tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71368730070495417612024-03-13T23:52:03.705-07:00NubianNubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.comBlogger291125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-34884718919294224022018-10-17T19:30:00.001-07:002018-10-17T19:40:36.922-07:00Words.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GlMTYepSok0/W8fkaJ1OR5I/AAAAAAAAJ9U/4O7KJ1qGQjk1S1tQ9a-5fc3i1b_BXvfJwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0203.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GlMTYepSok0/W8fkaJ1OR5I/AAAAAAAAJ9U/4O7KJ1qGQjk1S1tQ9a-5fc3i1b_BXvfJwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0203.HEIC" width="320" /></a></div>
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I remember this phrase “Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will never hurt you.” so well as we were taught it in elementary school, a feel better phrase when you reported someone bullying you to your teacher, a phrase that is a brush off because you’re wasting their time and that is the best they could come up with.<br />
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Growing up Portuguese we were always a part of the joke, “Hey Nubian, why does your brother have a mustache? Because he wants to look like your mother” and the jokes went on. I was made to feel less than and that it was somehow a privelege when I was invited to a friends house. I was 17 when a friend’s father told me I was nothing and would be nothing. A man who beat his wife regularly and his children feared him, a bully.<br />
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I have always tried to deflect people’s unkind words, they do hurt, but I try and envision the water on a ducks back, I take a few deep breaths, and move on. Just a little thicker skinned.<br />
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I recently learned that someone I have known for a long time, made a terribly derogatory comment about me. It hurt. The comment implied that I was of loose morals. I cried. I cannot think why this person would say something so hurtful, and I guess I will never know what caused that venom to spout from their mouth.<br />
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I never understood the teachers who were cruel to us growing up, the friends who snickered and made jokes, the whispers in the village about ‘those Portuguese children’. I never understood why we were targeted, what had we done wrong? As I get older I have a better understanding as to why. How miserable someone has to be that they tear anyone down in order to make their little chests puff out and strut around letting everyone know of their self importance.<br />
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I truly am blessed to have a mother, one of the strongest women I know, who is incredibly wise, who has always kept the family bond tight and taught us to always hold our heads high. My sisters and brother who are my rocks and are prepared to wrap me up in a blankie and take on my fight. My husband and son who softly talk to me to calm me down as my Portuguese blood starts to boil and my hands start moving as rapidly as my mouth.<br />
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As I sit here writing my blog and trying to think of why people are cruel I remembered something my mother always said to us growing up “We don’t have to keep up with the Joneses because we are the Joneses.”<br />
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I told you my mother was wise.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-52689793379228488172018-05-26T16:33:00.001-07:002018-05-26T19:44:30.884-07:00The Insanity.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZwEhOimyFrE/Wwnst5neXqI/AAAAAAAAIjA/K6YPHG6t9EoU3xGICztRYeT96ro5G1NLwCKgBGAs/s1600/IMG_0043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZwEhOimyFrE/Wwnst5neXqI/AAAAAAAAIjA/K6YPHG6t9EoU3xGICztRYeT96ro5G1NLwCKgBGAs/s320/IMG_0043.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea-Pink - Armeria Maritima </td></tr>
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I have just finished reading an article in the news today about 1,500 immigrant children that were taken from their parents and that the US Government has lost track of where they are. The president recently stated that immigrant children “are not so innocent.” And I cried.<br />
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When did the insanity begin? I feel as though I am spiraling down a rabbit hole unable to grab hold of the slick, oily sides. I find myself crying more when I think about the children, the children that come through the court system, the children that are left behind, the children that are taken from their parents crossing the US borders escaping for a better life.<br />
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I cannot even begin to imagine the fear that many people south of the border live knowing that the journey under darkness with only the clothes on their back, may get them imprisioned, but yet are willing to risk it all to provide a better life for their children.<br />
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I cannot fathom the pain the parents go through as they put their children onto trains to start the dangerous journey to cross the border, because if they stay they are forced to join gangs. And then when they finally reach the ‘promised land’ they are handed back to their government and face death from the gangs they refused to join. <br />
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When I heard that the GOP recently wanted to cut $23 billion from food assistance programs, I cried. How is that okay? My head is having a really hard time in trying to wrap around the fact that so many in the GOP who profess to be Christians but yet their inhumanity to those in need is far from what Christ preached.<br />
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How do people still justify voting for a person who showed his true colors, but was the lesser of two evils? I will read an article and then proceed to yell, rant and cry to both Bear and T and they just wait until I exhaust myself then we discuss, dissect and figure out what we can do to make a change.<br />
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I am surrounded by amazing, caring, compassionate people, and I know that I surround myself by people such as this because I was raised in a family who never turned anyone in need away. My Mother always instilled in us to find a little bit of Jesus in everyone. No matter how bad they were. (I have to admit though that I am still struggling to find Jesus in the current president though.)<br />
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Last weekend Bear and I went to harvest mussels at the beach and we came across flowers that were growing on the rocks. I was in awe of these beautiful, perfect, pink blooms growing in a less than ideal environment and it made me realize that beauty and hope can bloom from adverse conditions.<br />
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And I cried.<br />
<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-67306899162876894542017-10-29T16:03:00.000-07:002017-10-29T16:03:01.597-07:00Letters to the Court.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BlZqh93D_Z0/WfZax72QW3I/AAAAAAAAF8U/b1YYOUGzHLg1rSamoYAntymFnajTYm1CACLcBGAs/s1600/183890188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BlZqh93D_Z0/WfZax72QW3I/AAAAAAAAF8U/b1YYOUGzHLg1rSamoYAntymFnajTYm1CACLcBGAs/s400/183890188.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The most favorite part of my job is reading the letters people send to the court. The office will be quiet and I will hiccup laugh out loud and my co-workers know that I have found another gem.<br />
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All the letters are scanned into the system and are public information. I sometimes have to wonder if people realize this.<br />
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This past week I was scanning in a file and came across this gem. Needless to say this person has multiple offenses, so this made it even more funny to me.<br />
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<i>"Your Honor, this letter is in hopes of a solution for both of our interests. I am sure my continued presence has become very irritating for you, as I know it has me." </i></blockquote>
Sometimes one has to laugh at the littlest things in life, otherwise we allow the ugliness of the world to weigh us down. I hope my blog today brought a smile to your face.<br />
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Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-81781841454352505572017-09-17T15:13:00.000-07:002017-09-17T15:13:24.832-07:00Social Media and Communication.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9MATBrowkAo/Wb7npcE3ejI/AAAAAAAAF5A/_IL52ZvxOYI9cmy4MykdQnXsbwLoBHFoACKgBGAs/s1600/%255BUNSET%255D" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="403" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9MATBrowkAo/Wb7npcE3ejI/AAAAAAAAF5A/_IL52ZvxOYI9cmy4MykdQnXsbwLoBHFoACKgBGAs/s320/%255BUNSET%255D" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some will get the point of this photo.</td></tr>
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Social media has brought the best and worst out of people, and currently it seems as though the worst is prevailing.<br />
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I recently deleted my Facebook page as I found that the personal connection between friends and family was being lost by likes and status updates. I had also made the mistake of allowing people into my world that I had rarely any social contact with. When someone posted something that I felt needed challenging, I was told "Oh this doesn't refer to you." or "Why does she always challenge what you say?" I am a huge proponent of free speech, not stupid speech. Spewing garbage that isn't factual or has no basis for the argument, but purely follows the leader mentality, is stupid speech.<br />
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A few years ago I deleted my Facebook account as I had become discouraged by the fake life that people were posting. That decision came about as a dear friend of mine had passed away and from what he portrayed on Facebook couldn't have been further from the truth. It was devastating to me that I had been so naive into believing his life was as he played it out to be on Facebook. It was 5 years before I reactivated my Facebook account.<br />
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It has now required more effort on my part to stay in contact with people, to send texts, cards or postcards, to go back to the old school way of communication. Looking back on my childhood and teenage years, we stayed in contact more with people and surrounded ourselves with the people we cared about. It was easier back them to slowly phase people out of your life, with social media an "unfollow" decision creates backlash and venomous texts. As we grow older our circle becomes smaller because I have discovered I have less time or patience for people and their bull shit.<br />
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I will continue with my blog, when I feel the need to vent or share and I will make a more conscious effort to stay connected with those I love and care about. As far as the others are concerned, well maybe I should send them the photo above.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-67956657613741020722017-08-23T20:49:00.000-07:002017-08-23T20:49:35.422-07:00She Should Smile More.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ob6GWh51dk4/WZ4-QR2-TDI/AAAAAAAAF4s/-TA9zkpbhF0BPxikp6_UTzv5aLcqJDxhACLcBGAs/s1600/Women-Graphic-Designers-Who-Are-Killing-It_Banner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="1600" height="176" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ob6GWh51dk4/WZ4-QR2-TDI/AAAAAAAAF4s/-TA9zkpbhF0BPxikp6_UTzv5aLcqJDxhACLcBGAs/s640/Women-Graphic-Designers-Who-Are-Killing-It_Banner.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><a href="https://designschool.canva.com/blog/women-graphic-designers/">Photo credit. </a></span></td></tr>
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I am privileged to be surrounded by some very strong women in my life. I have friends and family who are at corporate executive level positions, some are Doctors who are blazing trails in their research and a few who own their own companies. These women are strong, tenacious and when seated at the conference table, they lean in.<br />
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I was recently having a conversation with a friend who was lamenting how her boss, who is female, is so unapproachable and when pressed more her response made me think. She stated that her boss would listen to employees ideas, but then tell them why they couldn't be done, her emails were straight forward and to the point which came across curt and she made changes to improve work flow and the adage "If it is not broken why fix it?" was expressed.<br />
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I listened to her as her words flowed and it is when she stated that her boss was a bitch did I decide to interject with my thoughts. I asked my friend what she thought of her other boss, who was at the same level as her female boss, but happened to be a man. She stated that her male boss was very direct, but got things done and when he made suggestions to changing the work flow it worked and his emails were to the point as he was a very busy person.<br />
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I felt that I should point out the similarities between both her bosses, but somehow the female was made out to be the bitch, while the male was an executive who got things done. Her response was "Well she should smile more." I had to smirk as I had a vision of a dear friend who lives in Belgium and who is quite formidable in the corporate world, look at my friend and say "What a load of rubbish!" in her very proper English accent.<br />
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I have been in high level corporate positions where I would be at the conference table and many a time was asked questions that would not be asked of my male counterparts. At one conference I was asked why I wasn't home raising my child and taking care of my husband? A male counterpart told me to smile more and not be such a bitch. I think he may still be sitting in some corner rocking back and forth because of my response and gesture.<br />
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I am tired of people referring to women in power as bitches, or unapproachable, or whatever words fill the blank to justify their position. As woman we fight hard enough to be at the corporate table, to be treated as equals and to have the same wages regardless of sex. I have watched men denigrate women and only because that person was a threat to their ego. <br />
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As I pointed out the similarities to my friend the light bulb did turn on. Sometimes when we have conversations we should listen, make a list if needed, and be open to what people are saying. I learned from her that the thought of women being more motherly is what would be more acceptable in the workplace. I am hoping she took away from our conversation to start viewing executive women in a different light. We need to separate the corporate executive from the maternal image we have somehow embedded in our DNA. <br />
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So to the dynamic, strong females in my life, when you're next seated at a conference table with men and start to feel the testosterone level rise, go ahead, lean in and say "You really should smile more."<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-33796020647881834112017-08-13T11:01:00.001-07:002017-08-13T11:49:53.225-07:00It Can Never Happen Again.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HyK25YNDN-A/WZCJgP57jDI/AAAAAAAAF4c/OvK8uGPI9nkvkBGRYAbfzMqLYXpRSYqnACLcBGAs/s1600/santa-anita-assembly-center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="322" data-original-width="552" height="232" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HyK25YNDN-A/WZCJgP57jDI/AAAAAAAAF4c/OvK8uGPI9nkvkBGRYAbfzMqLYXpRSYqnACLcBGAs/s400/santa-anita-assembly-center.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Anita Assembly Center - photograph from www.rafu.com</td></tr>
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A while ago Bear read the book <i>"Only what we could carry." by Lawson Fusao Inada</i>, when he was done I wanted to read it and had great intentions of reading it, but time passed and the book stayed in the drawer of my nightstand. It wasn't for lack of time or trying, but more because when I read the introduction tears started to fall.<br />
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The introduction starts with the following phrase:<br />
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<i>"Only what we could carry"</i></div>
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<i>was the rule; so we carried</i></div>
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<i>Strength, Dignity and Soul</i></div>
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While reading the book I went online to do more research. I must admit I didn't know much about the Japanese Internment camps and wanted to learn more about a part of history that to this day remains silent. The photograph above I found on a website and I studied the photograph for quite some time. The men and women who had been rounded up to be taken to the internment camps were all respectfully dressed which to me screamed the above phrase, "Strength, Dignity and Soul."</div>
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We are currently living in turbulent times and it seems that once again propaganda, disinformation and to a degree, brainwashing, is fueled by politicians, extremists and those that are too quick to click the share button on Facebook before validating facts. I struggle with those who profess to be of any faith and start their speech with "I am not a (fill in the blank), but..." When one feels the need to add a but to their sentence, what follows is everything but what the fill in the blank statement is.</div>
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We see posts on social media, in the news etc of "We shall never forget." and I have to wonder what part of 'never forget' are people referring to? It seems as though with history we pick and choose what we become angry about without looking at the entire picture and the cause. </div>
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Wouldn't it be great if there was a magazine at the checkout stand in grocery stores with articles about history and what we learned from hate instead of which celebrity is having an affair, is having a fight with another irrelevant celebrity, or spent thousands of dollars on plastic surgery? </div>
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When people are not directly impacted by racism, war, bigotry and hate, the ostrich head in the sand approach seems to fit. Or maybe it is because so many feel helpless as to what they can do to change the situation. I have always found it odd that when a celebrity is directly impacted by some tragedy befallen them or a loved one it suddenly becomes news and pouring in of help is abundant. What does that say of us as a society that we need to have a celebrity inform us of how we should care. </div>
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The paragraph from the book, <i>Years of Ifamy, </i>sums up my thoughts in a nutshell.</div>
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"... I hope this uniquely American story will serve as a reminder to all those who cherish their liberties of the very fragility of their rights against the exploding passions of their more numerous fellow citizens, and as a warning that they who say that it can never happen again are probably wrong"</div>
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I am trying not to let my cynicism and helplessness stop me from making a difference. I will continue to research, be vocal and vigilant in my own little fight to make sure it really does not ever happen again.</div>
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-54172928877491218352017-08-05T11:07:00.000-07:002017-08-05T11:07:54.792-07:00Just Another Chapter.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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After many years of the <i>why me</i> mentality I am hopefully becoming wiser to those chapter events in my past and putting into play the <i>lessons learned</i> theory.<br />
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A few years ago I had a bangle made especially for me. I had been reading a book and the phrase "Examine What You Tolerate" really resonated with me. I wear my bangle everyday and recently while facing a dilemma I happened to glance down and see my bangle. I had a choice to make, I could either accept what was put before me or examine what I was tolerating. I made the choice to end that chapter and start a new one.<br />
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Normally in text books at the end of a chapter there is a revision section going over the most important points. In my chapter that I have now closed these are a few important points pertaining to that chapter.<br />
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1. When people place you in a box that they believe is your worth, you begin to believe it.<br />
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2. No matter how much kindness you show to others, there will always be people who will accept the act, but quite freely retaliate towards you in other ways.<br />
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3. Your day to day life is surrounded by many acquaintances, but very few friends.<br />
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4. When you tackle a task to the best of your ability, there will be that one person ready to pick it apart and become that formidable Yenta in your life.<br />
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5. When you go off the radar for a bit to regroup, few will notice, but those that do, care.<br />
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6. No matter how long it has been since you have physically seen an old friend, they are forever in your corner.<br />
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7. Living on a separate continent to family and friends has been one of the most challenging things one can do, but your faith and solid bond will forever make sure you are always connected.<br />
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8. Grief never goes away, it is forever present in your tears when a familiar smell makes a connection, a song on the radio is played, or a view that reminds you of home.<br />
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9. There are people who believe in you. Who are your biggest cheerleaders and that those are the people you focus on instead of wasting energy on those who weaken your spirit.<br />
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10. It takes both the sun and the rain to make a rainbow.<br />
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I know that in this new chapter I will find success and peace because in my last chapter I totally rocked it.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-20067453123716084632017-01-15T14:28:00.000-08:002017-01-15T15:43:58.932-08:00Corks and Memories.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JacLzAKMPWE/WHvwl7VUvtI/AAAAAAAAF1Q/iLcG6UjUJbIFSRyYwioHtr5VFTZSIslkACLcB/s1600/WineCorks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JacLzAKMPWE/WHvwl7VUvtI/AAAAAAAAF1Q/iLcG6UjUJbIFSRyYwioHtr5VFTZSIslkACLcB/s400/WineCorks.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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When I open a bottle of wine, no matter what the event I always write on the cork the date, what the event and have whoever is with me at the time sign the cork.<br />
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Today I took out all my corks out of the vase and read them all. Reading these corks is in a sense my own personal time machine. I was taken back to that event, thinking about the people that I shared a meal with who are no longer in my life, but at one time we sat down to a meal with great company where laughter ensued and our zest for life was evident in that one evening.<br />
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Reminiscing with the people who are still in my life, sending them pictures of their cork and remembering that dinner party and how midnight came too quickly and another successful dinner party had to come to an end.<br />
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Too often in life we focus on what we don't have and the negativity that surrounds us. We forget that more often than not at one time we sat down to a gathering and feast and left the cares of the world at the door. We celebrated life, friendship, love and good wine.<br />
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Life is too short to not have that dinner party and open that bottle of wine. Create your own time machine, just don't forget to invite me to the party.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-36902104226129710132016-11-09T11:27:00.000-08:002016-11-11T12:29:32.399-08:00Why I am angry.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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The US elections are finally over. In the 26 years I have lived in America this has by far been the most dirties, misinformed election I have ever witnessed.</div>
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I am still in shock and disbelief that a country chose a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, xenophobic man to run this country. Absolutely no qualifications in the political arena, which begs the question, a man less qualified to get the job over a woman who surpassed the qualifications asked of her?</div>
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This election has taught me that people are so willing to read Wiki Leaks, listen to the media, post meme's as gospel and quote stupidity verbatim without doing any research. Research such as bills and laws passed, what that person did, benefits to the country etc.</div>
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People are posting that they are not racist etc by voting for Trump, but I ask this? </div>
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<span style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: #1d2129; font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">If your daughter's boss groped her inappropriately, refused to give her the promotion she deserved because she was a female, ridiculed her for being Christian/Muslim,Jewish/Hindu and called her fat, but was running for President you would still vote for him because he represents your party?</span></div>
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That is why so many women are angry.</div>
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You voted for a man who on record has the highest disregard for women.</div>
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You voted for a man who has multiple failed businesses.</div>
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You voted for a man who refused to release his tax returns, but yet in all other elections not of your party you yelled from the roof tops it was the American right to know what the Presidential candidates were earning.</div>
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You voted for a man who created hatred for Muslims, the same people we helped free from Sadam Hussein.</div>
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You voted for a man who wants to build a wall.</div>
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I was born and raised in a country where apartheid ruled. The United States and many other countries imposed sanctions against South Africa until apartheid was demolished. I witnessed how the minorities were treated. I witnessed people of color being brutally abused and put in jail for not having an up to date passbook. My father's kidnapping and murder was based on hate.</div>
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I saw first hand the result of hate and fear. My family voted in every election in South Africa against the party of the majority rule because they believed in equality for all. They didn't vote party line to make their lives better. </div>
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I never intended to live in America, but when I married an American I was grateful that I could raise our son in a country where he didn't have to fear for his life on a daily basis. He could play in the yard and run around the neighborhood with friends and not be locked in a home that would give Fort Knox a run for its money.</div>
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I suffer from PTSD because of my father's murder and what I have read and seen today in the past two years of this campaign, takes me back to those days of myself and my siblings screaming and begging the police to leave our nanny alone. </div>
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I have a peace in knowing that one day when my grandchildren ask me who I voted for in this election I will proudly say I voted for equality, acceptance, love and for the coming together of a country.</div>
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I do fear for this country. The beast has been awakened and it has reared its ugly head.</div>
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Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-73570350470508666882016-07-13T22:20:00.004-07:002016-11-11T11:14:05.844-08:00Where Are You From?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape Town, South Africa</td></tr>
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Dear Mr. Self Righteous:<br />
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It was a pleasure to meet you at my favorite brewery this evening, my son and I enjoyed speaking with you and your friend about beers, it was when you asked me where I was from because of my accent that things went downhill quicker than a bowling ball down Mt. Everest.<br />
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When I told you I was from South Africa and that I had been in the States since 1990 your response of "So you got out just in time" took me a little by surprise. I wasn't quite sure by what you meant. You must have gathered that by my what the fuck was that question look on my face, the need to clarify that I left just before apartheid ended insinuating that as a white person I was getting out before the ANC took over. I gathered that from your further condescending remarks that you littered the air with.<br />
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Please allow me now to tell you my story. I was born and raised in a small village outside Cape Town. My family is Portuguese, not from Portugal, but from the island of Madeira. Google it. My grandparents immigrated to South Africa. I was born in 1966 and for my entire life in South Africa I was raised during the apartheid era. Let me quickly go back to the Portuguese part and tell you how we were treated by the same people who treated the blacks in South Africa so despicably. Pretty much the same a few Americans treat the people from Mexico, like shit. <br />
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You didn't need to be self righteous and opinionated about apartheid, I lived it. I saw what it did. I saw the hate it created. You see Mr. SR because of that hate once apartheid ended that hate turned to violent crime. My father was a victim to that violent crime. It didn't matter that my father was the most kind, giving, generous person in the community, that his employee's had been with him for many years, and yes 90% were black. What the people saw who kidnapped my father and violently murdered him, was that he was white.<br />
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South Africa is in absolute turmoil since apartheid ended. The daily murder rate would boggle your little mind. When I had mentioned this fact your response with "I haven't seen anything on the news" just showed how unaware you are with what is going on in the rest of the world.<br />
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It took me a long time to become a US Citizen, the process is long, drawn out and at some times quite humiliating oh and let's not forget the cost, close to $10,000 because I had to get an attorney during the Green Card process. I bet you thought that just because I married an American I automatically became a citizen. I chose to become a citizen so that I could have a voice at every single election and not just the big one, my city and state elections included.<br />
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Did it make you feel better to be so self righteous? Did you Facebook post how you told some South African woman your thoughts on her country and apartheid? Did I tell you my thoughts on your countries current situation? Did I mention the Native Americans?<br />
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I did not Mr. SR because I know you didn't have anything to do with that, my assumption was that you were a funny guy having a beer with your friend who was visiting from Europe.<br />
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As my mother always said, you know what they say about assuming, although in this case the ass is all yours.<br />
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Sincerely,<br />
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Nubian<br />
<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-74509212015121552892016-07-10T13:57:00.000-07:002016-07-10T13:57:42.343-07:00On Your Phone Again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Recently when we were in Yakima we not only went wine tasting we went beer tasting as well. Our phones have the beer app Untappd. This app allows you to post the beer you are drinking, rate it, take a picture and hopefully get a badge. *side note* It is all about the badges for me.<br />
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When we first get our flight of tasters we get on our phones and start putting in the information. Last weekend as we were doing this at a brewery I looked up and noticed a couple looking at us and I thought they were probably thinking "Look at those people, on their phones, not talking to each other.", but they couldn't have been further from the truth.<br />
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Logging onto Untappd has actually become quite the family event, the beer olympics so to speak. We have to see who is going to earn a badge and who is leading in check-ins and distinct beers. I am not leading in check-ins and distinct beers, I know you're all shocked, but I do hold the honor in most badges collected.<br />
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Some people may think it a silly thing to do, and that is okay, but for us it is something we do and our interaction is just as much as it would be without our phones.<br />
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So when you next see a party of 3 on their phone at a brewery, tasting beers, typing quickly, laughing and pumping their fist in the air when a badge is downloaded, don't assume they are not connecting with each other, they very much are.Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-37243122909141416632016-07-07T23:21:00.000-07:002016-07-07T23:21:33.134-07:00Being Kind to Yourself.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Today I was asked a rather strange question by my therapist, but one that really has had me pondering, hence here I am writing a blog post at 11:00 pm. I was asked as to when was the last time I felt beautiful?<br />
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The question was asked after I had made a self derogatory comment about myself and how I compared myself to someone else who currently haunts my life. I had to think about the question and the answer was in 2009. 2009 When we lived in Utah, when I weighed a lot less, when life was so much simpler and happier, when I was so secure in what I had, I felt so beautiful. I was told I was beautiful.<br />
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Then life happened and Hashimoto's disease became the bane of my existence. Everything in my life spiraled. I gave away the majority of my shoes that made me feel beautiful. I placed my clothes that made me feel beautiful in storage because they no longer fit. I was no longer told I was beautiful.<br />
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This evening I scrolled through posts on Facebook and Twitter and read about shootings, political ramblings, how to be thinner, how to be richer, people celebrating 40 years of marriage, people getting ready to be married and the range of emotions were like riding on a roller coaster. I hate roller coasters.<br />
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Today was not a good day. I was not kind to someone who has been a part of my life for many years. We all have those days where words come out and our brain is back peddling, but they are out and...<br />
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I know many of you personally that read my blog and I have followed all your ups and downs and I know you can all relate. Yesterday a friend came over with wine. I love friends who bring wine.<br />
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Tonight I took out my watercolors and attempted to paint lavender as a reminder of our wonderful weekend in Yakima. I am watching reruns (again for the kajillionith time) of <i>Murder she Wrote</i>. My endocrinologist has me on another new medication. I got on the scale and have lost a whole pound. I had a friend text me from work letting me know she is thinking of me.<br />
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But what made me feel the most loved tonight was when my 24 year old son came up to me this evening, put his arm around me and made me laugh through my tears.<br />
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We are all going through something and I want you all to know that I think you all are wonderful, kind, funny, lovable, huggable, and most of all some of the most beautiful people in my life and being surrounded by you all, makes me feel beautiful.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-16351123589052947212016-06-01T22:46:00.000-07:002016-06-01T22:46:02.414-07:00Inner Peace.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In 1990 I left my home country, my family and friends. My adventures started in Seattle, I met people, belonged for a while and then moved. San Diego was my next stop, a Navy wife, people flitting in and out of my life and then we moved. For the next 17 years my stop was Utah and as always I came in on the tail end of other people's circle.<br />
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What I have struggled the most with is that I have never felt as though I really belonged, I was never a part of a circle. In 2010 we moved to Oregon. Another move. Another circle.<br />
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My family and closest friends are spread out over 3 continents, and sometimes when I remember it feels as though I have been hit with that wave. Whenever I miss them, I go for a long walk on the beach and the connection to home is what brings me inner peace.<br />
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The sea air fills my lungs and takes me back to those summer days spent on the beach with our Morey Boogie Boards, my Black Widow paddle ski, Duran Duran and midnight movies. Picnics on the beach, tanning with baby oil and vinegar and being connected.<br />
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I hear laughter and I am transported back to my mothers home, my sisters, mother, aunt, brother, best friend all having tea, or enjoying another marvelous meal my mother prepared, sharing stories, laughing, and me never failing to remind my younger sister that she is adopted. The room is filled with peace and love.<br />
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Somedays when I walk along the beach I see people flying kites and I watch as they gently glide them through the air, the wind guiding, dipping, twisting and turning, absolute serenity and I am mesmerized. When practicing mindfulness this is where I go when my head goes dark.<br />
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Through this journey I have learned that when you are at one with the universe and what is before you, that is when your own personal circle is complete and that is what should matter.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-2667203074843031062016-02-05T13:43:00.002-08:002016-04-23T07:06:12.752-07:0024 Years Ago.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dr. Donna Johnson and T.</td></tr>
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Previously I had written a blogpost about spending more time focusing on reaching out to the people who made a difference in my life and let them know, rather than focus on what I considered the pity portion pig swill of my brain. I was recently going through photographs of T when he was first born and I was thinking about my OB/Gyn, Dr. Donna Johnson and what a true life saver, in every sense of the word, she was to me and to T.<br />
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It was in the middle of February 1992, 25 weeks pregnant, husband (T-ex) was in the Persian Gulf, I was a young Navy wife alone in San Diego and one afternoon I started having contractions. I thought these were the Braxton Hicks contractions that everyone spoke of so I called my Doctor, he suggested I go to the hospital. I called a friend to take me to Alvarado hospital, but it wasn't any urgency. I took a shower and about a half hour later we left. By the time we got to the hospital my contractions were a little more intense and the nurses just slightly worried. I was dilating and was quickly hooked up to an awful IV cocktail which would become a semi-permanent attachment to whatever vein would co-operate for many weeks to follow. T-ex was in the Navy and my pregnancy care was through Balboa hospital, but because I was now in preterm labor and at risk I was transferred to the care of Dr. Donna Johnson.<br />
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When I met Dr. Johnson I was a mess. I wasn't clear on what was going on, my family lived on another continent and T-ex was in the Persian Gulf. I was a little overwhelmed and I was hooked up to this IV cocktail medication that made me feel awful. Dr. Johnson sat on my bed, held my hand and in her beautiful southern accent let me know what was going on and what the game plan was. She answered all my questions, never once looking at her watch or rushing through the conversation. I asked her to please try and get a hold of the Red Cross to get a message to the ship to let T-ex know. The saga of the Red Cross debacle will be kept for my book, but I have to share that they did ask Dr. Johnson that instead of flying T-ex home would me just speaking to him get the contractions to stop. The Navy flew T-ex back to the States and the men on the ship took up a collection to purchase an airline ticket to get him to San Diego.<br />
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My stay in the hospital was so long that the nurses would move me to different rooms for a different view. Dr. Johnson was in contact with me all the time. Late at night Dr. Johnson would come into my room with the ultra sound machine declaring "Let's see how your boy is doing today." I don't know if this was of the norm, but Dr. Johnson did this often and it gave me hope. Every time I heard T's heart beat and saw him moving I knew that however much I despised that IV, having blood drawn so often that my arms were the topic of a few interesting conversations, how much I despised being in that hospital bed, that this little person was worth all of it. There were evenings that Dr. Johnson would just stop in and visit, no matter what day of the week. Those visits kept me sane.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">4 lbs, 9 ozs - 18 inches</td></tr>
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At 36 weeks, 22 April 1992 I was allowed to go home. No more IV's, horrible meds and blood draws. I was elated and I remember Dr. Johnson saying "We will probably end up inducing you at 40 weeks." We left the hospital at 11:00am. It was wonderful to be home, walking was a little challenging, but it was so great to be up and about. At 4:00pm I went into labor and it was back to the hospital. After 12 hours of labor at 4:19am, 23 April 1992, T was born - and the Landers earthquake aka Joshua Tree foreshocks began.<br />
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I believe that my guardian angels decided that February day in 1992 that if I was going to go through this hell, I was going to need my very own earthly angel to make sure I got through it. Sometimes saying thank you feels so inadequate or just not enough because when I look at T I know that he wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for the care, tenacity, compassion, kindness and southern attitude of Dr. Johnson. After all these years I am once again in contact with Dr. Johnson and I am hoping that someday soon T and I will make it to South Carolina so that T can finally meet the Doctor that he has always heard so much about, the Doctor that saved his life.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So tiny.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cNeaqm3V8MA/VrUOcQVO8hI/AAAAAAAAFsM/SO7MfmIohXU/s1600/Trev4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cNeaqm3V8MA/VrUOcQVO8hI/AAAAAAAAFsM/SO7MfmIohXU/s400/Trev4.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">T's NICU nurse</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iWRukpw3ip8/VrUOoygHILI/AAAAAAAAFsQ/AvQSo8CkdwI/s1600/Trev5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iWRukpw3ip8/VrUOoygHILI/AAAAAAAAFsQ/AvQSo8CkdwI/s400/Trev5.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My miracle boy</td></tr>
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Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-67035842027265395462015-12-03T19:19:00.000-08:002015-12-03T19:19:47.723-08:00The Note. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Currently I am in finals week of college and as we all know it can be challenging and incredibly stressful. I was sitting in the commons area of the college last week, putting together study notes when for some reason I looked in the pockets of my wallet.<br />
<br />
Knowing me it was probably one of those "look its a squirrel" moments. As I was rummaging in my wallet I was questioning why I was even going back to college, for hells sake I am 49, who does this at 49. I will be 53 when I have my degree in early childhood development. But I digress. (see total squirrel moment)<br />
<br />
In one of the back pockets I found a note that one of my old employees had written to me. I unfolded this tiny note and you know what they say about the universe and all of that stuff... well this is what was written.<br />
<br />
<i>Dear Nubian:</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>For starters I wanted to thank you for the job you have done with the hotel. It's definitely a place that I enjoy coming into on the day I work, as well as on a few of my days off. We only have had one real sit down conversation and it was a moment I will always remember.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>In the time we talked you were able to read what my pro's and con's were and telling me that my strengths should be better utilized with other opportunities to not only gain experience, but to get a chance to explore my true potential. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I have no idea how you are able to do what you do, the ability to reach out and unlock someone's true potential, to be able to read someone and give them hope and confidence, is a trait overlooked. For what it is worth Nubian I want you to know that I am sad that you are leaving, but excited for you to go an unlock someone else's true potential at your new job. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>I hope your time here was nothing but great, filled with memories that can carry you, just as the one I experienced with you that I will carry.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Thank you,</i><br />
<i>A.</i><br />
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Sometimes we all need a reminder that no matter how simple a conversation is to you, it could mean the world to someone else.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-16276649595387735112015-10-11T13:13:00.004-07:002015-10-11T13:13:53.364-07:00We Are One. <br />
I was recently watching a show on Netflix and heard this song. It epitomizes how I have been feeling of late.<br />
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I hope you enjoy it.<br />
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Peace, abundant blessings, love and kindness to you all.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-13079408122976087772015-10-04T22:41:00.005-07:002015-10-04T22:47:28.736-07:00Reflections.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVEQ8mrnQGQ/VhH5T5OgCaI/AAAAAAAAFnQ/_fJwjCALPOY/s1600/IMG_3487.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SVEQ8mrnQGQ/VhH5T5OgCaI/AAAAAAAAFnQ/_fJwjCALPOY/s400/IMG_3487.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Beach, Oregon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
What a week this has been. Another shooting. Families left grieving and hurting. People arguing over what we should or shouldn't do, how much did our President say, how little did our President say. The list is never ending.<br />
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What I do know is that the lives of the victims families will forever be changed. Whenever such a tragedy occurs people will post how we need to be kind to each other and then everyone goes back to how they were. Jobs become more important, money becomes our god, stuff becomes the must have and we forget.<br />
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This morning I went for a long walk on the beach and reflected on all the people in my life and how each one has helped me grow and become the person I am today. My foundation is my family and how blessed I am to have been born into this crazy, loving family. My mother is my stability, and my siblings will fight my battles whether I want them to or not. My Aunts and Uncles and kajillion cousins will always be there to circle the wagons when I need protection.<br />
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With this strong, loving foundation how could I not have chosen the amazing friends I have in my life today. This week I received an email from a friend in Spain who thanked me for coming into his life, a friend who should have been a therapist and I feel absolutely guilty for not paying him for his advice. Besos. Another friend, after a long phone call, declared "You know what you need, a visit from me." and promptly made his reservations to visit. NNM the 16th, the wine is waiting. A football game with my most level headed friend, appearing on the jumbotron 3 times and laughing, lots and lots of laughing.<br />
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Last year I wrote a letter to friends letting them know how much they mean to me and what a difference they made in my life. I still have a few more to mail. This should be my project when I feel the walls start to close in. Instead of wallowing, get to writing.<br />
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I reflected on my previous marriage and how I never thought that the ex and I would ever have come to a place of peace. My life now has so many uncertainties, but is filled with trust, love and hope. To be able to give the gift of solitude and peace and to know that instead of letting go to just let it be.<br />
<br />
My greatest gift and the person who has taught me so many lessons about life, love and trust is T. That kid that is wiser than his 23 years, who sometimes has to give me the pep talks to keep me going, and who hasn't ever disappointed. <br />
<br />
So while many are arguing about what is currently going on in the world, I chose to take two hours today to reflect on those that fill my soul, the people that keep me going and to whom I hope I do show love and kindness to every, single, day.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-48160193383709901072015-09-27T21:14:00.000-07:002015-09-27T21:36:55.789-07:00Supermoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-95f3Ezq0YCs/Vgi6-lVc6rI/AAAAAAAAFm0/qB-0J91XEnk/s1600/2015-09-27%2B19.22.26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-95f3Ezq0YCs/Vgi6-lVc6rI/AAAAAAAAFm0/qB-0J91XEnk/s400/2015-09-27%2B19.22.26.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Beach, Oregon</td></tr>
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Today was the total eclipse of the supermoon, 1982 was the last time it occurred and I don't remember it (those teenage years where the world revolved around me) and the next time this is to happen is in 2033.<br />
<br />
It is at times like this that I lovingly refer to as "creating memories moments" to which much eye rolling and bitching from Trevor ensues. None the less he drove around with me as we searched for the moon.<br />
<br />
Our first stop was our favorite spot to take a picture of the sunset and as always it never fails to make me stop, breathe and let the peace and calm sweep over me.<br />
<br />
We then waited for the darkness to blanket the skies and then drove around to find the best place to view the moon. While I love the trees in front of our home, they blocked our view of this great event.<br />
<br />
We finally found the perfect spot and seeing the blood red moon was truly breathtaking. I attempted to take a picture and realized that I could never capture anything so I put my phone away and just took it all in.<br />
<br />
As I was looking at the moon I realized that there were so many people in my life that I love and care for that were looking up at the same moon and at that time I have never felt more of a connection, loved and completely at peace. Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-30232372745116749522015-07-10T20:45:00.000-07:002015-07-10T20:45:19.893-07:00Music. Food for the Soul. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Adam Jackson </div>
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Growing up in South Africa my parents involved us from a very early age in the theatre and arts. I remember going to plays with my parents and then performing in plays. The first play I performed in was <i>Oliver Twist</i>, but my most favorite play I performed in was <i>The Wind in the Willows. </i>As all good children do I played the piano and the recorder and those long afternoons of practicing and dear Sister Helen 'tapping' my knuckles with a thin cane should I dare to make an error.<br />
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In high school I stopped playing the piano, but my love for all things musical never dwindled. I spent many weekend evenings at the symphony, the opera and the ballet. Seeing the Bolshoi Ballet, The Royal Ballet and the New York City Ballet perform was absolutely breathtaking. No matter what event I attended my cheeks were always damp from the tears. (Except for the opera <i>The Flying Dutchman, </i>that is one very long, loud, boring opera)<br />
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Since moving to America and becoming a wife and mother, I stopped attending any of these events. Expense being one reason another that my spouse at the time did not hold the same fascination I did and so I gave that up and in a sense lost a little part of me.<br />
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This past week at the hotel there was a music festival. The list of performers was very impressive. I had heard that a young boy, Adam Jackson, was going to be performing and was able to watch him perform for a very select audience. When he first started to play I was transported back in time. As I watched his fingers lightly dance over the keys I was mesmerized. The part of me that I thought I had lost came alive again.<br />
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As I wiped my damp cheeks I remembered a great quote from Berthold Auerbach, "Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."<br />
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I couldn't agreed more.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-38095336842676863582015-05-08T20:37:00.001-07:002015-05-09T08:35:36.338-07:00144 Steps.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m3G5i6AVG4U/VU19IsoA_II/AAAAAAAAFiQ/OpBfPZS4LGo/s1600/IMG_0787.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m3G5i6AVG4U/VU19IsoA_II/AAAAAAAAFiQ/OpBfPZS4LGo/s400/IMG_0787.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Beach, Oregon</td></tr>
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I have been meaning to write this blogpost for a while and recently read a blog online that May is Cystic Fibrosis Awareness Month, so this couldn't be a more perfect time for my post.<br />
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One beautiful Oregon morning I walked to the beach from our home. I decided to count the steps from our backdoor to the first steps to the beach. 144 Steps. As I looked out towards the ocean, a little out of breath, I found myself thinking about those suffering with Cystic Fibrosis. How challenging would 144 steps be? I don't know much about the disease and have done research and will confess I still don't know much, but when someone you know has CF you want to educate yourself a little more and do what you can to help find the cure.<br />
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This is no ice bucket challenge and I don't expect this to go viral, what I am hoping is that you all will walk out your front door, count 144 steps and take a picture of what is in front of you. Post on Twitter with the hashtag #144Steps #CysticFibrosis, or on Facebook and then most importantly, if you are able to, make a donation to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation. Every little bit helps. It takes a village remember? Click on this link > <a href="http://fightcf.cff.org/site/TR/GreatStrides/74_Massachusetts_RI?px=2050400&pg=personal&fr_id=3386">Cystic Fibrosis Foundation</a><br />
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I hope that you will share this with friends and family, we can make a difference. And to one of the most amazing woman I know who exudes glitter and rainbows, this blog is for you.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-81901331839581826282015-05-04T21:53:00.001-07:002015-05-04T22:00:29.700-07:00Thank You Al Gore for my Friends.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I remember when we first got dial up and how much excitement there was that we could connect to things and other people so quickly. The tone, the connection, the wait. Pandora's box had been opened and there was no going back.<br />
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It was through the internet in 1999 that I met my first online friends, Heidi and Renee. We all belonged to a South African chat forum and the three of us fast became friends, the three musketeers, the terrible trio. Together we have dealt with death, divorce, Hurricane Katrina, moves across country, graduations, weddings of children and so much more. In the 16 years we have known each other we have only physically met once. In 2012 Heidi decided that we were going to road trip to Napa and when Heidi puts her mind to something, nothing can change it, you all just nod, say yes and show up. Meeting Heidi and Renee for the very first time was very emotional. If there was a bond of friendship before, our meeting only solidified it.<br />
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November 2, 2009 I decided to enter the world of blogging, mainly as a creative online medium for my rants and thoughts. One of my very first followers, and blogs that I in turn followed, was a blog written by Brooke. Her husband was in the military and she had two little girls. The ultimate military wife. We would post comments on each others blogs and engage in small talk. Then along came Twitter and it was discovered that we both had a mutual friend in common. Life happened and Brooke and her two adorable girls moved back to Oregon. The very first time I met Brooke was a sleepover at my home. Do I need to say anymore? Brooke is my bestie, my go to person when I need an adjustment, a compassionate, but very level headed individual who brings calm to my life. Plus she <strike>likes </strike>loves wine.<br />
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Without Twitter and the internet I would never have met the fabulous Kramer crew and the wonderful world of their wine and sparkles. One tweet about having a sparkle party and I turned into that stray cat that one knows you shouldn't feed, but do. The Kramer crew would have to go into witness protection to get rid of me. Beyond blessed.<br />
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My Fuck It list includes meeting the following amazing people I have met via the internet and had interactions via Skype and on the phone, but yet to meet in person. I am blessed to know these very wise individuals who probably tolerate my neediness, but with kindness have never made me feel as though I was <i>that</i> needy person.<br />
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Mitchell from <a href="http://mitchellismoving.blogspot.com/">Mitchell is Moving</a><br />
Linda from <a href="http://thegoodthebadtheworse.blogspot.com/">The Good, The Bad, The Worse</a><br />
Megan - The Navy wife in Japan who no longer blogs, but is on FB and is just like me.<br />
Alex from the very hot Arizona area. My biggest cheerleader.<br />
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So to Al Gore I wish to say thank you for bringing these wonderful people into my life. What would I have done without the internet? Probably found another way to stalk people I guess.<br />
<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-54028338215762602652015-04-08T21:12:00.000-07:002015-04-08T21:12:45.455-07:00Do You Have a List?<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb98aVmBDMk/VSX2A_HaDZI/AAAAAAAAFhQ/8lTtjrsPt6Q/s1600/2014-10-18%2B16.54.36.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb98aVmBDMk/VSX2A_HaDZI/AAAAAAAAFhQ/8lTtjrsPt6Q/s1600/2014-10-18%2B16.54.36.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful Newport, Oregon</td></tr>
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I am sure everyone knows what a Bucket List is, but in case you have lived under a rock I will attempt to explain what a Bucket List is with minimal sarcasm.<br />
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A few years ago there was a movie and this person wrote a list of everything he wanted to do before he died, so he wrote a list. He did what was on the list. He died.<br />
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I never have put together a list and driving home from work yesterday I was thinking of one. I thought of what I would add to my list and as the list grew I knew that it was unattainable without funds. I thought about those Facebook bucket list posts of 'being at the Taj Mahal at sunset with my soul mate' which immediately had me mentally stabbing said person. In the eye. With my pen.<br />
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This year I turned 49 and as 50 looms I am thinking of ways to celebrate. In Nubian fashion the celebration will encompass the entire year and not only with family and friends, but by myself, exploring and reflecting.<br />
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So instead of a Bucket List I have come up with the Fuck It List. The Fuck It List is short because come hell or high water I will achieve what is on the list. It may not be anything exotic and it definitely won't be the Taj Mahal at sunset with my soul mate, but it will be meaningful to me, which as we all know is all that matters.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-49411449543712519152015-01-23T17:46:00.002-08:002015-01-23T17:46:20.688-08:00The Tapestry.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C_klMpCi_DI/VML2RAEVAlI/AAAAAAAAFV8/wmPl39y4cSQ/s1600/photo-2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-C_klMpCi_DI/VML2RAEVAlI/AAAAAAAAFV8/wmPl39y4cSQ/s1600/photo-2.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful Poppy Tapestry Cushion Cover.</td></tr>
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Ever since I can remember, my aunt has always had a tapestry that she was working on. When my aunt and uncle were first married I would spend the night and I worked on my very own beginners tapestry that my aunt had bought for me.<br />
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Tapestry is an art. Tapestry requires lots of patience. Tapestry is not cross stitch. My aunts home in South Africa had many of her framed completed tapestries and the detail and time invested in these pieces was and is quite incredible. My mother has one of my aunts tapestries and I know that my sisters and I have each put our claim on it, it's not going to be a pretty battle.<br />
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A while back I threw my back out and the pain was unbearable. I couldn't sit, stand or lie down. I was just miserable. My aunt had back problems, more severe than I have ever experienced and last year she had some intense back surgery to correct the problem.<br />
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As I unpacked the boxes from yet another move I looked at my tapestry and it brought a lump to my throat. My aunt made this for me when she had back problems, but she knows how much I love poppies and made this for me.<br />
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Every time I look at my tapestry I look at every stitch as they were made with love and I couldn't have a more priceless gift.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-56218929079215336162014-07-25T17:11:00.000-07:002014-07-25T17:11:31.159-07:00What's the number?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Yesterday I walked into the back office at one of my hotels to discover my general manager and two front desk agents in an absolute panic. The general manager was trying to get hold of the corporate office, I asked what the problem was and this was the conversation that transpired.<br />
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<i><b>GM: We went to the gas station as we have to fill up the shuttle for our guests and we don't have the number that is needed to get gas.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>FD1: We put the card in and it asks for a number.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>Me: Your driver ID, that number?</b></i><br />
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<i><b>FD2: No, we have that number, we need the other number.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>GM: I am trying to call corporate because they never gave us the other number.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>Me: Wait, so when you put in the card it asks for a number?</b></i><br />
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<i><b>FD1: Yes the one before the driver number.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>Me: You mean the ODOMETER?</b></i><br />
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<i><b>All of them together: Yes, that number, corporate didn't give us that number.</b></i><br />
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<i><b>Me: *crickets* *Guppy Fish Mouth Movements*</b></i><br />
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For the record, I did not hire these people.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7136873007049541761.post-39345183353991738412014-07-06T21:03:00.004-07:002014-07-06T21:03:58.378-07:00Chaos and Calm.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It has been over a month since I started my new job and it has been stressful, entertaining, mind boggling, hysterical, head banging, ass kicking and with a few WTF faces thrown in for good measure.<br />
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The little red KIA and I have been doing lots of miles between Colorado and Nebraska. My iPhone is filled with podcasts and my music playlist grows larger everyday. I have encountered a tornado, actually was in between two, and that experience I never wish to repeat, but seeing as though my route is I-80 where tornadoes like to hangout, I guess it won't be my last.<br />
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I have worked 17 hour days, had a General Manager quit 15 minutes before we were about to take on a Million dollar account. I've had to fire a General Manager and work longer days because the staff wanted to teach me a lesson by walking out. I have dealt with stupid people, lots and lots of stupid people. I have encountered rude, drunk, ignorant guests. I have met scammers and con-men. I have been given a few hotels in a town that has a population of 18,119 people and where 13 meth labs were raided last year. I have been given the criteria to make sure that the people I hire have all their teeth. Yes, ponder on that one for a moment.<br />
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I fall into bed exhausted everyday and wake up with the chickens. I am learning to live out of a suitcase and finally bought a corkscrew and a wine glass. My days mesh together that I sometimes don't know what day of the week it is. Last week my body had enough and one of my General Manager's had to drive me to urgent care where I was given a shot of the good drug and ordered to stay in bed for the rest of the day.<br />
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One criteria I had when I took this job was that when I felt the need to take a break I could fly home for a few days. I have just spent 5 wonderful days in Oregon where I did the things that I love and have missed. I cooked great meals. I drank excellent wine. I went for long walks on the beach. I watched the fireworks from the beach. I visited breweries, the good ones. I played backgammon and won. I read a book. I laughed. I cried. I reflected.<br />
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As I sit on the bed in another hotel room, in a different city, I am grateful for the past month and what I have learned from it. I have learned that I am strong. That it is okay to be alone. That there are people out there cheering for me to succeed and alas those waiting for me to fail. I have learned that my wingman will always be there, no matter what the turmoil of the day may be. I have learned that the employee's that earn the least are the happiest. I have learned that I am quite the salsa dancer with guidance from my housekeeping staff. I have learned that the saying "Keep Calm and Carry On" does not apply to me in a tornado situation. I have learned that no matter what the day may have in store for me I will always look for the beauty and the calm amidst the chaos.<br />
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At the end of the day before sleep takes over I count my blessings and that no matter what the next day brings there will be at least one person out there that will give me another great story to tell.<br />
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<br />Nubianhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07684802193733592184noreply@blogger.com4