></a>
This week I can't seem to get anything into focus. Literally as well as metaphorically. Take my bunny ring for instance. Every time I try to take a picture of it, I can't seem to get it into focus no matter how hard I try. Sure, the beaver with the halo is in focus but not my goddamn bunnies! <div>Here is where the metaphor comes in: Stop trying to force things and situations to reveal themselves. Everything really does become clear and work itself out if you give it some room and let it unfold. Big deep breath in-! and let it out.......</div><div>
</div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-76093186185226425842008-10-12T06:24:00.000-07:002023-01-11T06:37:21.505-08:00Love in the Time of Cooties
I recently watched "this American Life" season one. My favorite was episode two, Joe No Love.
Joe is 14. He sees his friends getting crushes, falling in love and acting stupid. He is happy- playing Dungeons and Dragons, reading, just being a kid. So he decides to opt out. He even makes a video message to the 25 year old, future Joe, telling him that he hopes he has not given in.The only exception is that he has had a dream that he meets a girl in another "realm" and together they have awesome weapons and fight dragons.
Well Joe, thats my dream too. Except in my dream I'm Buffy and we fight vampires.
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnKoLMljWDUQUV6LOgKCkq-W13--7A_9_SPu5-L0goGSI5aHBmMZRnPv0iN0dv99u9sZuebGs8wXfWUlY_XwzhtqTtlPvOWQysMm7ZrpHAByjvoFK8d-QHg8QVhS-6yDiI8VzG-tmBC_9bpLj2is0sBfU0xnBomuhmPS4cGHxieVd8zEGFf-v_do58w/s3639/5D7AC1A2-275B-418D-8E12-9C6F82C5D4FD.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="2912" data-original-width="3639" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEnKoLMljWDUQUV6LOgKCkq-W13--7A_9_SPu5-L0goGSI5aHBmMZRnPv0iN0dv99u9sZuebGs8wXfWUlY_XwzhtqTtlPvOWQysMm7ZrpHAByjvoFK8d-QHg8QVhS-6yDiI8VzG-tmBC_9bpLj2is0sBfU0xnBomuhmPS4cGHxieVd8zEGFf-v_do58w/s320/5D7AC1A2-275B-418D-8E12-9C6F82C5D4FD.jpeg"/></a></div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-39171003463655357732008-10-05T20:08:00.001-07:002023-01-10T09:54:33.692-08:00A Gift From the SkyThis week I was listening to a story on the radio about the famous neuro-pshychologist, Oliver Sacks. He studies different ways the brain behaves under different circumstances. <div>For instance; A man is struck by lightening and when he recovers, has an overwhelming desire to listen to and learn piano music. Not only that, he develops quite an ear and talent for it. </div><div>I'm hoping to be struck by lightening as soon as possible.</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnfjgzT4WImlWadzf4Xianos-3lQx1w52C3MxixIvov-oNZepq0Q-6xWUcZ0VamTPYv6JOZ1cHuK2F6rg-mIXjNKmXd8xrRcjmsQ2Exa_xvCJu9oXwGSNc-2dGc1ldLqNV3wAbG6p8plVN/s320/cheese.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257149378910099074" /><div style="text-align: center;">A jacket made of port wine cheese.</div><div>
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</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:left;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA3tBrdub6y-PP2ytzStFOz8bvWqmPhCY7uFm4mnTZJ2ODnaE6MTtMZjrthWmWXbUYsKL1HMYEU_td1Lv7NglTC-XtG0k4HJygGc3c3RG-kLaUOCrZ9DfG1mbsd3fI8miinku_hr2LeGnz/s320/My+best+gals.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5253880131205590466" /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Olive and Jenquis.</div></div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-2753668240946695222008-10-01T09:54:00.000-07:002023-01-11T06:28:20.046-08:00These Are a Few of My Favorite Things...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEWXUJLxZJYjysKd94MOLwstcxKkDDQCQm91Mli5X0QIJBJn_w315baaEn8Bb-eEQXDgtrn_87yJ3fLDWIvWopgCU0WlH-OPXDJMntJyEFB0_RH0VzlQl96qNT3sw1qSWafPWUVGVkzWj/s1600-h/IMG_3636.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEWXUJLxZJYjysKd94MOLwstcxKkDDQCQm91Mli5X0QIJBJn_w315baaEn8Bb-eEQXDgtrn_87yJ3fLDWIvWopgCU0WlH-OPXDJMntJyEFB0_RH0VzlQl96qNT3sw1qSWafPWUVGVkzWj/s320/IMG_3636.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251629549985016898" /></a>
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My friend, Sarah, discovered recently that she and I are actually flappers. Clearly born in the wrong decade, we fight to make our round lives fit into a square world.<div>I wont trouble you with the hows and whys of it all, (mostly because I have no real information to back this up with) but I do know that I like a good stiff cocktail, fancy shoes, and feathered headbands. and boys....</div><div>Pictured are my newly spray-painted shoes and a few of the headbands I made this weekend. </div><div>
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</div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1308912911481317315.post-58290683362174081372008-09-28T16:55:00.001-07:002023-01-10T09:52:44.661-08:00A Few Notes About Being a Grown Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFtbiOX977JDxng0tfo7bXXAMVts3aE-X41z3aduSHoxF-Judmmvrtjo0p4LUiYkal06TkrsdIxgWUiO2e21luixQd6b0Vtlx7-yXB7Mz6n6VQyqCDcfBMGw856waABhD4gGLK6c3Aax1/s1600-h/IMG_1119.JPG"><img style="float:center; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFtbiOX977JDxng0tfo7bXXAMVts3aE-X41z3aduSHoxF-Judmmvrtjo0p4LUiYkal06TkrsdIxgWUiO2e21luixQd6b0Vtlx7-yXB7Mz6n6VQyqCDcfBMGw856waABhD4gGLK6c3Aax1/s320/IMG_1119.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251235225607797042" /></a>
The other day it occurred to me how great it is to be a grown up. So great in fact, that I had to stop taking myself so seriously and remember some simple facts:<div>Life can never be bad when-</div><div>1. I can wake up late and eat cookies for breakfast.</div><div>2. I can wear anything I want. I can wear all of my favorite things at once if I choose. I can wear feathered and bejeweled headbands with every outfit.</div><div>3. I can have sleep overs any day I want, with anyone I want.</div><div>4. I can spend my last penny buying fabulous rings in the shape of a pile of bunnies.</div><div>5. I can drink coffee out of fine china everyday and not worry if I break the cup.</div><div>6. I can make a huge mess and leave it for as long as I want. </div><div>7. I can chop up my clothes and sew them into new clothes and no one will yell at me.</div><div>8. I can watch anything I want on TV</div><div> </div><div>Its hard to stop once you get started- give it a try the next time you're having a bad day and remember Rule # 6- Stop taking yourself so goddamn seriously (Wayne Dyer)</div><div>
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</div>Suzie Morrishttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11952266523556180246noreply@blogger.com1