tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24797208172285505182023-11-15T22:11:04.557-08:00songs I singemmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.comBlogger210125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-91759185741912516542011-06-05T19:54:00.000-07:002011-06-05T19:54:46.195-07:00In Remembrance...<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-small;">Two years ago today, my life changed in an <a href="http://emmelynn.blogspot.com/2009/06/shattered.html"><span style="color: #f6b26b;">instant</span></a>. Everything I had known before came to an end, everything I had planned for the future came to an abrupt, uncertain halt. Even now, I can hardly believe that he's gone. I still find myself in a shroud of disbelief at times...I still ache to hear the low rumble of his voice, to see him walking through our front door, to feel his arm around me. It hurts more than anything to know that none of these things will ever happen again in my lifetime. But the love we shared as a family? <em>That </em>can never be taken away. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-small;">Below you'll find a collection of short, raw pieces I wrote in the days after my father's death that were, in fact, never meant to be published, never meant to be shared with anyone besides my own self. Back in those days, I mostly used my blog as an escape from the pain & uncertainty that overwhelmed me, outpouring the swirl of emotions & turmoil I was going through at the time onto these pages, and simply saving the drafts. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-small;">Life isn't always pretty. These snatches of my life at the time aren't pretty, either. To you, they are most likely incoherent & meaningless, but...in posting them here for myself, I'm remembering where I came from, acknowledging where I am now, and reminding myself to look to the future as he would wish me to. Love, friends, is worth every ounce of the heartache that can come along with it.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div align="center"><span style="color: black;">* * * *</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="left"><em>July 8, 2009</em></div><div align="left"><br />
</div>I wandered into someone else's life. Stepped out of the happiness. Left all of my dreams behind...and I can't find my way back.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">* * *</div><div align="left"></div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>August 17, 2009</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div>I can't forget him. I can't move on.</div><br />
<div></div>I don't care what anyone says...I'm not ready to pick up my life where I left off; not ready to pretend that nothing has happened; that my heart isn't breaking every moment of every day.<br />
<br />
<div></div>My heart winces when his smile or the remembrance of his touch comes to mind...when I see something beautiful and wish that he was here to appreciate it with me.<br />
<br />
<div></div>People don't understand that I could care less what I eat, how much money I have, what I do each day, what I will do with the rest of my life.<br />
<br />
<div></div>He was such a huge part of me...he made me who I am today. I can't bear to think of the rest of my life without him. Every thing I have ever imagined has included him in it....how can i manage to go on??<br />
<br />
<div></div>People tell me that I need to cling to my faith...that only makes me feel like they think I am a heathen, that it isn't alright to feel sorrow, to mourn.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">* * *</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="left"><em>September 13, 2009</em></div><br />
Sometimes it feels as if I have left my old life behind, my old self.<br />
<br />
It seems that I have skipped over everything near and familiar<br />
<br />
they have fallen from my life<br />
You hear the old cliches...your life can change in an instant...dont take anything for granted...but no matter how prepared you feel that you are...you never really can be.<br />
You never expect the phone call, the depth of pain, the absolute despair.<br />
<br />
I dont know where I will go from here. My life doesn't seem real. I keep wondering when I will wake up, when I will feel my Daddy's arms wrapped around me in a tight hug. Somehow, I have slipped away from everything real to me. I am waiting. <br />
<div style="text-align: left;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>September 28, 2009</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>"Don't be scared. I'm here."<br />
<br />
But he isn't anymore.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">* * *</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>October 4, 2009</em></div><br />
Sometimes I wake up and I wonder where I am at in my life. I find myself trying to forget. I cling to everything that is new and different, everything that does not remind me of the life I am no longer able to lead.<br />
<br />
<div align="center">* * *</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>November 2, 2009</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Every day I wake up and wish that my life had ended too that day.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>January 1, 2010</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Sometimes it seems so difficult to express yourself, it seems easier to say...nothing at all. That is how I have felt these past few months. To speak of anything concerning my life is as rubbing salt in an open wound. Painful beyond words. <br />
<br />
I love you all so dearly. You have brought friendship, and empathy, and such joy to my life. I really wonder where I would be without you.<br />
I've always posted<br />
<br />
but intertwined with all of my favorite classic film stars has always been the bits about my life, my thoughts, the day to day things that touch my heart...and they seem so glaringly absent.<br />
<br />
I am so very, very lost. The only way to get around this huge painful ache inside is to try and forget anything and everything. To just pretend that this is how life has always been...<br />
<br />
<div align="center">* * *</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>May 6, 2010</em></div><div align="center"></div><br />
<div align="center">I'll be twenty-three tomorrow. <em><span style="color: #ff6666;">Twenty-three.</span></em></div><br />
<div align="center"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;"></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;">Can you believe it...??</div><div align="center"></div>In many ways, it's a little bit frightening to me to realize that I'll never be twenty-two again. That may sound silly, but it's true. It seems that turning a year older is just losing one more strand that connects me to our old life; that connects me to <em>him.</em><br />
<div align="center"><em></em></div><div style="text-align: center;">My thoughts weave over a multitude of tiny facts:</div><br />
<div align="center"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;">"I was twenty-two when Daddy and I..."</span></em></div><br />
<div align="center"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;"></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;">"When I was twenty-two we all went..."</span></em></div><br />
<div align="center"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;"></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;">"He told us that we meant more than..."</span></em></div><br />
<div align="center"><em><span style="color: #ff6666;"></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;">Such things make my heart ache beyond compare.</div><br />
I know that turning a year older is just another passing of time. But...that's just it. I don't want time to go by. I don't want to leave anything else behind. It's the slipping off of one more thing...and it hurts. It makes me feel like more of a distance is being put between our lives now and the life we led; between all of us...and the man we loved more than anything. I know in my heart that nothing can ever really separate us, but I still wish that time would just...stop. If we can't go back together as the family we once were, I wish that we could just stay right here. At least for a little while & be close to what we always had. I'm not ready to move forward. At least not yet. <br />
<br />
<div align="left"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>But that's not possible.</strong></div><br />
<div align="center"><strong></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="color: #ff6666;">So...I have to take a deep breath.</span></strong></div><br />
<div align="center"><strong><span style="color: #ff6666;"></span></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>And try to remember what he would want for me; for all of us.</strong></div><br />
<div align="center"></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">And I know in my heart, without a doubt, he would tell me...</div><br />
<div align="center"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Have fun and learn something, too.</em></div><br />
<div align="center"><em></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>And smile, Linny.</em></div><br />
<div align="center"><em></em></div><br />
<div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: #ff6666;"></span></em></strong></div><br />
<div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: #ff6666; font-size: large;">Smile for me.</span></em></strong></div><br />
<div align="center"><strong><em><span style="color: #ff6666; font-size: large;"></span></em></strong></div><br />
<div align="center">* * *</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><em>August 22, 2010</em></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div>It's frightening to realize that's it's been more than a year and I still wake up with my heart pounding, sick to my stomach.</div><br />
<div></div><div style="text-align: left;">I'm trying to remember to live my life as he would wish me to. To be able to step outside & feel the warmth of the sun against my skin...and that's all. No gasping for breath, no sharp ache filling every ounce of my being.</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-65682520085890753342011-04-20T15:06:00.000-07:002011-04-20T15:07:17.275-07:00Emily Dislikes...1. Scary white legs that could potentially blind passersby & frighten small children. I'm not naming any names...<br />
<br />
2. Mosquitoes, ticks, and other gross, nasty bugs.<br />
<br />
3. Rude, thoughtless people. Or people who aren't meaning to be rude, but are thoughtless just the same.<br />
<br />
4. Not being taken seriously.<br />
<br />
5. Feeling ignored.<br />
<br />
6. Sharks, and robbers, and things that creak in the night. And don't even get me started on crocodiles...<br />
<br />
7. Never fitting in.<br />
<br />
8. People who are far too interested in the sound of their own voice to even be able to stop for half a second & think you might have an opinion, too. Please, at least pretend you're interested.<br />
<br />
9. Those awkward moments that leave you feeling like a twelve year old with gangly legs. Seriously, I'm normally a semi-graceful person.<br />
<br />
10. Insincerity.<br />
<br />
11. Sticking out like a sore thumb. You can't exactly hide with this hair.<br />
<br />
12. Ultra fake, ultra flirty girls. Seriously, bud...you're falling for that?<br />
<br />
13. Being interrupted. I listened to your story for half an hour, can you please not make me feel silly & unimportant & listen to mine for a minute?<br />
<br />
14. Being my own worst critic. Please, Emily? Give yourself a break.<br />
<br />
15. Having regrets about all of the things we can never do now. Remember the little cabin? Remember how I was supposed to take care of you someday? You weren't supposed to go so soon.<br />
<br />
16. Procrastinating.<br />
<br />
17. Giving in to the 5,232 fears that want to suffocate me. Not you, Emily. So not you.<br />
<br />
18. People who only try to tear you down.<br />
<br />
19. Saying things before I think.emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-67976796241226646992011-04-12T17:36:00.000-07:002011-04-12T17:36:51.063-07:00Emily Loves...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uqRt6ElDyq-yR796fGAFwMwH3TXHkBcFyGJZgb-hgQaL5fKwX9nrVT0nen1ACzuBthSx88JpHjafUGOtJuLWBZfabmfgbEa8RJ7AqYBxi3YrL-WYDaW3IojglTkX2penF6kOAmzvhd8/s1600/PierAngeliSS04%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5uqRt6ElDyq-yR796fGAFwMwH3TXHkBcFyGJZgb-hgQaL5fKwX9nrVT0nen1ACzuBthSx88JpHjafUGOtJuLWBZfabmfgbEa8RJ7AqYBxi3YrL-WYDaW3IojglTkX2penF6kOAmzvhd8/s320/PierAngeliSS04%255B1%255D.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Pier Angeli</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #e06666;">1.</span> Loud, crackling summer storms.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">2.</span> Unexpected letters in the mail.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">3.</span> Babies with kissable cheeks.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">4.</span> That funny little ache inside when you're too happy to even breathe.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">5.</span> Dancing in the rain.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">6.</span> Rare stories of true, lasting love.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">7.</span> Pretty new clothes.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">8.</span> Being a part of people's lives. Caring for them, listening to them, trying to make a difference.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">9.</span> Words. Slippery, searing, and utterly beautiful.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">10.</span> Text messages.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">11.</span> Writing.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">12.</span> The color blue. If we play a game together & you pick 'my' color...I'll be trying to move your game piece the whole time. Just sayin'. I can't help it.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">13.</span> Sonnet 116.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">14.</span> Little boys with brown eyes.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">15.</span> My family, who root on random exercising strangers, stand at the end of the drive & wave until you can't see them anymore, & are all-around lovable.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">16.</span><em> On the Waterfront</em>. Edie, and Terry, and...swoons...*please hold while I go watch it for the 646th time*<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">17.</span> Ten year old neighbors who copy everything you do & call you Emmy. Yes, that was my heart melting.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">18.</span> Being hugged. Wrap your arm around my shoulders & leave it there forever. K, thanks.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">19.</span> Working with the USO. I may not do much, I may not change anyone's life, but it makes my soul happy.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">20.</span> Laughing so hard that you cry. Or get the hiccups. Or both. Either way, all you can think is..."Oh, my stomach!"<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">21.</span> Candles that make your room smell like a coffee shop.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">22.</span> Long drives with no place in particular to go. And possibly getting kind of, sort of lost. That's always the best part.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">23.</span> Bare feet, & big sunglasses, & pink nail polish, & ice cream, & singing, and...possibly all of the above combined.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">24.</span> Scary old movies that aren't really scary at all except to big babies like me. But only if there's someone's lap close enough to leap into. "What's happening? What's HAPPENING?!!! ... WHY DID YOU TELL ME THAT?!"<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">25.</span> Reading.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">26.</span> Long conversations about anything & everything. The more random the better.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">27.</span> Sisters who always have the same thoughts you do--at the same time--even though you don't even live in the same house. Slightly creepy, but rather cool. ;)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">28.</span> Finding kindred spirits. We're a rare breed.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">29.</span> Long walks in the middle of nowhere.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">30.</span> Discovering how strong of a person you really are.<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #e06666;">31.</span> Military uniforms. Just tryin' to keep it real.</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-31176502533376269762010-11-29T13:51:00.000-08:002010-11-29T13:51:29.511-08:00Katharine...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglV3qqgjXyHRMMjR-0q_5-Auu7EN1Cj3BGEZtbfgeeJ2ByX1lN0Rd2g1iZZ_IIK69081vFu9LJ-mbeQ1dN0_yqGZYlz440Yum8EfeShD9VZQBYSxq0bnRhm50qRNsyWBdBr8pe3KNxx-E/s1600/Annex%252520-%252520Hepburn%252C%252520Katharine_06%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglV3qqgjXyHRMMjR-0q_5-Auu7EN1Cj3BGEZtbfgeeJ2ByX1lN0Rd2g1iZZ_IIK69081vFu9LJ-mbeQ1dN0_yqGZYlz440Yum8EfeShD9VZQBYSxq0bnRhm50qRNsyWBdBr8pe3KNxx-E/s400/Annex%252520-%252520Hepburn%252C%252520Katharine_06%255B1%255D.jpg" width="310" /></a></div><br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Katharine Hepburn</span></div><div align="center"></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-77772357586543451282010-11-18T12:13:00.000-08:002010-11-18T12:13:28.586-08:00Thank You, Dear. I Think...<div align="center"><br />
<span style="color: #ff6666;">Elizabeth, peering closely at Emily's face:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">"Emmy, it looks like you're wearing fake eyelashes."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">*</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">Emily, looks up from project, a bit baffled:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">"Umm..."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">*</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">Elizabeth, quite serious, imparting 'wisdom' </span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">as only a twelve year old can:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black;">"Oh, that's a good thing. A really good thing."</span><br />
<br />
*<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666;">Emily, trying to look serious, too:</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666;"></span></div><div align="center"><br />
"Oh. Well...err...thank you then, sweetie.<br />
That's...*cough*...very nice of you to say."<br />
<br />
<br />
* * * *<br />
<br />
<em><span style="color: #e06666;">Little sisters are one of the dearest things on earth.</span></em><br />
<br />
</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-72794822593986094182010-10-28T16:29:00.000-07:002010-10-28T16:29:03.725-07:00It's a Fact...<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Contrary to popular belief, sparkly sweaters really </div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>do </em>make girls with miserable colds feel better.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">A little bit, at least.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: red; font-size: large;">♥</span></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-454781196677054962010-10-24T22:31:00.000-07:002010-10-24T22:31:14.436-07:00Where Emily Raves About Footwear...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHxqdKWWY_FhZyJck2qan2b5k5Pt_xxfH4v9wWax8lv7cLmrv2U9V8Ya1B-0lHU_zFVcJHlteG7dLc6mPHwvzgS3i0q9K2WV-A1a0dkUb7JjPMwmmQh26kYDUt3zoARgtHMTCtyyK7yw/s1600/Polaroid+Shoes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKHxqdKWWY_FhZyJck2qan2b5k5Pt_xxfH4v9wWax8lv7cLmrv2U9V8Ya1B-0lHU_zFVcJHlteG7dLc6mPHwvzgS3i0q9K2WV-A1a0dkUb7JjPMwmmQh26kYDUt3zoARgtHMTCtyyK7yw/s400/Polaroid+Shoes.jpg" width="342" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Remember those two pairs of new shoes I mentioned?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Well...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is a photo of one pair.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #e06666;">*sigh*</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">* * *</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">We fell in <span style="color: #e06666;">love</span> the first moment we saw each other.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I mean, they may totally not be your thing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strike>That's your prerogative</strike>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But right now...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>I'm pretty much, basically, absolutely in love.</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><em>Nothing major.</em></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I guess Elizabeth thinks they're pretty snazzy, too,</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">since she was the one that wanted to take a picture of them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I mean, sheesh.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But...being the wonderful big sister I am</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I gave in & let her do her thing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">;)</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">* * *</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-56767287451382477422010-10-22T20:18:00.000-07:002010-10-22T20:18:42.888-07:00Marilyn...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CAZM7r_4PCxMLM-jv2e2zg0pCGVN3NRXrAjsHCl2kS98oi31AC0idXu-xNMXpSCdmyIRtaQ9irth1X4jeJEqAL4IaRcM-xIPzrN406V3-VKa3ayAHmkrnsbiQuNrePNbVs5Xx2Xuquk/s1600/5fdd20f639c2111f_G03a_Block11_P_93_7X7_g.preview%5B1%5D-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7CAZM7r_4PCxMLM-jv2e2zg0pCGVN3NRXrAjsHCl2kS98oi31AC0idXu-xNMXpSCdmyIRtaQ9irth1X4jeJEqAL4IaRcM-xIPzrN406V3-VKa3ayAHmkrnsbiQuNrePNbVs5Xx2Xuquk/s400/5fdd20f639c2111f_G03a_Block11_P_93_7X7_g.preview%5B1%5D-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-190849331914493192010-10-17T22:59:00.000-07:002010-10-17T22:59:43.856-07:00I'm Thinking About...<div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">The USO</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-06t8ZA2cgBiqeMHYd_neuT0131XX26LcYvNGgkkZhkyMV-WErrDS_aYCZIBdzeFVvfBvLA_5cv1IKIzDMcb-xLH0s5MO3Uga_4Hk_4dYhYt2eB28xkInwDAkxJ0xqVuen7uqwOHLUgA/s1600/60928%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-06t8ZA2cgBiqeMHYd_neuT0131XX26LcYvNGgkkZhkyMV-WErrDS_aYCZIBdzeFVvfBvLA_5cv1IKIzDMcb-xLH0s5MO3Uga_4Hk_4dYhYt2eB28xkInwDAkxJ0xqVuen7uqwOHLUgA/s400/60928%5B1%5D.jpg" width="341" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Because...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I'm now officially a proud volunteer. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">And loving every minute of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Though, I've never yet had to force donuts down a young soldier.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Maybe we haven't come to that part yet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">* * *</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: small;">Family</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-size: small;">Because...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I ♥ them so very much.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">You know you have it bad when just </span><span style="font-size: small;">thinking </span><span style="font-size: small;">about them </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">makes </span><span style="font-size: small;">a happy little ache creep into your throat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">* * *</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #ea9999; font-size: small;">High Heels</span><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5600cmOCsA4BJW6jZBQ3lY_qa23R-jB3GBBDIUvVat3zS93eSU9EXrz7-zJ-PV211ILAz851w-v0XcAAo7ZhdPVxTCEK_FrIaSi2XFwmEzGStZ9Hl7zpU5X1PjvhU6TfZPcpg1HZzW0s/s1600/ac1c2289fe2e6dca_landing%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5600cmOCsA4BJW6jZBQ3lY_qa23R-jB3GBBDIUvVat3zS93eSU9EXrz7-zJ-PV211ILAz851w-v0XcAAo7ZhdPVxTCEK_FrIaSi2XFwmEzGStZ9Hl7zpU5X1PjvhU6TfZPcpg1HZzW0s/s400/ac1c2289fe2e6dca_landing%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Because...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I have two brand new <em>bee-you-ti-ful </em>pairs I can't quit thinking about.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Literally.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://blessbonny.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #ea9999;">The Ramsey Family</span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">Because...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Emma, Johanna, Grace & all the others</div><div style="text-align: center;"> have become so dear to me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">These days, my thoughts & prayers are </div><div style="text-align: center;">with them more often even than usual.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> <em><span style="color: #ea9999;">On the Waterfront</span></em></div><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kSGtlfRRWA9hZel1GvOT9xT5ofDUxahJNWDDt77VrXzZVb_slGMoHJ3RI2AEsmnDtSTLiPXmWIwKoZfOkx6WvlJNV4Ua5Z10VJE35md_l9-XaisOiinusCu40edytoWBm_ZYE-_6I1s/s1600/Annex_-_Brando,_Marlon_(On_the_Waterfront)_07%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4kSGtlfRRWA9hZel1GvOT9xT5ofDUxahJNWDDt77VrXzZVb_slGMoHJ3RI2AEsmnDtSTLiPXmWIwKoZfOkx6WvlJNV4Ua5Z10VJE35md_l9-XaisOiinusCu40edytoWBm_ZYE-_6I1s/s400/Annex_-_Brando,_Marlon_(On_the_Waterfront)_07%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Because...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">With faces like these & a love story like that...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">it's too drool-worthy to<em> not</em> think about </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">watching for the 646th time.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">*sigh*</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Have I mentioned lately that it's my favorite-est film?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">Falling in Love</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">Because...</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">It's one of those things girls think about.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Just tryin' to keep it real.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(Don't worry, I'll tell you when it happens.)</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">Sunglasses</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gbDLwjQ4lAaeKWoFPk2giimu7Gpu5frfaSeiA7sUAxpnWAz6avJSvLIa-gXqeNlgBLuUq1RgcYhxUs_TVntjKTuMwyZUlA9XJeABipwgDH2bDJAhdd8R2Mvf9GxMLz_Wj_MvFxQnDbY/s1600/audrey,hepburn,cool,breakfast,at,tiffanys,cute,girl,sunglasses-27e0dedf795dbc0cce886f91ba24c229_h%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0gbDLwjQ4lAaeKWoFPk2giimu7Gpu5frfaSeiA7sUAxpnWAz6avJSvLIa-gXqeNlgBLuUq1RgcYhxUs_TVntjKTuMwyZUlA9XJeABipwgDH2bDJAhdd8R2Mvf9GxMLz_Wj_MvFxQnDbY/s400/audrey,hepburn,cool,breakfast,at,tiffanys,cute,girl,sunglasses-27e0dedf795dbc0cce886f91ba24c229_h%5B1%5D.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"> Because...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">My two lovely sisters & I went shopping for them today.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">And two of us found <em>them. </em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">You know, that perfect pair. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">A New Blog</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: black;">Because I've been thinking about possibly starting one for months.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">I don't know. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">I've loved my time spent writing for <em>songs I sing </em>very much. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">But anymore, it seems tied a bit too </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">much to everything we once had.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Everything that makes me ache so much I feel I can't breathe.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">It's just an idea.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">But one I'd love to hear your opinion on...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #ea9999;">This Picture</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLB1Af5WlDMNGl-OrJvekCDm0HUKcJLv2v77PJAI6KF5KcnuefjOv8YY68qgJIfHXypc0yTQLHcsxB91uATmgU0Ii538d3BE-bWxlOf9IkFwZCkLnendu7PNv0S0xqcMgvZwkHvql02o/s1600/3d9755390d1de25f_landing%5B1%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ex="true" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkLB1Af5WlDMNGl-OrJvekCDm0HUKcJLv2v77PJAI6KF5KcnuefjOv8YY68qgJIfHXypc0yTQLHcsxB91uATmgU0Ii538d3BE-bWxlOf9IkFwZCkLnendu7PNv0S0xqcMgvZwkHvql02o/s400/3d9755390d1de25f_landing%5B1%5D.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">Because...</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">I like it.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">* * *</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-4123660693981014882010-09-05T21:28:00.000-07:002010-09-05T21:36:22.616-07:00Yes, I'm Blaming Them for the Lack of Posts...I'm sorry my posts have been sporadic once again. This time, though, it's actually not my fault. I can't tell you how many times I've actually written something & was prepared to post it...only to find that Blogger somehow squashes everything together in an odd, unreadable sort of way <em>or </em>eats every word except the odd sentence or two. <br /><br />I can see everything I've written on the regular "new post" screen, but when I switch to preview it or actually do go ahead & post it, <em>everything </em>has completely disappeared. *sigh* I can't tell you how frustrating that is. <br /><br />I try to save my post & go back & try to fix it, but that hasn't been working. After struggling with trying to post the same thing ten times over, I must confess, I give up & erase it altogether. If you'd typed & re-typed that same post that many times, I think you'd be sick of your own writing, too. <br /><br />Anyway, just wanted to let you know that I'm still here. <br /><br />Love,<br />Emilyemmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-87507128537057797372010-08-24T17:54:00.001-07:002010-08-24T18:05:31.124-07:00Whispered Thoughts...<div align="left"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span> write the story of my life on tiny slips of paper...</div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 226px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509144713987128034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2-aAfmz8ug3cOpG0Tnipko-ySVJunTSif6020fhhdU2oiD2KnKdDS_jHm2MFXtRfA5sNe-qAuqUzJgMFl6Htvu5V_M5O1u07U8lZ8PuVvxqyx1LTRiiYzUQSWvdK7k19JWhjb6BAFvEw/s320/fa520cfd9ed4e704_landing%5B1%5D.jpg" /><br /><br /><p align="right">...that slip from my fingers like so much falling snow.</p><p align="right"> </p>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-37685426393469980152010-08-21T15:43:00.000-07:002010-08-21T15:53:22.939-07:00Jennifer...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsx2buOj7KO19TjpErTMEYIBL6u65gjB-88raFEHueJklBT3wssMWrEdROrYuFB8WKh94NMqNpBd8EGArmq57S8pRPKlq33zv_bMj6gpppp1vVR7Wcp9c1GbX3TVP_ZQP2rftRsDe3I7w/s1600/evln8w6fig7jgijw%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507997564643581842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsx2buOj7KO19TjpErTMEYIBL6u65gjB-88raFEHueJklBT3wssMWrEdROrYuFB8WKh94NMqNpBd8EGArmq57S8pRPKlq33zv_bMj6gpppp1vVR7Wcp9c1GbX3TVP_ZQP2rftRsDe3I7w/s400/evln8w6fig7jgijw%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div align="center">* * * *<br /><br /><div align="center">"<span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>f you could choose one characteristic that would</div><div align="center">get you through life, choose a sense of humor."</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Jennifer Jones</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center">* * * *</div><div align="center"> </div></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-52782034518461908902010-08-19T17:47:00.000-07:002010-08-19T18:27:36.418-07:00And It's Purple, Too!<div align="center">* * * *</div><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span> finally caved in and purchased the video camera I've been considering for some time now. I tend to lean much more toward the 'necessity only' side of things when purchasing anything for myself. <span style="font-size:78%;">Except, that is, when it comes to books...but they <em>are </em>a necessity to me! ;)</span><br /><br />I can drive my family, and myself, crazy sometimes with my questioning before a purchase. 'Should I buy it...or shouldn't I?' And this being only the second 'major' purchase I've made in my entire--gulp--life.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I'm so glad now, though, that I decided to spend the money for it. </div><br /><div align="center">It's tiny, and prettyful, and <span style="color:#ff6666;"><em>matches my laptop</em></span>. </div><div align="center">Can it get any better than that?</div><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>'m going to have so much fun capturing some of the crazy, lovable, & downright silly antics of we people around here. Not sure if I'll ever muster up enough courage to <em>show</em> them to anyone outside of immediate, immediate family, though.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Not, that is, until I sound a little less like a </div><div align="center">deranged squirrel & a little more like myself.</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Sheesh, it's quite frightening.</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">* * * *</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-47299862409605059922010-08-14T14:02:00.000-07:002010-08-14T14:18:01.385-07:00War...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iaqqSZ4nqV-pguKSwjJ8ezoXjLiekpRALD7yVGlmTcWdesR4QZonVuS1vKeFGTBEjU-f9SPY4VQQr6BkM0WV8YNffrJg_86JxB3mTYxAulv4Jg2cJMRoNtM0mf2dFQ3_RF0FmgCrndU/s1600/l57mike%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505374598665682722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4iaqqSZ4nqV-pguKSwjJ8ezoXjLiekpRALD7yVGlmTcWdesR4QZonVuS1vKeFGTBEjU-f9SPY4VQQr6BkM0WV8YNffrJg_86JxB3mTYxAulv4Jg2cJMRoNtM0mf2dFQ3_RF0FmgCrndU/s400/l57mike%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.png" /></a></div><div align="center"> <span style="font-size:78%;">Sgt. Mike Strank<br /></span><span style="font-size:78%;">KIA March 1, 1945, Iwo Jima</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">He was 25 years old.</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br />* * * *<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">W</span>ar is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things.<br />The decayed & degraded state of moral & patriotic feeling<br />which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span>he person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight,<br />nothing which is more important than his own personal safety,<br />is a miserable creature & has no chance of being free unless<br />made & kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">John Stuart Mill</span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">* * * *</span></span></p><p align="center"> </p>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-25719146023621563902010-08-14T08:27:00.001-07:002010-08-14T08:38:33.495-07:00August...<div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">* * * *</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span> blinked one day...</div><br /><div align="center"><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 303px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505287722910229794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaQK03s4AK67j1nyGJLo3vDt6kVxBq1ppA0xKzOrdrWJmqS1IB9D7khIn0gqKt9ifH5bBgTI1js7ZPp0n0UTUs3VThY4Ec8GIlsL9LlVv68_uO5vyob1Gp1shSEItgaAEs2ja-XFfMOuA/s400/aud152%5B1%5D%5B1%5D.jpg" /><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span>...and found that <span style="font-size:180%;">S</span><span style="font-size:100%;">ummer<br />is nearly winding to a close.</span></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 308px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505288482236362754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkrUyAfXZYC5NrBXlnCHz-_dJxboPI4HEotE0JrYQRjrRpvoH8uSN1Lp8smWv2tcwqawK6bfURTAHUOh5Fd3365lPBAV_XAGI6xBjd0iBTBLYhZJg34CLOrbC1BKcExgygbBEXvdv8hUY/s400/7harg3g0mxnxg3ma%5B1%5D.jpg" /><br />How did the days slip by so quickly?</p><br /><p align="center"></p><p align="center">* * * *</p>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-22351023688127322862010-07-01T19:07:00.000-07:002010-07-01T19:12:26.954-07:00Betty...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1ay5HVs7PZIikTfpJczGKQTMhJm65q2gjHdRmvDl3461lzyqgy2KhUHRRzywEiiNv2aJp-28d4CFMznL1v7v5z1gvUnYt-V3fx2XgezYn6AbAPsMf2kNV3ApX78XSdqHkGN6lshrwf4/s1600/Grable,%2520Betty_03%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 306px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5489124959760751298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU1ay5HVs7PZIikTfpJczGKQTMhJm65q2gjHdRmvDl3461lzyqgy2KhUHRRzywEiiNv2aJp-28d4CFMznL1v7v5z1gvUnYt-V3fx2XgezYn6AbAPsMf2kNV3ApX78XSdqHkGN6lshrwf4/s400/Grable,%2520Betty_03%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center">* * *</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">"The practice of putting women on pedestals</div><div align="center">began to die out when it was discovered </div><div align="center">that they could give orders better from there."</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Betty Grable</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:+0;"><span style="font-size:+0;"></span></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:+0;"><span style="font-size:+0;">* * *</span></span></div><div align="center"> </div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-76144607106265892902010-06-22T21:23:00.000-07:002010-06-22T22:33:01.921-07:00Sometimes...<div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I look at my life and wonder</div><div align="center">what exactly it was that has made me the person I am.</div><br /><div align="center">* * *</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I wonder what causes me to have such empathy and deep love for those whose lives touch mine...and yet, have so very little left over for myself.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I dance in the rain...just because I can.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I doubt.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes, <em>all </em>of the time, I regret everything we'll never be able to do now.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I believe that the small, exquisite moments throughout life almost make up for every ounce of heartache.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I fall down more often than I move forward.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I laugh so hard I cry.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I tiptoe around the house after Mama & Elizabeth are asleep, just so I can stand over them & make sure that they are safe, and warm, and...<em>there.</em></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I <em>ache </em>so much it feels like I can't even breathe.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes I say "<em>I love you" </em>far too often. But it's only because <em>you </em>can still hear me.</div><br /><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">* * *</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I have no idea where my life will take me, but I </div><div align="center"><em>always </em>wish to live it with abandon, </div><div align="center">and sincerity, and faith.</div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;">That, my friends, is my deepest desire.</span></div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">* * *</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-26346699746769076852010-06-22T19:32:00.000-07:002010-06-22T19:38:53.171-07:00Sylvia...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15n-58sPdEvmBs0FShtRcsdJvZChoQh23WIFCk4b4faTnbKfFPm1-SxVxjtX1rynXiIKdUu_0ncbR1ySoFJdFp-PVSdBPOA4_rXEwujFUvwNoU1siLbAwezqxrNZv2XvdGLCYEZ_YLfk/s1600/Annex%2520-%2520Sidney,%2520Sylvia_08%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 328px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485791826651764770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj15n-58sPdEvmBs0FShtRcsdJvZChoQh23WIFCk4b4faTnbKfFPm1-SxVxjtX1rynXiIKdUu_0ncbR1ySoFJdFp-PVSdBPOA4_rXEwujFUvwNoU1siLbAwezqxrNZv2XvdGLCYEZ_YLfk/s400/Annex%2520-%2520Sidney,%2520Sylvia_08%5B1%5D.jpg" /></a> * * *</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">"Paramount paid me by the tear."</div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Sylvia Sidney</span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></div><div align="center">* * *</div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-39771108708624296452010-06-16T18:26:00.000-07:002010-06-16T22:05:26.027-07:00One June Evening...<div align="center">* * * *</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;">There's just <em>something</em> about nighttime.</span> </div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>omething about the way the warm night air wraps itself around me & the stars that seem to bow down out of the heavens, so close it seems I can almost touch them.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>ometimes, I think it almost seems as if I could shout out, "God?" And surely, if I only listened hard enough, I could hear His voice come echoing back to me. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="center">* * * *</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left">Elizabeth & her small, blonde-haired friend sit together, cross-legged, engrossed in a game of cards. Their voices drift lazily across the concrete of our small front porch, winding across the front lawn to my listening ears.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">The sound of their laughter, the look of happiness on Elizabeth's face...means everything to me. She deserves to just act like a normal, happy little girl for awhile. Before we know it, she'll be all grown up...</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="center">* * * *</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;">Yes, there's just <em>something...</em></span></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ff6666;"></span></em></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;"></span></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:0;">* * * *</span></div><br /><div align="left"></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-34621108240613390172010-05-22T19:42:00.000-07:002010-05-22T19:47:32.595-07:00Ann-Margret...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1rz7528i1xYO1QUENhhMS7aHGOMhH2-McZUaYP-P0M8UJcz9lig8t0I_OSKnuVmVsfNlINx-zikgkuMLEhYHxZmKH3J2KIYOP-o8EctUwsXYDY7jqkiBVd9bGqR1v0fsJYMDyqiXyC0/s1600/Ann-Margret.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 394px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474290613888054866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK1rz7528i1xYO1QUENhhMS7aHGOMhH2-McZUaYP-P0M8UJcz9lig8t0I_OSKnuVmVsfNlINx-zikgkuMLEhYHxZmKH3J2KIYOP-o8EctUwsXYDY7jqkiBVd9bGqR1v0fsJYMDyqiXyC0/s400/Ann-Margret.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"> <span style="font-size:78%;"><em>Bye Bye Birdie</em> (1963)<br /></span><br /><br />"...I am still many times fragile and<br />vulnerable; it's just the way I am.<br /><br />My parents were like that, too.<br />It does present challenges for me.<br /><br />I can be knocked over by a feather when I'm really down,<br />although, I must say that when I'm on stage, it's different."<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Ann-Margret</span><br /><br /></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-42336529970851105552010-05-17T18:56:00.001-07:002010-05-17T21:39:32.253-07:00In Search of Emily...<div align="center"><span style="font-size:+0;">* * *</span><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ff6666;"></span></em></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ff6666;">Have you ever lost yourself & never even realized it?</span></em></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="color:#ff6666;"><em>Have you ever fallen so far that one day you find</em></span></div><div align="center"><em><span style="color:#ff6666;">that, somehow, you've misplaced all of your old dreams?</span></em></div><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:+0;">* * *</span></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:+0;"><span style="font-size:180%;">T</span>hese days, my one thought, the one beat of my heart, is trying to remember all of those little important things that make me...well, <em>me. </em>I'm trying to pick up all of the tiny, shattered pieces of my life; trying to remember those things I've always dreamt about; trying to remember just why I once thought they were so beautiful.</span></p><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">O</span>ver the last painful months, I've come to realize that it is the easiest thing to lose sight of who you really are, who you wish to be, in the midst of all encompassing grief. Before you know it, it seems the most impossible of things to find your way back to what you once considered...your everything.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>t's easiest to just let yourself get lost in your grief, to give up on everything you've always hoped for, give up on those things it seems you were meant to be, meant to say, meant to stand witness to. But lately, more & more, I've felt pressed upon my heart the thought that, living your life like that, allowing yourself to give up on those things most important to you, would be such a...<em>waste.</em></div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>t would be throwing away what I've always stood for, always believed in. It would be forgetting what my Daddy would have hoped for me & what I have hoped for my own life.</div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">S</span>o...no matter how hard it may be, no matter how narrow this road may seem to become, I'm going to try to remember those old, familiar dreams. </div><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>'m a strong person. With the love of those nearest to me, the faith that still lives in my heart, & with the dream of a better tomorrow...I'm going to make it through. </div><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><div align="center">I <em>know</em> I can.</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">* * *</div><div align="center"> </div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-36959268509718759952010-05-02T19:43:00.000-07:002010-05-02T19:52:38.343-07:00Grace...<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqmirxqlFVADX2QHdKqWlx7ARzrdQy2vXyUQH7hjUhN6awmKogSk58T6-LAIcoaYf4GwJRwZjHaSfpNwO2YSAzF5HZYR_mo-sR3gRYfkiqXQagw9iTQwW5J88rMrf6ckKK-fn1ShK62S8/s1600/Grace+Kelly.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466870111539803650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqmirxqlFVADX2QHdKqWlx7ARzrdQy2vXyUQH7hjUhN6awmKogSk58T6-LAIcoaYf4GwJRwZjHaSfpNwO2YSAzF5HZYR_mo-sR3gRYfkiqXQagw9iTQwW5J88rMrf6ckKK-fn1ShK62S8/s400/Grace+Kelly.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center">* * * * * *</div><br /><div align="center">"Women's natural role is to be a pillar of the family."</div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;">Grace Kelly</span></div><div align="center"> </div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-88035456788550033282010-04-14T20:37:00.001-07:002010-04-14T20:41:22.252-07:00Cary...<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJl0FFqcyY0cuzyQR2i4_alEnchtcNZMfO8JhiXJiMluT2Os9Lp-mQ9qrDF0VwzoKUoznuqjlH_GcliHZqk-7ONjjNVMzBwigtNNZiHZX80H6ufCsFLyqN-GuS7kbTOZjDkLFjDjCNkFo/s1600/cary+grant+blog+pic.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJl0FFqcyY0cuzyQR2i4_alEnchtcNZMfO8JhiXJiMluT2Os9Lp-mQ9qrDF0VwzoKUoznuqjlH_GcliHZqk-7ONjjNVMzBwigtNNZiHZX80H6ufCsFLyqN-GuS7kbTOZjDkLFjDjCNkFo/s400/cary+grant+blog+pic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460203394219254322" border="0" /></a><br />* * * *<br /><br />"I've often been accused by critics of being myself<br />on-screen. But being oneself is more<br />difficult than you'd suppose."<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Cary Grant</span><br /><br /></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-58591115124520708862010-04-14T19:15:00.000-07:002010-04-14T19:36:19.579-07:00"Thank You" Isn't Enough...<div style="text-align: center;">* * * * *<br /><br />I can't thank you all enough for the sweet words,<br />prayers, and support you sent me in response to my last post.<br /><br />You all have touched my life & my heart.<br />I appreciate you more than you will ever know.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">♥</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;">* * * * *</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2479720817228550518.post-71479159894113115992010-04-08T18:49:00.000-07:002010-04-08T19:23:45.821-07:00If Only...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>t is easiest to try to forget.<br /><br /><br /></div>For if I think of the way he said "I love you," the way his eyes crinkled up in the corners when he smiled, or the fact that he'll never come home again...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span>'m lost.</span><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">It is easiest to try & pretend that nothing has happened; to try & make myself believe that everything that is new & different around me...really isn't new at all.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">W</span>hen all I really want,<br />more than anything else,<br />is to go back to what we once had...<br /><br /><br />...is to go <span style="font-size:180%;">H</span>ome.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">N</span>o one knows what to say to me. I think they're afraid to hurt me in some way, but more often than not, it is that distance, that suffocating invisible thread, that hurts me more than any stumbling words ever could.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">I</span> wish that someone would wrap their arms around me & hold me. They wouldn't need to say anything at all, because I would understand...<span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span>I</span> wish that people would realize, that though the months go by, my heartache does not ebb. It's not something that will just go away. Each day I wake up wishing that this terrible nightmare my life has become would end up being just that...a bad dream. But it's much, much too real.<br /></div></div></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />If only love, and death, and life<br />didn't hurt so very much.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />Daddy, I ♥ you...<br /><br /></div>emmehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08445617434980648477noreply@blogger.com7