tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15671028609352739202024-03-13T17:09:58.661-07:00scratching on papersome thoughts on motherhood, marriage, learning to love my own face in the mirror, wondering about the lady in the tangerine coat in the bean aisle at the market, writing - the usual suspects.Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.comBlogger918125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-9472031600846909642024-02-29T12:20:00.000-08:002024-02-29T13:23:32.505-08:00Like a Human Feather<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2vNnT2xeBFBJG_kQDeuQieLJJkden6S0ht5lzggnZ2vHmTlv1TRpo_lMMAiKQMUhpo7psXmz0wXGRG2xPoEEhMqQCie2H_ogyZrg9apzxnr85ibdvF3H_jaamUFH8mgpI8wTDTUZXXc3wX_0hHPFQZxvOIaiQdIKac8oYcSteW1_W8ysR_QtbNNcVmqt/s640/LEAP.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO2vNnT2xeBFBJG_kQDeuQieLJJkden6S0ht5lzggnZ2vHmTlv1TRpo_lMMAiKQMUhpo7psXmz0wXGRG2xPoEEhMqQCie2H_ogyZrg9apzxnr85ibdvF3H_jaamUFH8mgpI8wTDTUZXXc3wX_0hHPFQZxvOIaiQdIKac8oYcSteW1_W8ysR_QtbNNcVmqt/s320/LEAP.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">February 29, 2024</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span>What I mean by leap</span> </b><span>is being on the edge of a cliff, being one of those people wearing a flying squirrel outfit, arms spread wide. Leaping catching the wind currents, flying. </span><span>And somehow, </span></span><span><span style="font-family: times;">miraculously n</span><span style="font-family: times;">ot plunging to the hard rocky ground below.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span>What I mean by leap</span> </b><span>is that game, </span><i>leap frog. </i>O<span>ne person squatting down and another, gently putting their hands on the back of the crouching person and hopping, </span><i>leaping, </i><span>over them. Then </span><i>that frog </i><span>jumping up and repeating the hop/leap. And on and on. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b><span>What I mean by leap</span> </b><span>is that saying, </span><i>Leap and the net will appear. </i><span>This reminds me of a teacher staff development I went to years ago. It was one of those trust building/ropes courses. I remember</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span> being up on a platform looking down at a group of people in two rows facing each other, arms locked together like a ladder on its side. I was supposed to turn around and fall back into their human net of arms. In those days, </span>(and sometimes still)<span> I felt the other shoe was going to drop any minute so trusting people to catch me was questionable. </span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">Everyone was smiling up at me, waiting. Some part of me said, okay and I turned around, took a breath, and fell back like a kid in deep snow about to make a snow angel. I landed in arms that held me. </span><span style="font-family: times;">No shoes had dropped. </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">Just me, like a human feather.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">One more thing from that day. My other mission was to climb up a pole, another ladder-type thing, walk across a log, thirty feet up, to the other side. I was hooked to a safety rope, maybe wearing a helmet too. I can still see myself <i>pleading </i>with David, our soft-spoken leader, that </span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">I didn't think I could do it. </span><span style="font-family: times;">I was a person riddled with anxiety pretty much every day. It had</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">inhabited me and wouldn't leave. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">David looked me in the eye and said, "I hear you. Trust me. Start climbing."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">I climbed and walked across the log high up in the air. My human net people were smiling up at me, again. </span><span style="font-family: times;">I remember, vividly in my body, as I write this - walking across the log high up in the air and making it to the other side. A shoe didn't drop. I didn't hit the hard ground. And, as soon as I was b</span><span style="font-family: times;">ack on the ground, I wanted to do it again.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> I was the kid, jumping off the edge of the pool landing safely in my father's arms. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">I remember that. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Just doing it. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>Leaping.</b></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">This past month, maybe longer, I've been feeling a restlessness to leap. I have zero idea what that means. I can't force it, or figure it out. I don't know. All in right time.</span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I do know this, for sure. You won't find me in squirrel gear on the edge of a cliff. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Namaste, lovelies.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">XO Bets</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4-fpH4gbql9u5nxbGU0pFKb80getrVRiV1eNCLR1WhuDf5CzPPA4GomyYtFYC9fBYlCLncKkVMUBnbz79FDzKa8dOWTn7SIpzm0POIDoUtZXDy1V3aEX7Ed-PZogn8Bepa-WUk7JOr3_xfz3WC4r1m5AmZ2U1Zc-s37QNeD9JdRKq2Ry4YEEhJblS-Nf/s2048/IMG_0475.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1530" data-original-width="2048" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4-fpH4gbql9u5nxbGU0pFKb80getrVRiV1eNCLR1WhuDf5CzPPA4GomyYtFYC9fBYlCLncKkVMUBnbz79FDzKa8dOWTn7SIpzm0POIDoUtZXDy1V3aEX7Ed-PZogn8Bepa-WUk7JOr3_xfz3WC4r1m5AmZ2U1Zc-s37QNeD9JdRKq2Ry4YEEhJblS-Nf/s320/IMG_0475.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-4004402188616814572023-12-24T18:00:00.000-08:002023-12-24T18:07:17.817-08:00like a bowling ball<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TcWe3uJMGYaHNjU4Zy7i7ZBhOaxgRCqENj8b1agLcY0H9HeCId2VlgX930Kplq-IBL4PD3EMtX9YogNrP9vUc-Y1L_T7QYLcR-7OxowS0iW1j5yMVdFFGu_XuFlgdq9ZhawtL9NDo21dFM5Jd3euX8lxD4UG_2hwzYnWr4ZZRPQb4VD94bb_bb5Zb9wq/s1845/IMG_1903.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1331" data-original-width="1845" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8TcWe3uJMGYaHNjU4Zy7i7ZBhOaxgRCqENj8b1agLcY0H9HeCId2VlgX930Kplq-IBL4PD3EMtX9YogNrP9vUc-Y1L_T7QYLcR-7OxowS0iW1j5yMVdFFGu_XuFlgdq9ZhawtL9NDo21dFM5Jd3euX8lxD4UG_2hwzYnWr4ZZRPQb4VD94bb_bb5Zb9wq/w400-h289/IMG_1903.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">December 24 • 2023 🎄</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>We had homemade cookies for breakfast + might have more delicious carrot cake for dinner since today is Michael's birthday, <span style="font-family: courier;">our Christmas Eve baby.</span> </span><span>On top of carrots, the cake has raisins and nuts and all kinds of nutritious things. 🙃 Claire has been baking all weekend and there's more to come tomorrow. </span><i>Sticky buns w/ mimosas?</i><span> I will officially be a weeble by the end of the holiday season, rolling around like a bowling ball, or something like that. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">•. •. •. •. •. •. •. • •. •. •. • •. • • • •. •</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">⛄️ 🎄 ♥️</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b>XO b</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><br /></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-74438695338088825462023-12-23T16:38:00.000-08:002023-12-23T16:38:47.872-08:00may we be ~<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoHiRCBpticQvBe7HXVaYTmpxHSfC5DfSVkuNU5CBtZbRUjNoW_QCrW3MQvCzZ5PAdh99GKfJ5IydBVxnhkJM1IAjUTlmM6CFsEKRWY8nhE5oIGYZb-iFkZk5xcinZdpMs_tiWY9RL27bSXzsJ-zor_9z4DdGEhsDky3ZReD-8xMaebc1Z7yrcdha1CQX/s2016/Christmas%20tags.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidoHiRCBpticQvBe7HXVaYTmpxHSfC5DfSVkuNU5CBtZbRUjNoW_QCrW3MQvCzZ5PAdh99GKfJ5IydBVxnhkJM1IAjUTlmM6CFsEKRWY8nhE5oIGYZb-iFkZk5xcinZdpMs_tiWY9RL27bSXzsJ-zor_9z4DdGEhsDky3ZReD-8xMaebc1Z7yrcdha1CQX/s320/Christmas%20tags.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">December 23 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm happy + tired + out of words for today. But this came to me as I sat staring at my screen. It's what I say at the end of all my writing/yoga workshops/ retreats. Whenever I say it, either quietly to myself, or out loud, my shoulders drop and face softens on the exhale. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">May we be happy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">May we be healthy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">May we be peaceful.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">May we live with ease.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">Peace and blessings to you and your families</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">+ this sweet beautiful old earth.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">Namaste.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>xo b</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_GBEmOjsl6ZNC_KnrIGbbsnupWeSiQ6tGsRVCVzdUyP56wUXB9-Ju_FKGHX3r7hj2ZmQZziLktiRysmiy4tpG33ekadJEqWlQs8gO3LiBgeoU8o54VMw6qUEMnx79RX6DsgDvo-Nf3_NkTVT8DHBLs3NBbsgMcLwJpW0tDA-EcLBh10wqGjEfDs5n6R3/s1388/Betsy%20in%20zinc%20bucket.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB_GBEmOjsl6ZNC_KnrIGbbsnupWeSiQ6tGsRVCVzdUyP56wUXB9-Ju_FKGHX3r7hj2ZmQZziLktiRysmiy4tpG33ekadJEqWlQs8gO3LiBgeoU8o54VMw6qUEMnx79RX6DsgDvo-Nf3_NkTVT8DHBLs3NBbsgMcLwJpW0tDA-EcLBh10wqGjEfDs5n6R3/w173-h200/Betsy%20in%20zinc%20bucket.JPG" width="173" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><b><br /></b></span><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-30393484166034960512023-12-22T15:54:00.000-08:002023-12-22T16:14:41.802-08:00first of the season<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwPtp2-MSd3kdvoVKo7ofAy18kXJGjNT7c26ZIiqVqskBjIlKpdr-yLch3X8tIk4jv5fidTha8IWLiGxa8t7PLWc9fDdyL8PuQuE4Tn3ypVbw0IbS9NWwVbjArpoKbi0NRJNWrQaHLjUpZitHbDNAkwW34EO-soV9kTlqrRMpGj6ij-Iw_6WoM69mdcy5/s2016/IMG_1893.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwPtp2-MSd3kdvoVKo7ofAy18kXJGjNT7c26ZIiqVqskBjIlKpdr-yLch3X8tIk4jv5fidTha8IWLiGxa8t7PLWc9fDdyL8PuQuE4Tn3ypVbw0IbS9NWwVbjArpoKbi0NRJNWrQaHLjUpZitHbDNAkwW34EO-soV9kTlqrRMpGj6ij-Iw_6WoM69mdcy5/s320/IMG_1893.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /> </span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 22 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span>What a happy surprise to see this first bloom on our camellia bush when I stepped outside this morning. </span><span>Camellias are called the Q</span><i>ueens of the winter flowers </i><span>+ we are lucky to have a bush next to our front steps.</span><i> </i><span>I didn't know much about them until moving to California and our first winter here. </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">I learned more about camellias and other native plants from a beautiful place called Descanso Gardens. Descanso Gardens has an abundant<i> </i></span><span><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Camellia Collection</i> </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">and is one of the loveliest places to walk through in January/February when the camellias are in bloom. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">If you ever find yourself out this way, no matter the time of year, I invite you to visit this sanctuary. After </span><span style="font-family: times;">meandering through the gardens and forests, </span><span style="font-family: times;">I always leave feeling washed clean of my worries and other nonsense. </span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Thank you, Mother Nature. 🌞</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Until you come west, you can check it out here:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.descansogardens.org/gardens-and-collections/explore-the-gardens/camellia-collection/" target="_blank">https://www.descansogardens.org/gardens-and-collections/explore-the-gardens/camellia-collection/</a></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> XO b</span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-18311616702077905032023-12-21T16:02:00.000-08:002023-12-21T16:06:50.115-08:00sign me up<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPqtpqpOyVXRlUDX9x3VmD5-5pkZNEliVIoa-ModcboTYV7tz9nAufLqZTcqfmpSKUdBvi1D_2lljJbjClagRc2rrj9Eb7t3vGoajsou1_isu5MQ8ynJFa35xOxdLTK5KzHaRZQ2QEfVIQcW8fos8hGyC8hRDvKYvRy_jKXlNTcq1BB1VlQ1YcCk1ko20/s1062/A%20Mouse%20House%20by%20Richard%20Scarry.png" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1062" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPqtpqpOyVXRlUDX9x3VmD5-5pkZNEliVIoa-ModcboTYV7tz9nAufLqZTcqfmpSKUdBvi1D_2lljJbjClagRc2rrj9Eb7t3vGoajsou1_isu5MQ8ynJFa35xOxdLTK5KzHaRZQ2QEfVIQcW8fos8hGyC8hRDvKYvRy_jKXlNTcq1BB1VlQ1YcCk1ko20/s320/A%20Mouse%20House%20by%20Richard%20Scarry.png" width="226" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: times;">December 21 • 2023</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's officially winter and here in Los Angeles, a dark, rainy day. After some grading for my winter course, a trip to the library and Trader Joe's, I am a cozy mouse, curled up under a blanket on my bed. A pile of books on Michael's side. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Daisy the dog sleeping by the bedroom door. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Michael made a big pot of chicken soup last night for dinner. Happy knowing we'll be having a second helping tonight. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">Nothing to do, nowhere to go. </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">Watching the rain. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Quiet. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Much is written about winter being a time to rest and reflect, go within. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Slow down. 🐌 </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Sign me up.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>xo b</b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSjKAMwBf-Uhlj93bHI9A-29IBAT1hgvsrzoaTMk_Orx5pmndIFzudhDjbIPvG93VUVsJoH19Lr3sqAznR6_vFfyuw8JkJFZmn5gCc_NRr2ESHBxsHmZL_WlXbC7cK7Ew5E5FUfbDFiVnyjPAwkmimu-p5XcdAqHD3Rs0xaAKjoYvRLZsBvloobPFfr_Vj/w150-h200/68964724674__F6D4A979-91EB-4F95-8075-EC55B81DE9EA.jpg" width="150" /></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p><br /></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-44752202519156571732023-12-20T15:40:00.000-08:002023-12-20T15:43:13.678-08:00what shall we plant?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDWETv2khOWseMurZ6yiOd5R_HnBb8eHypZTx9BOar2BR0C155pit2bSVJ8Lc4nIdysEYB4rIBZ04BPjeMptsfi_X8vuKURSpnDtsxh42rcjBN-quzz3SquF02z0GjSVVCGcaKB6Avf-YJI3Sn5gDaE4jxB5CO_mF1hxxDtzu2myuIj6eznJiigM8G4vO/s320/bulbs%20and%20word%20seeds.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDWETv2khOWseMurZ6yiOd5R_HnBb8eHypZTx9BOar2BR0C155pit2bSVJ8Lc4nIdysEYB4rIBZ04BPjeMptsfi_X8vuKURSpnDtsxh42rcjBN-quzz3SquF02z0GjSVVCGcaKB6Avf-YJI3Sn5gDaE4jxB5CO_mF1hxxDtzu2myuIj6eznJiigM8G4vO/w300-h400/bulbs%20and%20word%20seeds.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 20 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I'm thinking about the hundreds of bulbs I planted in our yard back in Pennsylvania. Every year I'd be a bit behind, but always managed to find a few days in December when the ground was wet and soft enough to get them in the ground. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Always daffodils and tulips, +</span><span> some prayers for the new year.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">What shall we plant this year? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The world needs so much light. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">So much peace and love. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • •. • •. • •. •. • • •</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4k_dTGIQuY_OsNsD-ipTlw22jfDJnO_sYGz0agNO-B_r6l37Dh-Y-CIhWR4OPHNcskxo602bG0XFcQ_RNGkuuHnkjmTiM_eSjnzefOGmgsLWxrbKN3j9rVYhktiaP34rajFk5n7muWNRWPSu4nHT06KkyQqarwvYA3taYZYJ2ou1gW_omx62l-KwR_5n/s640/Daffodils%20copy.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4k_dTGIQuY_OsNsD-ipTlw22jfDJnO_sYGz0agNO-B_r6l37Dh-Y-CIhWR4OPHNcskxo602bG0XFcQ_RNGkuuHnkjmTiM_eSjnzefOGmgsLWxrbKN3j9rVYhktiaP34rajFk5n7muWNRWPSu4nHT06KkyQqarwvYA3taYZYJ2ou1gW_omx62l-KwR_5n/s320/Daffodils%20copy.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">XO B</span></p><p><br /></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-20829472041932502392023-12-19T16:16:00.000-08:002023-12-19T16:50:38.465-08:00in memory<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2rz36sKaKyLt9YQNY_sPca9izDyeAqc1hrpEDhVccPvo70t3XAzQXmf1SXaLk_hQvGzFEIcvgF1KOrYUWptdwmoQnQ2S6d0A83U0EF2OMsGrLoaNHM77EjudqkmCD-pjPrb7ufxKsS9c62trP67xRPYZCMvVilKsMrvD-m9DKedib4jSGJ8QcqlOF82B/s2016/ANGELS.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2rz36sKaKyLt9YQNY_sPca9izDyeAqc1hrpEDhVccPvo70t3XAzQXmf1SXaLk_hQvGzFEIcvgF1KOrYUWptdwmoQnQ2S6d0A83U0EF2OMsGrLoaNHM77EjudqkmCD-pjPrb7ufxKsS9c62trP67xRPYZCMvVilKsMrvD-m9DKedib4jSGJ8QcqlOF82B/w400-h300/ANGELS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">December 19 • 2023</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">This tiny band of angels go back to childhood winters in Delaware. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">My brothers and I sledding down South Road on our flexible flyers, hooting all the way to the bottom. Everything else still and quiet, muffled in pillows of white snow.</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span> </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Snowsuits, wet mittens, snow angels.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I don't know the origin of the angels except they were my mother's and now they live with me. I can hold the lot of them in one hand: the one with the cymbals, a coronet player, the flutist with one broken wing, the drummer. Claire lined them up on the mantel, front and center, watching over us this December. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">On this Winter Solstice, I remember my beloved mother, my angel. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">xo b</span></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3xfzX0qNXAm_JiFzq5JN6_oX-P6Kx3UbD3wOnYPPvgOILO6dX_bo2Kr9bq_awRdCNWbW54CBiFCWni-1Y5sBe1JFxWbk6q8UMJWoOM9aV1wojJlndJH_XIAbCtOmeaZe4CpvSiAEcHySm_VDob5d4GJ09ZV_00yp3OkAU1kub3g0OvpRUWNC7LyhNpxN/s2016/ME%20AND%20MOM.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3xfzX0qNXAm_JiFzq5JN6_oX-P6Kx3UbD3wOnYPPvgOILO6dX_bo2Kr9bq_awRdCNWbW54CBiFCWni-1Y5sBe1JFxWbk6q8UMJWoOM9aV1wojJlndJH_XIAbCtOmeaZe4CpvSiAEcHySm_VDob5d4GJ09ZV_00yp3OkAU1kub3g0OvpRUWNC7LyhNpxN/s320/ME%20AND%20MOM.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> <i> </i></b><i> </i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span><i style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dorothy Southam Jackson</span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <i> July 7, 1926 - December 19, 2001</i></span></p><p><span><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><p><br /></p><p></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-83461663005576440972023-12-18T16:54:00.000-08:002023-12-18T17:17:19.609-08:00like a lemon tree<p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NKaA_4WC0NlH2XgPVY-JjHDkBT6srHiI66NHU49a_ifjSaJcCJVzNJkE-KfzyTczCbhcnVsEjBbwpauSONh6Yli3Qq4gGPmWfufUurGdP_sSLVwa3RBP5mV_sp5wf9w1x289-w7ejCaAfMhR9oXygwaGIkq6zYYW2toWXcEfyYYBLm_Gmsskkgjbix_r/s2016/December%20lemons.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1NKaA_4WC0NlH2XgPVY-JjHDkBT6srHiI66NHU49a_ifjSaJcCJVzNJkE-KfzyTczCbhcnVsEjBbwpauSONh6Yli3Qq4gGPmWfufUurGdP_sSLVwa3RBP5mV_sp5wf9w1x289-w7ejCaAfMhR9oXygwaGIkq6zYYW2toWXcEfyYYBLm_Gmsskkgjbix_r/s320/December%20lemons.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 18 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">I never thought much about lemons before moving to California. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Sometimes we'd cook with them, but it wasn't an overwhelming lemony life back in Pennsylvania. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">I always liked lemons. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">They smell good.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">They're pretty and feel good in your hand. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">These days I have a very lemony life. There are two</span><span style="font-family: times;"> lemon trees in our backyard that keep on giving, season after season. And because of all the good rain last winter, the trees are bearing big fat lemons, h</span><span style="font-family: times;">oliday lemons. 🎄🍋 If I bring my hands to my nose, they smell like lemons because I've been slicing + juicing a counter full as evening falls. Instead of using<i> the handle thing</i> that presses down on the lemon, I used my hands. This reminded me of working with clay on a potter's wheel, the spinning and pressing down. And just like when I took ceramic classes, today's </span><span style="font-family: courier;">juicing the lemons fest </span><span style="font-family: times;">filled me with the same meditative quality as wet clay under my hands. That quiet pressure in the palm of my hands.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">...Michael said, </span><i style="font-family: times;">You smell like a lemon tree.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxZRktNJ9bGRh9vz5GiUy4x9pe4SoRIbWhGODgm_maDhT6qh046SRYVOHfCJXo4MW7LmluRH9u4TagmhMQbdaFVUoVwWkc6IKeTbbFviVESWIyfUOk5AYQMieLXBOsDyoOVB_hxzKftPFul_Ie1D-g21daepDTSPTwNZFw5K8j120RxzyXhyX9TL8sZy0/s320/lemons%20on%20the%20kitchen%20counter.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxZRktNJ9bGRh9vz5GiUy4x9pe4SoRIbWhGODgm_maDhT6qh046SRYVOHfCJXo4MW7LmluRH9u4TagmhMQbdaFVUoVwWkc6IKeTbbFviVESWIyfUOk5AYQMieLXBOsDyoOVB_hxzKftPFul_Ie1D-g21daepDTSPTwNZFw5K8j120RxzyXhyX9TL8sZy0/s1600/lemons%20on%20the%20kitchen%20counter.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><i><br /></i></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">love,</span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">XO b</span></b></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-42824476405104970692023-12-17T12:08:00.000-08:002023-12-17T12:25:29.560-08:00I bought her a lobster<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprkovvC67s7xQetQQi6B4p4owJ_lceUsnExcVZs0uKcrpVgj0kzdAvdQ1ehsXQyZ_Uz66SF1ILawg2CKUz6Yb1-ZJfHHWY5Gsfpi0MqGTTB4vVydoxNDmln6RNdyHqTPfDBUGKnFpV46pfKFVi-M_fMfaEDNEvkA6SJbqU2avvouqp4h64rExM-kc_pjH/s2016/IMG_1858.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprkovvC67s7xQetQQi6B4p4owJ_lceUsnExcVZs0uKcrpVgj0kzdAvdQ1ehsXQyZ_Uz66SF1ILawg2CKUz6Yb1-ZJfHHWY5Gsfpi0MqGTTB4vVydoxNDmln6RNdyHqTPfDBUGKnFpV46pfKFVi-M_fMfaEDNEvkA6SJbqU2avvouqp4h64rExM-kc_pjH/s320/IMG_1858.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 17 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;"><i>I need to find Daisy's squirrel </i>was one of my morning thoughts. This was way better than opening my eyes and thinking</span></span><span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: courier;">we're all f*cked </span><span style="font-family: times;">which is occasionally the case. </span></span><span><span style="font-family: times;">I'll take fretting over a toy </span><span style="font-family: times;">squirrel</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">any day.</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span><span style="font-family: times;">The squirrel is, well <i>squirrel-ish, </i>orangey-brown [not like the squirrels that live in my yard] and has a squeaky thing in its belly. You need to be at least one hundred eighty pounds soaking wet and stand on the thing to get a squeak out of it. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Fortunately, I'm not there. </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">Maybe it got raked up in a pile of leaves. I don't know.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">The squirrel is missing. </span><span style="font-family: times;">So, I bought her a lobster. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpqajgZo96knmhGkQNTr7GHD69epiOM9YDx0QgRGyw8pSPlBIrgZimiCmc8mJds0N3J2V_vDQRVvzl60wiDbOPioqyJxYtrBe5cpO2iIkPaMMoV2zFVZCQJQfKCr7TgcKC6rPHziQn44E4PNc_4fTQbUlwVoAaAMkV6_gqCEoRJj2eCIhRra_LOhHFtzD/s640/chewy%20two%20beds.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKpqajgZo96knmhGkQNTr7GHD69epiOM9YDx0QgRGyw8pSPlBIrgZimiCmc8mJds0N3J2V_vDQRVvzl60wiDbOPioqyJxYtrBe5cpO2iIkPaMMoV2zFVZCQJQfKCr7TgcKC6rPHziQn44E4PNc_4fTQbUlwVoAaAMkV6_gqCEoRJj2eCIhRra_LOhHFtzD/w200-h150/chewy%20two%20beds.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">Side note: When I was a kid, our dog never had toys, or a bed, and definitely did not wear sweaters. They ran around with sticks, slept on the rug, and had dog fur. It was enough. </span></span><span><span style="font-family: times;">But</span><span><span style="font-family: times;"> t</span><span style="font-family: times;">here was a time when Chewy had two beds + now</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> I'm paying good money for a lobster that squeaks. A toddler could make it happen. </span><span style="font-family: times;">A girl can change her tune. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><b>xo b 🐝</b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-67965032198063177692023-12-16T18:12:00.000-08:002023-12-16T18:17:02.964-08:00i really don't know<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrany8qmw0NsetD8imupkSFCqGUvXW0ygmCjTPgb0giMdTVZrHAnZyZipIC78EXhBvpSvRP8fEWBj7VBt_XmAK2_wz2f8xZxd6JwqV88lCzXuJ9XQS-_zQj2u2zLPNhhRn2p_3-StUMsVyw-dskaeGgbGplFsI7c-qxNRjEf-ZFbJ2AuZHS5duY19FS0I/s1600/seedlings.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjrany8qmw0NsetD8imupkSFCqGUvXW0ygmCjTPgb0giMdTVZrHAnZyZipIC78EXhBvpSvRP8fEWBj7VBt_XmAK2_wz2f8xZxd6JwqV88lCzXuJ9XQS-_zQj2u2zLPNhhRn2p_3-StUMsVyw-dskaeGgbGplFsI7c-qxNRjEf-ZFbJ2AuZHS5duY19FS0I/s320/seedlings.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 16 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I'm here late in the day. Night has fallen early, like it does this time of year. Michael has gone out to play with a band. Daisy has been walked and is sleeping on the rug. Bed and a book are calling me...<i>and it's not even six o'clock. </i></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I don't know what to write about. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>I could write about the book I never returned to the library before moving to California. </span><span>The handsome man I chatted with on the plane when I flew east in November. </span><span>How, many years ago, a friend told me, </span><i>you can always change your mind.</i><span> </span><span>Or the dream I had last night where my father showed up in the kitchen of his old house, but then said he had to go because the group of people in the <i>joy van </i>were waiting for him. H</span><span>ow I want to get my seedlings in the ground before the rain next week. Blessed rain.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">If you were to write about something, what would it be? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Make a list. </span><span>See what/who shows up. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">I'm open to ideas.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">XO B</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xwwY62V60Nxa9szv1ezqx931C_cDFRHHvSer5o2-QhbKzUAqRbTrEur7QBIr_Jucl9vdzgqt5uv3EFKYkwbHaR0pjvB9bYP6ybFfZDLvTarygq0t8Kp5HByZEbMDLd-A5QVeeX7Oz80T9kfo_NTxhj1Xl9voPlmp6Hq7_Q8FiShlkr5Rd1b5cbdc_coF/s1388/Betsy%20in%20zinc%20bucket.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xwwY62V60Nxa9szv1ezqx931C_cDFRHHvSer5o2-QhbKzUAqRbTrEur7QBIr_Jucl9vdzgqt5uv3EFKYkwbHaR0pjvB9bYP6ybFfZDLvTarygq0t8Kp5HByZEbMDLd-A5QVeeX7Oz80T9kfo_NTxhj1Xl9voPlmp6Hq7_Q8FiShlkr5Rd1b5cbdc_coF/w173-h200/Betsy%20in%20zinc%20bucket.JPG" width="173" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-22546770393163223092023-12-15T18:55:00.000-08:002023-12-15T18:56:13.646-08:00let this be our mantra<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyOEQEn1Px1O0wYNUxA2XoV61iyZZ_wEuMz3qGODcGtp3tPbEIWIg75Zp04jtcq6hl9fIGnK8BiPcYUYO7iOQcpcGBc1mTjSA2jat7id8z0EvWZKr2qzgzY6AWrwiWKrV1AmMCzbA9grFJJfR4_Zc0Croqy2jqvjoQNXr9xTz-awcCXgoAyZmgqYAc9RJ/s800/IMG_1808.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="600" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyOEQEn1Px1O0wYNUxA2XoV61iyZZ_wEuMz3qGODcGtp3tPbEIWIg75Zp04jtcq6hl9fIGnK8BiPcYUYO7iOQcpcGBc1mTjSA2jat7id8z0EvWZKr2qzgzY6AWrwiWKrV1AmMCzbA9grFJJfR4_Zc0Croqy2jqvjoQNXr9xTz-awcCXgoAyZmgqYAc9RJ/w300-h400/IMG_1808.heic" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">December 15 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Let this be our mantra:</span></p><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #0b5394; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: red; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;"><b>peace and love</b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: x-large;">• • • • • • • • • • • • •</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">xo b</span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-84372428557378530902023-12-14T15:47:00.000-08:002023-12-14T15:57:12.334-08:00what dan said ~<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGCG-s_vE9s7zIsRj4QzChtrZi1nozu6KyL3hihEovgKBJYA_vS0rsLleR5Up6ZhE4wv_saMKjVk9T0DRrfzsWej_YrwLAWsUluxGpjkgg2Acu48aW8sRH4qel1wj6aNs6RvksVp4lrB2Iqkp8yCQGwk1DESILOcxlsPKnyq0ObV868gk_TEypFT6C-O1/s640/Table%20cards.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGCG-s_vE9s7zIsRj4QzChtrZi1nozu6KyL3hihEovgKBJYA_vS0rsLleR5Up6ZhE4wv_saMKjVk9T0DRrfzsWej_YrwLAWsUluxGpjkgg2Acu48aW8sRH4qel1wj6aNs6RvksVp4lrB2Iqkp8yCQGwk1DESILOcxlsPKnyq0ObV868gk_TEypFT6C-O1/s320/Table%20cards.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 14 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">What I mean by <b>"abundance"</b> is there is an abundance of good everywhere. There are people who hold the door and give up their public transportation seats. There are surprise parties and memorial tatoos and birthday gifts. There are doctors and nurses and therapists and firefighters and custodians and all sorts of people who make helping others into a career. People will learn first aid with no obligation other than "just in case." People will donate old clothes and toys in hopes of passing on joy to a stranger. I do not think that people are inherently bad and this is a position I refuse to change my mind on.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">- Daniel O'Brien </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Note: At the end of this semester @ Northampton Community College, I asked my students to <i>pick a word card </i>and write about it. </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">What I love more than anything about Dan's stance is his refusal to change his mind about the abundance of good everywhere. </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Me too.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Thank you, Dan, for letting me share your beautiful, uplifting words. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am filled with </span><span style="font-size: large;"><span>gratitude.</span></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip76me38_iMQwN6FrH2Bq48Bgh-uhg1mwu6K6fkOHNMDydNpmK-WY7SWDbO9jMt8iE_YT12c_dd7KmN3OGrzWhLbZXiKMNQQd701q883hQbzQcxnvgTSHvS1ZpRUDgzJUt2EwdxR4PaBEIxH9zQihuXc2QkK3MvaeqHvaYLuJdyOjD2fWVFjJdA2BvR8gR/s320/gratitude.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip76me38_iMQwN6FrH2Bq48Bgh-uhg1mwu6K6fkOHNMDydNpmK-WY7SWDbO9jMt8iE_YT12c_dd7KmN3OGrzWhLbZXiKMNQQd701q883hQbzQcxnvgTSHvS1ZpRUDgzJUt2EwdxR4PaBEIxH9zQihuXc2QkK3MvaeqHvaYLuJdyOjD2fWVFjJdA2BvR8gR/w150-h200/gratitude.jpg" width="150" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;">XO b</span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-715523702394274612023-12-13T15:16:00.000-08:002023-12-13T16:35:03.308-08:00what's right here<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenE-i2Su0jXWsGrGnKtsFjuYqflxwlHMiSevt3n_50KfGBIVYdsBMhgPuvDoIjdFXcFqf51I3P86SeQxtKVb_VAGNW69xPTHv212FkY5tVkEYrYKTsOwm_43SyIn63kZK_x-58xkTgcYNlmEx9BwtSJ4LsR4Y83kIkZUBgSmObUd9j7YncPpIV103_Alh/s1280/Everything%20is%20okay.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghyphenhyphenE-i2Su0jXWsGrGnKtsFjuYqflxwlHMiSevt3n_50KfGBIVYdsBMhgPuvDoIjdFXcFqf51I3P86SeQxtKVb_VAGNW69xPTHv212FkY5tVkEYrYKTsOwm_43SyIn63kZK_x-58xkTgcYNlmEx9BwtSJ4LsR4Y83kIkZUBgSmObUd9j7YncPpIV103_Alh/s320/Everything%20is%20okay.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 13 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I kid you not when I say <i>words are guides, I need them daily.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Between the <span>rise of crazy </span>in this country, Trump, Mike Johnson and House Republicans who are squeezing the life out of the constitution and our democracy, Gaza, Ukraine, book bans, voting rights being stripped to the bone, women with life-threatening pregnancies unable to get safe and legal abortions because politicians, mostly men, believe it's their call to decide a woman's right to choose and care for her own health. </span><span>Crowds fawning over Trump everywhere. Such a deeply dangerous man who has done more damage to our country than we even know. All you have to do is watch clips of the brilliant Jordan Klepper (The Daily Show) at a Trump rally to know we are in deep. The conversations he has with MAGA people are wild and might be funny if the people weren't so utterly detached from reality. Nuts. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">There are so many troubles in the world. So much suffering. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Everything is not okay. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">We probably can't/shouldn't relax.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">And yet, in this moment, I feel okay. It's been a calm, productive day. I took care of school biz for my classes. Vacuumed the dog hair. Walked the dog + myself three times (so far). Did some writing. Got the fixings for butternut squash soup.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I remind myself daily ~</span><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"> Wherever my attention is, that is where I am. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I am not hiding. I see the troubles. I help where I can. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And I look to what's right here:</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">sun + sky</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">sleeping dog</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">the sound of the dryer</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">making soup</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">lemons + a persimmon in a brown bowl.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCt1PRHs_GP9JXT7nQlWb6NMXVxN9MfoKbmi-wMJdaVuLI6fampb49KBJirYjYrLQ_V24Eo9jI7AsF2TW57CYiB_vVNJcUvat2KuVe-_T-hMdvLL2RVOnguqNR2ndlujmumMFcAP4iw7EK0hdzlmN6FdBb1nGjLMtlcCQeNHqXdmLiPJ8_EZX5UYq1qX_/s1600/lemons%20with%20persimmon.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCt1PRHs_GP9JXT7nQlWb6NMXVxN9MfoKbmi-wMJdaVuLI6fampb49KBJirYjYrLQ_V24Eo9jI7AsF2TW57CYiB_vVNJcUvat2KuVe-_T-hMdvLL2RVOnguqNR2ndlujmumMFcAP4iw7EK0hdzlmN6FdBb1nGjLMtlcCQeNHqXdmLiPJ8_EZX5UYq1qX_/s320/lemons%20with%20persimmon.heic" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">namaste.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>XO b</b></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-5524672615491308772023-12-12T14:42:00.000-08:002023-12-12T16:24:32.719-08:00all of five minutes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Jh8SZca3uua2yZaJUcAFg2svO8-05VJ7-eCZS7fc05JoQWwZpEc236mIVSw78hQK0m6lgqHS_izVg0MfJCMtv8k2XZDCX37L1UUqLCDXqdAjHR0fF1WaNz9pyH8vhhpL5tF8rdYg3dryb75CYBOLBvvIqzQNw-8O6shqKJa_4zOceN_2W_ETqLkl3HzT/s1600/IMG_1652.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Jh8SZca3uua2yZaJUcAFg2svO8-05VJ7-eCZS7fc05JoQWwZpEc236mIVSw78hQK0m6lgqHS_izVg0MfJCMtv8k2XZDCX37L1UUqLCDXqdAjHR0fF1WaNz9pyH8vhhpL5tF8rdYg3dryb75CYBOLBvvIqzQNw-8O6shqKJa_4zOceN_2W_ETqLkl3HzT/s320/IMG_1652.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 12 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Before leaving my therapist's office I used the restroom and ended up chatting with a woman wearing a beautifully crocheted sweater with pockets. It was sky blue and each pocket had a white daisy and all I could think of was our new dog, Daisy. I told the woman about Daisy and how our other beautiful boy, Chewy, died last winter. </span><p></p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIy1GpSNEKRqT8qMDnMllRH3lFQOCQHU6vm7wZukAK1K8PxRmUYZhWQUgNo1nLDMThCIk0i7ZaRP0TpCyjBDIum_n-AGwdAB9U9hm0E-eketwriTFgE_Vgd9OpJJiXKE8iw0FdTmcbhDJ1M7oGq7tv9h-0szzF214QROnYe0lSOSdaWjPq19q-PL3g10F3/s320/big%20eared%20dog.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="232" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIy1GpSNEKRqT8qMDnMllRH3lFQOCQHU6vm7wZukAK1K8PxRmUYZhWQUgNo1nLDMThCIk0i7ZaRP0TpCyjBDIum_n-AGwdAB9U9hm0E-eketwriTFgE_Vgd9OpJJiXKE8iw0FdTmcbhDJ1M7oGq7tv9h-0szzF214QROnYe0lSOSdaWjPq19q-PL3g10F3/w127-h175/big%20eared%20dog.jpg" width="127" /></span></a></p><p> <i>Chewy</i></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>She said something like, </span><i>Do you believe in reincarnation? </i><span>and I think I said yes, it was all so sudden while washing my hands. </span><span>She told me about her dog, a pug, who died last December and how she spoke to a psychic and connected with her dog. And gave me the name of someone on Instagram who does that sort of work. I cannot remember the name now. I'm thinking, </span><i>how interesting the work people do in the world, </i><span>which was part of the conversation in my therapy session because of all the weird jobs and work I've tried to stuff myself into in order to feel like I'm on the right track and how I've often made myself miserable with the stuffing biz. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Anyway, one thing leads to another, so I told the woman with the daisies on her sweater about my new dog, Daisy. Actually I kind of wanted to ask the woman if I could have her sweater, we were about the same size. She said she was a crazy crochet person and was thinking about selling her stuff. This was all of five minutes in the rest room (<i>why is it called a <b>rest </b>room?)</i>. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">All this makes me think about women and how we can know so much about each other in a very short time compared to when I ask my husband about some guy he met somewhere and the things they talked about, well, the details are slim at best. <i>I didn't ask, </i>he says. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I have so much on my mind, in a good way, not a nutty way: from a class I took this morning (more on that), then therapy (more on that too) and then the woman in the restroom. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Then I came home to Daisy, my cup full.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Every life is an interesting life. </span><span>Ask.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmfBmwVmozBeCFNjjBXdaQLJnj0YxxUFcgfX6M_Gl_rhaE2tjpeicRfewqJbkcauDogVJGYMHFTbbF1wP11vQoUk8Lvi2ayBwOladTTu3ZFlcoyS_w_tRMn74S-llZugmOA4x-IC4eTUzxdXAfkRGPT5ngm4dVvF5Xrko6SDe8wzb8OKL_rutpl5PaI90/s1388/Betsy%20in%20zinc%20bucket.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1388" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRmfBmwVmozBeCFNjjBXdaQLJnj0YxxUFcgfX6M_Gl_rhaE2tjpeicRfewqJbkcauDogVJGYMHFTbbF1wP11vQoUk8Lvi2ayBwOladTTu3ZFlcoyS_w_tRMn74S-llZugmOA4x-IC4eTUzxdXAfkRGPT5ngm4dVvF5Xrko6SDe8wzb8OKL_rutpl5PaI90/s320/Betsy%20in%20zinc%20bucket.JPG" width="277" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>XO b</b></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-43578749924400711732023-12-11T12:55:00.000-08:002023-12-11T14:28:19.086-08:00all of us together<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDslMPfPMp_oJYccryteT1QVAlKDvESg48ai_LaVtiy39ri8iJDJq_pwets6gW-Wv1cd3EYupoIlp5P7qdquS0Mcts7Fw6ayelQZP3E2x8NoCvxotAlKETckbDYcP7w2ODtc0bb-296RgTsiUYIipRmnIfaqOWLfMSVdwbjrpFcVJmxood1N9YLJfae0y/s320/flying%20heart.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="213" data-original-width="320" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSDslMPfPMp_oJYccryteT1QVAlKDvESg48ai_LaVtiy39ri8iJDJq_pwets6gW-Wv1cd3EYupoIlp5P7qdquS0Mcts7Fw6ayelQZP3E2x8NoCvxotAlKETckbDYcP7w2ODtc0bb-296RgTsiUYIipRmnIfaqOWLfMSVdwbjrpFcVJmxood1N9YLJfae0y/s1600/flying%20heart.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 11 • 2023 </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I was looking through a folder of writing on my laptop this morning. So many pieces of writing that have never seen the light of day. They're like cars in a pile-up on a foggy highway, looking for home. This short paragraph is from a larger piece called, <i>A Flying Hug. </i>It made me feel a certain way after reading it. Like yes, this is exactly what I want right now. And I want to add my parents, gone from the earth, and my brothers, grown men with families of their own. My mother would plunk me and my brothers in the bathtub along with matchbox cars and plastic army men that could fit in the palm of your hand. All of us together in the soapy warm water. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">love + flying hugs to you,</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">XO b ♥️</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">from </span><i style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">A Flying Hug...</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="468" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgs8zPxoPqZN_0rrU0NkakVyfd2kabrtPe4f5gKo1l-EL06eUgZ2rzNS-x69f8i7Mn98WNRE_aOLO85Hy57ruwpgu_ZlDVfetPQjp-To9KZbKP5Ubpqx4RyDiC0KLZ6wk9jchnHfY97MdN_CGIBGRHlPAucxNHQW3bI2pRgRl8W0BLOWiWQB8BD59bn4x48=w596-h229" width="596" /></span></div><br /><br /><p></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-74418689257917628322023-12-10T14:58:00.000-08:002023-12-10T15:02:17.799-08:00timing is another thing<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvvOw84k-mVq_Kml6K_MqsfgXSwsA2MVWn-WTb7cGdhBR69TEak3bN3jSBFXCgE54QVx4im8a-sM3j2DazCDd0VNN7Sf3bgUtm-5SreIvlcM_5t-f4u3Qn-NraYBLPV9HQBghqs5sM-RTxqYhi-R9HXvvs8WoQrrrixKlFS2dN0xxL5iFQvVA-oF5vKC8/s2016/morning%20light%20celes%20mantel.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvvOw84k-mVq_Kml6K_MqsfgXSwsA2MVWn-WTb7cGdhBR69TEak3bN3jSBFXCgE54QVx4im8a-sM3j2DazCDd0VNN7Sf3bgUtm-5SreIvlcM_5t-f4u3Qn-NraYBLPV9HQBghqs5sM-RTxqYhi-R9HXvvs8WoQrrrixKlFS2dN0xxL5iFQvVA-oF5vKC8/w300-h400/morning%20light%20celes%20mantel.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><br /></li></ul><p></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">December 10 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Daisy is sleeping in the sun. I am sleepy too and will let myself rest. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">But what about my checklist? To-do's?</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">I want to blog • clean up table • organize Christmas stuff • make garlands • have more speaking engagements • take a nap and read Edith Wharton's biography (such a thick book) She is in France during WWI • plant seeds, dig up succulents • clear leaves out of the garden.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The house is quiet. The silence, delicious.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Why does it soothe me so wonderfully? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>Note: Curious how the <i>desire mind </i>works, slipping onto the list <i>have more speaking engagements, </i>next to <i>take a nap.</i> </span><span>Confused motivation, but that's okay. Both can be on the list. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Timing is another thing. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>XO </b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b>b</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRWgULRxWXoveS8ivSVc75VaCf5odCshm68PUBvLVF_dKLUasnnQpCtilNzaRyLC4xziMfeJU8MdOf3TpEfHZLe-P7xAdN2BLZNj6mFrnn7ezBKA7j-wXQ65Pu3SLO6I5c_0-ZQxxcsfIK5FlxF1P-8WjT_HU39wIbfgTODtKxZqo8_PmxpH2endZTJd_/s1280/IMG_1734.heic" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinRWgULRxWXoveS8ivSVc75VaCf5odCshm68PUBvLVF_dKLUasnnQpCtilNzaRyLC4xziMfeJU8MdOf3TpEfHZLe-P7xAdN2BLZNj6mFrnn7ezBKA7j-wXQ65Pu3SLO6I5c_0-ZQxxcsfIK5FlxF1P-8WjT_HU39wIbfgTODtKxZqo8_PmxpH2endZTJd_/s320/IMG_1734.heic" width="240" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><b><br /></b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-73982336593098095062023-12-09T13:55:00.000-08:002023-12-09T13:57:49.789-08:00sweet time<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQe2lfszUgRxO-79Zb1-enfhqYzhvwDCUJT1iQfcsu0bon1CVl2-Y9aqADh8wzR2Id2dOf33ScnKmAldg7pPrWNxAW_s6p-OXgzLWGRZdwl78mF8SE3gelYFN12moLAKnGpWpAtOu3DOVnJK6Ud-wK0Tw1GEDMxu4FyKZdz1Tcg-yWlk7dm3GxMa9K-pU/s2016/Celes%20St%20tree%20%231.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQe2lfszUgRxO-79Zb1-enfhqYzhvwDCUJT1iQfcsu0bon1CVl2-Y9aqADh8wzR2Id2dOf33ScnKmAldg7pPrWNxAW_s6p-OXgzLWGRZdwl78mF8SE3gelYFN12moLAKnGpWpAtOu3DOVnJK6Ud-wK0Tw1GEDMxu4FyKZdz1Tcg-yWlk7dm3GxMa9K-pU/w300-h400/Celes%20St%20tree%20%231.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">December 9 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: times;">I love how autumn takes her sweet time in Southern California.</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Each morning I'm greeted by this lovely companion.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Today is windy. Leaves have been flying and swirling on the street. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">By January, she will be bare. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">A time of rest + renewal.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">Then time to begin again. 🍃</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><b>XO b</b></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-13071610172490294792023-12-08T09:31:00.000-08:002023-12-08T09:38:09.313-08:00please enjoy yourself<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfEUW5a9hecJXK-oGTnYpOFVvSceFmpoWm-2Ggzq-ND5pfo-E0Y4oo2JTAsHB0V92pYV5UApQMDyqSAjUflMeqj-Dfy8vMflf-15tIWnkYt7ikDiD9u-1AESQ90pRBFoNqts5J7VdnLiCGcXabPWoxcanlw5vokyjXVy_nSzgk8jwI_upBExSbk0jbI2K/s2016/Linda's%20note%20to%20the%20gardeners.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKfEUW5a9hecJXK-oGTnYpOFVvSceFmpoWm-2Ggzq-ND5pfo-E0Y4oo2JTAsHB0V92pYV5UApQMDyqSAjUflMeqj-Dfy8vMflf-15tIWnkYt7ikDiD9u-1AESQ90pRBFoNqts5J7VdnLiCGcXabPWoxcanlw5vokyjXVy_nSzgk8jwI_upBExSbk0jbI2K/w400-h300/Linda's%20note%20to%20the%20gardeners.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 8 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Daisy and I were heading out the door when I saw Linda across the street. She was wearing her signature winter hat, black sweatshirt, and because of the morning chill, a red blanket draped over her like a cape. Linda refuses to turn the heat on in her house even though the system has been checked out. <i>The house might blow up, </i>she tells me. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Seven in the morning is too early for a chat with Linda, so</span><span> with dog in tow, I bee-lined it around our car and scurried down the sidewalk. Silly, I know. </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">But on the other hand, if my goal these days is to keep the nuttiness numbers down on my mental health richter scale, it makes sense to make a dash for it. </span><b style="font-family: times;">Trust me.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>On our return home, I saw the white sign she'd posted. On Fridays, </span><span>Santiago, the gardener, comes to tend to Linda's yard</span><span>. I was curious what she'd written since Linda can be bossy and is often unhappy + negative about pretty much everything. I walked over for a closer look and there was this delightful note. It felt like a sign. Not just for Santiago, but for me.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And maybe you too? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It landed like this: </span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">What is waiting for you? </span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">What needs only you right now?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">+ the final invitation:</span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">Please enjoy yourself.<b> </b></span></span></p><p><span><b><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">XO b</span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltDkKXOUi_v0JtGZr7oEr6DaV9CTFUFuk7rHk-qR0pBkPP0m4SzZ4At14_TDbtI-HcEgi7V-ulAZC3Jt6DSZlYEEwHRU4j504YBMoSof1QFTps5kIF_JbQTw1VMJcyCZJFHxNuliHo3NUxq1hoxLyGNZdMOgsI-KV9t3k2J7X4F2d7tpDHrXaJ6ky1Cev/s1600/coloring%20book.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjltDkKXOUi_v0JtGZr7oEr6DaV9CTFUFuk7rHk-qR0pBkPP0m4SzZ4At14_TDbtI-HcEgi7V-ulAZC3Jt6DSZlYEEwHRU4j504YBMoSof1QFTps5kIF_JbQTw1VMJcyCZJFHxNuliHo3NUxq1hoxLyGNZdMOgsI-KV9t3k2J7X4F2d7tpDHrXaJ6ky1Cev/s320/coloring%20book.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><b><br /></b><p></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-24453865747461631782023-12-07T15:15:00.000-08:002023-12-07T15:40:51.565-08:00why is it like breathing?<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXqcQxbQz9QJUfYQ36Zvxbof0r67qWCpxVIOj3i_fdBW-c7lYflblq2FJMfTLbZKZiuz4cIaUH88y1ePrc4IGAEN4_X62Noyr-VY7Dr1tFj-BzotQjPP4ge5U_AuCx-EmNg0bCh1owBdhkod8rKb_UUi9TEab4zRbOZyUjdyDG7PB-dKm61AEGqSlalsW/s640/peacedove.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOXqcQxbQz9QJUfYQ36Zvxbof0r67qWCpxVIOj3i_fdBW-c7lYflblq2FJMfTLbZKZiuz4cIaUH88y1ePrc4IGAEN4_X62Noyr-VY7Dr1tFj-BzotQjPP4ge5U_AuCx-EmNg0bCh1owBdhkod8rKb_UUi9TEab4zRbOZyUjdyDG7PB-dKm61AEGqSlalsW/w400-h300/peacedove.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 7 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span><b>Words are guides. </b></span><b>Simple reminders. I need them daily.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span><span>From a very young age, words are how I've attempted to organize my world. I remember sitting up in the tree on the side of our yard in Wilmington. Dad nailed a small plank of wood over two branches for my desk. </span> I'd sit inside the branches with a clipboard, paper and pencil, and write stuff. It was my own little writing fort. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>What was I writing at six years old. Seven? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">Why is it like breathing to me all these years later? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Why is music like that for someone else? Or scuba diving? </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">It's a curious thing. I like wondering about it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>There are cartons of journals in our garage. They made the trip to California when so much other stuff didn't. Before the move, I remember taking some journals (3?) and burning them on the bonfire out back in the yard. After flipping through the pages, so much darkness written down, I thought, <i>Why am I keeping these? </i></span><span>My daughters always knew <i>something was up</i>, coming home to find me out back, a big burn going. <i>Hey Mom, everything okay? </i>They were usually right about that. </span><span>It was only a few books. </span><span>I couldn't finish the job. The rest came west. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span><span><span>I built a lot of fires over the years in the backyard of our Pennsylvania home. </span></span><span>We had a big yard, full of trees, so many fallen branches. </span><span><span>P</span><span>itchfork in hand, I'd rearrange branches that had tumbled out.</span><span> </span></span></span><span>I'd drink an ice cold beer and w</span><span><span><span>atch the fire dwindle,</span></span></span><span> my face red and hot.</span><span> </span><span>That was the best part. Those </span><span>bonfires were deeply satisfying. I miss them.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>How did I wander from the girl in the tree to boxes of journals and bonfires and beer? And here now, on my back patio in California, there are no more bonfires for me. At least not here. </span><span>The books are in the garage, waiting to be aired out. The more I read and learn about the shadow, hidden, fertile part of humans, of myself, I know there is much I could learn, and let go of, if I had the courage to open a carton and start reading. What part of me lives in those pages? What part could use some daylight? I'm thinking a project for the new year. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>Words are guides. Simple reminders. I need them daily. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCm8gWHa5_Nkfp9eAAOdYJ2rQSNxix9hkKKHeba4QhQkOQQnflUBlGLD4vfag-HDGmOWH-0xSJkIq2R7FxIWMPc2H7VgDzKsiandlEwMzm1bGisoNf2Zw8l_5XbSgzkfIL_WhKTIpptyXj-cVVrRwrxCln2954Jab1z3Lkjr-qVBzmzKc4Cqu2oyaPHUu/s320/Celes%20snowman.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoCm8gWHa5_Nkfp9eAAOdYJ2rQSNxix9hkKKHeba4QhQkOQQnflUBlGLD4vfag-HDGmOWH-0xSJkIq2R7FxIWMPc2H7VgDzKsiandlEwMzm1bGisoNf2Zw8l_5XbSgzkfIL_WhKTIpptyXj-cVVrRwrxCln2954Jab1z3Lkjr-qVBzmzKc4Cqu2oyaPHUu/s1600/Celes%20snowman.jpg" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /><b><br /></b></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">XO</span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>♥️ </span><span>b</span></span></b></p><p><br /></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-86987587145840223622023-12-06T12:37:00.000-08:002023-12-06T12:54:38.349-08:00the word project <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-duZUMz6mLKFVvkst2q3Fu5bf7rPPjAyYk8LNk4imAVUU95cNJ9KltPzLqgWJ0xcvIZ8k75H9PK617ARF-o_CkcVwpm3yY8PzXqq-1rkr-BXEP09lTgOXdVfPSmvz1qGpGDrbgPcVELZIMNe_GblOuDPT-Iu_V24xxy21iXwdrmD-0G5GLJcd1AUoHXde/s1280/TED%20PIC.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-duZUMz6mLKFVvkst2q3Fu5bf7rPPjAyYk8LNk4imAVUU95cNJ9KltPzLqgWJ0xcvIZ8k75H9PK617ARF-o_CkcVwpm3yY8PzXqq-1rkr-BXEP09lTgOXdVfPSmvz1qGpGDrbgPcVELZIMNe_GblOuDPT-Iu_V24xxy21iXwdrmD-0G5GLJcd1AUoHXde/s320/TED%20PIC.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-duZUMz6mLKFVvkst2q3Fu5bf7rPPjAyYk8LNk4imAVUU95cNJ9KltPzLqgWJ0xcvIZ8k75H9PK617ARF-o_CkcVwpm3yY8PzXqq-1rkr-BXEP09lTgOXdVfPSmvz1qGpGDrbgPcVELZIMNe_GblOuDPT-Iu_V24xxy21iXwdrmD-0G5GLJcd1AUoHXde/s1280/TED%20PIC.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></a><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">December 6 • 2023 </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last month I did a talk. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>It's short. Just for today,</span><span> I'll keep this short too.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Have a watch and see what you think. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FtBPyOerZd4" width="320" youtube-src-id="FtBPyOerZd4"></iframe></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">+ </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Pick a card.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">+ share what you picked in the comments </span><span style="font-size: medium;">if you feel like it. 🍁</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">namaste, lovelies. 🙏</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">b ♥️</span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10vwT5R7GqGbp-bBdDxWl1V0Z7oNezgrCIvQZ9VAYKz8bbTaSYuFz7Y9oniVQKvYqTt5WvTIwir6VLA35pE9nnytVkTaxe-D5EDG8CEOJ4EJ6i9cxMOImK743xr06fKaw2M1j5z-Vksp9LKdYFX0QvJy_zLh1wrbGUkoQ8iuDUDmYkwThSbS5Hxhpjj42/s2016/Cards%20with%20leaves%20and%20hearts.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj10vwT5R7GqGbp-bBdDxWl1V0Z7oNezgrCIvQZ9VAYKz8bbTaSYuFz7Y9oniVQKvYqTt5WvTIwir6VLA35pE9nnytVkTaxe-D5EDG8CEOJ4EJ6i9cxMOImK743xr06fKaw2M1j5z-Vksp9LKdYFX0QvJy_zLh1wrbGUkoQ8iuDUDmYkwThSbS5Hxhpjj42/w640-h480/Cards%20with%20leaves%20and%20hearts.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-37668642207999992012023-12-05T14:30:00.000-08:002023-12-05T14:33:34.327-08:00what frida says<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHbHuUX_4sUHNnnaamOl02rvX5Yxz6xPzVA_I6AWDo60rw6zA1PiH46TSxq1F3XOVt1ZQ12X9oKLHSsniAoXZdevgxBCXN1p0h5wJCzfxEfaT_bqYN70An7ULMpgi_lPv4LflAnUIHg06fJg4irZCPiMpHnwLZ2PhnzLClsLf5JjM36g9ux61K0fhxFSN/s320/Frida.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHbHuUX_4sUHNnnaamOl02rvX5Yxz6xPzVA_I6AWDo60rw6zA1PiH46TSxq1F3XOVt1ZQ12X9oKLHSsniAoXZdevgxBCXN1p0h5wJCzfxEfaT_bqYN70An7ULMpgi_lPv4LflAnUIHg06fJg4irZCPiMpHnwLZ2PhnzLClsLf5JjM36g9ux61K0fhxFSN/w300-h400/Frida.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">December 5 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">What Frida says.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">See what happens.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">Namaste,</span></p><p><span style="font-size: large;">♥️ b</span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-42011887167174163762023-12-04T08:35:00.000-08:002023-12-04T14:59:25.177-08:00with elation<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tOuePwalhe3qepjg_3WKmw708cKGEmY6G-ZDpdcsJl00Yt2wvlfLPyeI9rRtP3HoKk7hCuNsBYQRR_0gnkTQAtPwJBF5B32RcT9fFbU1q2OeYEei8ov6mOYPgJHI7p3-iHZuMiNl86L6zI_8XknYnwuK8YP6kXtwEwgKomAdG9yw574OVsCc9unqtHDJ/s2016/Blackout%20Poem%20Love%20after%20love.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tOuePwalhe3qepjg_3WKmw708cKGEmY6G-ZDpdcsJl00Yt2wvlfLPyeI9rRtP3HoKk7hCuNsBYQRR_0gnkTQAtPwJBF5B32RcT9fFbU1q2OeYEei8ov6mOYPgJHI7p3-iHZuMiNl86L6zI_8XknYnwuK8YP6kXtwEwgKomAdG9yw574OVsCc9unqtHDJ/w325-h433/Blackout%20Poem%20Love%20after%20love.jpg" width="325" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 4 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>Love After Love by Derek Walcott </b>is one of my favorite poems, ever. I encourage you to look it up, print it out, keep it close where you can read it daily. In my college English classes, we dip our toes into poetry and play with creating our own <b>blackout poems.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">This playing with words and language can be done with newspapers, magazines, a page out of an old book, a letter ~ any piece with words on it. I like using poems. I recommend trying it. It can be a simple meditation. Try it with another person, your kids, your whole family.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Use the same poem + see what shows up for each of you.</span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;"> It's mysterious.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">This one is on our fridge. Sometimes, it blends in with the photos of family and dogs and other messages stuck on with magnets. Often I miss the message, but today, I read it. </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">It's brief and to the point. </span><span style="font-family: times;">It says to me, </span><i style="font-family: times;">wake up. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><b>Love your life.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><b>♥️ b</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-6865405507658452872023-12-03T15:34:00.000-08:002023-12-03T16:43:15.054-08:00until the next time<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtlj89pPwdfxrGUmXchfnSGZ7qmkGLa8WPqw_aXwI_9ce8khcF5XdRNNCFAGCfUhXszDAN7Rbs2om1ti36hON06Y0jAGA706JjcV_UhyJqXlf8y_zNlDVsqX16iHQeFG6QIf4XPrEgzCEBP2H1SqJaTCy5Ab4SBpukdfxgx9jQ6P7a1PHLV7gQVvZGI41/s2016/Lemon%20portrait.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtlj89pPwdfxrGUmXchfnSGZ7qmkGLa8WPqw_aXwI_9ce8khcF5XdRNNCFAGCfUhXszDAN7Rbs2om1ti36hON06Y0jAGA706JjcV_UhyJqXlf8y_zNlDVsqX16iHQeFG6QIf4XPrEgzCEBP2H1SqJaTCy5Ab4SBpukdfxgx9jQ6P7a1PHLV7gQVvZGI41/s320/Lemon%20portrait.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 3 • 2023</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">All I'm saying is, it's easy to tumble.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">I got up this morning and let Daisy out. Daisy was up twice in the night, pining (<i>whining) </i>to go out on the patio. Then bark. </span><span style="font-family: times;">I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, put the kettle on. </span><span style="font-family: times;">Then comes the habitual glance at the phone. Someone has sent me a message on Instagram which leads to seeing another friend's post of a trip to Tuscany with her handsome guy, and a scroll through her post (slides 1 - 5) ~ a church, cobbled streets, balconies, ancient doorways, the two of them clearly in love. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Back to the kitchen to make tea, I step in something sticky and that's when things take a turn into a parallel plot line to </span><i style="font-family: times;">If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, </i><span style="font-family: times;">how one thing leads to another, <b>except there's no cookie.</b></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Wiping the sticky off the bottom of my bare foot, the tumble happens, fast ~</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Well, this is disgusting • why did the landlord choose this tile • why is the dog limping all of a sudden • </span><span style="font-family: courier;">will I ever get to Italy</span><span style="font-family: courier;"> • why can't I...</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">then comes a loud knock on the door, not once but multiple times. Daisy is barking and I see, <i>I know, </i>it's Linda, our elderly neighbor, on the slippery slope of dementia, eyes wide, wearing a winter hat, sweatpants, slippers. I open the door and Linda leans in:</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><i>Can you please take me to Gelson's? </i></span><i style="font-family: times;">I'm desperate! </i><i style="font-family: times;">I have no food in my house.</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">This is not true. Linda's fridge and freezer are packed, cupboards stuffed with canned goods and boxes of things. I know this because I <i>have </i>taken her to Gelson's. </span><span style="font-family: times;">She doesn't believe me when I remind her of this.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> <i>I'm not taking you to Gelson's right now, Linda, it's eight o'clock and...</i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Linda is a story for another day. Linda is a short story, a novella, a full-length play. She's knocked on my door many times but today, her appearance shoves me down the rabbit hole of how strange and sticky life can be. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Linda goes home.</span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8xk1zAh3Z8b8oKlwnP21yvycHNUr0TJjAKm9wAtKysEffHaVj5MpQqPoAc9kNyTMcsl-aH1b2iF4AXiWIcBUwLrR1Svs9_nZp8dr8gZ1_qGMQEYrspS7GUDAmio378hokt7iK5KRpvtwrcum_oNFPfmugKiHNzhKe2lmfnUyWjTdowMDk9Q5vIJzcg-r/s1600/teacup.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA8xk1zAh3Z8b8oKlwnP21yvycHNUr0TJjAKm9wAtKysEffHaVj5MpQqPoAc9kNyTMcsl-aH1b2iF4AXiWIcBUwLrR1Svs9_nZp8dr8gZ1_qGMQEYrspS7GUDAmio378hokt7iK5KRpvtwrcum_oNFPfmugKiHNzhKe2lmfnUyWjTdowMDk9Q5vIJzcg-r/s320/teacup.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div>After my tea, I walk the dog. Chat with a young woman and her baby brother in a stroller. I see tiny birds, tucked inside the slender branches of a birch tree with small golden leaves. Back home,</span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span><span style="font-family: times;">the branches of the lemon tree hang heavy. </span></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The bright yellow fruit bigger this season after all the good rain we had last winter and spring. </span><div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the shower, I wash the stickiness off </span><span style="font-size: large;">u</span></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: large;">ntil the next time</span><span style="font-size: medium;"> I step in it.</span></span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">♥️</span><span style="font-family: times;"> b</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •</span></p><p><br /></p></div></div></div>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-76302582853519276252023-12-02T09:36:00.000-08:002023-12-02T10:49:10.660-08:00woman • book • dog<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhf5d5yWc-bMpnciUWrPnyChj4GHVH01z0Wyx6GBlrhH0p7C1WJWIeZWSitLihHP-1CizRJWaa20NALmS5nWsI9aCEeNsbGGrdNRKJv1IGWg2aWugmjRFO84YHDxNFzvvxlTzhF1Mik7cPXxB8NOun8h-9ayrqW0QD2wfT5QFGNRf4BqqhrzM9njkUjCBr/s2016/Daisy%20and%20journal.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhf5d5yWc-bMpnciUWrPnyChj4GHVH01z0Wyx6GBlrhH0p7C1WJWIeZWSitLihHP-1CizRJWaa20NALmS5nWsI9aCEeNsbGGrdNRKJv1IGWg2aWugmjRFO84YHDxNFzvvxlTzhF1Mik7cPXxB8NOun8h-9ayrqW0QD2wfT5QFGNRf4BqqhrzM9njkUjCBr/s320/Daisy%20and%20journal.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 2 • 2023 </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">In my late twenties, after a truly horrendous depression which took me to my knees, <i>literally, </i>I had a therapist who helped me find my way back to standing on my own two feet. He was tall and funny, a gay man in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania which at the time probably wasn't all that great for him. He would occasionally call me <b>Blanche, </b>which I loved because I come from a family of multiple nicknames. If you join my family at a gathering for the first time you might find yourself confused about who is who. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">But this is not about my therapist, or nicknames. It could be about our sweet new pack member, Daisy (more on her this month), but this meditation is a continuation on<i> practices</i> and how they can keep us grounded, somewhat sane, maybe even save us. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I can say that </span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">writing has saved my life many times over. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And for that I am deeply grateful. For that I've been devoted to this simple practice of writing every day for over thirty years. I've written in all kinds of notebooks: gorgeous journals from Italy, leather journals with tie clasps and thick ivory paper, small books that I could hold in the palm of my hand, large black sketchbooks, orange books, plain old composition books with graph paper, lined paper, pages with tiny dots. I paint pictures and make my own covers. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">At times, I've written on legal pads because I thought <i>this stuff is so embarrassing, so whiny and mean, I can't put the words in a book. </i>But all that stuff shows up in my journals too. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Along with the story of the woman I met in the bean aisle. Her long coat was a tangerine color. She was tiny, older, and needed help reaching a can of red beans on the top shelf. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">The things we remember. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I remember her. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQs1yzdVUwmDbYDPYNxKQoOBeqGYOTcrTXoePBzc2bU-nhMk5zqhgobfKZ1fJVvTDXUS27Zc2rFeDSn1m8mqKvhYq9dGlm_SpcoIgJo28zDWp3GCpJcCMeUB49LT1sMRdAb9snyeGCTMVKVJ_7HBMG6Wf6h1jcTfIxvulZsRm_V6sSyjpefVNa27J5lls/s1200/Journals.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCQs1yzdVUwmDbYDPYNxKQoOBeqGYOTcrTXoePBzc2bU-nhMk5zqhgobfKZ1fJVvTDXUS27Zc2rFeDSn1m8mqKvhYq9dGlm_SpcoIgJo28zDWp3GCpJcCMeUB49LT1sMRdAb9snyeGCTMVKVJ_7HBMG6Wf6h1jcTfIxvulZsRm_V6sSyjpefVNa27J5lls/s320/Journals.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Dr. Falbo was the one who coined </span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: medium;">woman • book • dog.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">That trinity felt, and still feels, the most sane, settling, calm. Though I always found myself with a lover after my first marriage ended, those sweet men didn't tend to end up fully in the equation of my life. At that time, I had my first daughter to care for. It was the two of us until I found Che in a motel lobby and brought him home for us... (another dog story) </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Writing is a map into, and out of, the Self. It's a way to remember, and lay things down.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I need both. Daily. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">I am blessed with a beloved husband, family and friends. So many blessings, seen and unseen. And now, after months of grieving over the loss and absence of our dog, Chewy, back in February, (another dog story), </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">t</span><span style="font-family: times;">here's a new dog at my feet. </span></span><span style="font-family: courier; font-size: large;">Daisy.🌼</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">And a notebook on my lap.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Just when you think, <i>I'm not doing that again, you do. </i></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">love♥️</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">b 🐝</span></p><p><br /></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1567102860935273920.post-71839228439905420242023-12-01T16:28:00.000-08:002023-12-02T10:13:43.120-08:00Live from Culver City<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lF3kwW_sVrsCK-jbcfdhNZ4v2CLhDcHzfLxtF8oO8MnyljnvnS2Bh4jpDWQbtdCKn59Sambh-vBwXxd4DuDc2KmZkwINuYMjU2PoA3QHfmcBAiyu74N6GJRMAzlunyMes32idM6hFONgJic9JIXWPTUNIfhZ_82oDCHK8R1vDugTkt1ehuq34S0gb7rL/s640/Claire%20and%20Me%20Culver%20City.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5lF3kwW_sVrsCK-jbcfdhNZ4v2CLhDcHzfLxtF8oO8MnyljnvnS2Bh4jpDWQbtdCKn59Sambh-vBwXxd4DuDc2KmZkwINuYMjU2PoA3QHfmcBAiyu74N6GJRMAzlunyMes32idM6hFONgJic9JIXWPTUNIfhZ_82oDCHK8R1vDugTkt1ehuq34S0gb7rL/s320/Claire%20and%20Me%20Culver%20City.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">December 1 • 2023 </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Claire and I met in Culver City today. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>The Culver City I'd always hear about on NPR when I lived on the east coast. <i>Live from Culver City! </i>Today's </span>field trip<span> included </span><span>a bookstore, meandering into a couple of shops where a small mug might cost you $56, then a bite to eat at Vida Cafe. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>No mugs were bought.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>Claire took our picture in front of the Culver City City Hall. She's been taking pictures of city halls for a few years now. Philadelphia, Portland, Maine, Seattle, Carmel-by-the Sea ~ city halls in big and tiny towns. </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Now, Culver City's in the bag.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><span style="font-family: times;">On the drive, I took Topanga Canyon down to the Pacific Coast Highway. At the light where canyon meets ocean, a man was sitting on the ground with a sign asking for help. For a strange moment, he looked like a tree branch, all dusty and worn out leaning against the light pole, cars passing. </span><span style="font-family: times;">The ocean sparkling in front of me. </span><i style="font-family: times;">Sparkling. </i></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Along the coast I saw a man by his car. He was older, in good shape, and looked like he'd been taking a morning swim. He was wearing blue trunks, the kind Lloyd Bridges wore on </span><span style="font-family: times;">Sea Hunt </span><span style="font-family: times;">back in the day. I remember Lloyd's trunks having a kind of belt, but I might be making that up.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8hSrfm4TtAdrd3YoZIjRqZsZ2uE9dlbsZalowaqXjE5WtBCl_GyzFUfJeDeXYnuvRcKB3lH0-VRACca6u9ZO-VqQyxmL5zxaE1QqxoKR_GrnksZ2JbZ8RD6ZqcIs8yx_k9ccXHOMoIXNC8csSb3twgEJAC7G91cAAEaEVyfNionh_Ye9IkgOnSIT2ghG/s813/Stars%20and%20Moons.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="813" data-original-width="634" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8hSrfm4TtAdrd3YoZIjRqZsZ2uE9dlbsZalowaqXjE5WtBCl_GyzFUfJeDeXYnuvRcKB3lH0-VRACca6u9ZO-VqQyxmL5zxaE1QqxoKR_GrnksZ2JbZ8RD6ZqcIs8yx_k9ccXHOMoIXNC8csSb3twgEJAC7G91cAAEaEVyfNionh_Ye9IkgOnSIT2ghG/s320/Stars%20and%20Moons.jpg" width="250" /></span></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Over lunch, we talked about practices we've cultivated. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">Ones that help us stay somewhat sane in this nutty world. </span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Drawing</span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-size: medium;">writing</span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-size: medium;">collecting seeds</span></span></span></p><p><span><span style="font-family: courier;"><span style="font-size: medium;">plant-tending</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><span>walking.</span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> 🐌</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Writing has been my main squeeze practice forever. After listening to a conversation with a poet on a podcast about not worrying so much about "pat endings" or having your story/poem/</span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">art </span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">figured out before you even start, I decided to get out of my way and write a small post every day this month. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">A December writing project/practice. </span><i style="font-family: times;">For the merry fun of it. </i><span style="font-family: times;">🎄</span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Put down my perfectionist, fussy, overthinking tendencies and tell a few simple stories.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Pesky ego be damned.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Love ♥️</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span>b</span> 🐝</span></p><p><br /></p>Betsy Jacksonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10178789985223139131noreply@blogger.com12