tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51637671704619105272023-11-16T01:20:46.090-05:001000 Words...an evolving blog of photos (365 project based) and wordsUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger379125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-81307490083883062302011-01-12T19:52:00.001-05:002011-01-12T19:53:43.449-05:00The blog has moved...from its very nice home here on Blogger to a new site: <a href="http://moonovertrees.com">moonovertrees.com</a> <div><br /></div><div>Please come join us there! Thanks for reading!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-32806665488600760392011-01-08T23:51:00.000-05:002011-01-08T23:52:15.564-05:00Enough Happiness<a href="http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/08/enoughhappiness/">http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/08/enoughhappiness/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-3382315714823542112011-01-07T14:59:00.000-05:002011-01-07T15:00:14.983-05:00Aunt RuthMy blog on the death of my <a href="http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/07/aunt-ruth/">Aunt Ruth</a>...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-47971570907251789862011-01-06T23:25:00.001-05:002011-01-06T23:25:50.875-05:00ReflectionsThe new blog is here: <a href="http://moonovertrees.com/reflections/">http://moonovertrees.com/reflections/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-59120259491595298942011-01-05T00:44:00.001-05:002011-01-05T00:44:44.006-05:00Good DeedsSee us at our new home: <a href="http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/04/gooddeeds/">http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/04/gooddeeds/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-57247483070745046452011-01-03T22:15:00.002-05:002011-01-03T22:16:10.136-05:00Driving WestSee us at our new location: <a href="http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/03/driving-west/">http://moonovertrees.com/2011/01/03/driving-west/</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-11464674964979974912011-01-02T20:57:00.003-05:002011-01-02T22:33:10.042-05:00Fog<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmhyf4iEK2h-CA5t92ze0PZrvvQKtpZSTdaSDdleO7gNfaoVhFZOqeE2VBlRRdPr8q5Ka6oM-JBiM4lCbThSC7CIj4Kiqf-t4iEpmoQ0mvXTRmzIlhyphenhyphen3Ep-ah70Hm71S0gzVAGz5gsYo/s1600/DSC_5083.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGmhyf4iEK2h-CA5t92ze0PZrvvQKtpZSTdaSDdleO7gNfaoVhFZOqeE2VBlRRdPr8q5Ka6oM-JBiM4lCbThSC7CIj4Kiqf-t4iEpmoQ0mvXTRmzIlhyphenhyphen3Ep-ah70Hm71S0gzVAGz5gsYo/s400/DSC_5083.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557796523240832050" /></a><div>Woke this morning on the couch in the sunroom. Slept so poorly that it undoubtedly affected my disposition all day since. Had to watch how I reacted to the kids, and also how sensitive I was to the things said by any one else in the immediate vicinity. It was the worst possible way to be and to spend the last day of Christmas break. </div><div><br /></div><div>I looked outside, and the fog was thick and everywhere. It started in the yard, and spread in thick patches in all directions. I could relate. Nothing seemed clear, and less seemed relevant to try to figure out. This curly birch's branches against the fog reminded me of a painting I saw at MoMA last summer, but cannot remember what it was for the life of me. So I just sat there, and stared into the gray space, and the dark black and brown lines in the foreground were the random tangents in my mind. </div><div><br /></div><div>Home safely, and car cleaned. A new year of work ahead. On the road again starting tomorrow. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-4739164510985165112011-01-01T23:11:00.003-05:002011-01-01T23:54:41.063-05:00With Family<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmwNiSgexs5DfOSv8WOi0FJgbugy8coI8sXooYwdiCVHknmMdBvUqwICInGajj3STV1q2dxtts_w7zPSNGyczqXjBv-su4R7zlSqqZe-gj2J1jl0BNqTQ7eNOiTfEPepNv8wqN8PkIWY/s1600/DSC_5071.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicmwNiSgexs5DfOSv8WOi0FJgbugy8coI8sXooYwdiCVHknmMdBvUqwICInGajj3STV1q2dxtts_w7zPSNGyczqXjBv-su4R7zlSqqZe-gj2J1jl0BNqTQ7eNOiTfEPepNv8wqN8PkIWY/s400/DSC_5071.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557440912082288770" /></a>The way to start the New Year should be with family and friends. I ended the night (but before midnight) in Greensboro with friends, and shared the night and early morning with my kids on our way to Banner Elk. <div><br /></div><div>(There was a nutty episode during which I was expected to manage the insanity of someone's unreasonable fears, at 1:30 am, that caused great distress to my children, but, as usual, that didn't matter... I am just about done with that.)</div><div><br /></div><div>Woke up early and finished the drive and got to Banner Elk right after 8 am. It was good to see my parents, eat some breakfast, and take a long morning nap to catch up on what I didn't get last night. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKZm8TGFiQIz1Hh42AHz663L_YZ4agrH3iyxtt4yibO5VJ2QaZ-_6o4D4MzHrYaTcGwj1xuxy220zDkcDdtRGwWS6vCIuf2pTgHIv7zEl-rV5WCNXxfpnl5NtukXGyP2Gaw2QuXDWnQg/s1600/DSC_5068+-+Version+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvKZm8TGFiQIz1Hh42AHz663L_YZ4agrH3iyxtt4yibO5VJ2QaZ-_6o4D4MzHrYaTcGwj1xuxy220zDkcDdtRGwWS6vCIuf2pTgHIv7zEl-rV5WCNXxfpnl5NtukXGyP2Gaw2QuXDWnQg/s400/DSC_5068+-+Version+2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557440908828993090" /></a>It made the day weird, but again the day ended well, with my children and I joining my parents, my brother and niece with my mom's sisters' families -- a family holiday tradition that dates to my earliest memories. My uncle Bob desperately bragging on Clemson (yeah...) and my great cousins and aunts all running around getting things together and catching up. We usually play ping pong (none tonight, sadly) but it truly is a way that makes the closure of the holidays both natural and bittersweet. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow, the two week school break ends and the run-up to the summer begins in earnest. The days keep getting longer, and something good is around the corner. I can feel it with everything in my soul. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Success is measured in inches, not in feet, or miles." A great quote that I feel every day.</div><div><br /></div><div>The first day is done. 364 to go... </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-73084509156464180252010-12-31T23:44:00.001-05:002011-01-01T03:09:22.895-05:00Numbers and Words<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQ_0DOv-uZDTo-pksss17f5baQtmKyqb3BxPUHXxxAwqE2DEvhZ_Ku3olfq8XHWzmT33shDm59nL7tWh1dnRwKW-lcgBAMfNWyFYy6XvhGkPI3UsxXKuJh3T2BsUmQt4S_shA1TDfo7k/s1600/DSC_5051.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSQ_0DOv-uZDTo-pksss17f5baQtmKyqb3BxPUHXxxAwqE2DEvhZ_Ku3olfq8XHWzmT33shDm59nL7tWh1dnRwKW-lcgBAMfNWyFYy6XvhGkPI3UsxXKuJh3T2BsUmQt4S_shA1TDfo7k/s400/DSC_5051.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557120585384156114" /></a>23,540 photos taken in the past 365 days. 371 blog entries over the last 12 months. Hundreds of thousands of words written, recording memories, pain, happiness, travel, precious time with my children... and another year passes. <i>525,600 minutes -- how do you measure a year, a year in the life? </i><div><br /></div><div>2011 (technically) begins a new decade. New years usually mean new beginnings. I think for me, 2011 will not mean something new, but rather the continuation of months of work, gathering strength and momentum toward resolving my worst tendencies and proving I am not as flawed as I once was. It will mean closing the last chapters of my ills and writing new ones on the promise of brighter days. This new year will bring ups and downs, successes and disappointments, new and old friends, and lots of the unexpected.... just like the year that is ending. </div><div><br /></div><div>We focus a lot of each new year, and yet lose sight of the individual memories. I want to go back and read the last year's worth of posts to remind me of the realness of my two rocks getting married to their own best partners; of the joy of waking early in Sacramento and walking downtown while MK slept in the hotel; the look on Drew's face when he walked into the Four Seasons in St. Louis; and how my bed felt crawling into it after being on the road for ten days, or just 18 hours after I last laid between those sheets. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will continue to be here. It is who I am. It is how I communicate to the ones I love, and am rewarded by the kind words and thoughts and presence of the most unexpected people in the world. It is proof that I am stronger, courageous (thanks JFG for that word) and scared yet unafraid of tomorrow. It is the admission of the pleasure of appreciation, but defiant rejection that this is a narcissist exercise. And I am proud that I can, and have, and will continue to be here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tomorrow is just another day, just another few steps in a journey. Thanks for holding my hand along the path, scolding me when it makes no sense, shedding a tear or sharing a laugh. </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy New Year. Happier New Decade. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-71464378392774897812010-12-30T23:29:00.002-05:002010-12-30T23:42:17.337-05:00Cool Clouds<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDezEs_twdrkmhRwgmXnBbRsXrpghu8gG9nDRELbSfPRJX4946H8LVgNMkhYOXWFxwsuVq0ykHVqUMQTtSU8PVIq8kIAvhORp7FP4y5cJYqzDKjaflNUOAdW-mmyoH9mG7cI8IySozF4/s1600/DSC_5003.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDezEs_twdrkmhRwgmXnBbRsXrpghu8gG9nDRELbSfPRJX4946H8LVgNMkhYOXWFxwsuVq0ykHVqUMQTtSU8PVIq8kIAvhORp7FP4y5cJYqzDKjaflNUOAdW-mmyoH9mG7cI8IySozF4/s400/DSC_5003.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556699459534377474" /></a>Brought my children home today, and got a bunch of other stuff done. Had a nice family dinner, and enjoyed a movie with the kids. The way a day which is the next to last day of the decade should be. <div><br /></div><div>On our way out of Durham, we saw this amazing cloud spot looking like waves in the sky. So we stopped so that Mary Kathryn and I could capture it in our own way. She's loving her new camera too... </div><div><br /></div><div>Tonight watched the Heels make and take the Vols in Nashville. Too bad I wasn't there to celebrate with the few thousand in Carolina Blue who pulled it off in second overtime. No split allegiance here... Go Heels!</div><div><br /></div><div>Last day of a year tomorrow. Looking forward to something special. What will it be? I don't know...</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-36671442828276315412010-12-29T22:07:00.002-05:002010-12-29T22:13:04.459-05:00Capitol Christmas Tree<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTChRjKSrvO-t6nXUjgVBNSwJMSIm2BOqu-x_MYcBRSu1B1ipO1cGSqDAfCM3VO862c1SRqPcMNTQIEMxzvVVUcvySKHczAkfeEi8wOm2l3yMa3Kc0bFEgWRpg8HD53KZPKnTGCozW-4/s1600/DSC_5000.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlTChRjKSrvO-t6nXUjgVBNSwJMSIm2BOqu-x_MYcBRSu1B1ipO1cGSqDAfCM3VO862c1SRqPcMNTQIEMxzvVVUcvySKHczAkfeEi8wOm2l3yMa3Kc0bFEgWRpg8HD53KZPKnTGCozW-4/s400/DSC_5000.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556306918104654706" /></a>Had the occasion to be in downtown Raleigh tonight -- I was trying to mail a note to a former co-worker, and thought dropping it at the Post Office on Fayetteville Street would be a good idea -- and was stopped in my place at the beauty of the State Capitol and the Christmas tree on the south side of the square. It was a wonderful sight. <div><br /></div><div>I loved the amber lights off the marble and the seemingly thousands of lights on the tree. The dome was shadowed but enough to catch its unique shape. And even though I bet after the snow on Monday, it was even more beautiful. </div><div><br /></div><div>This brought a real smile to my face. Maybe a good Christmas card next year.</div><div><br /></div><div>Got the first batch of eclipse prints tonight. If you're interested, drop me a line. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-80585363524660505562010-12-28T19:06:00.002-05:002010-12-28T19:38:50.059-05:00A role I never planned...I wrote a <a href="http://moonovertreesphotos.blogspot.com/2010/12/accidents.html">blog</a> a few weeks ago about an accident that I had seen on I-40 around Mocksville. Over the past few days, the family of the young man who was one of the folks involved in the horrific wreck and airlifted to Winston-Salem found that blog. They have made some very nice comments, and really touched me with their words. <div><br /></div><div>You never know who you can help by bringing a moment to light, and make a small difference in their lives. And never underestimate the power of prayer. So tonight, I ask for your prayers for Brandon as he continues to recover from the accident, with the hope that he will soon be better. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-82772494266761365202010-12-27T21:15:00.002-05:002010-12-27T21:30:47.978-05:00The Monday After Christmas...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcdadU64-umjKZsJHT94jU7svFn84QIdoshXug8tlTomEZ68ANpzGaYHAVySyZ1Yw8nBpXbHSTZ0HSdELABBlQiq_L59IcCcD8oKsa2qTawcrzQDD232oBDolJGYS0mALzlnn9R4eqm8/s1600/DSC_4997.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmcdadU64-umjKZsJHT94jU7svFn84QIdoshXug8tlTomEZ68ANpzGaYHAVySyZ1Yw8nBpXbHSTZ0HSdELABBlQiq_L59IcCcD8oKsa2qTawcrzQDD232oBDolJGYS0mALzlnn9R4eqm8/s400/DSC_4997.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555551184181119666" /></a>...will always be a bittersweet day to me. Two years ago, I woke up with one plan for my day, and another fell into place. Today, thinking back on it, I can tell you a lot about some of it, but I cannot piece some facts together. I know that I regret my failure to take care of myself, and yet I am thankful that I went through four days at Duke because it was the wake-up call I desperately needed. But it was one of many wake-up calls I received, and other things that occurred that fateful morning set up a number of the changes that came in the weeks and months that followed. But it never makes me happy. <div><br /></div><div>It was the Monday after Christmas, and probably the best Christmas I have had as an adult. This day is a perspective day for me -- like March 23 -- and one that the day on the calendar will rarely matter. It will always be the Monday after Christmas. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-41255346851781481362010-12-26T18:48:00.004-05:002010-12-26T20:12:15.883-05:00Snow, Shopping, Soup... and a Sore Tooth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNVJ7RIY_Z54tdUsxT6Lls5WMyyNK4zGAo35yBO0Z1BPPyTT1iuiLguCgxt0Ei5y4P7KHhxqFyXGbYT18EfWWAX7-dkZMc5XSzB3R4KrsCr0_7g1Or5AN71eFd6qZTNG2am3hsQVT4D4/s1600/DSC_4964.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoNVJ7RIY_Z54tdUsxT6Lls5WMyyNK4zGAo35yBO0Z1BPPyTT1iuiLguCgxt0Ei5y4P7KHhxqFyXGbYT18EfWWAX7-dkZMc5XSzB3R4KrsCr0_7g1Or5AN71eFd6qZTNG2am3hsQVT4D4/s400/DSC_4964.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555163030029504098" /></a>Woke up to a white world, covered in a thick blanket of snow. It was the kind of snow that I always associate with Christmas. When I was a kid, one of the most memorable storms was at Christmas, and the snow so wet and heavy that it literally stacked on the wire fence two and three inches high. This morning, driving around, seeing it lay higher and higher on branches, cars, and very horizontal or angled space it could, each flake stacked on another the way that buckyballs of carbon make their strength. It was a sight to behold... and one rarely seen here.<div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyIoWYaxK0npMp9SsU6b7hkOv3n16lsp6LugmkwmTEDfK_Tc3L9SJ_ZxYm__OP3U24jxeQ6rINDFCemK7V6a9lDfRWOuneRx5L_quxXuXhwczxLwUYaqC8pGUsmes7Ru6J-TK-2Ws8rw/s1600/DSC_4980.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOyIoWYaxK0npMp9SsU6b7hkOv3n16lsp6LugmkwmTEDfK_Tc3L9SJ_ZxYm__OP3U24jxeQ6rINDFCemK7V6a9lDfRWOuneRx5L_quxXuXhwczxLwUYaqC8pGUsmes7Ru6J-TK-2Ws8rw/s400/DSC_4980.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555163028505114674" /></a><div>This morning, I decided to travel out since I knew so few would. I stopped by Wal-Mart to get some soup supplies -- wanted to try out the new slow cooker and the weather seemed perfect for a turkey vegetable soup. There was very few cars there -- not like yesterday's welcome vacuum in nearly every parking lot I passed -- but a few brave souls out to try their luck. The most interesting phenomenon was the disproportionally high percentage of men, mostly walking around the grocery section, with lists and cell phones in hand, walking around lost and seemingly confused. Most had that nervous look of not wanting to buy the wrong thing, but being unable to find the brand, or the size, or the exact product they understood they were SUPPOSED to buy. It was nice to just be there, and not stressed about what I came home with.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72VlsLcjXJ5RjBN2stsOUTPZpNyAzK-BW0EZ5cJ4pDD9lC3FLhxcR_bADjqPr0ZOC61qHHjySQpGDuBCayhtjP51FYzlG6mYkzEHvF9IS8GWlzrGuLX6P42RDVAFM8onIxzsr-yQ8x3c/s1600/DSC_4995.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj72VlsLcjXJ5RjBN2stsOUTPZpNyAzK-BW0EZ5cJ4pDD9lC3FLhxcR_bADjqPr0ZOC61qHHjySQpGDuBCayhtjP51FYzlG6mYkzEHvF9IS8GWlzrGuLX6P42RDVAFM8onIxzsr-yQ8x3c/s400/DSC_4995.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5555163029192247538" /></a><div>Came home to start the soup, and then went to go rescue Gene and Mary Kaitland from being homebound by the snow and we all went to the mall. I needed to exchange a gift for my MK, and it was good to be with friends for a while. We enjoyed our walk, and talk, and seeing the unhuddled masses around the mostly open stores of Crabtree.</div><div><br /></div><div>This evening, I have enjoyed soup, and fought the pain associated with my newly-cracked tooth. After months of managing it -- by which I mean, ignore it -- it broke first thing yesterday morning on a bit of bacon. And I cannot do anything about it until tomorrow at the earliest. Today.... I will stay away from popcorn, foods that are too hot, or eating on the left side of my mouth.</div><div><br /></div><div>A White Boxing Day indeed.</div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-2201769206108088222010-12-25T20:14:00.003-05:002010-12-25T20:30:48.711-05:00Thankful for Family...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Xi-gbBZIWSpEb50VssVJcwQd3PAidRMQHgmZtcKpT_tPTake-X2fV0Mz1FSa8d1l0QGQUCmuojWzOyvFag9Km5pdG7XFkyloya3QuLNGPXhFHXU-Vl7tPdbbEDn7PndnfgFnYmUSEbE/s1600/DSC_4942.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Xi-gbBZIWSpEb50VssVJcwQd3PAidRMQHgmZtcKpT_tPTake-X2fV0Mz1FSa8d1l0QGQUCmuojWzOyvFag9Km5pdG7XFkyloya3QuLNGPXhFHXU-Vl7tPdbbEDn7PndnfgFnYmUSEbE/s400/DSC_4942.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554793506935251698" /></a>I did not want to be alone today, so last night, after the Watts Street Candlelight Service and Lovefeast, I drove to Banner Elk, arriving near 11 pm. I walked into my parents' house, walking through cold air into a dark sunroom. After getting my handful of presents around the tree, I walked down the hall and crawled into bed.<div><br /></div><div>This morning, it took me a few minutes to realize where I was, and that today was Christmas. But when it occurred to me, I didn't bounce up or any such reaction -- instead I just walked into the kitchen where my mom was making breakfast. </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazRu-KRASJY7tSvU_HeK47l_et9fAJZgOLN1YJj8T9v2m2qks93zq8OpjqyIYB-_RQlP-y6Nn2uII77DhpuMCo8G4Xqb6VKeg7bTu67wfyhqF4vQanbeFNWzV71S39JHwuDHxJJfPHgA/s1600/DSC_4958.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazRu-KRASJY7tSvU_HeK47l_et9fAJZgOLN1YJj8T9v2m2qks93zq8OpjqyIYB-_RQlP-y6Nn2uII77DhpuMCo8G4Xqb6VKeg7bTu67wfyhqF4vQanbeFNWzV71S39JHwuDHxJJfPHgA/s400/DSC_4958.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554793507796693986" /></a>My parents and I spent a while talking, sharing news and talking about the kids. It was a nice way to spend the first few minutes of this day. We exchanged presents and then got ready to go to Hickory. It was most definitely a White Christmas -- snow falling, roads getting icy and wind swirling fog and powder. The people driving for the most part shouldn't -- too slow and uncertain to be safe, but the slush was making it tough for everyone to drive, including me. </div><div><br /></div><div>But a Christmas lunch later, with presents opened, I got in the car and drove home, in the snow, mist, rain and traffic. But glad that I was able to enjoy my family -- parents, siblings, etc -- and my Christmas, even without seeing my children. Today was the first Christmas in their lives I didn't see them at all, but that didn't make me overly sad... well, until I wrote that. But the afterglow of our time yesterday, and the simple love I share with them. </div><div><br /></div><div>Merry Christmas to all, and to all... a Good Night!</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKoqYEamPbik8qW2fBOTsJNFyZyOZv1PUXobBLHwtzXgEK2g0bHQIrgtezsz6B8-7X0cGDvBG_KuZncmqlaaoKsObZI7oAIE74ijJe7atVcVlWhw0syZKd08h8pjMrJPG18kDvCMPcm0/s1600/DSC_4961.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXKoqYEamPbik8qW2fBOTsJNFyZyOZv1PUXobBLHwtzXgEK2g0bHQIrgtezsz6B8-7X0cGDvBG_KuZncmqlaaoKsObZI7oAIE74ijJe7atVcVlWhw0syZKd08h8pjMrJPG18kDvCMPcm0/s400/DSC_4961.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554793501166674930" /></a><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-12360291689826579782010-12-24T10:22:00.004-05:002010-12-24T14:20:13.497-05:00Thankful for my children...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34ExO8IjxVgfd746-0wPmujftWCJTTacc0UM2-Sc0ht0KD5ujNQtVr5ncHRB_kByND2JGcbYNo_JGsCc4qC2XICV6l1KVu4-d7rFZkiJtdKrFpmo5KzS9_h0zZnIqFEbmhLJo3Ck_-Os/s1600/DSC_4929.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh34ExO8IjxVgfd746-0wPmujftWCJTTacc0UM2-Sc0ht0KD5ujNQtVr5ncHRB_kByND2JGcbYNo_JGsCc4qC2XICV6l1KVu4-d7rFZkiJtdKrFpmo5KzS9_h0zZnIqFEbmhLJo3Ck_-Os/s400/DSC_4929.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554326144218584482" /></a>This morning, I was awoken by Mary Kathryn at 7:30 am to tell me that it was time for Drew and I to get up so we could open presents. Reminded me of my own Christmas mornings many years ago, only I don't think that I would have been brave enough to have woke my parents up like that. <div><br /></div><div>So the kids and I sat down on the floor of the living room, and I watched them open up each of their presents -- Drew first (by MK's direction) and then she ripped her own open. Of course her favorite was the one she knew the least about -- the armadillo can holder! </div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-L3kmWUAq4FF3oYTyqNoTIavoK3n0Av0BBGd0RpXnIobj_LnSL-FbdAZ5LiLTJmCjAz-n25G8n55LqpIpRcCTZqB21P58mrx3Raa9GCyUcPBq8NqiHwqUIiIJabvfin2Sz3ssgsM_cw/s1600/DSC_4930.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-L3kmWUAq4FF3oYTyqNoTIavoK3n0Av0BBGd0RpXnIobj_LnSL-FbdAZ5LiLTJmCjAz-n25G8n55LqpIpRcCTZqB21P58mrx3Raa9GCyUcPBq8NqiHwqUIiIJabvfin2Sz3ssgsM_cw/s400/DSC_4930.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554326144007654354" /></a>The wonder on their faces is always the best part of Christmas. Reminds me of my own childhood, and the way I felt every time I opened a present. I really sometimes wish I could restore that same appreciation for Christmas morning. In fact, the absence of that mystery and appreciation of the moment is probably the biggest reason I don't love Christmas like I used to.<br /><div><br /></div><div>But to spend this little bit of time is as important as any gift I could ever get, or give, and that makes this Christmas as special as any. </div><div><br /></div><div>----</div><div><br /></div><div>Loved this horoscope: <i>"There's always one moment in childhood when the door opens and lets the future in," wrote novelist Graham Greene. I'll add to that: There are at least three moments in adulthood when a new door opens and invites the rest of the future in. Judging by the astrological omens, I'm guessing that one such breakthrough lies ahead for you in 2011. What can you do to expedite and encourage fate's summons? Here's one possibility: Surrender to the naked truth of what you love.</i></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-72092432516641299832010-12-23T23:49:00.002-05:002010-12-24T00:02:28.744-05:00Thankful for my co-workers and colleagues...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78en5CJOpA7fOZj8XOZ08aBJIL0-oTf0xfWX5gG08LYwj_g2CxAWDiLQXWnNcT2yhgw4A8Ce_MBxtQK3juJHwnP2_isBcegxBTISAd-YPnIoolLMDYyJGoDQmQe-wfeFbeDne70vvYoE/s1600/DSC_4918.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi78en5CJOpA7fOZj8XOZ08aBJIL0-oTf0xfWX5gG08LYwj_g2CxAWDiLQXWnNcT2yhgw4A8Ce_MBxtQK3juJHwnP2_isBcegxBTISAd-YPnIoolLMDYyJGoDQmQe-wfeFbeDne70vvYoE/s400/DSC_4918.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554106934270943458" /></a>Today, I drove to Fayetteville for a little Christmas luncheon at the office. It gave me a chance to reflect on how much I have to be appreciative of in my work. I have a great team working with me -- from my account management group, to the numerous Keystone folks that I assist in their ongoing work throughout the state, and increasingly in other states, and ultimately to the folks I work with in our offices and in Dallas. It is always surprising to me how successful it can all be, with such real people. <div><br /></div><div>It also is remarkable how much we do get done on a regular basis. And to be moving in so many directions, I am amazed that we get most of it right! ;-) I just know that the support, the belief, the trust and the ongoing work all come from a lot of fabulous people that are my friends, mentors, occasionally charged with keeping me on my toes and on task, and doing in a way that doesn't feel like work. </div><div><br /></div><div>That is a real blessing. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-14575770011913957252010-12-22T22:03:00.001-05:002010-12-23T23:49:18.922-05:00Thankful for Friends...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfplEP8yOYSsf7C10bsjLHRlg6pB35Xj_ihkB2V2XqW1LP3lETFpkdTTFZ3nc2do9g074X7IcGFO-QFIh4-ut7OoMgFg9vNnALoHhHKaqEu_8YyrUs8jbAAV5CKfgEBF23F28nvuYCgw/s1600/DSC_4924.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyfplEP8yOYSsf7C10bsjLHRlg6pB35Xj_ihkB2V2XqW1LP3lETFpkdTTFZ3nc2do9g074X7IcGFO-QFIh4-ut7OoMgFg9vNnALoHhHKaqEu_8YyrUs8jbAAV5CKfgEBF23F28nvuYCgw/s400/DSC_4924.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554100840082099570" /></a>With the plethora of Christmas cards arriving over the past few days, and a great lunch I had today with Gene and our friend Haynes, I want to mention how thankful I am for my friends. They have been a rock for me in so many wonderful ways, especially over the last couple years. <div><br /></div><div>Some people have unfortunately become distant, by the memory or aftereffect of my bad acts, and others have simply fallen off the face of the earth, for reasons one can only imagine, but the people who have stuck around have blessed me with their words, their truth and understanding as I have been through so much.</div><div><br /></div><div>As I received feedback on my eclipse pictures, I was reminded too how the community of old friends built over the past three years -- some from years ago in Banner Elk Elementary, to those new folks I've met through work and travels in the last few months -- has been a firm foundation for many positive things in my own life. While some forums (forii?) have been seen as distracting, or negative, or narcissistic, I have been glad to all that I've gained from positive, honest relationships built, nurtured or mutually enriched. </div><div><br /></div><div>So thanks for my friends -- always a part of my prayers every night. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-47050028218407941462010-12-20T21:54:00.005-05:002010-12-21T04:49:33.312-05:00Thankful for the Moon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuJqzIXyBBXYF1Eb8xnPwmJJuV8sFTVRQc4l1Ntdgh7RFYOJTv5fB_AysjSuEQjMWdUMxez0v4DJK-kPFuzgxVgxJRXYmdB0eOWLXxZ7huIZzJvJGkqmBhgZJsvNL1kL8fihsE9Eu4Mw/s1600/DSC_4658.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijuJqzIXyBBXYF1Eb8xnPwmJJuV8sFTVRQc4l1Ntdgh7RFYOJTv5fB_AysjSuEQjMWdUMxez0v4DJK-kPFuzgxVgxJRXYmdB0eOWLXxZ7huIZzJvJGkqmBhgZJsvNL1kL8fihsE9Eu4Mw/s400/DSC_4658.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553067873941623010" /></a><div>I would have to say that the moon, and my ongoing fascination with it, have been one of the great inspirations in my photography. Tonight, I had the honor of capturing a series of the lunar eclipse that occurred on the winter solstice for the first time in nearly 400 years.</div><div><br /></div><div>It was a pretty impressive thing to observe. When I first went outside (and btw, it was pretty damn cold), the moon was still full and bright. It was just coming into the first parts of the partial eclipse, and my initial thoughts were that this would be no big deal.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJIrQ3LZwglistHNL9-BflnaV-5A-AG2Ptmep6fJwCvlzZdnNAjazSvMu1wlfM-9JRkfXb3FEYvrGwijJua8vhZofd1ERHFr9nbyaVHLQj72TBU4xHN_AFtGFFnJRPXcj_ow78LbpbcE/s1600/DSC_4711.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIJIrQ3LZwglistHNL9-BflnaV-5A-AG2Ptmep6fJwCvlzZdnNAjazSvMu1wlfM-9JRkfXb3FEYvrGwijJua8vhZofd1ERHFr9nbyaVHLQj72TBU4xHN_AFtGFFnJRPXcj_ow78LbpbcE/s400/DSC_4711.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553067870597186034" /></a><div>So I carted the camera and the tripod back into the house, and sat down to work for a few minutes. Upon my return, a full third of the moon had been erased, and it was eery to see it. All of a sudden, I began to understand why ancient societies would be so freaked out by this type of event, and I was fully engaged.</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrii0TNlknsYGHApEjTHb61mQZrXz3fKel_W2uAyN24WYW752T1qIWstZ7AZm4aLTdh1p4Twra5kIomIPSio2KDofIvxZNJdgOKekokVuZYSCYt-_tgSDlErJbvEN2jWiDjPGVKvh06g/s1600/DSC_4777.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrrii0TNlknsYGHApEjTHb61mQZrXz3fKel_W2uAyN24WYW752T1qIWstZ7AZm4aLTdh1p4Twra5kIomIPSio2KDofIvxZNJdgOKekokVuZYSCYt-_tgSDlErJbvEN2jWiDjPGVKvh06g/s400/DSC_4777.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553067868612008626" /></a><div>Over the next hour, I watched the moon slowly disappear until there was just a thin edge, and then the most amazing thing happened: the moon seemed to reappear, but with a blood orange color now enveloping our satellite. And the thought hit me (reinforced by a couple other friends' status messages on Facebook) that this was of the few nights a year when there is no bright side of the moon -- it was all the dark side.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWwpHgJm3y5nknxJZQFsR3oelB_tRFO4m-hUvIUzh2eShzoPj-qHUgmb9uMSGbARLC_poZDhDs63uCcuKYxYmBisIgz_ioXjTWD0DUT62USYp0lbWLPhFVvvVcEbXhCV50Ry0BqVPmrc/s1600/DSC_4901.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWwpHgJm3y5nknxJZQFsR3oelB_tRFO4m-hUvIUzh2eShzoPj-qHUgmb9uMSGbARLC_poZDhDs63uCcuKYxYmBisIgz_ioXjTWD0DUT62USYp0lbWLPhFVvvVcEbXhCV50Ry0BqVPmrc/s400/DSC_4901.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553069284901877650" style="float: left; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a>So after reaching the peak of the eclipse, the clouds moved in and began to coat the sky and ended the show. I am now going to bed, having accomplished the goal of capturing the sky.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I close with the thoughts of a friend who is suffering from the pain of a failed marriage: We are slow to heal. That is always true and yet, you never stop wishing for the way it was. Of this, I know.</div></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-85014596826330165042010-12-19T23:14:00.003-05:002010-12-20T10:14:01.164-05:00Thankful for my Sunday School Class<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKv595kfqEkvEfWlX4NvEw-cyqjVJVr4yEGtc76-lShgx0CUuJ3vk8z6lnb6_T8iw2WaCpSjO7XbyQL1yNvSC9YHZrUGmmPKK1fQLLHYgg3_z0rgGQLrHi8hFojWJMVBzaTEzyOl_YPo/s1600/DSC_4651.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimKv595kfqEkvEfWlX4NvEw-cyqjVJVr4yEGtc76-lShgx0CUuJ3vk8z6lnb6_T8iw2WaCpSjO7XbyQL1yNvSC9YHZrUGmmPKK1fQLLHYgg3_z0rgGQLrHi8hFojWJMVBzaTEzyOl_YPo/s400/DSC_4651.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552781954971254194" /></a>Was thinking that this might be a good week to say what I'm thankful for...<br /><br /><div>I have taught my Sunday School class for over five years... wow, it has been that long. They are a constant reminder of what I can learn, and how I can share, and it is a great blessing to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today, we skipped the normal lesson and shared favorite memories of Christmases as children and as adults. They were all great stories, and something I will cherish for a long time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks Hall Class for how you bless me. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-9075262264963568162010-12-18T12:04:00.003-05:002010-12-18T22:37:18.786-05:00GiftsSo one of the hardest things about Christmas is trying to figure out what to give people. My parents are usually the most difficult to buy for, but fortunately I have been well informed this year. My kids are pretty easy -- but keeping all of their wants under control is usually the hard part. <div><br /></div><div>No, for me, I am most challenged by what to give myself -- from my kids and otherwise. So I try to use it as a time to figure out what things would be most memorable as something they gave me. Plus it can be a time to splurge on something new. One of the contributing factors to the self-gift problem is that usually just get stuff when the mood hits me. </div><div><br /></div><div>So this year, I've been thinking about getting a new TV -- one of those new fangled three dimensional televisions. But it's like trying to figure out what kind of car you want -- so many distinctions, features, brands, this and that. Was talking to Drew about this difficulty, and he offered this gem: "Dad, I know you're style is to be cool right before everyone else thinks something is cool. So you should wait just a little bit longer on the 3D TV."</div><div><br /></div><div>That seemed to have answered it. Now what?</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-13361916452204743902010-12-17T21:48:00.000-05:002010-12-18T10:29:13.933-05:00Christmas Letter...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYN3dIlOGblcfNygRFOFS_kZ2D_hrLKzteZdh8rLSALx6wDVIofr7CF74p2cy5QMyF19ZmtrHzvHE6vwP0MXki95zdkGCOajkPJxwb223IdWF17nrM4KRK7UYL2sHHwMtrBR6TjT6hV4/s1600/IMG_20101218_095245.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioYN3dIlOGblcfNygRFOFS_kZ2D_hrLKzteZdh8rLSALx6wDVIofr7CF74p2cy5QMyF19ZmtrHzvHE6vwP0MXki95zdkGCOajkPJxwb223IdWF17nrM4KRK7UYL2sHHwMtrBR6TjT6hV4/s400/IMG_20101218_095245.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552038834255064274" /></a>This tradition started for me five Christmases ago. As December began, I realized that I wanted to write something to let my friends know how our year had gone. In those early days of being a parent on my own, I still felt totally under water. Work was a bear, I had been living in a big quiet house 70% of the nights alone, and so much about my life felt like I was just beginning, and yet still very adolescent in so many ways. <div><br /></div><div>In looking back, those days were ones upon which I built the months and years to come, and frankly it was a pretty bad foundation. I think about those days, and my fears and desires controlled me far more than I controlled them. But the effort of writing a letter to my friends about my life was something that when I started it seemed like a good way to get perspective, and let everyone know I was ok, and so were the kids. </div><div><br /></div><div>Let me say, for the record, that as a general rule, Christmas update letters are not well-received. I have both heard of that broad-based opinion, and occasionally observed it in action. But, in my experience, they usually aren't that bad if you view them almost as oral history projects. It's the kind of thing that our parents or their parents would never do, but they would keep the history in some form of story, passed down. Laura Ingalls did the best of capturing the reality of the times, and sharing in a form that others could appreciate. And now, we do it, and tolerate it, because for many folks, it is the only way to see their entire lives — not just the parts that we actually participate in (work, church, social group A). </div><div><br /></div><div>That first letter I sent out garnered a pretty good response from my friends, and I really din't think anything about it. The next Christmas rolled around, and I put it together again, and sent it out.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>By the time the 2008 letter rolled out, and it was late coming out for a number of reasons, I had begun to get requests for the letter, or the occasional, "Hey... I didn't get the Christmas letter this year, and didn't know if I had fallen off your list" email or phone call. It was the only one in which I introduced someone else, and nearly everyone could see something different. In fact, I would say in that letter was the first time that I really felt like I was maturing as well, and could see a seriousness in so much of what I was doing. </div><div><br /></div><div>The last two years have really begun to reflect my developing art skills -- both with the photography, and the ability to write in a memoir style, that are natural fits for this style of communicating stories. My letter went out on Friday and I have been blessed with a number of extraordinary responses from friends and family about their own years, and a reminder that love is something shared and not hidden. </div><div><br /></div><div>And here, I've learned that living life is something shared in a way that no one can ever take away. So.... Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and all that jazz.... Oh, and <a href="http://us2.campaign-archive1.com/?u=22c2019f03a95095af70a0b52&id=31ee4f7dd4&e=80b30cfa1e">here's the letter</a>. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-55864458892023938682010-12-16T23:24:00.002-05:002010-12-17T03:28:44.428-05:00Her tears...Mary Kathryn is still suffering from the symptoms of a number of ailments, and her poor body is just worn down. Tonight, her tear flowed for a number of reasons and at a number of different times -- frustration with her brother; confusion about why she is so tired, and yet unable to easily sleep; being disappointed in people; and the occasional "what if" that she will play with me. <div><br /></div><div>It's tough to endure this when you're a man who tries to fix everything. Tonight, I just listened, and held her hand, and laid in bed beside her to better understand. And dry her tears with my hands and my heart. It was the best cure of all. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-4984867350288833332010-12-15T23:56:00.002-05:002010-12-17T03:24:09.730-05:00Flying Overhead<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW2qFPgAF9NLZL-k1_g3UA5UpQkAuP6QC9ZWBGiNQp4aUOxy8045SRPDTTeGqvCrw68vFawGl7SO3dQg1Ta34EOgrJs62wUnsoeCoBzctKV2_6N4G7XWR3kmmiFr39C77Qc_eZUOH5dnM/s1600/DSC_4637.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW2qFPgAF9NLZL-k1_g3UA5UpQkAuP6QC9ZWBGiNQp4aUOxy8045SRPDTTeGqvCrw68vFawGl7SO3dQg1Ta34EOgrJs62wUnsoeCoBzctKV2_6N4G7XWR3kmmiFr39C77Qc_eZUOH5dnM/s400/DSC_4637.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551561134163845138" /></a>Tonight, as I was returning from Cleveland, and flying back into Tri-Cities, I made sure to have my camera in my lap because of the flight pattern from Charlotte across the mountains. <div><br /></div><div>As we were climbing, I looked out and saw the steam rising from the Catawba Nuclear Power Plant. I think I heard somewhere that they use 6 million gallons of water every day... sorry, inside joke. </div><div><br /></div><div>But the view down the Catawba from a few thousand feet in the air was pretty cool too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcciesBKcA3NV0VHStwiCTEoGsHwTgVSof_0a36IKzz6iAdGLyqiEdf6FyNubJgucTkOYfp1chbaJxIMGCMWBULOePIUaSpYhgUhuheWkHGcMw7HmffsuLVSLOSWKtjzw8YbOPDQ1khuk/s1600/DSC_4641.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcciesBKcA3NV0VHStwiCTEoGsHwTgVSof_0a36IKzz6iAdGLyqiEdf6FyNubJgucTkOYfp1chbaJxIMGCMWBULOePIUaSpYhgUhuheWkHGcMw7HmffsuLVSLOSWKtjzw8YbOPDQ1khuk/s400/DSC_4641.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551561128637668738" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilB4e7Uz3EXlsUEe_tH1WiKXJ-IYxVd-vynKf-3098x73jSQPtJgZF4zLbDwccpi6ZtXWKB7qqP4kM2NEaxOhw5zFPXhuvuGbIHeDVbXQL7UT70h-1BNSYrNWaOUXe1wLXaFjAzmJPYSU/s1600/DSC_4645.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilB4e7Uz3EXlsUEe_tH1WiKXJ-IYxVd-vynKf-3098x73jSQPtJgZF4zLbDwccpi6ZtXWKB7qqP4kM2NEaxOhw5zFPXhuvuGbIHeDVbXQL7UT70h-1BNSYrNWaOUXe1wLXaFjAzmJPYSU/s400/DSC_4645.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551561126900042994" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>One of the hardest things was trying to figure out where we were... When we passed over this intersection, I studied it for a minute and thought, "Wait! I know this one..." It is very sad when you can recognize an intersection from the air because you've driven through it enough times to know it's where US-74 West splits off Interstate 85 near the South Carolina border. (That objects coming into the picture is a propeller -- and they are VERY loud.)</div><div><br /></div><div>But when we finally got over the mountains, and passing over Beech Mountain, I was able to pretty quickly spot my parents' house from the air (literally in the center of the picture) and kinda chuckled at the novelty of it. </div><div><br /></div><div>Two hours later, I was in Banner Elk, going to candlelight service at their church before driving on back home. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5163767170461910527.post-89832323207923925822010-12-15T00:14:00.002-05:002010-12-15T00:54:55.447-05:00Life on the Road is never without complications<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0S2u5cuytLOkr8agq66xUdxiNNWCUwGRiZ38ZM2305AsfWGNlyFI0IQN4f1uZSG7uFOX8zW1Z72Gn-CurKD4lNVXvg-9RbTexozFsh8vV_N0e6q1T2Fte3H9fkbSnp7iiojfYHxqf4g/s1600/DSC_4631.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0S2u5cuytLOkr8agq66xUdxiNNWCUwGRiZ38ZM2305AsfWGNlyFI0IQN4f1uZSG7uFOX8zW1Z72Gn-CurKD4lNVXvg-9RbTexozFsh8vV_N0e6q1T2Fte3H9fkbSnp7iiojfYHxqf4g/s400/DSC_4631.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5550778852780489442" /></a>This morning was too early, after too late a night not being able to fall asleep. But I dragged myself up, took a shower and proceeded to get a couple hundred miles, and an equal number of pounds of salt, on my car before turning into the airport at Tri-Cities, TN. Sooooo... when this master plot came to me, it seemed "logical" (a nice word, that really seems so distant from my real feelings now, which is more like <b>stupid</b>). Have some meetings with Lee, shoot over to the airport in Johnson City, fly to Cleveland, teach a class on Wednesday morning and then come home... Simple, right? <div><br /></div><div>So the first part really did go well, other than it being really, really cold in Mitchell County. I finished up in Johnson City around 1:30 so IF I had been thinking, I would have gotten probably all the way to Greensboro before I could have found a flight that would get me to Cleveland in a timely fashion and not have so far to drive back tomorrow. But noooooooo... Mr. Smartie Pants (a factious name I call myself, just like Doe, a deer, a female deer) had to just go to the airport and do some work. I could kick myself. I'll get Drew to build me a kicking-myself machine. We'll make millions. </div><div><br /></div><div>The flight from Tri-Cities to Charlotte was supposed to leave at 5:35. At 5:10, it was announced it wouldn't get there until 6:40 pm "at the earliest" and that meant I would not make my connector to Cleveland. (According to the helpful Orbitz text messages, it didn't leave TN until around 8 pm...) So they rebooked me. OK, for the naïve, traveling through Charlotte is usually bad. Only two places are consistently worse: O'Hare and Atlanta. So I was sent over to the Delta counter to pick up my replacement tickets. I hate ATL. Hate. Nuclear accident hate. </div><div><br /></div><div>By the time I got there, went to three different gates (and following the other sheep as they moved us around for shits and giggles), and we left Hell around 9:30 (supposed to leave by 9 pm), finally arriving in Cleveland at 11:30. Airbridge? No. What a stupid question. So it was snowing a bit, the cold wind coming off the lake (hence lake-effect snows, which means lots, and lots, and lots of snow since water evaporation + cold air = snow, wintry mix, ice, and pretty much everything that makes towns and cities in the South shut down. </div><div><br /></div><div>Get in taxi. Nice guy. Trying even harder to be nice. "So, Mister. Good flight?" </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0