tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56288180719066166232024-03-05T17:27:20.566-08:00Cynthia BorrisCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-17294463251947173632018-02-02T18:35:00.000-08:002018-02-02T18:35:22.013-08:00This Calls for a Thong<br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“So how was your
anniversary?" I dipped a tortilla chip in the bowl of salsa. "I can't
believe you hit the silver one."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Twenty-five years,
same guy," Barb lifted her glass and drew a gentle sip, "same old,
same old." The tequila went down slowly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I heard you went
to Vegas to celebrate. How romantic?" I looked at my finger empty of ring
and wondered one life, one man. Hmm? Nah, I love my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I fell
asleep." Barb slumped against the back of the booth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"But that was after
the candles and champagne, right?” A negative nod confirmed the anniversary
gone south.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She gazed at a couple
lost in a kiss at the bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You mean not even
a little 'wham-bam'- you know - 'thank-you-ma’am'?" I pushed the envelope
of friendship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"We have that every
night." She broke a chip in half. It dropped to the salsa and sank.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stared at the woman
across from me and gulped, "Every night?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Pretty routine.
Lights out, covers back, in-and-out stuff."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Best bud, you owe
this guy." I grabbed her arm. "Come on, we're going to Macy's
lingerie department." I dropped a twenty on the table and added, "And
boy, does he owe you."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Warm under the influence
of tequila, we trekked to the underwear department of Macy's, high on the third
floor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Felina, Oscar de la
Renta, Calvin Klein taunted and teased. French cut, high cut, no cut whispered
in sensual vibes, "Oh baby, oh baby, oh baby."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I headed for the
Cosabella section. I loved the cut, the sensual colors and celebration of
sexuality.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What’s that?” I asked,
wryly studying the white cotton briefs with blue flowers in her hands. “Are you
planning to go skydiving?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A perplexed look clouded
her face, canceling out the tequila high.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stretched the panties
seam to seam, peeking around the three-layer absorbent panel, “Then you don’t
need a parachute.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“But they’re buy two,
get one free,” she countered and started to fill her arms with cotton bounty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Worse than anticipated,
I grabbed her by the hand. Packages with more coverage than an insurance policy
tumbled to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"This calls for a
thong." I thumbed through the racks of delicate wisps of strings and
tapped my finger on the silver metal bar. "What size? Medium?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I can't wear one
of these." She dangled the strip of material on her index finger and
whispered, "Isn't it uncomfortable?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Of course, it's
uncomfortable." I snagged three items and held them up to the light for a
better look. "But then, you're not supposed to be in them long." I
nudged her with my elbow and smiled. "That's the point."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Take a look at
this one." A shimmering pair of blue panties, dotted with rhinestones and
a floss of a thong wore a price tag of twenty-five dollars.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You mean someone
would really wear these?" Her voice dropped to a bare hush.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We moved from display to
display, sifting through endowed bras to sheer-to-the-nipple. Arms overloaded
with elegant bras and skimpy panties, we paraded into the dressing room. We
stripped down to the bare necessities and slid intimates off hangers. Adorned
in our sexuality, we posed forward, backward, and pursed our lips to the
mirrors. We waved to the hidden camera operator.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Oh my God,"
hangers rattled inside the dressing room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I pulled the pleated
curtain aside and affirmed, "Oh my God." I covered my mouth, inhaled
a snicker, "Maybe neon green isn't your color." I choked on the word,
"Or feathers."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A defeated gaze
reflected in the mirror as she sighed, “Maybe I should just go home and soak in
a hot bath.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Not unless he’s with
you,” I said, noting to look for bubble bath and floating candles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“This is so not me,” a
plucked feather drifted to the carpet. “It’s hopeless.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Try again." I
closed the curtain and waited for the next floor show.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Maybe it'd be
easier to roll over and go to sleep." Barb offered from the other side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"No way, this is
serious business. You're in trouble, girlfriend, in the bedroom
department." I shouted back, "Come on, bare that booty!"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Okay, here I
come." She parted the drape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tight buns, orange
thong, what? A cartoon character on the front of her…? I pushed the little nose
on the fuzzy bear just inches below her belly button. It played a sorrowful
tune of <i>Tonight's the Night</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I shoved her back into
the cubicle and said, "Next?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She donned a pair of
red, easy-on-the-eye lace bra and panties and I heard, "Hmm? Yeah…",
from the other side of the curtain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Wait," I
hustled back to the racks of seduction-in-wait and searched for the missing
accessory. I separated delicate laces to the left, sorted to the center and
there it was. Perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Here," I
tossed the item into the dressing stall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Is this
a…?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"…Yes, snug to fit,
guaranteed to please, garter belt." I leaned against the wall, arms
crossed over chest, satisfied with my mission. Score one for best buds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Barb left the store with
a small package of lust under arm. I brought something too just because we are
friends and that is what friends do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hugged her goodbye and slid into my Toyota.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The next morning, midway
between my cinnamon scone and French Roast the phone rang. The voice memorized
over the years, I knew who it was.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"He loved it,"
her excitement rang rich with freshness. "He can't thank you enough."
I sensed a purr.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I leaned back in my
chair, wrapped warm in familiarity, and said, "Want to go out again next
week? I know this great toy store that specializes in…"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">THE END</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: AppleSDGothicNeo-Regular, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif, "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", NotoColorEmoji, EmojiSymbols, Symbola, Noto, "Android Emoji", AndroidEmoji, "Arial Unicode MS", "Zapf Dingbats", AppleColorEmoji, "Apple Color Emoji"; font-size: 13px; text-indent: 0px;">© 2013 Cynthia Ballard Borris</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: AppleSDGothicNeo-Regular, "lucida grande", tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif, "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", NotoColorEmoji, EmojiSymbols, Symbola, Noto, "Android Emoji", AndroidEmoji, "Arial Unicode MS", "Zapf Dingbats", AppleColorEmoji, "Apple Color Emoji"; font-size: 13px; text-indent: 0px;">2015 Reprinted Not Your Mother's Book...On Sex</span></div>
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<br />Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-32206212540087110372015-10-30T10:17:00.000-07:002015-10-30T10:17:56.795-07:00Bewitched<div style="background: white;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif;">Beyond the ads, beyond the sales, lies
the truth.</span><span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="background: white;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1U7bt6zwWYgj8eLE1jewj490_JkH61w3zA3WiavuMahEYF-X9MfiHYEUL0ecjPDEJOsoVNbJJk4qdUN-JGgGkXZK-7qG7cxdTImCLQAkP_GZOaZRUs47xT_3yrX7Waw9-td3eZdi-MBA/s1600/Red+head+witch.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1U7bt6zwWYgj8eLE1jewj490_JkH61w3zA3WiavuMahEYF-X9MfiHYEUL0ecjPDEJOsoVNbJJk4qdUN-JGgGkXZK-7qG7cxdTImCLQAkP_GZOaZRUs47xT_3yrX7Waw9-td3eZdi-MBA/s320/Red+head+witch.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"Double, double, toil and trouble,
fire burn and cauldron bubble." Kathryn Ferguson cackled and swirled a
crooked finger, casting a fake spell.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">
"Rubbish." Lori brushed the invisible hex aside.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"But that was how witches did it, according to Shakespeare." Kathryn
protested. "What's more, I saw the movie<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Hocus
Pocus</i>."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"Well, Shakespeare is dead and the sisterhood of witches is still alive
and I can prove it." Lori spotted her contact entering the coffee shop.
"Quick, hide."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Lori Razzo was investigating modern witchcraft and had found a woman who agreed
to take her to a secret meeting of a real coven nearby but only after she
agreed to an oath of silence. Under no circumstances was Lori to expose the
locale or she would forever pay the price of her tongue wagging.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The professed witch glanced furtively around the coffee shop, swayed over to
the table and drew up a chair. Leaning forward, she spoke definitely,
"I'll pick you up on the corner of Seventh and Wicker at 5:45am tomorrow.
Don't be late."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"5:45am sharp."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"And remember, if you violate our agreement there will be harsh
consequences to pay." Gabriella's stare bore through Lori like a termite
to wood. The message understood.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"This should be a hoot," she whispered to herself when Gabriella, the
self-proclaimed priestess of the coven, strode out of the shop.
"Witchcraft, boo-pucky. I'm so scared."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"Well?" Kathryn poked her head around the coffee bean rack. "Did
she cast a spell on you? Wait. Let me look into your eyes. Okay, pupils normal
and reactive."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Kathryn plopped down in the chair and Lori chuckled, "The meeting's
tomorrow."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"Are they going to put a mask over your head?" Kathryn drank down the
rest of Lori's tepid coffee. "Can I come?"</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"And get me bewitched?" Lori feathered her short, reddish hair behind
her ears. "Stay at least two cars behind in the slow lane, okay?" </span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The
plan set, the two said good night and went their separate ways until the early
morning hour.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The sun crested over the hills while Lori stood shivering on the street corner.
What is the matter with these women anyway? Don’t they know any self-respecting
Witch meets in the darkened shadows under the glow of candlelight and incense?</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">An Exhibition pulled to the curb and Lori hopped into the front seat. The
vehicle, packed with ordinary women, jerked away from the roadside. The voices
escalated as Gabriella maneuvered through a series of continuous green lights
on target to the prescribed destination.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"Why this is--" Lori gasped.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The Exhibition screeched to a halt and the women quickly scooted out and
marched towards the glass doors. Standing in a single line, they extended arms
in front of their bosoms and repeatedly flexed both hands open and shut while
chanting, "Open, open, open."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Slowly the locked doors opened and the coven welcomed the witches. With
purpose, the witches entered with a new incantation under tongue, "Charge
it."<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Lori stumbled onto the linoleum floor just as the doors closed tightly behind
the one-way spell. Just like Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves she thought.
Turning backwards, she read the word “desolC”.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"This is the secret coven?" She said, glaring at Gabriella. “The
major department store…”</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">With the wink of a long lash and the crinkle of her nose, Gabriella tugged her
by the elbow. "Hurry, the best deals are gone in the first ten minutes and
remember mum's the word."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"What to wear, what to wear?" The witches chanted as they ran up and
down the aisles, checking price tags and trying on shoes, looking for the perfect
price an hour before the store opened.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"A bargain hunt? This is modern witchcraft?"<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Gabriella shrugged, "Witches have budgets, too."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"But isn't this Super Saturday?" Lori looked at a store sign.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"Who do you think started that idea?" Gabriella sighed,
sarcastically. "Come on, the racks are already getting bare."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Lori grabbed a leather jacket and draped it over her arm. The witches scrambled
and fought over sale items and carried armloads to the cash register. Sale
after sale rang up at the register, absent of electricity and a sales clerk.
Tiny charge slips printed out and faithfully the members of the sisterhood
scribbled signatures of credit agreement, interest-free and triple bonus
points.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Lori laid her purchase onto the counter and watched the magical forces fold and
package her selection. Cool. She could get the hang of this witchcraft.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Suddenly, a figure appeared at the glass door, peering in, shocked at the
private sale in action. Kathryn.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"You!" A witch cursed towards Lori and pointed a rigid finger.
"You told someone of our secret coven."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"No…" Lori retreated on her left foot, looking for an escape.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">The witches encircled her, grasped hands and slowly started to cast a spell.
The cash register clanged, the drawers flung open and shut violently. Dollar
signs flashed by in a blur. The sisterhood sang louder and swayed as one.
Voices deepened and a lone cackle erupted as the women chanted a few choice
mumble-jumbles.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Lori trembled and hugged her purchase. The machine grew hotter, shuddered and
spewed out the charge slip. Eyes focused on the intruder and silence
overpowered the room as Lori's hand unwillingly signed the charge slip.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">"What? $5,031 for a jacket at 34.9% interest. That's outrageous."
Lori protested as her pen zagged the "z" in Razzo. "I'll
be paying this off forever."</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Gabriella spoke with a wicked laugh, "Month after month after
month….pay back's a witch."</span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span class="apple-converted-space" style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-42572171349945959522015-09-11T09:59:00.000-07:002018-04-26T15:15:56.977-07:00THE BECOMING<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">My person waits on the outside looking in. I stand next to
her. She’s the instigator. I’m the initiator. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">She’s the author. Me – I’m the
character. Seems backward, doesn’t it?</span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Just
who is this feisty woman that imagined my life? Temptation too strong, I escape
the wall of one-inch margins in search of answers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Hi,
I’m Mike." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
familiar presence – known like an autumn breeze greeting the darkening shadows,
she checks her head to the left and turns to meet my outstretched arm. A
confident hand joins mine and a friendship of awakens with the combination of
the alphabet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">At
ease, she slips her fingers into her pocket; my warm touch still with her. My boyish
looks, my clean-shaven face and great butt make her pause. She takes another
look. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">That
was the day I met Cynthia; the creator of me. My genetic DNA a mere 27 letters.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
only knew that I encountered a woman unlike any others and she left me in want
of more beyond the distance between A and Z and dog-ear of a paperback. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
smile edged with a spark of mystery, her Scottish fuse-box temper, her
fortitude of a brick ignited my inquiring mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
appears to the outside world open and completely upfront - totally predictable.
To me she is absolutely - unpredictable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Just
when I think I know her best she ventures beyond my grasp and I hold my breath.
I discover her to be an endless mystification. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
is an Aquarius. Not that she buys into the stars but she read once that the
most compatible match for her is a Gemini. She tells me she really needs me to
be a Gemini because I am the only one who will understand her off-the-wall,
inside-out-upside-down personality. So a Gemini I am. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
cosmic twin, a two-fold personality. Thanks, Cin. I am strength of character
one day and in search of want the next. I am very complex, athletic and in her
mind -- handsome. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
takes me through many adventures and real encounters of life. She promises to
nurture but not protect. Sometimes I feel lost but I trust my creator to get me
where I need to go. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
love the architect of my being. If I were alive beyond the dimension of words I
would date her. She is always in search of adventure. She makes things happen.
I am lucky because she takes me with her when she goes exploring. The mysteries
of life intrigue her. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
think, no, I know, I fell in love with her the day she looked at me with her
wondering eyes, a strand of strawberry blonde hair tucked behind her ear and
asked, “Why do snails crawl up walls?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Where
did that come from?” I asked in shocked response. “I thought we were having a
cup of coffee?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Chin
resting in the palm of her hand she eyed me with a puzzled look. “Haven’t you
ever wondered why snails climb up walls?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
sat speechless. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Have
you ever seen a snail crawl back down?” She challenged, waiting for an answer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Still,
I had none. But then of course, how could I have the answer. She is my designer
and she doesn’t know the answer so we sipped coffee in stalemate. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
leaned into the table shelving the thought and announced, “Let’s go for a
run." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Running
is our favorite time together. When we jog along the trail our thoughts merge.
Any tangled cobwebs from the day’s stress drop with each forward motion until our
mind races freely. We run in unison. I share my concerns and the depth of our
relationship. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
breathes in the crisp autumn air and stops to look underneath a leaf. Bug
spittle clings to the underside. She thinks it might be frog spit. “What do I
think?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Of
course, whatever, frog spit it is, but what about my problem?” A slight breeze
blows through my fabricated form and scatters me temporarily east to west. I
gather my self, adjust my parts and sprint to catch her down the next curve. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
runs across the wooden bridge. It bounces with her weight. She slips past the
catwalk entrance her pace unfaltering onto the dirt path. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“What
problem, Mike? Aren’t you having fun with me? You still have all your hair and
you don’t have a potbelly. Is it the tofu in your eggs?” She jumps into a
puddle and splashes muddy water on me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I
laugh. I grab her arm and make her stop. I hold her towards me. “No, it's not
the tofu." I know it’s good for the prostate, not that I really have one.
I feel the tightness of her muscles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
looks up to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“It's
just, damn you, sometimes I wish you'd quit hitting that cut and paste button.
Just when I think I know who I am you either cut, paste or worse yet -- you hit
delete!" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Oh,
that." She stretches her fingers and wiggles out the writer's cramps. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Yeah,
that." I stomp my foot. A knee wobbles and I pause to readjust. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Didn't
you like your part in the murder mystery?" She studies my rugged jaw,
etched with a long scar of the attacker's knife. "All the reviewers gave
you two thumbs up and Oprah loved you, remember?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"I
hate murder mysteries!" There it is out. I cross my arms and hold my
ground, barely. "Can’t I just be me for one day? Don’t you know by now
that I am the person standing next to you?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Out!
Out! Out!" She grabs her temples and squeezes. "Get out of my
head." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">"Don't
you get it? I move to her side. "I am out of your head." I inch
closer and whisper, "I'm in your heart now." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">A
bird chirps in the tree. A rabbit scurries across the trail. We stand vacant of
words. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">She
picks up a small rock and skips it across the water. Hands on slim hips she
counts the number of ripples on the water and says, "Both of us are in a
place of becoming, still changing. I haven’t a clue to our tomorrow." A
drop of sweat slowly trails down the side of her flushed cheek. "Sometimes
cut and paste is the best choice to help us grow." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Hands
in my pocket my feet kick the dirt. I turn to stare out across the lake. I like
who I am. I like who she is. She wants more for me, for us. Her hand gently
touches my shoulder. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“Do
you really want me to tell the whole world about when you…” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">“…You
wouldn’t. That’s between us.” The memory of the secret makes me smile and agree
best kept on a cutting board. “Okay, so sometimes a little editing is good.” I
resolve.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: "garamond" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Her
eyes twinkle, her face lights with the sunshine of her smile. “It's part of our
becoming Mike, all just part of our becoming…”</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-43844546050255038302012-03-29T09:32:00.001-07:002012-03-29T11:14:37.950-07:00American Idol Top Nine Honor Your IdolWith Dianne Warwick in the audience, the flag of redemption raised for Heejun and nine fantastic performances, what can I say? The night was the best in American Idol history. No a shrill, squeak or not-my-fault-frown from any contestant. Come to think of it, this year the attitude on stage is high octane par one.<br />
<br />
Each contestant shined as they honored their idol in music. The idol's song. Elise surprised the pants off Stephen Tyler with her rock-n-rock.<br />
<br />
Jessica commanded the stage and let her voice take you on a journey. Humble with much potential.<br />
<br />
Phillip, always a favorite, poured his life into each and every note. Love his low-drop to a growl and pull me back up. A top three contender. One of my favorites, if pushed to admit.<br />
<br />
Colton demonstrated a softer-side and left us with our emotions embraced in the "One". Showed a vulnerable side and I loved it.<br />
<br />
Ah Joshua, you get under our skin. On a side note, the jacket didn't do it.<br />
<br />
Everyone stepped up a player last night. The applause is probably still echoing in the hall so I'll take a stab and pick my exit vote based on the entire package.<br />
<br />
My exit vote is: HeejunCynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-9253070305772870102012-03-22T00:34:00.000-07:002012-03-22T00:34:13.060-07:00American IdoI Top Ten - Billy Joel<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><b>AMERICAN IDOL TOP TEN 2012</b></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">8:00pm across American and it's <a href="http://www.americanidol.com/">American Ido</a>l and away we go.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><a href="http://www.billyjoel.com/">Billy Joel</a> and <a href="http://usa.tommy.com/tommy/index.jsp?ctcampaign=871&ctkwd=tommy+hilfigger&ctmatch=Broad&ctcreative=9631342305&cid=cpc:goo:usa:tommyhilfigger:b&gclid=CMmnhJT9-a4CFWsaQgodb2EhwQ">TommyHilfiger</a>. What a duo.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Tonight’s theme is Billy Joel. I love Joel’s music. It taps into the story telling of every day life: the heartache, the mundane, and the <a href="http://christiebrinkley.com/">Uptown girl</a>. Can they step up and do justice to the Piano Man?</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Tommy Hilfiger dons the stage to pull the contestants to star appeal. Hopefully he didn’t watch “The Voice” and all we see are females in scantily-clad outfits with Blake drooling on the sideline.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Stephen Tyler – Tommy Hilfiger’s worse nightmare. Flowers on the mike were a curious addition. With the black stripes on varying black stripes accented with bulbous silver beads for a moment I thought <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0107688/">Jack Skeleton</a> was a guest judge. Tommy probably popped an antacid or two.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Now on to the show. Randy deferred to Jennifer several times. Man up Randy and speak your mind without backup.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">01 – <b>DeAndre</b> – The good may die young. An omen? Beware, you may be on *death* row in the American Idol contest. Sunglasses tucked into the neckline of his undershirt. Cool for the beach. Not sure on stage.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">02 - <b>Erika</b> – Love the hair! Gutsy girl ready to take a chance and it paid off. I almost feel like I’m in a <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">New York</st1:place></st1:state> state of mind. Believable. Excellent tonight.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">03 – <b>Joshua</b> - I disagree Jennifer. I connected although not his type of song. Danger zone for Joshua is too much of the same vocals. Tame it down and turn it around. Still a top five contender.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">04 – <b>Skylar</b> – Shameless it wasn’t <a href="http://www.garthbrooks.com/">Garth</a>.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">05 – <b>Elise</b> – Powerful! Owned herself tonight. There’s something in her persona that reminds me of <a href="http://mariahcarey.com/">Mariah Carey</a>. A look and yes, the feathering of the fingers with the run and perhaps the framing of the hair. Wasn’t thrilled with the flowing dress but the vocals were her best. Great job!</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Okay, so far Tommy is battling resistance on styling up the contestant. <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Bell</st1:place></st1:city> bottoms or over powering dress. Neither one works.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">06 - <b>Phil</b> – If that’s what it’s all about, then I’m moving out. You sold me. 99% of Americans should embrace the words of that Billy Joel song and make it their motto. Phil knows Phil. Wouldn’t change a thing. One of the top five contestants.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">07 - <b>Jessica</b> – Raw talent with vulnerable flaws. Tame the horse but don’t break the spirit.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">08 – <b>Hollie</b> – She’s so cute and definitely dressed better tonight. Score one for Tommy. Honesty is one of my favorite songs but honestly, she didn’t quite grasp it to her ability. Not bad just not great. Frankly, I was distracted by the dandelion blowing in the background. Back to weeding tomorrow.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">09 – <b>Heejun</b> – Entertaining, pitchy, draining my patience. Perfect exit song. You’ll go out in style. Your style.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">10 – <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><b>Colton</b></st1:place></st1:city> – Master musician, artist and entertainer. Knows how to pick the perfect song to please the audience and pull them in and after all isn’t that the mark of a great performer? He’s here for the long run and glad for it.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">My exit vote for tonight is: Heejun</span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">What’s your take?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Verdana;">Billy, did they do you proud? A Downtown girl who grew up on Uptown music, I say yes.</span></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-80869936558501740152012-03-07T22:23:00.002-08:002012-03-08T11:10:30.810-08:00American Idol Top 13 - Let The Battle Begin<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"></div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>American Idol Season 11</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Notepad in hand, volume churned up a notch, and a chilled glass of <a href="http://www.freibrothers.com/">Frei Brothers Chardonnay</a> in hand, I’m ready for the top 13 contestants of season eleven. With the buttery warmth of a <st1:place w:st="on"><a href="http://rrvw.org/">California Russian River Valley</a></st1:place> wine, I curl on the couch and sip in anticipation. What’s this? Ryan grew an inch. Love the extra length of his stacked hair. It adds dimension and sex appeal. Nice touch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let the battle begin: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">01 – Joshua. Energized, believable, depth-of-soul performance. No doubt, easy front runner. Left-hand plays like a penguin in dance. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">02 – Elise. “Not My Baby Tonight”. Struggles with feedback. Hmm….oh no, Randy deferred feedback to Jennifer. Not a good sign. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">03 – Jermaine. Love, love, love his voice. Stay… </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">04 – Erika. Deep, rich vocals. Didn’t quite work for me. Perhaps not capable Whitney’s range. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For a decade selecting a Whitney Houston song was the dreaded exit-curse. In respect, I understand, but still difficult songs to deliver. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">05 – <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Colton</st1:place></st1:city>. Hit a homerun with team <a href="http://www.daughtryofficial.com/us/chris-daughtry">Daughtrey</a> and <a href="http://www.davidcookofficial.com/us/home">Cook</a>. Way to go! I'm going to love this season. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">06 – <st1:place w:st="on">Shannon</st1:place>. No, no , the <a href="http://www.americanidol.com/bio/randy_jackson/">Randy</a> defer to <a href="http://www.jenniferlopezonline.com/">Jennifer</a> again. Like Dawg, quit passing the bad news to Jennifer to deliver. Man-up. Fair is fair. Rough night, overwhelmed by the song. Too big a song for a young soul. Next time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">07 – Deander. Local boy. Not bad but stay focused. Tends to lose stage presence. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">08 – Skylar. Top contender. Now I know just where my broken heart went. It went South. Country girl rocks. Excellent! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">09 – Heejan. Randy to Jennifer for the third time. Randy, please watch the play backs and step up to the plate and deliver your own uncensored comments. Smooth notes but pouts on stage. Not a front runner. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10 – Holly. Proof. Great gifts come in small packages. Goosies. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">11 - Jeremy. Lovable. Beautiful smooth voice. Complete package? Not sure. Yet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">12 – Jessica. Untouchable. Sign her yesterday. Incredible tribute to Whitney. Embraced in Whitney’s presence in the last three notes. Haunting. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">13 – Phillip. Quirky, unique, energized. My type of performer. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the danger zone: Shannon, Deander and Elise. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Safe on home plate: Jessica, Holly, Skylar, Phillip and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Colton.</st1:place></st1:city> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Now to pick up the phone and cast my equal opportunity votes for: Joshua, <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Colton</st1:place></st1:city>, Jermaine, Skylar, Jeremy, Holly, Jessica and Phillip. A job well-done deserves a vote. A job superbly-done, deserves redial. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Round Up is on the vine, let the weeding begin…and how does your finger dial? </span><span style="font-family: Verdana;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-60454415402591606862011-11-16T18:54:00.000-08:002011-11-16T18:58:14.813-08:00No More Turkeys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IqONdG_zv5kEqK9JxY5ZG-dLiGBADqiQpLpnSLjki2RW4dHYc6psUzrsUbPertR2Wpanq1V7dLCsCOVKza_OOZw5bo54l7p4MelRv0osc1BpOF46m0-VQHU6t01b6k_7ePDOisIUvWs/s1600/turkey_looking_around_cornstalk_hg_clr.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9IqONdG_zv5kEqK9JxY5ZG-dLiGBADqiQpLpnSLjki2RW4dHYc6psUzrsUbPertR2Wpanq1V7dLCsCOVKza_OOZw5bo54l7p4MelRv0osc1BpOF46m0-VQHU6t01b6k_7ePDOisIUvWs/s320/turkey_looking_around_cornstalk_hg_clr.gif" width="306" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13; font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Beware of turkeys bearing turkeys</i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #996600; font-size: medium;"><strong><br />
</strong></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span style="color: #996600; font-size: medium;"><strong>NO MORE TURKEYS</strong></span><br />
<br />
"Somebody answer the phone!" I lug the twenty-two pound turkey into the kitchen, plop it on the breadboard and drop my keys. The phone screams a fourth ring.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><br />
"Hi, this is Ned," a husky voice greets me.<br />
<br />
"Hi, Ned," my arms ache from carrying in the bulky groceries. I hunch my shoulders to release the tension.<br />
<br />
"My company gave me a turkey and if you're, you know, not... "I pause and listen. "I thought I could bring it over and we could have Thanksgiving together." I peek at the frozen tom headless on the chopping board.<br />
<br />
"Sure Ned that would be great." I fake enthusiasm.<br />
<br />
"I make killer mashed potatoes and gravy." Oh, my stomach remembers - potatoes loaded with sour cream, shredded cheese, whole milk and "I Can't Believe it's Not Butter".<br />
<br />
I reach to the cupboard and scout out the Maalox supply.<br />
<br />
"How about one o'clock then Thanksgiving Day?" The trap is set. "And Neddy's coming, too. Is that all right?"<br />
<br />
"Sure." What's another kid I concede. "Pumpkin pie, okay?"<br />
<br />
I turn back to the groceries and make mental rearrangements in my mind for a couple more people on Thanksgiving Day. I grab bags of cranberries and toss them into the refrigerator.<br />
<br />
"Buy out the store?" Krista checks through the brown paper packages on the kitchen table. She snatches an orange and jabs a fingernail into the peel. "While you were out Kyle, your hiking pal, stopped by with a turkey. Something about 'he got it at work and thought we might like to have it'."<br />
<br />
"A turkey?" <i><br />
</i><br />
"I put it in the freezer." Orange peels drop and the fragrant juice lotions her fingers.<br />
<br />
I open the freezer door and a twelve-pound turkey wrapped in white plastic fills the left corner. I shove packages to the rear.<br />
<br />
"I think he was sort of hoping we'd invite him to Thanksgiving dinner." She rummages through groceries and stacks cans on the table.<br />
<br />
"Hmm? Ned and his son are coming." I finger count the guests - two plus four. That's six at the table. I count chairs - six.<br />
<br />
"Not Neddy, Mom!" She pops a finger down her throat and gags.<br />
<br />
"Stop that." Memory tells me the kid turns my stomach, too. "It's Thanksgiving and nobody should be alone. Besides they're bringing a turkey also."<br />
<br />
"But what's that on the breadboard?" The card-special-turkey for $5.99 glistens with frost. "Isn't that a turkey?"<br />
<br />
"Afraid so." I tap my finger on the counter, open the freezer door and say, "Move over Tom. Here comes your bud."<br />
<br />
"That makes three turkeys." Krista shakes her head. "We're going to be eating turkey sandwiches forever."<br />
<br />
"And don't forget the soup." We laugh and remember we hate turkey sandwiches. "I guess I better call Kyle. We'll squeeze him in somewhere."<br />
<br />
The days grow long, the shadows play over the sidewalk and Thanksgiving Day arrives. I check the television guide for the Thanksgiving parade time and NFL football. Pumpkin pies cool on the counter, the broccoli casserole is mixed and ready to bake and the first batch of dishes is washed. I scrub and cook for hours.<br />
<br />
My sons, Kent and Jake, put a leaf in the table, bring in the picnic table benches, arrange candles and the mood is set.<br />
<br />
"Time to get Tom cooking." I say.<br />
<br />
A seasoned pro better than the herb stuffing, I pull the knobs from the burners, lift the chrome face off the stove and turn on the oven. I grasp two bare wires, tap them to the metal griddle and hot- wire the oven. The old stove sparks; the gas ignites. I get down on all fours, lower the broiler door and bend my head sideways. I double check, the gas flame flickers - good. I slip the dismantled parts back in place and applaud my survival skills - a master makeshift repairman.<br />
<br />
Kent watches the ritual and frowns, "Mom, you're going to blow us up someday."<br />
<br />
I bake for hours in the kitchen, apron tied around waist, turkey stuffed and popped in the oven. The crippled stove struggles to maintain gas supply to all the burners and oven. I hear the slight poof on the gas line and adjust the temperature. Poof gone.<br />
<br />
Ned and little Ned arrive arms full of goodies. Kyle turns on the football game - a Thanksgiving Day tradition.<br />
<br />
"Mom, come quick!" Krista kneels on the sofa and watches through the mini-blinds.<br />
<br />
"What's the problem?" I drop my rolling pin, brush flour against my face and run to the living room.<br />
<br />
She separates a blind. I bend to peek. "There's a guy coming up the walk with a turkey in his hands."<br />
<br />
"Not another one." We stare.</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><br />
<br />
"And he's got a dog."<br />
<br />
"You know who that is don't you?" I nudge her shoulder. "That's the single guy down the street. You know, what's his name with the immaculate yard and white fence."<br />
<br />
"Ahh…look. It's just a puppy."<br />
<br />
The door bell chimes and I answer. Guy and dog with turkey on doorstep, unfair strategy.<br />
<br />
"Hi, I live down the street." He extends a firm grip and the dog wags its tail. "I won this turkey at the local department store and since I'm all alone I thought maybe you could…it's fresh." He pushes the lifeless flesh in my arms. "I brought champagne, too."<br />
<br />
I stand plump with poultry.<br />
<br />
"Boy, something sure smells good." He lingers on the doorstep. "Reminds me when I was a kid and our entire family…did I tell you I'm Italian?" His gaze drops to the ground. "Anyway, we had great get togethers before they all moved away." He pats the eager pup behind the ears. "Now it's just DaShiell and me."<br />
<br />
I kneel down and stroke the flaps of skin on the toddler bloodhound. Front paws straddle my shoulders and a tongue tickles my chin. I turn to the man attached to the leash, "And you must be…"<br />
<br />
"…Sam."<br />
<br />
I perch my hands on my hands and wait. There's got to be more. I wait for a pipe and sleuth coat to materialize. Nothing. I gaze at the scar etched along his temple; the rogue hair poking from his brow. Still, he offers no more.<br />
<br />
"Well then, come on in Sam. The football game's just getting started."</span></span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">He ties his partner in crime to the porch, steps in and kicks off his loafers. Clean socks, no exposed toes, good touch.<br />
<br />
"Everyone, this is Sam. He's coming to dinner." Hands wave. Sons and male friends root and swear from the living room floor and couch.<br />
<br />
"DaShiell. What kind of name is that for a dog?" I head to the kitchen, arms freezing with turkey, Krista at my heels.<br />
<br />
"Babe bait, Mom."<br />
<br />
"Ma, I think you better tone down your scent of a woman or something." Jake pokes his head around the corner. "We're running out of chairs."<br />
<br />
"Like I said 'babe bait'." Krista scoots pies to the left window corner and I drop the bird on the counter. "Now we have four turkeys." she gasps.<br />
<br />
"Krista," I pull her deep into the room of treats and roasting turkey and whisper, "Beware of turkeys bearing turkeys--especially single ones." I pour a tall glass of champagne and the bubbles pop under my nose.<br />
<br />
Krista looks at the three men complete with kid and dog cheering the holiday game. "These guys think you're dessert, don't they?" eyes wide with discovery.<br />
<br />
With a sigh I lean against the ceramic counter and swirl the gold liquid in the fluted glass. "It also means they're hungry and don't know how to cook."<br />
<br />
"Say where's your friend Arlene today? Maybe she'd like to come over."<br />
<br />
"Oh didn't I tell you? She stopped in for some cajun wings at the Chicken Palace last week and she met-"<br />
<br />
"Not Denny?"<br />
<br />
"Worse. She hooked up with Sly, the cook." I grab my chest and swoon against the counter, "She's 'in love'."<br />
<br />
"Again?"<br />
<br />
"Well at least for this week."<br />
<br />
"What about Jodie?" She starts down my list of girl pals.<br />
<br />
"Nah, she flew home to Iowa for the holidays." I count again the men in the front room. "Forget it, we're on our own kid."<br />
<br />
Shouts and loud clapping travel from the front room. Score one for the favored team; score zero for Mom.<br />
<br />
The kitchen phone rings and I tuck the headset against my shoulder. "Hello?"<br />
<br />
"</span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Happy Thanksgiving." A melodic voice returns.<br />
<br />
"Hi Maggie. I haven't heard from you in awhile. This is a surprise." I wink at Krista and motion for her to mash the sweet potatoes.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I know my Dad and I've been busy." The teen stumbles on her apology, "but we, I mean, I was wondering are you making your broccoli casserole today?"<br />
<br />
I look through the glass window of the oven door. The casserole bubbles, the edges golden brown. "Where are you going for Thanksgiving dinner, Maggie?"<br />
<br />
"I'm making dinner for my Dad and me," again a pause.<br />
<br />
"And what are you making?" I hesitate to know.<br />
<br />
"We haven't gone to the store yet." Her voice drops, "You know my Dad, 'there's always tomorrow'."<br />
<br />
"You haven't gone shopping?" The hands on the clock extend well past 2:00pm. "Would you and your Dad like to join us for dinner?" I swing the cabinet door open and bring out two more place settings. "However, there's one catch."<br />
<br />
"I can make a salad. I have a bag of lettuce." The girl pleads.<br />
<br />
"Salad's wonderful," I shove my mix of greens back in the refrigerator. "Tell your Dad if he'd like to come to dinner he has to call me first. You know he hasn't called in over five months."<br />
<br />
"He's such a putz." We laugh, hang up and seconds later...<br />
<br />
"This is Bob. I was just calling to say hello."<br />
<br />
"Bob? Oh, hello. This is a surprise." I feign excitement. I drag another bench along the linoleum and rearrange the table display. "I hear you're coming to dinner. Great. Would you mind stopping at the store for a pie?" I nudge Krista, smile and add, "Seems dessert is a popular item on the menu today."<br />
<br />
"Sure…" the familiar click of an electronic goodbye.<br />
<br />
"Men." Krista shakes her head. "Maybe we should disconnect the phone?"<br />
<br />
"Nah, just check caller ID." We nod in agreement. "We won't answer anymore numbers from guys in want of a hot meal."<br />
<br />
"Or dessert," she pops an olive in her mouth and laughs.<br />
<br />
"Okay, so now we have ten for dinner." I pour another glass of champagne. "And we ain't even Italian."<br />
<br />
"Well, at least Kent and Jake will be happy," Krista mocks Maggie's full bosom, "Little Ms. let-your-boobs-hang-out is coming over." </span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">Ah yes, teenage sons.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">The smells of the day take over the house. Ned hauls in his potato offering, Kyle stirs gravy and Sam takes a bowl of water to DaShiell. We wait for Bob and Maggie to arrive.<br />
<br />
The oven goes poof-poof-poof.<br />
<br />
I check on the turkey. The legs stiff, not wiggling freely, I pop it back in for another twenty minutes. The football game continues.<br />
<br />
We nibble on snacks and watch the fire dance in the fireplace. I walk outside and take an up and down peek along the street. No Bob and Maggie.<br />
<br />
The hour hits four. We gather for dinner and give thanks. Sam carves the steaming bird empty of stuffing and everyone grabs a fork.<br />
<br />
A solid knock on the front door interrupts the meal. Already knowing who is on the other side, I push back my chair and leave my napkin on the seat.<br />
<br />
"Hi Maggie," I give the girl a hug, her breasts bare just above the nipple line. "We're just starting to eat. Come on in." I shoot Bob a 'how dare you' look. I swear it flies over his head and keeps going West.<br />
<br />
"Happy Turkey Day," he hands me a mincemeat pie, boasts a bottle of Boone's Farm Fuzzy Navel and lands a three-second kiss on my lips.<br />
<br />
"Here, let me uncork the wine for you." Kyle greets the newcomer with a corkscrew.<br />
<br />
"No problem. I got it." With a quick twist Bob turns the bottle cap and pours the orange liquid into his glass. "Anybody?" He holds up the beverage.<br />
<br />
We shuffle chairs and Bob plops down at the head of the table. Kyle, Sam and Ned frown.<br />
<br />
"Mom?" Krista swirls her fork in her yams and leans shoulder to shoulder, "I think you have a problem." She glances at the three men.<br />
<br />
I cut my turkey and whisper, "it's going to get better."<br />
<br />
"Man, that was a great football game." Ned pours gravy over three of the nine items on his plate.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, that last play was about the best I've seen in a long time." Kyle relives the final touchdown.<br />
<br />
"I didn't think the wide receiver had a chance of catching that ball." Kent motions a long pass with a buttered roll.<br />
<br />
"Foosball, foosball, foosball." Bob drones.<br />
<br />
"You don't like football?" Sam plants the question and waits.<br />
<br />
"What guy doesn't like football?" Ned scores a point. "Gosh, remember when Montana--"<br />
<br />
I raise the bottle high and look to shift the conversation. "More wine?"<br />
<br />
I watch the men and study the selection of guys-wanting-to-be-mine.<br />
<br />
Ned toting double six-packs of blubber under what might be a taunt six-pack. Not a muscle in sight. Neddy flings a pea from his fork. The pea lands in Jake's hair.<br />
<br />
No, not Ned or son.<br />
<br />
Bob, lopsided beard, hole in pant's pocket, nice guy but always a day late. Single father of adolescent girl. Non-football fan.<br />
<br />
No chance.<br />
<br />
Kyle spoons a large mound of stuffing into his mouth. He lifts his wineglass for a fourth refill. His elbow slips from the table.<br />
<br />
Sam sits across from me. The late afternoon sun highlights gray strands woven in his thick dark waves. The bulge of his biceps expands the thin cloth of his knit shirt as he passes the Jello salad.<br />
<br />
Hmm? Man and dog.<br />
<br />
Dinner disappears amid stifled and superficial conversation. We rub swollen stomachs and clear the table.<br />
<br />
"That was delicious, " Ned cuddles me from behind and adds, "How about I take a look under the hood of your car. Isn't it pinging or something?" He squeezes my waist and moves in closer.<br />
<br />
"That would be wonderful Ned. " I turn, my hands covered with soapsuds and pull back. "I do think it needs a tune-up." He gives me a peck, asks for the keys and heads for the driveway.<br />
<br />
Krista dries a dish. "Where's he going?"<br />
<br />
"He's going to where all guys go on Thanksgiving after the football games, after the dinner," I nod towards the front yard. "To work on cars. What else is left."<br />
<br />
"Mom come take a look," again we peek out the blinds. "Bob's out there, too."<br />
<br />
"Not Bob?" I lean back, sit on the couch and laugh tears to my cheek. "He hates working on cars."<br />
<br />
"He must really want you Mom."<br />
<br />
"Observe and learn daughter-of-mine." I pull open the door and hear Bob shop-talk spark plugs. Ned ups the ante with precise documentation of fuel-injection engines. Kyle contradicts the stats and the conversation escalates.<br />
<br />
"This is funny." She stands next to me, looking at the male beast tote its feathers. "Even DaShiell's doing tricks." The puppy jumps sideways in the air and snags a rubber disc.<br />
<br />
"And look over there," I point to the over-developed Maggie smiling sweetly at my sons. "She's got the boys right where she wants them." The boys wash and wax her silver Tercel.<br />
<br />
'Men." Krista giggles and notes, "Looks like you've got four admirers."<br />
<br />
"Yep," I curl my arm around her shoulder.<br />
<br />
"They don't stand a chance, do they Mom?" She looks at the flock of men.<br />
<br />
"They're great friends, but no," and then with another look, "Well, maybe Sam. Ugly dog. Still -" something about that duo intrigues.<br />
<br />
She sports a thumbs-up on my choice.<br />
<br />
"What else needs fixing around here?" She eyes the house and turns to me.<br />
<br />
"Let's see -- the fence is falling down and the bathroom faucet drips." I chalk up all the repairs and start making a list. "And then there's the stove."<br />
<br />
"I'll get the toolbox, Mom." Krista hurries out the backdoor and returns with a metal box.<br />
<br />
"Oh Bob," I call from the porch, "Kyle? Do you have a minute?"<br />
<br />
I turn to Krista and add, "Thanksgiving's a day to give thanks and remember one can have too many turkeys."<br />
</span></div><div style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>HAPPY THANKSGIVING</b></span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-left;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Copyright 2003 </span></div><div style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><br />
</div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"></span></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-5149693365890107912011-11-08T17:49:00.000-08:002011-11-08T17:49:37.138-08:00I'm Not Broken<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Reprinted in memory of Mom - July 9, 1920 - October 31, 2011 - who believed in more than a little...</span></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: 11pt;">"</span><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">B</span></span><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: 11pt;">ut what're you going to do? You need to get
a regular job." I held the receiver away from my ear as Mom's voice
spiked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLBUCK-7hyphenhyphenechvKVOkk91lhQD3XGYbH7aBGNkzmeyfxtAExWH6GOGIJIaDlaCFawOhOS6PyxkOju5OIhyphenhyphenB5xM8qjbjTHoe9D_LmM5nnYxM2vxuM2tPrQYS58K3avnCygUGQWDk-pJ7K8/s1600/donkey_typing_laptop_lg_clr.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjLBUCK-7hyphenhyphenechvKVOkk91lhQD3XGYbH7aBGNkzmeyfxtAExWH6GOGIJIaDlaCFawOhOS6PyxkOju5OIhyphenhyphenB5xM8qjbjTHoe9D_LmM5nnYxM2vxuM2tPrQYS58K3avnCygUGQWDk-pJ7K8/s1600/donkey_typing_laptop_lg_clr.gif" /></a><i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Mom, the original
fix-her-upper</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: 11pt;">
I swallowed my thought.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“You’ve got to fit into the mold.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“I’m not broken, just broke. Those are two
different things." The conversation continued; a circle of unlike minds. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"You should be a secretary." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"Mom," I braced my feet on the floor and
prepared for the rebuttal. "I’m not a cubicle kind of person.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"You've got to work." The words stung. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I do work. Writing’s a job and I like
it." The argument unending, I listened for a few more stanzas of 'your
life doesn't meet the norm'.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"You're not supposed to like your job. You need
money. How are you going to pay your bills?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I looked at the pile of envelopes marked 'past
due', 'friendly notice', 'forget something'? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"They'll get paid, someday." I shoved the
mound of envelopes to the floor. "Just believe in me a little." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“What about the kids?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">A single mom with two sons and a daughter, I was
determined to stay at home and make my dual career of mom and provider work.
Divorced or not, my kids needed a face to come home to after school and that
face would be mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"What about medical coverage?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"Mom, I've got to go… "My voice trailed
away as I put down the phone and whispered to the now silent one, "Quit
trying to fix me." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I turned to my pile of work. A brochure needed
updating, a manual transcribed, a database reorganized. Granted, not the
creative writer I envisioned. Merely a
broom keeper for other people’s words on a page: a cleanup person following
prescribed protocols. Meantime, a story churned in my head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Settled in my chair, I watched the computer screen
come to life, greeting me with a cornucopia of icons: Yahoo, Nero and iTunes smiled an unspoken
good morning. I welcomed the familiar images like gossip over a copy machine.
The array of characters stared, tempting me to play. Enjoying the break from
solitude, I jumped into the game, hit the Internet search key and entered the
word – hello. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Returns of hello in languages known and obscure
popped up: Konnichi Wa, Goeie dag and Jou San. A collection of Hello Kitty
items blanketed a bookshelf. A site simple in name, <i>Hello</i> by Esao Andrews, superb in design, captured my attention, and
I paused to explore the creativity. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Intrigued, I sipped my coffee and noted. I had a
friend named Hello. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"Anyone else like me out there?" My
fingers clicked the letters in place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">A prompt begged "where do I want to go?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I want to find people like me. People who
think beyond nine to five, stock options and 401 plans," a tear trickled
down my cheek and I thumbed it away. "Someone who thinks it's okay for me
to be me." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I hit the Internet connection and typed my question
in the search box. The computer hunted and returned with an offer of a personal
advice counselor. Nope. Got one of those. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I entered "Writers", hit search and
waited again. I dipped a scone in my French Roast, nibbled the dry pastry and
leaned, elbows on table, towards the computer. Stunned, I reeled in my chair.
What's this? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Hundred of writers. Writers in coffeehouses, chat
rooms, workshops, E-groups. I scrolled down the list and clicked into several
web pages, discovering sites for grammar, publishers, and freelance jobs.
Reaching out towards the screen, my fingertip touched the word writer. A slight
current traveled up my arm and I lingered--a connection. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"May I join?" I posted my request, hit
send and reclined back in my chair, holding onto the base, exhilarated. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">A bright message popped on the screen. "Pull
up a chair and stay awhile."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Thrilled, I settled in, posted work and waited
anxiously for comments and peer validation. What’s this? I was labeled the
queen of purple prose, descriptive repetition and head-hopping. I scrambled
grammar and made my cyber classmates pull hair and scream down invisible
corridors. Embarrassed, I withered in my seat in the back row of web
sites. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"You have tautology." The message in caps
shouted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I have what?" I bent for the dictionary,
flipped through the alphabet and gasped, "I have tautology." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Recognizing my rusty skills, I enrolled in online
workshops, accepted the challenge to clean up my court of illuminating phrases,
and forged forward. I learned my point-of-view, story structure and beginnings,
middles and ends. Armed with knowledge, I grabbed a seat in the front row of
URLs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Still, I massacred commas and frustrated new
friends with fragments and hanging participles. I nosed into a grammar site,
polishing grade school skills with bone-headed exercises of independent and
dependent clauses. I scribbled and wrote, getting characters out of my head.
Confident, I stepped to the plate a player. With the best, I provided feedback,
offered suggestions, and soon decided to enter a short piece in a contest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">I typed and created. I printed to proof, drew
rivers of red lines on my paper and revised. I ran back to the computer - cut,
paste, and delete my mantra. The deadline loomed. Echoes of 'write tight' kept
me focused. The hours ticked down. Persistent, I formatted the manuscript,
packaged the entry and chased down the mailman--my entry on the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">The months passed and the list of winners arrived;
my first rejection notice tumbled to the carpet. I performed a ceremonial dance
to my success; my left hip crippled for days, I downed Tylenol cocktails.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I'm in the game," I circulated a short
note to my friends. "I got my first rejection notice." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Words of support, smiling faces and emoticons
tagged the moment. The camaraderie system in place, I sent out a selection of
short articles and soon a check arrived. I copied and enlarged the
pay-to-the-order document and stopped at the store for a frame. Breathless, I
hit "my E-groups" and shared the news. E-cards of congratulations and
‘great job’ poured in from Australia, Mississippi, and New York. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">My mailbox burst with rejoicing. Unknown faces in
unseen places--present in my heart, we had a party of many in my room of one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Between congratulations the bedroom phone rang and
I trekked down the hallway.<b> </b>I caught
my breath as my feet followed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I was wondering how you're doing?" The
scrape of mom's kitchen chair across the tile floor told me we were in for a
long chat. “The ladies at church have been praying just for you.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">“Thanks,” I dropped to the bed and curled against a
pillow. "I'm just having a party with some friends." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"That's wonderful. Did you get a new
job?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I guess I did." I switched ears, the
right one flattened by the headset. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"Does this one pay well?" A pause on the
long-distance line followed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"It pays pittance." I gazed at the framed
check hanging crooked on the wall. "But it has great benefits." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"That's wonderful news. So you have medical
insurance and vacation time?" The excitement in her voice told me I
graduated off her prayer list. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Struggling for the answer, I said, "Well, not
really." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"Then stock options and a good commute?"
She searched for the mix of conventional benefits. "Nice boss?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"The job comes with a terrific group of friends."
On a roll, I continued, "I'm working with writers that think like me.
Imagine that?" My adrenaline pumped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"So you're still broke." I sensed a dip
in her enthusiasm, my name back on her prayer list. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"Yes, I'm broke but I'm not broken." I
jumped from the bed and affirmed, "I'm complete." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">"I don't understand your world but if you're
happy then so am I." Mom's unrelenting faith reached across the miles and
wrapped around me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">Embraced in her words, I smiled and said, “Mom, I
sold my first story.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><i>...she believed in me.</i></span></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua"; font-size: 11.0pt;">THE END<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; font-size: 15px;">Copyright 2003</span></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-21435967505991287322011-05-31T17:16:00.000-07:002011-06-01T17:47:16.008-07:00Fried Green Tomatoes, Crab Cakes and Low Country Ghosts<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">F</span><span style="color: black;">ried green tomatoes, crab cakes, collard greens, ghosts and thunder storms, a Low country Spring time vacation in <a href="http://www.charlestoncvb.com/" target="_blank">Charleston, SC</a> scores big. </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27immxJ6ZJk4l1ii6IGrY0MBplavisrLT1RF_A47A1RArcV8tdIsE1n6yw1cgZfC-JoWkdBw1_FicvyrcS_DCmkDruUAmxAZusAOIqkRLgL_jLaXaTIWRwY83MG85-dD1NIIsYnDwECk/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh27immxJ6ZJk4l1ii6IGrY0MBplavisrLT1RF_A47A1RArcV8tdIsE1n6yw1cgZfC-JoWkdBw1_FicvyrcS_DCmkDruUAmxAZusAOIqkRLgL_jLaXaTIWRwY83MG85-dD1NIIsYnDwECk/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+008.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meeting Street</td></tr>
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</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.tripadvisor.com/Restaurant_Review-g54171-d445785-Reviews-Jestine_s_Kitchen-Charleston_South_Carolina.html" target="_blank">Jestine’s Kitchen</a>, down-home fried green tomatoes, <a href="http://www.hymanseafood.com/" target="_blank">Hyman’s</a>, hush-puppies and stuffed grouper, <a href="https://www.stickyfingers.com/WebpageFaderSecure.aspx?WebpageId=48" target="_blank">Sticky Fingers</a>, simmering peach cobbler, <a href="http://www.francismarionhotel.com/dining.htm" target="_blank">The Swamp Fox</a>, pure elegant dining to <a href="http://www.palmettobrewingco.com/" target="_blank">Palmetto Charleston beer</a>, <a href="http://www.youngplantations.com/CGI-BIN/LANSAWEB?PROCFUN+WORDPR01+WEBFUNC+M37" target="_blank">chocolate-covered pecans</a>, <a href="http://www.savannahbee.com/cgi-bin/commerce.cgi?display=home" target="_blank">Savannah Bee</a> Sourwood honey, and Super-duper <a href="http://www.spiceandtea.com/" target="_blank">Extra triple-Strength cat nip</a> for my feline souvenir, it’s a wonder I don’t waddle down the street. </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://www.southwest.com/" target="_blank">Southwest</a> Oakland to <st1:city w:st="on">Charleston</st1:city>, I land on a Monday afternoon on a connecting flight out of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Houston</st1:place></st1:city>. A simple, convenient transport by the <a href="http://www.chs-airport.com/taxi.htm" target="_blank">Charleston Airport Shuttle</a> not only is inexpensive it provides a scenic tour and comfortable chatter between my new-found travel mates. Price range $12.50/one-way shared ride; $30/one-way single passenger. A best travel tip. </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Not so fresh from the airport, I arrive at the <a href="http://www.jasminehouseinn.com/" target="_blank">Jasmine House Inn</a>. Rated #10 of 49 Bed and Breakfast Inns in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charleston</st1:place></st1:city>, it ranks high on my top five list.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6RgzzPmzz7KZUMFf5KnpLJDSLUUea1_lonkP0KkIJnhA9Hs81sl2qKzmBGMoFFLtb5fELvYid1D3w6bqdRmoFLFcHGcIiquYObVciLgPpsYvzJZtAlAFfkKBbyNlvqtIFdnNUMGUeW8/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6RgzzPmzz7KZUMFf5KnpLJDSLUUea1_lonkP0KkIJnhA9Hs81sl2qKzmBGMoFFLtb5fELvYid1D3w6bqdRmoFLFcHGcIiquYObVciLgPpsYvzJZtAlAFfkKBbyNlvqtIFdnNUMGUeW8/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jasmine House Inn Courtyard</td></tr>
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</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Nestled behind the main house, my room is in the carriage house. <a href="http://www.jasminehouseinn.com/accommodation" target="_blank">Carriage house number two</a>. With a lace canopy bed, loveseat and rose-floral wallpaper, I step back into a slower time; a Southern Charm. The second-story room provides a door that opens to the veranda. In my pajamas, I savor my light breakfast – hot-biscuits, fresh fruit, cereal, orange juice and hot coffee – the menu varies daily. Just below in the courtyard, guests dine at the patio tables. A Cardinal perches on the veranda rail in wait of morning crumbs.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Vibrant colors dot the greenery, the humidity level is just under the sweat radar and the night-blooming jasmine perfumes the air. Twelve bites and counting the mosquitoes dine on the bare skin so insect repellant is a must in your side pocket.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span style="color: black;">Charleston</span></st1:place></st1:city><span style="color: black;"> is an awesome City. Deep in history, pride and personality. I feel guilty having Yankee-blood. I'm humbled as I step onto<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><a href="http://www.nps.gov/fosu/index.htm">Fort Sumter</a><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and reel in the realities.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Tuesday, I’m off and running to my morning tour. <a href="http://www.magnoliaplantation.com/" target="_blank">The Magnolia Plantation</a>. 24 people on a shuttle, I meet Jan and Dave from <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Benicia</st1:city>, <st1:state w:st="on">CA</st1:state></st1:place> – a mere 45 minute drive from my home – and I recall something about the six degrees of separation.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcowivWFoJzvu2IMRR8CifHudLBjtbXgs-mqRAg1MtSGtY6Gz78RJ8picBBn0qVdcYCksjO-DUVWfhEN0EMyoPFhqfikyCedZ7eW6rDtJ53Oxbr-ye7ntazWnOnDdAhdxfjzH4ri8BUs/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcowivWFoJzvu2IMRR8CifHudLBjtbXgs-mqRAg1MtSGtY6Gz78RJ8picBBn0qVdcYCksjO-DUVWfhEN0EMyoPFhqfikyCedZ7eW6rDtJ53Oxbr-ye7ntazWnOnDdAhdxfjzH4ri8BUs/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Magnolia Plantation</td></tr>
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</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Relaxed, we arrive at the gorgeous plantation. With <a href="http://www.charleston-tours.com/" target="_blank">Allen</a>, a ten-year veteran tour guide, we wander the gardens, explore the swamp and are escorted through the magnificent home. A peace wraps around your soul and for a moment you understand the tranquility that surpasses a top Billboard tune.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Much like visiting the home of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_London" target="_blank">Jack London</a>, a writer feels the power of nature, and I want for the creative energy that sings in the birds, that whistles in the oaks and that powers the smallest alligator across the marsh to ignite my senses. I’m soaked in the unlimited possibilities of serenity in harmony.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">A slower pace than <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">California</st1:place></st1:state> the early-afternoon settles in for Low country quiet time. Guests of the Jasmine House Inn sip on wine, sweet tea, lemonade and cheese, crackers, fresh fruit and pasta.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfu2WeWipNx9GOGTmiE0z2i6zVU_zMq4ArN8PiF_IZ2bq4Ml94hG79THssuHRkCJx6RlhtcZsuVPmBE0TaYZss2MQwZJtYIctZcGaQVG1u8ztTCj-EvOvGSx8ocOZm7iL6iplC708eMY/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjfu2WeWipNx9GOGTmiE0z2i6zVU_zMq4ArN8PiF_IZ2bq4Ml94hG79THssuHRkCJx6RlhtcZsuVPmBE0TaYZss2MQwZJtYIctZcGaQVG1u8ztTCj-EvOvGSx8ocOZm7iL6iplC708eMY/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+074.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nancy, Care and Me</td></tr>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">An added perk, I meet two online writer friends. Care, a new friend from <st1:state w:st="on">Massachusetts</st1:state>, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nancy</st1:place></st1:city>, <a href="http://bookfoolery.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bookfoolery and Babble</a>, a longtime online friend.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">For over ten years a voice in print but never a real-talk-time word between us, Nancy and I have a layered-friendship built on years of conversations, accomplishments, family triumphs and heartaches. For us, it isn't a social topping of "How are you?" and "What do you do?" Instead, it is an instant embrace and a step into gentle banter and a knowing rhythm. </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Girl’s Night Out, we brave the graveyard for our <a href="http://www.bulldogtours.com/charleston-ghost-stories.html" target="_blank">Ghost Tour</a>. Thunder rumbles in the not-so-far distance as we listen to the <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charleston</st1:place></st1:city> tales of those that lie beneath our feet or not. We snap multiple photos of gravestone rows in hope of capturing an *orb* on print. No ghosts visit my lens but for <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Nancy</st1:place></st1:city>, I’m open to what I saw on her <a href="http://bookfoolery.blogspot.com/2011/05/chime-by-franny-billingsley.html" target="_blank">shot</a> and we’ll leave it at that.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">Intrigued, I note the inscriptions on several headstones that beckon me. I revisit graveyards over the next few days and find some reach out with curled finger and say, “Me. Come visit with me.”</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I snap a picture and answer, “I will.”</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">During my Walking tour with <a href="http://www.edgrimballtours.com/" target="_blank">Ed Grimball</a> – hi <st1:city w:st="on">Benicia</st1:city> Jan and Dave again - we visit the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Circular</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Church</st1:placetype></st1:place> cemetery and over Ed’s shoulder yet another grave speaks out to me. I headstone wander later in the day until I find this spot again. General Mordecai Gist.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">What’s with these restless souls?</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mordecai_Gist" target="_blank">General Mordecai Gist</a> born February 22, 1742 – August 2, 1792 is a third cousin to President George Washington. An officer in the American Revolution, I’m humbled that he chose to sit with me for awhile. A warrior for independence, I’m not surprised his two sons were named States and Independent.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">An Internet search quickly adds a photo to the name. Spirited. What do you know? Just proves you can’t keep a good man down; not even in death. </span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WRqnaISLKQ20wWoXzwwLz496omU79xMB1lxy_vDzcbHm6n7G3xWhrSBC1WlWBepJ3idJpfD5OjjExrGgVFJ1fQzEGUL5VWAeSCtnd5FGyPm3b7S8anMZAZlta5dlHYO3QQTCWN-u1bk/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0WRqnaISLKQ20wWoXzwwLz496omU79xMB1lxy_vDzcbHm6n7G3xWhrSBC1WlWBepJ3idJpfD5OjjExrGgVFJ1fQzEGUL5VWAeSCtnd5FGyPm3b7S8anMZAZlta5dlHYO3QQTCWN-u1bk/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+079.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new haunts</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I pull up another photo from my haunting. I’m face-to-face with the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reuben_Post" target="_blank">Reverend Reuben Post</a> and his wife Harriott and daughter Frances. Post was not only the U.S. Senate Chaplain he was the pastor of <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charleston</st1:place></st1:city>’s <a href="http://www.graveaddiction.com/circulch.html" target="_blank">Circular Church</a>. In 1858, the Reverend died from an outbreak of yellow fever but his humor lives on. The three grave markers are chess pieces: the king, queen and the rook. Not exactly scriptural but he guaranteed a top spot on the tourist route for eternity. I think I would have liked the Reverend. </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">In a City where ghosts are welcome as sweet tea in the afternoon a nudge or awareness is commonplace. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I encounter my first ghost in my room. Either a playful or warped spirit, I awaken to the snap of my window blind. The yellow shade careens taunt to the top window edge. I fly to the window to see what's the matter and I'm trapped between <i>The Night Before Christmas</i> and T<i>he Nightmare Before Christmas</i>.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUUc4XHUoccyZ0M-iX0pAkpEr88XRj2eFA406_-rcC6FJSpJX_MCqYtcF4sRpvS4JX89LKg1hsd2fKa3ZYhOYiXyBR3FPOzTXM-anvtOHitZlumsX8DcjZ1x96LX0qOPDU0xlsZaox9g/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGUUc4XHUoccyZ0M-iX0pAkpEr88XRj2eFA406_-rcC6FJSpJX_MCqYtcF4sRpvS4JX89LKg1hsd2fKa3ZYhOYiXyBR3FPOzTXM-anvtOHitZlumsX8DcjZ1x96LX0qOPDU0xlsZaox9g/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can see why a ghost would linger</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I tiptoe back to my canopy bed, curl under the cover and decide it is a playful ghost and wish it good night.</span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">As I wait to cross <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Meeting St.</st1:address></st1:street> two men idle in front of me. A wisp of a breeze picks up Old Spice cologne and I’m bathed in the scent. One whiff and I know. I’m not alone on the sidewalk. My dad alive in spirit is on vacation with me. Together, we cross the street: the two strangers, me and my personal ghost. I bid hello to the two men as I walk by and say, “I love Old Spice.” </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1U0A3MxJVBbrcl_wz244QHV8Win8G95dySdXgAYSR3DTFt0RS9t7ClP5lcukypFxXLuQOdXHwFXsPqeUt-PnPOEW1AQanKX4B8KDgOG48hinTmNYJ-rrkV326tEDNlrZzf9J9DbMlJ4/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk1U0A3MxJVBbrcl_wz244QHV8Win8G95dySdXgAYSR3DTFt0RS9t7ClP5lcukypFxXLuQOdXHwFXsPqeUt-PnPOEW1AQanKX4B8KDgOG48hinTmNYJ-rrkV326tEDNlrZzf9J9DbMlJ4/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+292.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every body stand up and crow</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;">Beyond the Market, I discover priceless treasures. Braided horses and roosters. </span></span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaYsCGDMWJmpvSbYO1aGHbHOMvNUFQn_x4G05XKBxFQDIZh5eS7cp4Fz3PdscM0zXZ74tlzLp7GkjxkTunSPD78Z8k2DcBkmU9Cug9BLyp0UkucVY4WlT7r1MskeQ5e3J7UaomvzobNg/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqaYsCGDMWJmpvSbYO1aGHbHOMvNUFQn_x4G05XKBxFQDIZh5eS7cp4Fz3PdscM0zXZ74tlzLp7GkjxkTunSPD78Z8k2DcBkmU9Cug9BLyp0UkucVY4WlT7r1MskeQ5e3J7UaomvzobNg/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+188.JPG" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blues and Barbecue Sunset Cruise</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">The <a href="http://www.charlestonharbortours.com/special-events-blues-barbeque.cfm" target="_blank">Blues and Barbecue sunset cruise</a> highlights the week. I love the harmonica player and <a href="http://www.shrimpcityslim.com/home.html" target="_blank">Shrimp City Slim</a>, <a href="http://www.hometeambbq.com/" target="_blank">Fiery Ron’s Home Team</a> barbecue buffet and the serene sunset over the shoreline. Blues to perfection. Scrumptious macaroni and cheese. A ten for my favorite tour.</span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZbD2OXbsCs8UnOxokIKcaIEfmmArTRuj6d4f6P2lL3u4ej_U75xPibtKQwr1jklp0P-nzuSsxKYZUE-NofjVMpK5k7SAeWKfqaTKC04B5XrEZMyAP6v1CAULTn6e4wyoeuMNhDExIhQ/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPZbD2OXbsCs8UnOxokIKcaIEfmmArTRuj6d4f6P2lL3u4ej_U75xPibtKQwr1jklp0P-nzuSsxKYZUE-NofjVMpK5k7SAeWKfqaTKC04B5XrEZMyAP6v1CAULTn6e4wyoeuMNhDExIhQ/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+306.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ghosts of the four-legged variety</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Friday, I’m off to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.poogansporch.com/" target="_blank">Poogan’s Porch</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> for lunch for the best crab cakes, hot honey-buttered biscuits and Poogan’s Punch. No canine ghosts tickle my backbone. Not a wisp of a wagging tale against my leg. No matter. I have my own circle of newfound ghosts.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjprPikfNHR-s6HH-7Vua1V7e4RfiB7UIsnUakfkpyZpEyqQJbYJLrO2kAOt0zYDfpyVXuE3V4FzaCXs117jWPQo6mxP3E9Hhr9EcY2tyRxY5iKw0dY_R4ibcyqs9EfXJgpxkU_kr-lNLM/s1600/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjprPikfNHR-s6HH-7Vua1V7e4RfiB7UIsnUakfkpyZpEyqQJbYJLrO2kAOt0zYDfpyVXuE3V4FzaCXs117jWPQo6mxP3E9Hhr9EcY2tyRxY5iKw0dY_R4ibcyqs9EfXJgpxkU_kr-lNLM/s320/Charleston%252C+SC+May+2011+141.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, I'm really in Charleston</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="color: black;">I wander the streets and walk every Southern calorie off and then some. It is a great way to end my stay in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Charleston</st1:place></st1:city>. </span><span style="color: black;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-indent: .5in;"><br />
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</div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-5786027782599233862011-05-26T22:31:00.000-07:002011-05-26T22:49:26.757-07:00American Idol Thanks!Season ten is now over. Congratulations Scotty and yes, Lauren, too.<div>Many thanks to everyone who joined in the weekly observations on the shrills, squeals and high notes. I appreciate all your wonderful comments and interaction.</div><div>Dial Idol is quiet. And of course, right on with the prediction. My own method of checking the most comments on iTunes, a pale comparison, but it marked the Scotty power trend. Surprisingly, Haley was a strong iTune contender.</div><div>Lauren...you never faltered. Your charisma captured everyone's heart and your duet with Carrie, a pure gem.</div><div>Ah Casey. You were made for Jack Black. Oh so right. James, Jacob, Paul...thanks for all the moments.</div><div>Without my friends, I'd be watching alone and wondering if I think I heard what I did or not. East Coast, Midwest and the South, I enjoyed sharing our gentle banter and thoughts. You made each week special and fun.</div><div>Here's to a wonderful tenth season, celebrate the summer and let's do it all again for Season 11. </div><div><br /></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-37627386841167935322011-05-24T23:01:00.000-07:002011-05-25T07:37:59.741-07:00American Idol Finale Just One Word<div><br /></div>Lauren!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-64106316133037477062011-05-19T07:55:00.000-07:002011-05-19T07:57:49.638-07:00American Idol Yawner<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">American Idol Top Three proves to be a yawner. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">I admit that I’m bored with American Idol. What promised to be the greatest range of talent, fizzled last night. Even after a beer to boost my excitement, the performers failed to light the stage on fire. Not even a kindle of polyester or spark from too much hairspray.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Of course, the annual judge manipulation played out last week with the torching of Haley followed by the standing O. James Durbin fell to the wicked judges’ curse of premature crowning of the title. He also had a double-whacking with the backlash of Haley voters rising to the manipulation. The judges cost James the final opportunity. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Casey, sadly, was the collateral damage of the southern tornadoes. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">So that leaves us with three viable contestants: Scotty, Lauren and Haley. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">A Kenny Roger song was the perfect choice for Scotty and he sang it well. However, <span style="display: none;mso-hide:all">owever, </span>it lacked the intensity and conviction that Kenny bought to the stage. Time. Scotty just needs time to mature.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Frankly, I loved the Lauren from the audition clip. Relaxed, natural and fun. Come back, girl. We miss the down-to-earth southern flavor. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Haley is still a mystery. Her song choices baffle me and although talented perhaps not the next American Idol. Out of fairness I did give her a vote because her final song was cut out in the early stanza as once again American Idol overshot it’s time slot. Sorry Haley.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Here we are crossing into the final stretch and the momentum is gone. The personality and full-package contestants are gone. Suppose we’re so used to frugality that we forget to reach for the full menu. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">My exit vote for tonight is pointless. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">With the Haley tribe on the warpath, I say its hanky time. Sorry. Lauren. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-76840174206862942702011-05-04T21:31:00.000-07:002011-05-04T22:07:38.628-07:00American Idol Top FiveFired-up, prepared for battle, the top five <a href="http://www.americanidol.com/">American Ido</a>l contestants ignited the stage. Many pitch issues and shrill notes across the board but that comes when you step out of your comfort zone. Good job.<div><br /><div>I'm not sure what they had for breakfast but they were energized with every man and woman for themselves. Jacob, James, Lauren, Scotty and Haley - the transformation into warriors is like the fierce playoffs to the Super Bowl.</div><div>The inner self is out and exposed. There's no going back to the safe-zone.</div><div>I might as well toss the five names into a hat and let them drop to the floor. I haven't a clue who will go home but here's my take:</div><div>James - You got a double-whammy of the judge curse. Jennifer and Randy. Like don't hex the man with a projected winner. Seasoned Idolers know how that works out. Exactly how it works out. James, pray quickly. You're still top on my list but you know, the curse...love, love, love the gentle soul.</div><div>Jacob - A crotch-touch. I saw it. Yes, I did! You manned up tonight and let it go with complete abandonment. This was the new face of Jacob. He's in it to win it.</div><div>Lauren - Little Carrie clone who exposed cleavage. I tell you, this is war. Work it, girl. Not thrilled with the second song but you opened your voice to a different range. Nice.</div><div>Scotty - I remember the meek Scotty looking for a group back in Hollywood. You've come a long way. Still, there's a cold wall. Perhaps of control. Perhaps of innocence. Maybe not enough life experience but the ice melted when you engaged with your grandmother. Embrace that feeling.</div><div>Haley - Getting in a rut. Love your talent. Excellent suggestion by <a href="http://www.sherylcrow.com/">Sheryl</a> to let your voice stand alone and simmer.</div><div>Now to go vote. The big question is for who? This is an Idol first. They're all fantastic.</div><div>Okay, I decided. Say what? My call cannot go through. That's a positive sign. Finger-blister time. Oh no, my second choice went through right away. Not good. Oh no, it went through again.</div><div>Tradition as it is, my exit vote for tonight is Haley. And yours... </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-65722119951868245712011-04-27T22:43:00.000-07:002011-04-27T23:27:10.310-07:00American Idol Top SixFired-up, focused and fixated on a win.<div>Wow! What an evening. <a href="http://www.americanidol.com/">American Idol</a> Top Six.</div><div>At this point, I measure more than the measure. I look for the song that burns within and percolates under the skin and erupts with complete abandonment and like a wildfire spreads into soul.</div><div>Yet..unlike the wildfire where wind and dry twigs play the flame on stage the performer controls the fuel. Stoked, smoked and simmered. Each note sparked and tight within the fire line; an escapee crosses over and for a moment the artist lets in linger and then reels it back.</div><div>James Taylor? Where was my Fire and Rain and Sweet Baby James? Oh yeah, not your night.</div><div>Cooling the heat, here is my take for tonight:</div><div><b>Jacob</b> - Started shrill but then that fire erupted and your entire body felt the heat. Fantastic. Loved your duet with James. Natural, playful, carefree with nothing to lose but yourself in the moment. That may have saved you tonight.</div><div><b>Scotty</b> - "You've Got a Friend" was the perfect choice. Love, love, love the song and for me, I think you pulled it up a notch and delivered a different aspect to your voice. I'm not sure you have the friends to keep you out of the bottom two. There's still a feeling of disconnect. Take a taste of James' humility. It goes down quite well after the first swallow.</div><div><b>Lauren</b> - Pure southern joy. Start clearing the mantel for your future Grammy. On second thought, buy a showcase.</div><div><b>James </b>- Awesome! Not only do you know how to sing you reach the audience and connect. There's a depth to your personality perhaps marred with scars, a knowing smile, a spirit rich in integrity that commands the stage. You are cloaked in humility and have a genuine caring for your fellow contestants. That is the mark of a man. You're still my number one for all the right reasons.</div><div><b>Casey </b>-<b> </b>Completely different than James in style, voice and venue. In my top three, James has you beat on the human connection.</div><div><b>Haley</b> - Who would have thought you'd still be here and in the top six. You've found your voice. Work it. Not sure I liked the song selection. With so many top <a href="http://www.caroleking.com/home.php">Carole King</a> songs why pick an obscure song?</div><div>My top three: Lauren, Casey and James</div><div>My exit vote: I'm so sorry but I'm afraid it is Jacob. And yours...</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-64381475334850142302011-04-27T11:46:00.000-07:002011-04-27T12:02:13.949-07:00Hail to King Trump - Not<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVzITmmXGu9OEOZkll9cXxhaHWqRQA9ycTpXlaDyaAsVDJwFn-9oLXY-uAbsWf-6I21AV9BY5_LJD5Iglv9WBpGgE7Zzl_2UIdc_GmrqPYWjH46PAYl13U8oK1_sQClprP_NUCsqCN5s/s1600/American+flag.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbVzITmmXGu9OEOZkll9cXxhaHWqRQA9ycTpXlaDyaAsVDJwFn-9oLXY-uAbsWf-6I21AV9BY5_LJD5Iglv9WBpGgE7Zzl_2UIdc_GmrqPYWjH46PAYl13U8oK1_sQClprP_NUCsqCN5s/s320/American+flag.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600339870751800738" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">It's " <a href="http://constitutionus.com/">We the People</a>..." not "I the <a href="http://tunedin.blogs.time.com/2011/04/27/congratulations-america-donald-trump-is-the-boss-of-you/">Donald</a>."</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Just my take...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-66060794490529568242011-04-20T22:38:00.000-07:002011-04-20T22:48:31.380-07:00American Idol Top Seven<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Bookman Old Style'; ">Seven is a lucky number but one is the luckiest of all.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Duct tape, a stolen kiss and more bleeps than from fans at a Raider Game. The family hour is tainted. And the tongue. <a href="http://www.steventyler.com/">Steven</a>, Steven, Steven. Good thing my Dad is already in heaven or you'd be the death of him. Potty-mouth.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Disenchanted with the news that fallen contestant Pia will showcase <i><a href="http://www.squidoo.com/dancingwiththestars">Dancing With the Stars</a></i>, I wonder why I vote. It appears a winner is already crowned. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t like the new rules and guidelines of Season Ten. And I sure don’t want a cross-over of the two shows – yet.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Let’s cross the finish line, folks.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">What a week. Paul’s love life. Pia’s love life. Dudes, this is a singing competition. Right Randy?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Now to our Wednesday night special: Paul and the Fallen Beauties. Off-key, out-of-sync, out-of-place. No Steven. We remember quite well why we voted them adios. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Now to cast my vote to the 50+ million across the nation:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Scotty – Over-confident. Maybe there is room next to Paul. You’re swingin’ on a short rope. There’s more to life than a low note. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">James – Solid five-star. New dimension to your voice, control and maturity. You’re a complete artist with more to come.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Haley – Mumbled words. Great for Adele not for Haley and the impossible high note. Love your raspy jazz.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Jacob – I disagree with judges. Imagine that. You touched my heart and really made me feel my mother’s pain after his death. Sing me <i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0XMn0U9b2Y">Peabo Bryson</a></i>. Just once…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Casey – Major contender, sly and versatile. Redheads rock!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Stefano – Yes, I saw it. I felt it. You looked into that camera, eyes wide open and ended on a high note. Very nice change to massage the lines and orchestrate the storyline. Good job.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">Lauren – Good news. Rain in the forecast. Dance in the puddles, sing in the rain with complete abandonment and then bring it on home to the finish line. Only 17...you can do it.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">My top three: Casey, James and Jacob.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">My bottom three: Scotty, Haley and Stefano<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Bookman Old Style"">My exit vote: <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Haley – for no particular reason except it’s time. <o:p></o:p></span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-76003257079997143962011-04-13T22:04:00.000-07:002011-04-13T22:08:34.940-07:00American Idol Top Eight<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">First, the Pia drama and the judges tears. At this point a great voice isn’t the key. It’s the yes-factor. Jennifer and Steven are rookie judges. Bring your hankies. It’s a tough job. Lesson learned; don’t crown a winner before the contest ends.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on"><span style="font-family:Georgia">America</span></st1:place></st1:country-region><span style="font-family:Georgia"> got it right. Good voice, over-rated and over-praised by the judges, the connection was not there. To elevate Pia to the ranks of the best in the business diminished Pia as Pia. She is not Celine. She’s also a rookie. Call it as it is. She’s Pia with a road to pave.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Now to this week’s Movie Night.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Paul – I enjoy your voice when my eyes are closed. Probably good for the radio but the Woody moves distract. Get your marionette strings in order and use them to showcase. Go see <i>Toy Story.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Lauren – You’re already on the other side. Climb higher, climb on.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Stefano – Yes, yes and yes! You have magnetism, charisma and animation. Finally, out of the shadow of the crowned Pia, you shine. Go for it!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Scotty – I disagree with Steven. Note, he never says a negative word. The vocals were off and I’m sorry, you can’t take on <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">George</st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Strait</st1:placename></st1:place>. Only accentuated your immaturity and weaknesses. Go sip a taste of humility. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Casey – Jazz-King. I’m so glad to witness your birth and know you’ll be around for a long time. Can’t wait to hear you ripen into your fullness. Awesome.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Haley – Shake it up. Too much like prior performances. Didn’t like much.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Jacob – Lay me down, brother, lay me down. I’ll be there for you.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">James – Heavy man, heavy. Not my thing but you did your thing well.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">My top five for this week: Casey, James, Jacob, Lauren and Stefano <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">My exit vote goes to Paul. And yours…<o:p></o:p></span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-86605037831767175582011-04-06T22:28:00.000-07:002011-04-06T22:35:37.046-07:00American Idol Top Nine<div style="text-align: left;">Let me quit rocking and start the talking…I think I lost a pound dancing on the ceiling. Oh wait; it’s not Lionel Richie night. My brain is pooped trying to figure out if I’ve ever seen the rain on a sunny day?</div> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Ten years and it just gets better. By far, this is the best season. How does one choose? At this point, it becomes more than voice. Attitude, body movements, stage presence, and most importantly, would I attend a concert? When I close my eyes can I feel the music?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Tonight’s take -</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Jacob – Terrific vocals and tamed a bit. Not sure the * doing the nasty* comment was a good choice. I rather like the *nasty*.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Haley – Moving in the right direction. You are in your element with your raspy growl.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Casey – Love the attitude adjustment and the willingness to learn, listen and deliver. Still a big contender.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Lauren – Oh girl, you are a woman and in my circle of top five. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">James – Pure honest emotion. Always look forward to your moment. Looking forward to the Steven Tyler and James Durbin performance at the finale.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Scotty – Wow the girls, win the boys. Maturity beyond seventeen. You have it all for tonight. Another circle goes to the Southern flavor.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Pia – Grates. No, no, not great. Grate.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Stefano – Somehow the Broadway persona is back. Not a bad thing but maybe not an American Idol winner. I’ll miss you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Paul – Oh man, can we wind you up and watch you go again? Consider your name circled. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">For tonight my top five: Casey, James, Scotty, Lauren and Paul</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">My exit vote: Stefano or Pia</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">And yours…. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-5407866444440855402011-04-04T12:59:00.000-07:002011-04-04T13:30:59.292-07:00Come Together Columnist and Blogger<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Okay, you attended the February 2011 <a href="http://www.sfwriters.org/">SF Writers Conference</a> and you’re packing for the <a href="http://www.blogworldexpo.com/">BlogWorld</a> Expo. Over and over you hear the message: network, network and network. You exchange business cards and rub shoulders with career-building individuals. Names are scribbled on napkins and tucked inside shirt pockets. Perhaps you even laugh over cocktails with a Board Member of the <a href="http://www.columnists.com/">National Society of Newspaper Columnists</a> and you just know you’re in the right place.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Now’s the time to reach into that arsenal, revisit the connection and network. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Often a Columnist and Blogger work alone. Some days the cubicle isn’t enough and the need to share with like-minds is crucial.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We want a sense of community and camaraderie; we search for individuals who think like us; we gain strength when we come together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Why not join a professional organization designed just for someone like you? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">NSNC Membership Board Member and freelance columnist, <a href="http://www.cynthiaborris.com/">Cynthia Borris</a>, encourages you to explore the benefits associated with the National Society of Newspaper Columnists. While the annual membership fee is low the perks are high. Beyond the tee-shirt, free promotion for books is just one of the benefits.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Cynthia finds it doesn’t matter if you write for the New York Times, Chicago Sun or on one-ply toilet tissue for a backwoods weekly, you’re all NSNC family. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Yes, we understand. Newspapers are a dying field. That’s why it’s important to move forward into a new tomorrow. Recapture your audience, redefine your journalistic career and embrace a new media. Offline and online. Columnist and Blogger. Together.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Ignite with the spark of like-minds: <a href="http://www.davebarry.com/">Dave Barry</a>, <a href="http://www.adogspurpose.com/">Bruce Cameron</a>, <a href="http://www.latimes.com/news/columnists/la-columnist-slopez,0,7768178.columnist">Steve Lopez</a>, <a href="http://www.bykofsky.com/">Stu Bykofsky</a>, <a href="http://www.heloise.com/">Heloise</a>, SF Bay Area columnists Cameron Sullivan, L.J. Anderson and more. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Join fellow members in <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Detroit</st1:city></st1:place> as we <a href="http://www.columnists.com/?p=8668">Rebound in Motown</a>. Share your new releases and special columns. Learn how to rebound and regain your voice. Bask in the Hospitality Suite. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Cynthia welcomes your questions: <a href="mailto:Cynthiaborris@gmail.com">Cynthiaborris@gmail.com</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:dotted windowtext 3.0pt; padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:dotted windowtext 3.0pt; padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;color:black">Cynthia Borris is the author of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1414011458/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=creativeene0f-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1414011458">No More Bobs</a>, a frequent <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Chicken Soup for the Soul</i> contributor and freelance columnist. A seasoned volunteer for the SF Writers Conference, she invites you to visit her site for <a href="http://www.cynthiaborris.com/">The Wicked Sense of Humor Sampler</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-27457480027459049472011-03-30T23:10:00.000-07:002011-03-30T23:15:26.681-07:00American Idol Top 11 Again<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia; ">Well according to the judges, it was an amazing evening. Not sure I agree with the verbiage but there were outstanding notes and praise to mask the shrill ones.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">My take for the night:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Scotty – Down in the basement notes excel. Attic has leaks in the roof. Needs work.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Naima – An original and quirky. Same thing, new tune old sound.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Paul – Love the softer side and control. Enhances and rocketed you to a new level.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Pia – Perhaps a dose of Casey humility is in order. Still not a buyer. Something’s missing. Not inching up the staircase.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Stefano – So glad to see you step away from the Broadway theatrics and move out of your element. Great job!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Lauren – Are you <a href="http://www.carrieunderwoodofficial.com/us/home">Carrie Underwood’s</a> little sister? Grammy sound good? Like Hockey?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">James – Still chartered for the winner. Confident, steps it up, humor. Commands the stage. You got it all.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Jacob – <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Redefines soulful. He’s so full of soul and emotion; he’s spent at the end of a performance. You reeled it in and tamed the drama.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Casey – Redheads rock! Redemption equals humility. You wear it perfectly and wrapped it around our heart. Good call on the haircut and a shave. Framed your face, added maturity to accent the humility. You’ll be back just not the unruly curls.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Thia – Daniel’s traveling tonight on a plane but he’s not alone. Thia’s at his side waving goodbye.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Haley – Lost in the moment. Can’t ask for more.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">My exit votes go to:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia">Thia and Namia. And yours…<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Georgia"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-72015067231518022242011-03-24T10:56:00.000-07:002011-03-24T11:37:19.775-07:00American Idol 11<div style="text-align: left;">After a long day, I settled in for an energized night of Motown tunes. With my note pad ready, I jotted down eleven numbers and waited for the hour to unfold. Like any good scorekeeper, I have a rhythm to my markings.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFbxL2NYVGrQjDoiMPzCbB87s_Vk8CY9T_B0XJB9p7d3TV9cBHM_mYdm34y2VIblUkMuZf9mmaaAwJ46wGPHmtvuPlDu5_ydupbOFpa1wy_qZQ_7Wkbd0kUZPB59lXVUhSvkDJxwMjJzk/s1600/note_guys_singing_backup_hg_clr.gif"></a> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Number followed by name:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <ul style="margin-top:0in" type="disc"> <li class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Check mark for a vote. </span></li> <li class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Line through name means contestant is scratched for the night. No vote. </span></li> <li class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Circled name is high on the list and gets multiple votes.</span></li> </ul> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">At the end of the show last night, I studied my chart. Little to no markings. Not a single scratch. That’s good. Or not. Six checks and one circle. Not a single wow moment. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Maybe it was me. Maybe it was the singers. Maybe it just wasn’t a stellar night. I didn’t get in the groove, mood or anywhere in between.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">I chalked this theme week to ho-hum and based my decision on which singer would I pay to see. Who captured my visual senses and moved me along the stage and beyond?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">My take on an evening that didn’t make the cut:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Casey – again you delivered the goods. Soulful vibes ignite from the tips of your toes to the untamed curl in your beard. Excellent.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Thia – <i>Heat Wave</i>. Perhaps in a few years when you know the heat, but this wasn’t the right choice. A young soul with an old song. Too theatrical. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Lauren - a fresh air of youth</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Jacob – my one circle and side note: All The Way! Each word was caressed, massaged and in control. Can I package this man and take him home?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Stefano – You selected one of my favorite songs. Can’t believe you’ve never heard it before? <i>Hello</i> is rich with emotion. Slow it down on the retake and send <a href="http://www.lionelrichie.com/">Lionel Richie</a> a bottle of Scotch. Or better yet your Mama with dinner. Study your tape, slow-mo, rewind and get out of your box. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Haley – You go girl! Redemption. A song performed with complete abandonment and hunger. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Scotty – Not sure of your comfort level beyond the basement note. The South will rise and vote but not the West Coast. Take it up and work it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Pia – Humility will enhance your performance. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Paul – Still pitchy but who cares. The voice of <a href="http://www.rodstewart.com/us/home">Rod Stewart</a> with the charisma of <a href="http://www.kennyloggins.com/">Kenny Loggins</a>. The guitar is a great partner. Now swivel like Rod and bring it deeper. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Naima – Spirited, entertaining, joyful but ditch the dance.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">James – What can I say to my Santa Cruz guy? You capture the audience and every week step up the delivery. It’s going to be awesome to watch you, Jacob and Casey spar towards the finale. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Based on the singer I’d pay to see or not, my exit vote for tonight is:</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Thia </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-46743132392668222672011-03-17T12:10:00.000-07:002011-03-17T13:28:22.291-07:00American Idol 12<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXcW_bNvlGYkvYJhj0ue-UFtXowjAiNctQZAnDMO3tsZ9pzVgCmlVuF9xsrlUZkF57NJsV4Eiks1FY-r6uKzxl49vuiuqs-IhuJ8iy02x-yRGqwmG3pec55r7OQ5qXEc7yQETHay3FoU/s1600/note_guys_singing_backup_hg_clr.png"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcXcW_bNvlGYkvYJhj0ue-UFtXowjAiNctQZAnDMO3tsZ9pzVgCmlVuF9xsrlUZkF57NJsV4Eiks1FY-r6uKzxl49vuiuqs-IhuJ8iy02x-yRGqwmG3pec55r7OQ5qXEc7yQETHay3FoU/s320/note_guys_singing_backup_hg_clr.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5585131457256298802" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" >A<span class="Apple-style-span">nd then there were twelve…<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" >All you have to do is watch the body language of the judges. Heads bobbling, bodies swaying, rhythm igniting from a deep place, lips singing in unison and you know the contestant is in the moment.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" >With the judges stoic, backs erect and smiles fixed that contestant might as well pack up on stage and move on. Psychology 101.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">So after studying the facial expressions and rock in the seat judge’s movements, I add my own take to the Top 12 and sing adios… </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">James has winner marked all over my paper.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Naima was way off but I think she'll make it through. Quirky.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Thia, Thia, Thia...great voice. Wrong competition. No apologies after the fact. You know we don’t want ballads. Perhaps Disney?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Paul tamed the marionette movements. Woody gained a string! Gorgeous smile but hasn’t tapped into my soul with staying power.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Haley – a free-spirit not willing to commit.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Stefano – Wow-factor. Traces of Michael Buble. Loves his Mama. Tony Danza energy. Charisma.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Pia soars to the high note but still I’m not a buyer.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "><span class="Apple-style-span" >Scotty – out of the lower range not as strong.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Karen – out of her league.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Casey – unstoppable, crazy-dude. Let’s hear it for the redhead.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Lauren – a caterpillar ready to emerge from the cocoon. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); "> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); ">Jacob - Croon me a Peabo Bryson song. “If Ever You’re in my Arms again…</span></span><span>” and I’m sold.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span>My exit for tonight is a female. It’s a simple elimination. If you’re female, you’re in danger and the process will take place over the next several weeks. The men outshine and out maneuver every note.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span>Tonight I’ll toss the weakest links: Haley, Karen and Thia and my exit for tonight is Haley.</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" >Subject to change my current top five: Casey, Jacob, James, Stefano and Lauren.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" >And you....?</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" ><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops:5.0in"><span style="font-size:11.0pt; font-family:Tahoma"><br /></span></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-1959976074230626452011-03-10T12:12:00.000-08:002011-03-10T12:47:37.468-08:00American Idol 13Okay, I admit. I'm an Idoler. A seasoned <a href="http://www.americanidol.com/">American Idoler</a>.<div> <div>I reeled over the <a href="http://www.daughtryofficial.com/us/node/556873">Chris Daughtry</a> elimination. Gasped with the Taylor Hicks win. Celebrated the <a href="http://www.davidcookofficial.com/us/home">David Cook</a> moment.</div><div><div>With the outstanding talent this year, I'm up for the challenge to pick the best.</div><div>Randy, Jennifer and Steven did a great job weeding through shrill notes, sour faces, off-key auditions, and foul gestures to present the public with 13 viable contestants.</div><div>For me, it's easier to say today who I feel is going home, than project a season winner.</div><div>After the March 9 show, I believe Thia may go home. This is a difficult as she's a local Bay Area girl with a tremendous voice and I like supporting a hometown contestant. While her youth should be her biggest advantage - sparkle, energy and vibrancy - it's her biggest disadvantage.</div><div>The kid in Thia appears lost. Go play, have fun and be a teenager. Come back a young spirit and cast the old soul. Hum the words to your song and you'll get by. Smile.</div><div>Although a favorite, Paul's cut-string marionette moves distract from the experience. Remember AI, it's all in the package. Perhaps, tie a bow or ribbon on Paul to keep him in one place. As I try to recover from vertigo, Paul drops to sixth place on my list.</div><div>Haley? Not sure I like yodel but it was done well.</div><div>My top five choices are Casey, James, Stefano, Jacob and Scotty. For today....and yours?</div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-54913351458961493652011-02-28T14:08:00.000-08:002011-02-28T14:35:43.751-08:00Get Your Oscar On<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYoQMbxscsFoEm3P2TWSsMIGVvgBe3sCtRYW1tcHIGkcuY9-Fn9WZa4GDPhEAS3pI8X0H_q6kxylUS-CSR_NbJ0mHMJb2bsJKOPaiQAII1if6wwiGDnnOa3qncpdxJdVu9kHQ0V1vj7k/s1600/award.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 248px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFYoQMbxscsFoEm3P2TWSsMIGVvgBe3sCtRYW1tcHIGkcuY9-Fn9WZa4GDPhEAS3pI8X0H_q6kxylUS-CSR_NbJ0mHMJb2bsJKOPaiQAII1if6wwiGDnnOa3qncpdxJdVu9kHQ0V1vj7k/s320/award.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578872725224486882" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">Get Your Oscar On</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s Award season. You have the red carpet walk down, a night out on the town outfit in your closet that still fits, and your acceptance speech memorized. Why not grab the award and make the night yours and enter the <a href="http://www.columnists.com/">National Society of Newspaper Columnists annual column contest</a>?</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Like the artists honored by the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">Academy</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename st="on">Awards</st1:placename></st1:place>, you have a library of work. Your voice is not on the big screen but the painter of words. You are a writer, a columnist, a blogger. Your voice is read. Like the Oscar artist, the writer, the columnist and the blogger are also honored with awards.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Your award may be just around the corner but you’ll never know unless you thumb through your 2010 collection of work and submit the best of the best for consideration. Today.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Deadline to enter the <a href="http://www.columnists.com/">National Society of Newspaper Columnists</a> annual contest is March 15, 2011. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now may just be your year to walk the *red carpet*, pull that crinkled thank-you speech out of your pocket and make that award yours at the NSNC annual <a href="http://www.columnists.com/">Detroit conference </a>June 23-26, 2011.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p>Prestige, great friends, superb hospitality suite. Terrific speakers, columnists and journalistic community.</o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It’s time to get away from the computer, revisit your columns and enter. The time is now…</p><p class="MsoNormal">Cynthia Borris, NSNC Membership Chair </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5628818071906616623.post-40298525829878509582011-02-22T14:22:00.000-08:002011-02-23T14:44:16.518-08:00We Border on a New Day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIGOhMe6x31DI4xRtqfbEKFpb2AF339k_iWcc2JjYZN6bLCfwyiry-JYij_Twzoqs0PQr3d6TXWtR0ae4JF_9XG9uAUvzT5lJlZce76G-j1TVx0vKczS70OoIo04aoe6QgaBK2koPU6A/s1600/February+2011+080.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIGOhMe6x31DI4xRtqfbEKFpb2AF339k_iWcc2JjYZN6bLCfwyiry-JYij_Twzoqs0PQr3d6TXWtR0ae4JF_9XG9uAUvzT5lJlZce76G-j1TVx0vKczS70OoIo04aoe6QgaBK2koPU6A/s320/February+2011+080.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5576740941328681314" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; "><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'; ">Draped across the storefront the oversized banner beacons - Store Closing.</span><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">One more time around, I circle the parking lot. Resigned to a long walk, I pull into a stall and reconsider. Do I really want to go to Borders today? Is there anything there that I need? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Silent, I study the people. Moms, dads, women with strollers, men in wheelchairs, children, couples hand-in-hand all on a direct course to the entrance, unfettered in their goal, and the answer is clear. Yes, I need to go to Borders. Today.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">I note the customary guidelines. All sales final. No checks. 20-40% off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A meager discount at best. No big deal.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Yet the people keep coming.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">“What’s up with this?” a man asks, “Out of business?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">I nod yes and sigh.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">“My wife and I are just waiting to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Black Swan </i>at the Cinema next door<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> </i>.” His stature gives him a good focal point as he sizes up the crowd. “We had no idea.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">“You’ll like <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Black Swan</i>.” I offer, lost in observation of the impending change. No more movies, Applebee's drinks and late nights at Borders. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">He eases into a gentle banter and says, “I wanted to see <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">True Grit</i> but the wife…” He shrugs with consignment, “Ballerinas.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Ah yes, poor man, I strive to redirect his perception and not give away the plot. “It’s about mental illness.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Brows furrow, his night just worsened.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">“Great sex,” I spice up the prospect and walk on. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Yes, I will miss movie night and the Border chatter I note as I relocate to the New Release section.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>While I thumb through the latest New York Best Seller, a face peers between the racks. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">My new friend’s beard tickles the top edge of Dean Koontz as he shares, “I usually watch the Christian channel. Do you think, that, maybe---?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">My sense is that conflict is now part of movie night.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">I look to the left, to the right. With no wife in sight, I purse my lips along the book spines and propose, “You can close one eye.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Satisfied, he taps the tickets in his pocket and perks up.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">In truth, I know temptation will win and he’ll keep both eyes open. Wide open.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">I shut the book, place it back on the rack and pause. A palatable energy is in the room. This is more than a bookstore. It’s a place of community.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Soon, I understand. This isn’t about a good bargain. There are none to be found. It’s a wake. An honor. A rite of passage. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Weaving in and out of the rows like a confused hamster, an older gentleman ponders, “Where’s the end of the line?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">I point towards the back end of the building. Grateful, he scurries to the distant wall. Nearby, I take a head count.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Over sixty patrons stand in wait. The line extends to the far corner of the Children’s section and beyond. With each transaction, they creep in unison.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">No one orchestrates the movement. There is no employee directing customers to the back of the line. There are no ropes or rails to mark the path. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">There are no borders. The way is clear. Forward. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">No fights, grumbles or cut-in-line crashers. Patience is the virtue of the hour.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">More than a moment, it’s a chance to share with a stranger behind you, in front of you and on the side, the memories, the moments and the sadness; an understanding of the finality - that the opportunity to meet at this location is no more. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">“Borders may be dead, but books are not,” I say to a thirty-something customer, excited with the possibilities of the possibilities. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">“I love books. I love to read.” His answer resonates through the crowd as he shuffles one step closer to his all-sales-are-final purchase. He has no doubt. His purchase is final. It is more than a sale. It’s a tribute. A statement. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Yes, I needed to go to Borders today. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">As an author, I’m ecstatic. As a patron, I’m part of a movement. As a person, I am better for the experience. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Perhaps, this was Borders failure. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Doomed in the end by a word. One word. Borders. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">There are no borders on creativity, imagination and the people connection.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Renewed in spirit, I trace a paperback with my fingertip. Hello old friend. Close to my face, I breathe in the familiar smell and flip the pages so the breeze gently feathers my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The energy of the written word embraces my spirit. Powerful images created by the sculptor of beginnings, middles and ends.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">With a final glance, I thread through the customers still browsing the racks and memorize the scene.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Yes, Borders may be dead in the San Francisco Bay Area but books are alive in the wake.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">We border on a new day without Borders.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua""><o:p>***************************************************************************************************************** </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Cynthia Ballard Borris, author No More Bobs and humor columnist<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Book Antiqua"">Copyrighted 2-21-11<o:p></o:p></span></p></div>Cynthiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00861809449530709429noreply@blogger.com1