text:
“It’s a Major Award!”

Periodically, Sandra Brown (the author) gives out her books or audio CD’s free on Facebook.  Just a few minutes ago, I received an email from Jaimee, Sandra Brown’s assistant.  She (Jaimee) and I have exchanged brief emails in the past as this is the second time I’ve won free books.   This reminded me that I’ve yet to brag on my Major Award!

About seven months ago, author Joanne Fluke had a contest on her Facebook page.  In her last book, an intruder in the form of a woman showed up in Lake Eden and has come between Hannah and Norman.  This contest was for ways to kill off said intruder.  So, I wrote a murderous plot, submitted it and WON!  That’s right, I WON!  Actually, there were three winners but out of all the contestant entries, I was in the TOP THREE!  That’s right, the TOP THREE!

I received a note from Joanne and a Moishe.

(You really have to read these books – Moishe is Hannah’s cat).

I am DIABOLICAL!  Best compliment I’ve ever gotten from anyone.

And  I hate to brag (NOT) but my Major Award is even better than this one and

for years I thought this was as good as it could get.

Now, if you’ve not read Joanne’s books I MIGHT be able to understand that, but if you’ve not seen A Christmas Story then please let me know how that cave livin’ is working out for you.

On a serious note (although I’m pretty serious about that whole living in a cave if you’ve not seen A Christmas Story thing  – it’s the only explanation) this note from Joanne is keeping me inspired.  She’s one of the best writers I’ve read so if she thinks I’m good, then it’s possible I don’t suck as much as I think I do.  So I keep on keepin’ on.

6 thoughts on ““It’s a Major Award!”

  1. Eh, I like my cave….and on yesterdays blog…I am guilty of K…it IS a word…it’s a default word for “I have nothing left to say”…lol…some people use “cool”…I choose K…cause I’m lazy.

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Galla aruna kumari

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Debate: Free or Paid Internet

Most of the 1.3 billion people in India have no way to go online. Facebook has offered a free version of the internet to users in India, with selected apps. Since only selected content is free, India has prohibited this access. It upholds the principle of net neutrality, that the Web is open and prioritizes no service over another. The government of India doesn't want Facebook to be the gatekeeper of content and says people should be allowed to select their own content. Others say free service for the poor should be pursued. Listen to this story and debate with your students: Should the Internet be free or paid?

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Story Length: 2:50

Listen to the Story:

Listening Comprehension Questions

  • What was one of Malala Yousafzai’s first experiences with the dangers of religious extremism?
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  • What is the message that Malala is trying to send to those in power?
  • What does Malala want to do in the future?
  • What are the goals of Malala’s mission to support girls?

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  • What is your opinion on Malala’s message about the power of education?
  • Why do you think that ISIS might want to silence people like Malala?

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text:
ORGASMIC: passport to the big O

Jan 28 11, The Booksmith

(Maureen Blennerhassett)

Who better to spend a Friday evening with than the crème de la crème of women’s erotica? Sounds orgasmic, right?

Well, dear hedonists, that’s exactly the company I was in on January 28. Erotic editor extraordinaire Rachel Kramer Bussel hosted a reading from Orgasmic: Erotica for Women at the Booksmith. It felt dirty and forbidden to be listening among the stacks of children’s nonfiction, self-help, and cookbooks, to steamy stories about role-playing, big black dildos, and bondage fetishes. Despite the audience giggles, the excerpts that were shared exceeded the realm of clit-lit masturbation fodder.

Orgasmic is a compilation of almost every kinky insight into the female orgasm. The authors use humor, sensuous imagery, poetic prose, Shakespearean dialogue and even technical science lingo. Their objects of desire range from a hammer to Charlie Sheen. They are speaking to you: the unfaithful married man, the gender queer with dick envy, the desperate housewife looking for marital rejuvenation. You: the voyeur and indulger of pleasure.

Susie Hara started the night off with “Fixing the Pipes,” (anthologized in Orgasmic). It’s a story about Bobbie and Scott—a tired marriage cliché until Bobbie meets Rick, a hammer wielding plumber sent to fix Bobbie’s pipes.

[NOTE: These videos are for devirginized ears only!]

Donna George prefaces her Orgasmic contribution with an article that the narrator reads, entitled, “The Sexercise Prescription: A Stronger, Secret You in Six Weeks.” This story is perhaps the hottest, most sensuous, and may I add—accurate—description of a female orgasm that I’ve heard!

Violet Blue (nonfiction sex writer and sexpert who has been featured on The Oprah Winfrey Show … and to leave it at that is really selling her short) engaged the crowd with a hilarious account of a tattooed goth chick named Ducky who reads up on BDSM and performs it on her gay BFF Oscar, an aspiring leather boy. “The Fugly Ducky,” written by  Thomas Roche, had everyone laughing along with Ducky’s socially unacceptable misadventures.

Rachel Kramer Bussel travelled through the snow from New York City to regale the hungry audience with “Espionage,” dedicated to anyone who has fallen for someone unavailable. She speaks in the voice of a spy, infiltrating the homes and hotel rooms of the married, the serial “other woman,” desperate and in denial. The two passages Bussel reads are hauntingly poetic and secretly sexy. In one scene, the lovers are in a closet. She remembers that the human heart is the size of a human fist and wonders, as he is fisting her, if she is receiving a part of his heart. Hmmm, listen for yourself!

To finish it off, Dusty Horn gave us “Share” (included in Orgasmic). It’s a fantastic take on queer sex and the importance of the G-Spot. She introspectively shared a scene in which the narrator uses a strap-on to “manifest her love” for her partner. Horn gets into the psyche of a 21st century queer alpha female easily and beautifully. The climax: “You are wailing a single note. And too bad I don’t have perfect pitch or I would sing in that key.”

These women can also be found in several female erotica anthologies like Best Women’s Erotica, X: The Erotic Treasury, and Hot Women’s Erotica.

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text:
San Antonio De Bexar: May 21, 2009

It’s one o’clock on a Thursday and I’m sitting inside of an air-conditioned home, feet propped up on the computer tower, coke zero in one hand, a frozen dinner in the other. My 4 month old puppy eagerly awaits the dropping of any morsel that may escape the grasps of my fork. The only sound I hear is that of the fan to my immediate left, gently reshaping my hairstyle into another form of chaos. I’ll probably put on my Yankees cap later, backwards, so as to tame the tresses that are otherwise untamable. Short hair is interesting.

Right now though… right now I’m partially dressed in my interview clothes. Despite my girlfriend’s fashion advise I rocked the vest today. Black pin-striped vest and pants with a pin-striped blue shirt. It brings out my eyes you see. I couldn’t find a belt so I went beltless. It is a dog boarding facility I was interviewing at, after all. How formal does one need to look for a job entailing picking up shit?

Apparently, I knew what I was doing because I got the job. It’s unofficial, of course–because she has a couple more applicants. But, she made it as official as possible, including sending me to get my drug test.

I have a knack for nailing interviews. I’m personable. I’m spunky. I’m energetic. I’m smart. And I give off this air of positive energy and happiness. It’s amazing how I do that. I think when I drink my pre-interview soda it literally acts as bottled win. Typically I just fail at life. But, in those 30 minutes where I’m doing my thang in the manager’s office–answering question after question with zest and flair–I’m someone different. I’m Work Sunny, who is completely different than Every other Time But Work Sunny. I oftentimes wish that every one important in my life–family, friends, Emily’s could see me at work. I excel. I am typically among the top of the employees in every category. My competitive drive that I channelled into sports and academics for so many years is brought to my job each and every time I clock in. Those hours are not my own to waste. I am counted on by a higher authority to do my best work. I am paid to do so. I am not satisfied with mediocrity in my mediocre job. It’s one of the ways I knew that I was destined for greater things in life. But, unfortunately, due to choices I have made and paths I have opted to take–I will have to put more effort in to find the place where I belong in this world. It hasn’t be shown to me on paper yet, but I will stumble upon it at some point and will feel a sense of bewilderment and relief upon its discovery. For I know it will seem incredibly obvious in hindsight, but at that point I will just be happy to have put all of this waiting to rest.

So, I’ve been in San Antonio for a 1.5 months now. I’ve moved three times in that same amount of time. I’ve stopped caring what my address is, for I know that this is not my home. My stuff is here, but this is not my house. I, for now, do not have a place to call my own. No place seems to fit my lifestyle, and I rarely feel welcome anymore. I feel rushed to leave when I visit my parents. My sister never wants me at her house. Emily can’t have me at hers. And as a roommate to anyone I always feel that the ot her tenants would rather me NOT be there if not for the financial reasons. Thus, this constant feeling of unworthiness is evident in the way I carry myself these days. I’m a literal minded individual. The words you say, the sentences that you choose to throw my direction with impact me just as they are stated. I can pick up sarcasm like a hawk picks up its prey, but all too often I get mortally wounded by words that were only meant to sting. I’ve noticed this has happened a lot lately. And I can only attribute it to the immense wealth of guilt, loneliness, desolation and despair that I am weighed down with right now.

But, it’s not all bad.

I am still here aren’t I?

Despite enduring what might be the most miserable month of my life (April), I’m still here. Upon my arrival here, I had no place to stay. I utilized my squatter’s rights and camped out in Em’s house much to the chagrin of her family (and herself, really) for two weeks until I jumped on the opportunity to live in a nice neighborhood less than a mile from my girlfriend. When we went to look at the house, I completely ignored the boxes and boxes of junk piled in the extra rooms. I blatantly disregarded the walls full of recorded VHS tapes and the six televisions in the living room–all turned on to various soaps, operas, documentaries and… Regis and Kelly. No, I did not pay a drop of attention to these things. I even failed to notice the landlords copious amount of facial hair, the deep purple bags underneath her eyes, or the white socks paired with flip flops. Completely.Unaware. All I knew was that the rent was right, the backyard was fenced, and the house was near Emily’s. Bingo. Bango.

So, I moved in. And my month of hell began. I believe it was karma catching up to me for all of the stupid things I’ve done in the past. This was my penance. First night we moved in, I realized that I had not one, not two, not threre, but four roommates. That makes five individuals in one house. Four to One bathroom. I figured I could make that work. I’ve always been fortunate to not have to share a bathroom in roommate situations, so I just assumed it was my time to pay my dues. So, I took over a vacant drawer, piled all of my tolietries in there and said my peace. I pretended to not notice the putrid smell curling underneath the bathroom door.

Emily and I finally unloaded all of my belongings from the car into my tiny bedroom on the second floor. Ididn’t have much, but there were items to unpack. We began to do so, and naturally made a little bit of noise in the process. We were quickly notified by Michelle, the landlord, that that degree of noise would be completely unacceptable. Thus, began the quietest and slowest unpacking session in the history of moving. It didn’t really phase me, however, because, well, it was 8 or 9 in the evening–and she is an older lady. So, I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Yet the bitching and unhappiness never ended.
Here are just a couple of bits of proof that Michelle’s was Hell.

-Little post-it’s with smiley faces were plastered on every wall saying things like “Draught in SA, Conserve Water.” Drought was of course spelled incorrectly. But, the message was acceptable. I figured that, ok, I will try to turn the faucet off when I brush my teeth or something. But, no that was just not enough. I was told on more than one occasion to stop using water. The instances, you ask?
-I was washing the one cup and the one fork I have to my name in the sink, when I was told to stop because I was wasting water. This was the first and the last time I washed a dish in that house. The remainder of my meals were consumed at Emily’s.
-I was attempting to disinfect the tub/toilet area using copious amounts of 409 and HEB brand shower scrub. I had the water running as I was rinsing off areas of the tub, and was asked in a raspy irritated Middle Eastern accent “What are you doing up there?”. When I answered “cleaning,” she quickly retorted to “hurry it up.” Guys, there were shit stains and unidentifiable growing fungus in the toilet and shower. I had no way of hurrying any of that process up. . No way. No how.
-It was a posted rule that no water be used including/especially flushing the commode or taking a shower between the hours of 11pm and 7am. Um, really. Emily has a special tale of one night around 3AM trying to go use the lavatory, only to be welcomed with the overwhelming smell and sight of human feces piled in the toilet. She held it in the rest of the night, refusing to rest her rump atop such horribleness. I can’t blame her. I would have flushed the damn thing and done so more than once out of sheer and utter frustration and amazement at such a ridiculous way to save a buck or two. I mean Jesus CHRIST!

-To better identify with Dante’s Inferno, no AC was ever used in this house. She was a penny pincher to the extreme and wanted to get by on as few utilities per month as possible. So, no AC. Did I mention that I lived in San Antonio? It’s like the fucking desert here. My room, on more than one occasion, was over 90 degrees. That, my dearest of dear friends is unlivable. I had the window opened at all hours. Fans blowing on me non-stop. And I still could not even begin to get comfortable. I would stick to my air mattress, sweating my balls off (nonexistent as they may be), cursing to myself, and popping sleeping pills just to get through the night. Needless to say the heat won even when faced against the formidable opponent of NyQuil. To make matters even worse… my air mattress had a hole in it, so every night I would feel my fat ass getting closer and closer to the ground before I would just end up swallowed up by comforters and plastic. It was truly amazing. This coupled with the fact that my then 2 month old puppy would cry and whine all night long right in my ear. IT WAS FRICKEN SWEET!

-Michelle was a control freak, who did not want any roommates–but to foster her crazy lifestyle of not working, watching TV literally all day, and living in a nice house–she was required to. So, she never hesitated to bitch about things like the sound of my fans resembling an airplane hanger and how it was keeping her up at night. The simple solution was TURN ON THE GD AC NOW WOMAN! But, instead I was all, “Ok, I’ll turn the fans down.” And I would, of course, for a couple of minutes until my skin started to boil and I began to melt into a puddle of sunshiney goo. She gave literally nothing back to the roommates, but wanted to take take take all that she could from us. She tried on more than one occasion to convince me to A) take her to and from the airport at an ungodly time in the morning. B) watch her two dogs–one of whom was not potty trained yet, for TWO MONTHS while she was on vacation. C) When she decided she did not want the puppy any more she wanted me to take it to the pound for her. I did none of those things. She was not my friend. She was my mortal enemy. And I literally think I hated her. I’m not sure, though.

-And finally… the trash situation. I was naive when I moved into this house, because I sincerely believed that sewage/trash was a common utility provided by the neighborhood/city. But, I was wrong. Seriously wrong. Because we, at the Michelle de Hell, did not have trash service. The trash accumulated inside the front door and when it became ridiculous one of the roommates who worked at Walmart would take it with him and dispose of it in the big garbage bin there. This was our system. I was appalled by this. Because, you know, I have lady business that must be attended to–and I don’t want that nasty shit sitting by the front door for days. UNLIVABLE! And the best part was when I came downstairs only to find Michelle miraculously off of the sofa and digging through the trash I had just placed down there. She didn’t act embarassed when I saw her, and instead proceeded to ask if she could have several items–including a filthy, disgusting towel I disposed of from the bathroom floor. It had been acting as a bathmat for who the fuck knows how long. I replaced it with an actual bathmat. It was my sacrifice to the house. I was pleased to discover that some of the boxes she had taken from my trash pile ended up as decorations in her household. Did I forget to mention she was a hoarder? Oh, yes. Cardboard boxes played a huge role in her decor. They were filled to the brim with junk, but it was special junk of course. One man’s trash is in fact another man’s treasure. And that man is Michelle.

So, yes my first month was rocky. But, then I escaped the depths of purgatory to a new location a few more miles from Emily’s place. This is a nice two story home in a safe little neighborhood. My landlords are a sweet, Hispanic couple straight from the OC in California. They are Disney fanatics, but I overlook that, because they are a great set of folks–and I love them dearly.

Things are looking up. I’ve got a job, dogs, cats, girlfriends (ok, just one), and a roof over my head. It’s a good situation. Emily and I are fixing to move into a place together (FRICKEN FINALLY), and will stay there until she buys her house in about three months. So, this could be the beginning of a really good thing for me. San Antonio ain’t so bad. I mean Shamu is here.

I know many of you are perhaps incredulous at my optimism and beliefs that happiness may lay just around the corner. But, rest assured that my success here is dependent on my maintaining this level of idealism. As far-fetched as it truly might be, I need to believe that I can attain a life worth living. I can have it all. I can work hard, love hard, play hard, and live long and prosper. This can be done. I’m not destined to failure because of my past. And maybe this is where the future begins for me. Maybe the time is now.

On another note–I’ve fostered two dogs, found a new home for my Husky, bought a puppy who is my baby and the most important thing in my life (other than Em and my family), and am fixing to get another permanent one all in the span of two months. What does that say about me? That I do not get attached to things and I find objects disposable? Or that I’m just searching for the perfect balance of animals in my household pack? Discuss.

Thanks for reading.

About littlelostsunny

Lost inside her mind. Inspired to blog because if not the thoughts start to control my life. I needed an outlet.

Posted on August 24, 2009, in Long and Twisty Diary Entries and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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text:
Tag "Bank Stress Test"

Italy’s oldest bank has just clinched a multi-billion dollar rescue after flunking a test of its financial strength. Banca Monte dei Paschi di Siena announced on Friday night that it had found a “definitive solution” to its legacy of bad

Italy is in talks with the European Commission to devise a plan to recapitalise Italian lenders with public money limiting losses for bank investors, an EU executive spokeswoman said on Sunday. The move would aim to help Italian lenders at

For all the hullabaloo about the stress tests, the truth is the Fed is making bank executives sweat a little less than it used to. What’s more, after six years of doing these annual tests, the incentive for banks to


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Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Germany Vacation Day 2

Happy Hump Day everyone! Hope you are having a great day so far. Since I am still telling about our trip and sharing pictures, I am skipping the "Wordless Wednesday" today. Now... on to day 2! :o)  We began our day with the Hotel's continental breakfast seen below:  It consisted of Shrimp, lobster and fresh mozzarella and tomatoes.....
along with....fresh fruit, cereal, yogurt and cheese and uncooked bacon (which we did NOT eat), among other things...
We then headed downtown to a city that I can't recall the name of to a Farmer's Market,
and then to see the healing waters where people come from far and wide to sit in front of the mist coming off the sticks to be healed of their ailments...
We then headed to Gaul's Restaurant for a delicious lunch...
and then to see the castle on the hill that also includes a chapel where Sandra's parents were married over 50 years ago.
We then proceeded to the mine after a nice lunch and visit to the castle.
Afterwards it was time to head to the winery that my cousin, Chris, owns part of to check it out
and we got to see some of these fellows that they own too:  My favorite is the blonde one! :o)
We then proceeded back to the winery for a night of wine tasting and good company and GREAT food!  The food was literally to DIE for - it was AWESOME and some of the best food I have ever in my life tasted!  Sylvia is the wife of Chris's best friend and she is a WONDERFUL cook and that is putting it mildly!  This was smoked lamb and potatoes and it was so good it melted in your mouth when you ate it!
After a good meal, we sat down and enjoyed some wine tasting that my cousin and his best friend personally make and see over the process:
They have to save 2 bottles of every batch they make so that in case there is ever a problem with a bottle of wine, they can have it to test if they ever need it: (you know the old song..."there might be a little dust on the bottle but don't let it fool you about what's inside")

Well, that takes care of day 2 - I really thought I could tell the story of our trip and reduce the pictures, but I am not doing so well at that - I took about 1000 pictures over a 9 day period, which I certainly will not bore you with on here - but I am trying to show you at least one or two pictures from each part of every day.  Hope you are enjoying the story as it goes along.
Thanks again for stopping by and checking out our pictures and my blog!  Have a great day!
Hugs, Trac~ :o)

  1. may i have some healing water? ;) your pics are great.

    what do you think they are? yes, they are a favor but what kind? ;)

  2. What a fun trip and gorgeous photos! Looks like a truly fun time! Thanks so much for visiting my blog today!! Great to "meet" you.

  3. WOW That looks gorgeous! What an amazing continental breakfast! I'm used to old fruit and a packet of oatmeal!

  4. Beautiful vineyards! There are a lot of vineyards in the Hill Country of Texas and I am memorized each time we visit that part of Texas.

    My grandmother used to make homemade wine from wild grapes (we call them Mustangs here in Texas, but they are also known as Muscadines). I've always made jelly with the mustangs and prefer the jelly I make to the store bought regular grape jellies.

    Looks like a wonderful trip.

  5. Hi Trac,
    Terrific photos.!! as always.
    Have a fabulous Friday!
    Hugs ,xxx
    From SITS. I'm following .

Sweet Love From My Friends


text:
Who needs a father anyway?

Who needs a father when there are so many good men in the world doing their best to relate to women (and men) in kind and meaningful ways…?

It was father’s day here in the UK very recently and as always it makes me feel slightly torn. I enjoy the posts I see on Facebook where friends share their love and appreciation for their fathers, stepfathers, grandfathers and any other kind of father one could think of. I loved the look on my partners face when he came to tell me his sons had brought him chocolate because of father’s day. I just generally feel joyful when people show each other that they care.

But another part of me gets annoyed with father’s day and I catch myself having inner dialogues about “how superficial and commercial it all is”.

When I take a closer look at my annoyance I find that it is just self-protective palaver designed to keep certain feelings at bay. Feelings of sadness and confusion – a deep grief that never really eases or shifts.

When new people come into my life – or when I do training and talk about my life – at one point people will ask about my family and my parents. And I will often just talk about my mother and my siblings. Some people will continue to talk about my parents in plural or they will ask about my father and this is when I say “I don’t have a father”. And I really, really mean that; I grew up without a father – or even a stepfather – and I still don’t have a father. Because the man who contributed to the creation of me has never taken an interest in me.

My mother decided to raise me on her own and she also decided not to get into a relationship again, which meant that there were no male role models close to me as a grew up.

Even though my mother’s feelings towards my father must have been complex, she never said a bad word about him to me; when I was young she would tell me very simple stories about him when I asked. Stories about how he looked and how he worked on ships.

My mother also seemed very aware of her own limitations raising me as a single mother. She made sure I spent time with my great aunt and uncle as well as families of friends so that I could experience different kinds of family lives and learn social skills that she couldn’t teach me.

As I got older life got more complicated for me and I began to wish that I had a father – someone who would love and support my mother but also someone who could help with the conflicts between my mother and I. I started to wonder why my mother was on her own and why my father wasn’t interested in me and in my powerlessness to change the situation I started believing that I was cursed. That there was something evil about me and that this evil had put a curse on my mother and I so that neither of us would ever be loved.

This belief was in some ways easier to cope with than the anger I felt towards my mother – the anger just caused me more pain and shame while the belief that I was cursed gave me something to work with.

If I could just be “a good girl” and keep the evil under control, then things could change.

The irony is that knowing my mother as I know her now, I am pretty sure she never wanted me to be “a good girl”. My mother has always supported my self-expression, autonomy and uniqueness and I know she noticed it when I began to struggle as a kid.

She did what she could to support me but I imagine it was difficult as I began to withdraw emotionally and refused to talk about what was going on. Looking back, I also think it was near impossible for me to express all the thoughts and feelings I had as I was only 8-9 years old and didn’t have a language for it.

I have a very clear memory of deciding not to talk about the things I was struggling with because I didn’t think anybody would understand (I barely understood myself) but also I was worried about contaminating others with all the horrible things I felt inside.

Keeping the belief that I was unlovable alive, wasn’t difficult – it’s pretty easy to make sure you love people who can’t or won’t love you back and there it is: proof that you are unlovable. I’ve done that a lot. Also I used to avoid building friendships that I wanted to last because I couldn’t cope with the pain of separating from people.

But I didn’t get to control everything in my life – luckily! So somehow people started coming into my life who just seemed to like me and care about me without me doing anything to deserve it…

As the years passed I slowly got more comfortable around men who were nice to me – though I still get pangs of paranoia and think to myself that they are only kind to me because they want something from me. But I kept finding the courage to trust and little by little my experience of having meaningful friendships with men helped me create a new belief system within me. Belief in my own worth and my own strength; that I could trust my own judgement about what I needed, about my boundaries, that I had the skills to look after myself in a gentle way and that I had something valuable to bring to the world.

Most importantly I began to receive the love that was offered to me.

I don’t know what my life would have been like had I had a father – somethings might have been easier and somethings might have been harder.

I do know that I deeply treasure my relationship with my mother and had I had a father it would not have been what it is today – simply because the dynamics between us would have been different.

I also know that I really like how I am (well, most of the time anyway); I like the values I have, my outlook on life and the way I experience the world. And I would be a different person had anything in the past 35 years turned out differently than it did.

Part of being who I am, is living with this grief in the pit of my stomach; it is not quite loss, not quite longing, not quite abandonment or rejection. It is more like an emptiness or nothingness, a not knowing but at the same time it has density and a certain heaviness to it and its dark, dark blue…

This blog is written to celebrate all those men in my life – past and present – who have related to me in ways that made me feel loved and valuable.

Men who were able to meet my needs for safety, joy, choice, nurturing, respect, mutuality, acceptance, consistency, integrity, openness and growth.

Thank you!

The black-blue pain may never dissolve but your presence in my life has made it easier to carry.

The list of men who have helped me on my journey is actually surprisingly long. I have begun to write it out in more details and with stories but it suddenly felt too personal and exposing so maybe that list is for another post on a later occasion…

One thought on “Who needs a father anyway?

  1. Elisabeth, thank you soooo much for sharing..your message is both touching and moving. I had a dad who loved me in a very confusing manner…sexually abused me from the early age of 2.5, created for me the following relationships that still affect my life: Love equals Pain and Play equals Danger (today to a lesser degree).

    My dad passed last September 6 and was buried on September 9 and when the crypt was being sealed it thundered so loudly that the earth almost shook, I heard the voice of God saying, “IT IS FINISHED” – Jesus’ last 3 words on the cross…a deep sense of peace came over me. Since then I have opened up myself to an array of feelings…Anger, Grief, Love, Joy with true appreciation and gratitude for everything in my life. I am exercising greater self love and care and value myself as a whole person. I used to say “I am happily single” because I found myself in abusive, unloving relationships that I had decided better off alone than to expose myself to the degradation I experienced all of my life prior to my father’s passing. I am now joyfully accepting loving, safe relationships into my life by loving myself and exercising greater self care, setting boundaries. I too am a highly sensitive person and have found ways to navigate my world.

    I celebrate you and your journey, Elisabeth…life is like the tight bud blossoming into a sweet and beautiful flower.

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Oatlands Plantation Celebrates

On this day the Oatlands Plantation celebrated the 200th birthday of their greenhouse. Built in 1810, the most advanced materials and techniques of the day were used in its construction. With a glass roof and southern facing glass wall, the facility captures much of the daily sun as it makes its way across the sky. The balance of the building of made of brick. The pipes, attached to the interior brick walls, are connect to the fireplace. The internal system for heating and cooling were balanced by heat from the sun, the fireplace and cool cellar which served as a multi-functional aspect of this building.

The greenhouse is noted as being the second oldest such structure in the country. In its restored state today, it looks much like it did 200 years ago, when it provided produce year round.

The historic mansion (below) rests a short distance from the greenhouse. A tour of this beautiful historic home provides the feeling of stepping back in time. Plantations can be found all over the state of Virginia, but Oatlands stands out for its grandeur and rich history of early farming. This National Trust location hosts events throughout the year, including the well attended annual horse race know as Point To Point.

Locations such as this provide a one stop site for producing Virginia photography. With its rich gardens, long covered roads and paths, staff quarters and mansion, the grounds provide something new upon every visit. Oatlands Plantation is a wonderful place for the family to visit and take in local Loudoun history.

Read more →

Crabtree Falls Hike

Crabtree Falls, located in the George Washington National Forest, is an exhilarating vertical hike. I've been to no other location in Virginia where you can hike next to a water fall of this size. Southwest of Raphine, Virginia, along Highway 81, sits a vast collection of high mountain hills, for lack of a better term. These rises in the earth are not connected as is typically seen in northern Virginia, with our bountiful ridges. Instead the horizon is defined by humps in the earth, with an almost fairytale like quality.

The hike itself is a long series of stairs, platforms and paths around boulders. It requires stamina to make it to the top, not a path for the weak of heart. However, each higher landing offers large amounts of crashing water streaming down the mountain. The mossy smell and spray on your face make this somewhat of an adventure.

The nearby Blue Ridge Parkway is a must see for visitors of this area. This northern most section is filled with spectacular views of those enchanted mountains. In my humble opinion, this is a better motor stroll than Skyline Drive. I learned from a local that The Virginian television show was filmed in these valleys.

This photo was taken about half way up the falls, looking west. Now that the leaves are in full bloom, much of this view is likely obscured. The park asks for small donation, which is well worth it. I even saw an envelope sitting on a pole with coins spilling out. No one touched the pile, it had been there for a while.

Lots of great info about Crabtree Falls Hike info: www.hikingupward.com/GWNF/CrabtreeFalls

Nearby Devils Backbone Brewery, great food, great suds, great place. dbbrewingcompany.com

How to get to Crabtree Falls:

View Larger Map

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text:
Louisa Enright's Blog

Mainely Tipping Points

Turkey Tracks: They Came and They Went

with 3 comments

Turkey Tracks:  August 21, 2014

They Came and They Went

This blog has been fairly silent since I’ve had my oldest son and my two oldest grandchildren here “summering.”

I picked up Mike and the grandsons in Portland, and the fun began.

One of the first things we did was to go mushrooming for black trumpets and golden chanterelles:

I love this picture of the boys.  You can see in their faces the men they will become.

We dried the bounty, and Mike took them home when he left–leaving me the two grandsons for two weeks.

The big draw was the Camden Yacht Club Sailing Camp–their second year and their third year of sailing lessons.

Here’s a gorgeous photo Mike took of the harbor one morning, looking back to the mountains, which are covered with clouds.

The boys swam most days in the morning during the camp–which involves VERY cold water.  So we lowered the temps in the hot tub (children under 12 don’t have the body temperature alarms that adults have) and let them use it to warm up daily.  They soon discovered the pleasures of skinny dipping in the hot tub and thought themselves very naughty.

L&H Burger in Rockland, Maine, was also a great spot to warm up–or so the kiddos claimed.  The milkshakes here are just the right size for kiddos to have with their burgers and fries.  One of my own memories is my dad taking us swimming on Saturday morning at Barksdale Air Force Base in Shreveport, Louisiana, and buying us cheeseburgers (with dill pickles inside), fries, and chocolate milk shakes.  I can taste that meal to this day.

We had one artist excursion downtown–here they are looking back into the amphitheater.

And here’s at least one thing among many they could sketch:

Low tide in the harbor and skipping rocks proved to be a much bigger draw for them however:

They could almost cross the river on the exposed rocks, if I had let them.  The seaweed, though, is very slippery and there are barnacles…

Archery was of huge interest this year.  I bought them 22-pound recurve bows and good arrows, which was just about right for them.  We had to do You Tube research to figure out how to string them, how to knock the arrows, etc.

These bows are not play toys and can shoot really far and really powerfully, as you can see from this little video:

Here’s what happens when you misuse a bow by stretching and releasing without knocking an arrow in an effort to tease your brother:

Lesson learned.

We also kayaked, swam, explored, and read aloud the whole of a nearly 500-page book that Kelly needed to have read by the start of school on Monday, August 18th.

I will go on record to say that I am appalled that schools are getting out in mid June and starting back in mid August.  Kids need time to be kids, and they learn important lessons–or can–if immersed in nature.  This move is NOT about kids, or lost learning over the summer–it’s about working adults who need child care.  And it’s about creating a whole nation of disciplined subjects whose sole purpose in life is to WORK, not to live their lives outside of work.  Rant ended.

I don’t have pics of kayaking or swimming–I just got too busy and wrangling the kayaks with two boys underfoot isn’t easy.  There isn’t so much they can do to help, and they are like puppies when they have free time and are kept in one area–wrestling, etc.

Here’s a pic of Pirate Bo on the last day of sailing camp.  (They dug up a treasure chest in the sand and found “treasure.”)

After a pizza lunch, they headed for the airport and home.

It was a good, good trip to Maine.

Written by louisaenright

August 21, 2014 at 11:40 am

3 Responses

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  1. This is made me smile. Thank you for sharing.

    August 21, 2014 at 11:55 am

  2. OMG! Louisa, you must have been exhausted, but in a good way, I’m sure. How old are they now? Looks like they really had a great time. How could they not? I remember what a wonderful time Rosie and I had up there with you. You sure know how to show everyone a good time.
    ps: I couldn’t agree with you more about the school issue. It’s crazy and not necessary.

    August 22, 2014 at 5:11 pm

  3. Louisa, I am really enjoying your blog, even though I’m not good about replying. I too felt tired after learning about all the wonderful activities with the boys–how fortunate they are. Is there anyway I could get a picture of the stone wall and root growth ? I told myself a long time ago that I would take up sketching again when I was no longer able to golf–probably at the age of 80. Well, next year I will be 80 and I am still playing golf! So now is as good a time as any and your photo would be a great subject! I fell in love with it as a subject as I love to draw nature. If not I will try just using your email picture on my iPad. Judy Lang

    Judy lang

    August 23, 2014 at 4:41 pm

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