tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79396345366379786132024-03-15T08:00:33.044-04:00The Art of Every Day Life with MelFollow your muse...Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.comBlogger699125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-43155770827361277832024-03-15T08:00:00.037-04:002024-03-15T08:00:00.136-04:00March 2024: Secret Life of Objects, Famous Artist Finger Puppet Theatre<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVm8YEV3a0hHF_6YGbpdWql2DYsNwk-glHyMHq2OekE0Fr5IVXEFw96sk-x23OWHD-4jq2W1JLmQI9jVx5_5wIB-G2y5FpPaEcafxGsA2zes1RRrlIvjrMbFurMg5Wg2upHFdR6C6h4CVEJB0bupozM1qWVO-Bu_4Vcf7HYThZ3dpN2Dv3oV2dTAhp7l3n/s4096/49EF2BD7-0676-4F0B-9B67-93DA94FBD19A.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4096" data-original-width="4096" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVm8YEV3a0hHF_6YGbpdWql2DYsNwk-glHyMHq2OekE0Fr5IVXEFw96sk-x23OWHD-4jq2W1JLmQI9jVx5_5wIB-G2y5FpPaEcafxGsA2zes1RRrlIvjrMbFurMg5Wg2upHFdR6C6h4CVEJB0bupozM1qWVO-Bu_4Vcf7HYThZ3dpN2Dv3oV2dTAhp7l3n/s320/49EF2BD7-0676-4F0B-9B67-93DA94FBD19A.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What capers can be dreamed up for this Fab Four?</i></div><p>So I got Andy well over 15 years ago as a Christmas present from my sister-in-law Denise, who popped it in a Keith Haring coffee mug. I loved him.</p><p>Fast forward to 2017, when I was at a conference in Florida, and Jen and I took a day to wander the Dali museum, and Salvador joined Andy on the corkboard. </p><p>Well, I spotted Pablo at the Art Institute over Christmas and suddenly, there were three. </p><p>Frida sat in my Amazon cart until I was warned there were less than 7 left and I'd better order soon. </p><p>I'm delighted by their personalities and think they will serve as a welcome distraction on days that are short on brain power and ambition. </p><p>Perhaps Famous Artists Finger Puppet Theatre will become a new feature, a series of one-act plays…</p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-18582256764005325672024-03-08T08:00:00.008-05:002024-03-08T08:00:00.136-05:00March 2024: Rethinking Brown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-mOY7y9TbUhFt6q1vag71zD6-k3zBu-zhQmwTbbOYLcSTPHDp5ebk8yfo3vtyJsHz_Q10TAxuRa8MYSSd3jl46q79qZVx-FpnSKNEDarFSMnWl-TEuoOmsTYM3YLNAM17AU_3adE5Iiq-p1iiIaOIn1SqWxVbS-qxOW79M7UszzqAVz8B1ZP9mM5G_z8/s580/m_5d93bfe5adb58dac87c65f6c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="580" data-original-width="580" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd-mOY7y9TbUhFt6q1vag71zD6-k3zBu-zhQmwTbbOYLcSTPHDp5ebk8yfo3vtyJsHz_Q10TAxuRa8MYSSd3jl46q79qZVx-FpnSKNEDarFSMnWl-TEuoOmsTYM3YLNAM17AU_3adE5Iiq-p1iiIaOIn1SqWxVbS-qxOW79M7UszzqAVz8B1ZP9mM5G_z8/s320/m_5d93bfe5adb58dac87c65f6c.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I am a sucker for a brown leather ba</i>g</div><p><b>Brown is...</b></p><p><b>Taste:</b> chocolate</p><p><b>Touch:</b> aged, pebbled leather</p><p><b>Smell:</b> a hot pretzel</p><p><b>Hear:</b> soft folk on an acoustic guitar on open mike night</p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-79666397161937106382024-03-01T08:00:00.002-05:002024-03-01T09:24:10.660-05:00Best Meal I Ever Ate, Sushi<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-l7y-eaMDCwLIbqZZOAVGzrwWUDSglpSSQIefUgiSsbJ48NDiJW4u0OnRavT6Y0nOKvHw07eUanO17W48Ai04NnYqXz16Mei8E0ZQyp5OPMhylQ228peqRCCJdjiin0cHif1dNLAyR3cCcijAWdhZe5MKXxGA1NDs9wuNBLkEbCMlCQGYi9SOxQMKl2i7/s474/OLC.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="474" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-l7y-eaMDCwLIbqZZOAVGzrwWUDSglpSSQIefUgiSsbJ48NDiJW4u0OnRavT6Y0nOKvHw07eUanO17W48Ai04NnYqXz16Mei8E0ZQyp5OPMhylQ228peqRCCJdjiin0cHif1dNLAyR3cCcijAWdhZe5MKXxGA1NDs9wuNBLkEbCMlCQGYi9SOxQMKl2i7/s320/OLC.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>My lunch getaway in Olivette</i></div></i><p>When I worked in the Central West End in Saint Louis, I was kind of lonely at lunchtime as outside of the occasional meeting or getaway, everyone I worked with did their own thing. The Al-Anon building next door always had stellar burgers and chips for $3. I do remember fondly walking the neighborhood and taking in a few choice spots like the Chase Park Plaza with Judith or hitting the Indian buffet with Prashant, my print vendor.</p><p>But I was also the only one at Catholic Charities with a hankering for sushi in a hot, humid climate. </p><p>I can't remember how I found I Love Mr Sushi since it was a hole-in-the-wall in an area I didn't drive through, but Yoshi made it a destination for lunch. "Hello, hello!" he would greet me, gesturing to an open spot at the bar, and feeding me a bite of whatever roll he was experimenting with. </p><p>My favorite item to order there was one of three $10 lunch specials that always included green tea, ginger salad, and miso soup. The extra I always ordered was the salmon skin hand roll - a cone of rice, cucumber, radish greens, spicy sauce, and toasty salmon skin. I wish I knew what made them so incredible, and I haven't had better since. </p><p>This is also where I first experienced vegetable tempura, white tuna, and caviar. </p><p>I'd roll back into the office, full and satisfied but not stuffed. </p><p>It's been almost 20 years since I last ate there. Yoshi moved on to open a restaurant in the western suburbs then he closed up shop without explanation. People still mourn his disappearance. Checking online, the lunch specials at Mr. Sushi are still the same, they're just $15 now. Maybe if I make it back there during the week someday...</p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-13962647559643329952024-02-22T08:00:00.002-05:002024-03-01T09:24:00.386-05:00That's It, Just One Line - Have a Cigar<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG4DR9iMRhWlODzTaHTK9Imoamhokx2iOsyTVf9MTDlLIz0-XD0Oj4PetoHkpT8RBnJ6CYviYHgI6h45EQxYJNCkJG7g5XjapXVMCkSd5igumpr62bvxS8KP-wKwV84NT8qrNz-fum5DvDOfskrrKG9FvwiqqTzO7sIPA1eruEECrdlErZnvxi32CwefFm/s3434/cd5ccb031ab8d2526ad06f50b4b6291a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3071" data-original-width="3434" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG4DR9iMRhWlODzTaHTK9Imoamhokx2iOsyTVf9MTDlLIz0-XD0Oj4PetoHkpT8RBnJ6CYviYHgI6h45EQxYJNCkJG7g5XjapXVMCkSd5igumpr62bvxS8KP-wKwV84NT8qrNz-fum5DvDOfskrrKG9FvwiqqTzO7sIPA1eruEECrdlErZnvxi32CwefFm/s320/cd5ccb031ab8d2526ad06f50b4b6291a.jpg" width="320" /></a></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center;">"Oh by the way, which one's Pink?"</p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-44291312002963718722024-02-15T08:00:00.030-05:002024-02-15T08:00:00.191-05:00Secret Life of Objects: My Dempsey Weekender Set<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yyIhg5VXZ2Dg27wi7LAT_ItMP7WD0UVZJatX_K46A3QXcoJRBLIY65jezXN6bUeldu_BCbYDDd6Is06eqKb2WFeFsnpVSH85f0yFu3TLQbSjYgGoSUkDbobg0fMM-XAgPRs0ItLfi5yWAkydvsG9d32SV3xscgkCmWzi5CBwgCfGzicCNwo3qxdO_Rbm/s5712/IMG_1947.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_yyIhg5VXZ2Dg27wi7LAT_ItMP7WD0UVZJatX_K46A3QXcoJRBLIY65jezXN6bUeldu_BCbYDDd6Is06eqKb2WFeFsnpVSH85f0yFu3TLQbSjYgGoSUkDbobg0fMM-XAgPRs0ItLfi5yWAkydvsG9d32SV3xscgkCmWzi5CBwgCfGzicCNwo3qxdO_Rbm/s320/IMG_1947.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I don't often treat myself like this. Given the story around it, the bag's name will probably be Coach Hayley. </i></div><br />I took Pia to Chicago over Christmas and sloppily threw things in a tote bag for our overnight adventure. I didn’t like the look. The bag was five years old, an inexpensive striped beach bag from Ron Jon Surf Shop. Things were spilling out and the bag was dirty. <p>Then a few weeks ago, I found myself killing time at the outlets making a return and saw this at Coach, the Dempsey 40 tote and matching toiletry case. The story of my toiletry case is even sadder, a teal plastic train case obtained from Clinique as one of those "free with purchase" makeup bags from 15 years ago.</p><p>I walked away because I couldn’t justify the price tag. I thought about the crass commercialism of our culture, need vs. want, and the fact January is the time when I purge cupboards and closets of our excess. Then I thought about excess - I have bags, did I really need another one? I am guilty of the FOMO mentality, the fear of missing out.</p><p>I thought about it for the next two weeks. Coach didn't help by geofencing my location and urging me to buy with a daily email nudge. </p><p>I was on my way to a cheer comp near the outlet mall and I remembered my fun money account. I save my judges’ gifts and expense checks for… what exactly? I squirrel away my cash for a rainy day, using the balance from time to time on a down payment for a car, the cottage, and most recently, a new furnace. </p><p>So I've been a good girl, if not a bit conservative with my savings. </p><p>I veered over to the credit union and made a withdrawal, budgeting myself to a certain amount. On the way to the shop, I debated if I needed it, making the deal with myself that if, and only if, the set was there, I would get it. </p><p>I got it. And instead of being 60% off, it was 75% off. </p><p>Bringing it home, I left it in the shopping bag for a moment before taking it out and removing the tags. It's pretty. It's professional-looking. This new bag allowed me to get rid of at least eight tote bags, including another "free with purchase" overnight bag from Elizabeth Arden that is 20 years old, ripped, and fixed with liberal coats of nail polish. </p><p>With a quality bag, it's unlikely I will purchase another one any time soon. I will also resist the urge to buy other things to obtain the "free with purchase" bags I normally do. I'm also satisfied, which usually quenches the thirst to get more. </p><p>Addition by subtraction. </p><p>I always name my Coach bags, the hot pink purse I'm using currently is Chloe. I'm going to think about this one, as it is closely tied to my experience with competitive cheer. It's Coach and the girls' coach is Hayley. There you go, it's Coach Hayley. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-51511503909662762702024-02-10T15:33:00.000-05:002024-02-10T15:33:17.154-05:00Typing Out Loud: Judging The Beatles <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdFhBuQLzYO2osJh74fV1gA53eccvPn1bFlF8YX0qlGF0gUMPQuU02yHY2jpHdMpTMNYdNfUhF0EupgjT8lX686IqdSVenAT15UtwWYhF2sZkXKI72rl0XWi0mu5lRYHBPRNzKyk1NCgZZ-bKjyQG131dcXWGqvFpXKsrCnBgF2c5MPERUO07c42O9qGz/s1100/the-beatles-come-together.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="620" data-original-width="1100" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHdFhBuQLzYO2osJh74fV1gA53eccvPn1bFlF8YX0qlGF0gUMPQuU02yHY2jpHdMpTMNYdNfUhF0EupgjT8lX686IqdSVenAT15UtwWYhF2sZkXKI72rl0XWi0mu5lRYHBPRNzKyk1NCgZZ-bKjyQG131dcXWGqvFpXKsrCnBgF2c5MPERUO07c42O9qGz/s320/the-beatles-come-together.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Opinions can change, I love this!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I had grand plans to rank every single Beatles song that has ever made it to the public's ear. To do so would mean ranking over 300 songs, from<i> In Spite of All the Danger,</i> which was recorded by ambitious teenagers in 1958, to the latest <i>Now and Then,</i> a digital masterpiece that was released in November 2023. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">That's 65 years of music. And while Paul and Ringo have said "That's it," there's now noise about using the AI technology to release Live at the Star Club bootlegs from the Hamburg bar scene, bringing Pete and Stu some more performing credits. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It was easy to start charting my bottom couple of songs, and then I hit a snag. Working my way up, I went from hate to meh and realized there wasn't too much difference between 267 and 219. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And my affection for a song can be on a sliding scale, contingent on attitude or maybe a new way of seeing things. A case in point is <i>Come Together, </i>a tedious classic rock staple until <i>Beatles 1+</i> was released, including the video created to launch Beatles.com, and I fell in love with the song again. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I also realize I don't want to set my love in stone. If I put <i>Don't Bother Me</i> at #77, I want the right to move it up in case the Foo Fighters cover it or if it's used to frame a key scene in a new favorite movie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Finally, there are multiple versions of songs to tackle. <i>It's Only Love</i> from Help! exists, as does the version from Anthology 2. Multiple versions of <i>While My Guitar Gently Weeps</i>; I love the version from the White Album, but then there are the alt versions from Cirque de Soliel's Love, and the remaster in 2018. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So what to do? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have a blog post already written noting what I have listed as the NAs. I think I will roll with a bottom and a top. I'm pretty adamant about my top 10 and bottom 10, the fun may be in the fringes. </div><br /> <p></p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-44230079230612508012024-02-08T08:00:00.007-05:002024-02-08T14:21:08.321-05:00Rethinking Red<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzc0l89QxKWHsH8KNKIfqdpfYew8bDlhjsQ7CCBbYWVvlWKl6KV8heVxiYScsPMSw8lE7e-GIouDhFem52k-pGYVz5lPridFu-7aLjbWT68iPM0GEYMKcTrfnJoZdMmnoHoe28R6n6-5PWz3AJAi-Jev3alb2iPDKqwebAU74es34jGagQYG9V-C58clpS/s1000/f38617f5-c2f2-413b-9ac2-4e1b7e307cb8_1.3cb183447c7d2eadf5419075c5055cfb.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzc0l89QxKWHsH8KNKIfqdpfYew8bDlhjsQ7CCBbYWVvlWKl6KV8heVxiYScsPMSw8lE7e-GIouDhFem52k-pGYVz5lPridFu-7aLjbWT68iPM0GEYMKcTrfnJoZdMmnoHoe28R6n6-5PWz3AJAi-Jev3alb2iPDKqwebAU74es34jGagQYG9V-C58clpS/s320/f38617f5-c2f2-413b-9ac2-4e1b7e307cb8_1.3cb183447c7d2eadf5419075c5055cfb.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Align your senses</i></div><p><b><span style="color: red;">Red is...</span></b></p><p><b>Taste:</b> cinnamon candies, preferably heart-shaped red hots</p><p><b>Touch:</b> warm laundry fresh out of the dryer</p><p><b>Smell: </b>Apple blossoms warmed in the spring sun<b> </b></p><p><b>Hear:</b> Lover, Taylor Swift </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-9873776989452754352024-02-01T08:00:00.002-05:002024-02-08T14:20:55.345-05:00Best Meal I Ever Ate, Mexican<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm9dW8kAFun_yZUiL74vZn3MyJQhyphenhyphenoCv_gHx6t2eJ39qmTNxs9wcCdLp-QlNaya6O58z23VhyphenhyphenxBv0iYBddgmF6Ix-0lt57Ue1E5SBEKIZ1UhjQRYwAQeSx8V3mTFlfZGtakGOiVr2HwZwSLdm8TcDuGZtED94qfR0w1HHCoIEGRV6_IM2TTgrv3cbriM0/s2048/345446139_1147170026227242_2173449233854253474_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijm9dW8kAFun_yZUiL74vZn3MyJQhyphenhyphenoCv_gHx6t2eJ39qmTNxs9wcCdLp-QlNaya6O58z23VhyphenhyphenxBv0iYBddgmF6Ix-0lt57Ue1E5SBEKIZ1UhjQRYwAQeSx8V3mTFlfZGtakGOiVr2HwZwSLdm8TcDuGZtED94qfR0w1HHCoIEGRV6_IM2TTgrv3cbriM0/s320/345446139_1147170026227242_2173449233854253474_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>With Maggie</i>!</div><p>How lucky we are to have access to the best Mexican food at Maggie's Kitchen! </p><p>I was introduced to Maggie's while working at my first copywriting job. Group order and I had no idea what to get so I winged it on the daily special, steak fajita plate.</p><p>Man.</p><p>Tender and rich, the meat was flavorful and the portions generous, with lots of grilled vegetables, beans, rice, and salad. The tomatillo sauce was so fresh, you could taste the sun. </p><p>I branched out to try the tripe soup (not my thing), tostadas, tacos, and sandwiches but I always come back to the fajitas. </p><p>We've been going there a long time and lucked into attending the 40th-anniversary celebration and got a photo with the lady herself. She was treated like a queen, even the mayor stopped in for lunch. The staff is always friendly and if you haven't been in in a while, they notice. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-87709207195632053532024-01-29T13:01:00.000-05:002024-01-29T13:01:10.118-05:00Why Art Matters: Art Parodies in Bojack Horseman<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Sb3K0s5ulAMP9Gr-IbsAHVduB6fGmByZyO9ZpdUBQuB4gFHeI-spzRHAJZFGNpbEPmTmTe1_TREKMHe7j44PLJzrM-_pd8GQKQz2H8nMJxu4ZcdQ-3lC52o9ro7i40n2nRsvqyWumtKUX-uoQFFsjN3OKdDOMHS71zMn_85rPKJCn9C28Ei5kgxdx9S3/s768/bojack--768x432.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="768" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Sb3K0s5ulAMP9Gr-IbsAHVduB6fGmByZyO9ZpdUBQuB4gFHeI-spzRHAJZFGNpbEPmTmTe1_TREKMHe7j44PLJzrM-_pd8GQKQz2H8nMJxu4ZcdQ-3lC52o9ro7i40n2nRsvqyWumtKUX-uoQFFsjN3OKdDOMHS71zMn_85rPKJCn9C28Ei5kgxdx9S3/s320/bojack--768x432.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Bojack likes Franz Marc too. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Pia encouraged me to watch the darker-than-the-dark twisted fantasy that is Bojack Horseman. Sorry, a little late to the party, the show ended in 2020, and here I am indulging 4 years later. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Season one starts really slow, then wait - is that a Franz Marc by the front door? Indeed, the illustrators parodied Marc's <i>Blue Horse. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGm8Pbv9fmb1JhotR6G3hrqeBba1rVA6akuYa68jnOSQD8erbavpsXFTxPYohdtDiUDV6AdtXxJyRR4_f-ufohGe-saWZdgM-buX3mK8PzCWQx7IU3Dtre-oL4zigpH_17tWPsnpOhpVKarEMeGYNmEKntzqXDCv4SwarGN2CR5Vx0HgDULnWhtKOC9Awc/s1440/s01e7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="809" data-original-width="1440" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGm8Pbv9fmb1JhotR6G3hrqeBba1rVA6akuYa68jnOSQD8erbavpsXFTxPYohdtDiUDV6AdtXxJyRR4_f-ufohGe-saWZdgM-buX3mK8PzCWQx7IU3Dtre-oL4zigpH_17tWPsnpOhpVKarEMeGYNmEKntzqXDCv4SwarGN2CR5Vx0HgDULnWhtKOC9Awc/s320/s01e7.png" width="320" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Feeding a Rothko addiction.</i></div></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then came persuading an actor with an art addiction to take a role for the paycheck by telling him "a Rothko is up for auction next week."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was addicted, not only to the storytelling but to seeing how many artworks I could spot hiding in the storyboards. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Rivera. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Monet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">O'Keefe.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Haring. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Kahlo. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Somehow, it just makes it all funnier. And darker, especially when you link the artist's themes and meaning with the show's narrative. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For more, <a href="https://www.dailyartmagazine.com/all-art-in-bojack-horseman-we-could-find-gathered-in-one-place-6th-season-update/">read here</a>. </div><p></p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-37817274826539375802024-01-23T09:16:00.003-05:002024-01-23T09:19:50.640-05:00Secret Life of Objects: The Obnoxiously Awesome Minidress<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBecECd2xlbXV1l9dLdnWpBcO3zW-yx1isliYFBeC_5Sl_bPG8lbIb0ZyTb3d4aiqI5gRQOMCpOBsl0Ie4Lp9GTAlIPAf6aS8C30FFHU-8dN9HwMUV_HGBiarb89G4TWJxW7ye7MGzCvp-nk86AdZ69vPT2u_7ikyRUzqO8BPB20jDSLnZbtAxnV9u139d/s5712/IMG_1906.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBecECd2xlbXV1l9dLdnWpBcO3zW-yx1isliYFBeC_5Sl_bPG8lbIb0ZyTb3d4aiqI5gRQOMCpOBsl0Ie4Lp9GTAlIPAf6aS8C30FFHU-8dN9HwMUV_HGBiarb89G4TWJxW7ye7MGzCvp-nk86AdZ69vPT2u_7ikyRUzqO8BPB20jDSLnZbtAxnV9u139d/s320/IMG_1906.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Swing out.</i></div><br />This feature was retired less than a month, since I have to rave about this find. It’s the story of a day, as I have owned this for less than 24 hours. <p>Pia needed dry shampoo and I needed to get out of the house. Instead of beelining right to health and beauty, she wandered women’s clothing, “Oooooing” and “Ahhing” every pink and shiny thing. Tucked on the clearance rack, I found a collection of pink and brown sequin dresses. I was amused by the sequins but found it immediately appealing. </p><p>With those monster sequins, it’s loud.</p><p>It’s an unusually rich, brown color and the perfect foil for my Ember Tieks.</p><p>Being short, it’s a minidress of a manageable length.</p><p>And it was only $10.</p><p>The challenge is going to be how to style it. A cardigan frumps it, so it needs the right jacket or wrap. Pia wants me to wear it to her 17th birthday. Goals. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-32591791041775050902024-01-17T13:45:00.002-05:002024-01-17T13:45:44.595-05:00Typing Out Loud: What's More Precious? <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtp39CzTbiI2u2D8g3dbvleXBwZ287reg3sWdy8eeRrLsbG12TUw94Hg6EM4ALD2uaZ1tGLX4wx668HQse0TlsyjI6CL69HfYze-_F38XzU15ZZAS-kR8fA3EOLqgw4PyZ0y_tWcSkxzzCnq6pmUtm-1_TfT6xKkdROi4LOrDqSLIYGQkVqnzulZzQA5S/s4608/R.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRtp39CzTbiI2u2D8g3dbvleXBwZ287reg3sWdy8eeRrLsbG12TUw94Hg6EM4ALD2uaZ1tGLX4wx668HQse0TlsyjI6CL69HfYze-_F38XzU15ZZAS-kR8fA3EOLqgw4PyZ0y_tWcSkxzzCnq6pmUtm-1_TfT6xKkdROi4LOrDqSLIYGQkVqnzulZzQA5S/s320/R.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>What would Picasso say about this?</i></div></i><p>There was a fire at a Seattle art gallery, and many pieces of art may have been destroyed: <a href="https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/picasso-rembrandt-goya-works-feared-035026170.html">story here.</a></p>The fire was started in an alley behind the gallery as someone built a fire to warm themselves. There are many homeless people apparently unhoused in that neighborhood. The quote that bugs me is: “I feel saddest for the contemporary artists who have trusted us with their works,” Davidson said. <div><br /></div><div>This has created a dialogue online that is ugly, to say the least. Disparaging comments about the homeless and how their lives are worth less than the artworks contained therein. </div><div><br /></div><div>I love art. I love priceless art. But I hesitate to say it is more valuable than a cold, homeless human being. </div><div><br /></div><div>But I am also a hypocrite as I stood for hours admiring Miro, Marc, Duchamp, and Monet artworks while walking briskly past the homeless asking for a dollar in the streets of Chicago. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am heartbroken for all. I don't have answers, but vilifying a homeless person looking for warmth isn't one of them. </div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-77552922713190126292024-01-16T10:59:00.001-05:002024-01-16T11:45:29.973-05:00Rethinking Yellow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHP06wrRlaodZWnGMFYwjqo0MrTWynuKUxv251uSesWTyXiTj6foqg2lHUuVxAhablDauB_mHUkmbQxkx2M8k5Q7ohdf5mXAV0wHvx9voIXVNizqb1Rljo1qLkGdScO2y4_AN5xpZ6snoWEx0Gl8_asfsfvyGH2Ac0r_Nv4Kjnbd7wV3kVwd_yKDzhllQA/s1600/yellow-wallpaper-11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1600" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHP06wrRlaodZWnGMFYwjqo0MrTWynuKUxv251uSesWTyXiTj6foqg2lHUuVxAhablDauB_mHUkmbQxkx2M8k5Q7ohdf5mXAV0wHvx9voIXVNizqb1Rljo1qLkGdScO2y4_AN5xpZ6snoWEx0Gl8_asfsfvyGH2Ac0r_Nv4Kjnbd7wV3kVwd_yKDzhllQA/s320/yellow-wallpaper-11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>In desperate need of sunshine this cold and dreary January</i></div><p>Another new feature for the blog, attempting to mix it up!</p><p>One of my favorite scenes from the movie <i>The Mask</i> is Rocky Dennis describing the color red to a girl who is blind. He succeeds by carefully offering her a hot potato. He adds that when the potato cools it becomes pink. </p><p>I'm coupling that thought with the conversation I had with my nephew and his girlfriend about the entrance essays they each had to write for the University of Chicago. UoC likes their "weirdos" as they proudly identify themselves; all the questions are geared towards challenging their prospective students to think differently. </p><p>So, I'm trying to think differently in a Rocky Dennis way, and each month this year attempt to describe a color not by what I <b>see</b>, but by the other senses in a way that is both creative, appealing, and logical. </p><p><b><span style="color: #bf9000;">Yellow is...</span></b></p><p><b>Taste: </b>a rich, crumbly shortbread cookie that is slightly browned around the edges </p><p><b>Touch: </b>soft, creamy, and oily, like far too expensive hand cream</p><p><b>Smell:</b> freshly squeezed lemons</p><p><b>Hear:</b> the clear tones of a trumpet</p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-36147295855913604352024-01-08T09:44:00.005-05:002024-01-16T11:03:07.382-05:00That's It, Just One Line - Deacon Blues<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRN6UQy8TBYIExyQdJFx1w8J4dl3C6eVZhxAfQJPxH0z2yHTr4Ifbud8XKxG3SD9OkGwiZ3dsVi12BfZbZfCgLGbzvYQ2FY_y55lF_tkOiPAHr2aneHp_o8jj2YOph3yVqw3TlzNeHNXa0E8GkqCgPnrqJ8mkFH1s3vf3_8YIUTucDhA_zfNcIPXvZkpJb/s752/ST5601.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="752" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRN6UQy8TBYIExyQdJFx1w8J4dl3C6eVZhxAfQJPxH0z2yHTr4Ifbud8XKxG3SD9OkGwiZ3dsVi12BfZbZfCgLGbzvYQ2FY_y55lF_tkOiPAHr2aneHp_o8jj2YOph3yVqw3TlzNeHNXa0E8GkqCgPnrqJ8mkFH1s3vf3_8YIUTucDhA_zfNcIPXvZkpJb/s320/ST5601.png" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"> "They've got a name for the winners in the world, and I want a name when I lose."</p><p style="text-align: left;">How about that Rose Bowl, Alabama?</p><p style="text-align: left;">Congratulations to the University of Michigan for winning the national championship in D1. Grand Valley and Ferris State have been there a couple of times since 1997, glad you could finally join the party. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-78072579183814192262024-01-04T17:01:00.006-05:002024-01-24T16:17:34.662-05:00Harvard, The Easy Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI36T-aAdi_EAnTHxMu6QkcsLthYZcKlvPQ1djGWdBUwtURxmKaHm8x7IyVlqM1mP_vz8SJqVdMj_rRiMX8WF85TMGrcrIOb7rPqyFJCHwRkMq3WJuTc50nNaqRZln9bUVvTLFElxol-G_4fxLiJWqdCb47l0jak8-X9UpT4har3DCUbKtBcq-KU74pmKU/s573/Screenshot%202024-01-04%20at%204.47.06%E2%80%AFPM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="347" data-original-width="573" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI36T-aAdi_EAnTHxMu6QkcsLthYZcKlvPQ1djGWdBUwtURxmKaHm8x7IyVlqM1mP_vz8SJqVdMj_rRiMX8WF85TMGrcrIOb7rPqyFJCHwRkMq3WJuTc50nNaqRZln9bUVvTLFElxol-G_4fxLiJWqdCb47l0jak8-X9UpT4har3DCUbKtBcq-KU74pmKU/s320/Screenshot%202024-01-04%20at%204.47.06%E2%80%AFPM.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Education for education's sake.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Somehow I ended up getting an offer from Verizon to take free continuing education classes through EdX. Perusing the offerings, I found a couple of leadership and communications classes from Harvard and quickly earned a leadership principles certificate in October. I'm about 80% done with the leading in a remote environment class now too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I hated, absolutely hated the rhetoric course, where I bantered on yesterday about the cake smashing. It's not that my argument was weak, I just didn't care. I dropped that today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Regardless of my feelings about buttercream to the face, I have legitimately earned, albeit on the flimsiest of credentials, that Harvard sweatshirt purchased last year at the Black Friday tent sale from Perrin. It was also the flimsiest of motivators to finish what I started, but mission accomplished.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have access to other courses until October so I think once I'm done with this, I will move on to some other opportunities. Marketing at Babson? Project management at Maryland? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My "alumni" sweatshirt closet will have to grow - go Babson Beavers. </div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-44490150476298995222024-01-03T09:40:00.001-05:002024-01-08T10:37:40.952-05:00Typing Out Loud: Do Not Smash<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCz6NzMS_FJkGRFUOyAzj15HCGlNCbdNgf-Kau1bG8ZpvBhYBXnVDpFUZJSY7EY5tPmihejEjBJIUcic1f_ogAypCxz_jRzyZtr9SXrdcykFztB83D7LvUZHfjnWupM3RjRfNEqPM2XjeELjvnm0sOk0qVnPY79RToCYpvvKdjfp3D5W4HScUc5OXL_oG/s1024/007_16A-682x1024.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="682" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDCz6NzMS_FJkGRFUOyAzj15HCGlNCbdNgf-Kau1bG8ZpvBhYBXnVDpFUZJSY7EY5tPmihejEjBJIUcic1f_ogAypCxz_jRzyZtr9SXrdcykFztB83D7LvUZHfjnWupM3RjRfNEqPM2XjeELjvnm0sOk0qVnPY79RToCYpvvKdjfp3D5W4HScUc5OXL_oG/s320/007_16A-682x1024.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><i>Are we having fun yet?</i><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">So I'm working on completing a certificate in leadership and communication at Harvard Online - say it with me: Haaaaaaavarddddd - and I have to come up with a position on a topic. I'm drawing a blank. Since I don't want to do a deep dive into politics, I want to present a position on something I find important and I discovered my topic.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The wedding cake smash. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: left;">How many times have you gone to a wedding, the bride and groom looking impeccable, and when the time comes to delicately and lovingly feed each other cake at the ceremonial cutting, they instead are reduced to a middle-school food fight, and the bride ends up with frosting in her hair and crying.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Neither Dave nor I can stand it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">And it appears this is quite the topic of discussion on <i>Reddit, Newsweek, Martha Stewart Living,</i> and various etiquette blogs.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Simply: don't do it.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Why? From Martha Stewart: "It's been said that the more cake gets smeared into faces, the higher the likelihood of eventual divorce. When a couple is "nice" and gently feeds their significant other cake, it symbolizes their willingness to be partners, and share a household, as well as their commitment to take care of each other throughout their lives. However, when the cake is smashed, all bets are off. Whether both bride and groom embrace the idea or it's only one of them causing trouble, most agree that cake smashing shows a distinct lack of respect, and those marriages have a higher likelihood of failure. Others, however, see the tradition as great fun. Will they or won't they? Guests love the anticipation, and whatever stunt the bride and groom choose to pull is always met with laughter and lots of pictures; isn't that the goal of a reception, anyway?"</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Newsweek discourages it from an etiquette point of view (who's cleaning up your mess?), a financial point of view (cake can cost up to $12 a slice), as well as respecting your partner, as one bride confessed she broke her husband's nose in the process: "10/10 do not recommend," she stated remorsefully.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I like to think this practicality was passed down to Will. He was encouraged to smash his first birthday cake, to which he grabbed a corner and just ate it. </div></div></div></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-45202272161371434052024-01-01T14:41:00.002-05:002024-01-03T09:31:19.051-05:00Best Meal I Ever Ate: Ice Cream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgop-hsL18vEplcJ9VALhEFFAe6JnFZYdBWANXgSL97rZ3ftyuY-EhtVQxNVW3zK-cRw6kd2Q8hqNoFafIS6XlA0KK_Kihp8Bmvh2oJKaQc6AHlr4dELAJpCX1ivqGRsEszokd0l6149MEFCBPGvOcUR92nFq7EDDssEKLy8VQGzz70EpuJFtwxMXHzwhOE/s1333/IMG_0348.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="1179" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgop-hsL18vEplcJ9VALhEFFAe6JnFZYdBWANXgSL97rZ3ftyuY-EhtVQxNVW3zK-cRw6kd2Q8hqNoFafIS6XlA0KK_Kihp8Bmvh2oJKaQc6AHlr4dELAJpCX1ivqGRsEszokd0l6149MEFCBPGvOcUR92nFq7EDDssEKLy8VQGzz70EpuJFtwxMXHzwhOE/s320/IMG_0348.jpeg" width="283" /></a></div><p style="text-align: right;"></p><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh, the glory!</i></div></i><p></p><p><i>Another new feature of the blog is inspired by the show on Food Network.</i> </p><p>One of the reasons I mourn six.one.six. becoming a French bistro is the loss of their dessert chef because she gifted me with the best ice cream experience.</p><p>At the end of our meal, we were presented with a dessert menu, which included generous bowls of gelato. I had made the decision not to order because I couldn’t decide. With a shrug, she offered to prepare a flight for me. </p><p>Heaven.</p><p>The blood orange and chocolate has to be the best ice cream I have ever had. Creamy, rich, <i>and</i> citrusy? The chocolate and orange were in harmony, and my palette just sang. </p><p>The white peach and lime closely followed suit, as did the mint chocolate chip, and ginger. Pumpkin pie was ok, but oh… the chocolate and blood orange! </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-49518535989270665572023-12-30T14:28:00.009-05:002024-01-08T10:39:13.463-05:00December Playlist: Head Over Heels, the Misheard Lyrics<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFDQ9mVJ0sRG4unSveobYFw7kqsaqG_14pEcN3sAHV_gjOseKDs7rBVMkvtM6OlTZzaToTkPhMM_eOgjqw1QXrXsoNZXClLh4bohiKldS7vYV961TWh9wKoxFc96TzWd4fpof_bCtu0jWHgntyVy4TDRNlbbhyphenhyphensOfU0eR2_nXENazcZbwXrL1EoDA1Umy/s2556/IMG_1615.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="2556" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFDQ9mVJ0sRG4unSveobYFw7kqsaqG_14pEcN3sAHV_gjOseKDs7rBVMkvtM6OlTZzaToTkPhMM_eOgjqw1QXrXsoNZXClLh4bohiKldS7vYV961TWh9wKoxFc96TzWd4fpof_bCtu0jWHgntyVy4TDRNlbbhyphenhyphensOfU0eR2_nXENazcZbwXrL1EoDA1Umy/s320/IMG_1615.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Such a serious band, a humorous video was a big departure for them.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsA6BYyRK_6ulb3jrcreCbjXzChFrbgqXlixeNYihknhyqdMSfltDrUsRAIg4Cdj-F3B4HWI2TUHiQ33TUUKEnB5iwRAXmkltiVQNRW2J7QhCC-rWUBmW2nMRH7NaGd7esjAV27besIhWIMVD5dYtUtDZ2ady0LWWPqdw73wZIPS9HxXxNhIv6P4Hdq3O/s2556/IMG_1619.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="2556" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsA6BYyRK_6ulb3jrcreCbjXzChFrbgqXlixeNYihknhyqdMSfltDrUsRAIg4Cdj-F3B4HWI2TUHiQ33TUUKEnB5iwRAXmkltiVQNRW2J7QhCC-rWUBmW2nMRH7NaGd7esjAV27besIhWIMVD5dYtUtDZ2ady0LWWPqdw73wZIPS9HxXxNhIv6P4Hdq3O/s320/IMG_1619.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Harmonizing</i>. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVn-72IZEHl3QCZv5SBOqmk9rU_YPrpuDJJh0xIvvp9MUcGJkcU_LOx5JDI6ITt3fV1zAQjIsWB4FReHZjXaKOGf-3lQ8aErEleyC8C1-BBMkCi_aL1G9zFpyTH6t37asAKBH6DqSPozzvL_VH7YRSmxe2JOyh5cPKlUpG-EQG5bsBXYEeEIQl7QAF_OW/s2556/IMG_1620.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="2556" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLVn-72IZEHl3QCZv5SBOqmk9rU_YPrpuDJJh0xIvvp9MUcGJkcU_LOx5JDI6ITt3fV1zAQjIsWB4FReHZjXaKOGf-3lQ8aErEleyC8C1-BBMkCi_aL1G9zFpyTH6t37asAKBH6DqSPozzvL_VH7YRSmxe2JOyh5cPKlUpG-EQG5bsBXYEeEIQl7QAF_OW/s320/IMG_1620.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Shoulda been my first clue. </i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFv2w1maweEssuCufmy_fNFuryvw02wT2VHmndl7fJjAEYRAq4pSAuk_bXJH11DVLZUIe9SzZ1Mkr8bZCmKS0RdoPwj1YyNKPvu6kAbts1viYn62-4A1mhZaXS0HiH0QAU0IQ9OQNPEIKN0Tyi0fTVdicNi_qm6mVs7AiQ9U62KktdXiA8FsaxAPqgR2W/s2556/IMG_1622.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="2556" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFv2w1maweEssuCufmy_fNFuryvw02wT2VHmndl7fJjAEYRAq4pSAuk_bXJH11DVLZUIe9SzZ1Mkr8bZCmKS0RdoPwj1YyNKPvu6kAbts1viYn62-4A1mhZaXS0HiH0QAU0IQ9OQNPEIKN0Tyi0fTVdicNi_qm6mVs7AiQ9U62KktdXiA8FsaxAPqgR2W/s320/IMG_1622.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>I am a sucker for a man in jeans and a leather jacket. So hot. Nice 80s mullet too.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3o2iAzhI25qrVAnnvcl9zbkb_LHpPAUkeLzZxDUKHLZxUESK8_DP-V2VciCmp7zu3y4KRB_PN9WnOK9evjv3Ob31LOZxN5b84dR8nS6TVaoQISkHAf8NmdCNwP7Z-zI_c9bh-tZLfKUe_QKiWD1SfifcLXByJA5JtgX4MqTn8Z45m_6eOQR3vORhjDJT/s2556/IMG_1623.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1179" data-original-width="2556" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3o2iAzhI25qrVAnnvcl9zbkb_LHpPAUkeLzZxDUKHLZxUESK8_DP-V2VciCmp7zu3y4KRB_PN9WnOK9evjv3Ob31LOZxN5b84dR8nS6TVaoQISkHAf8NmdCNwP7Z-zI_c9bh-tZLfKUe_QKiWD1SfifcLXByJA5JtgX4MqTn8Z45m_6eOQR3vORhjDJT/s320/IMG_1623.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Lol</i>.</div><br />I had a very nice moment with Pia in the car while leaving the hockey tournament. Unable to get German pop music off YouTube we opted for 80s at 9. Tears for Fears “Head Over Heels” was playing and she and I sang along, much to my amazement. <p></p><p>Pleased, I decided to play it on YouTube today, and reading the comments, I scroll past the lyrics: <i>it’s hard to be a man with a gun in your hand.</i></p><p>What?</p><p>I always thought it was: it’s hard to be a man with a <b>GIRL</b> in your <b>HEAD.</b></p><p>If I were to include this song in my new “just one line” feature, I’d totally have it wrong because that was my favorite line. </p><p>My heart still wants it to be my way, yet I can verify from the Lyrics Genius app that I’m wrong. </p><p>Random love to keyboardist Ian Stanley, wherever you are. So hot. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-79773403852692503172023-12-22T08:21:00.004-05:002024-01-08T10:40:46.187-05:00Prepping for The Beatles Countdown<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCzdcRtClopMMHRiXBFng38FUa1ver1FlmxcVAzHo2uiX-8VwTGYBt4oDkPbKLX5ZSwhBYtPXFT-7yc_63eVC5Cb8VHdMcUU-TtFHYBppp50aAYQuDMreu-hSqQj0TaBgZUyZ_BQndiGCiTP4-OTXbl3V58Dg6N32B8mXOgjHqaiqcaRSRe-4wi6pMStL/s4032/IMG_1165.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOCzdcRtClopMMHRiXBFng38FUa1ver1FlmxcVAzHo2uiX-8VwTGYBt4oDkPbKLX5ZSwhBYtPXFT-7yc_63eVC5Cb8VHdMcUU-TtFHYBppp50aAYQuDMreu-hSqQj0TaBgZUyZ_BQndiGCiTP4-OTXbl3V58Dg6N32B8mXOgjHqaiqcaRSRe-4wi6pMStL/s320/IMG_1165.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Abbey Road as depicted in Legos.</i></div><p></p><p>I took a little me time this week and googled Beatles songs and I found an almost compleat list on The Beatles Bible website. There, they did a thorough job of listing almost every song The Beatles touched. </p><p>Almost - I can’t believe they left off the live album Live at the Star Club, as one enterprising club owner spun a reel tape back in the early 60s to capture his live acts, including the Fabs. I’m particularly fond of their rendition of Falling in Love Again. In searching for it, I found a treasure trove of early covers that don’t appear in the Anthologies or the BBC recordings. </p><p>I ended up with a list of 340 songs!</p><p>I broke this list down into four categories: first choice, second, third, and NA. Those songs I love got a 1 ranking, songs that are just ok a 2, songs I don’t care for a 3, and songs that don’t apply for whatever reason got an NA. </p><p>I gave 147 songs a 1, so I think further breakdown, perhaps 1a vs. 1b is warranted. There are 32 NAs, 57 threes, and 100 I gave a 2, so I may have to do 2a and 2b as well. </p><p>This may be boring to anyone who is not a Beatles fan, but this blog is more for me than any audience *crickets.* I feel justified to indulge in my passion as I was just subjected to a lively yet boring conversation one table over, an exhausting dissertation on Big 10 football. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-89771537159535934102023-12-19T20:57:00.002-05:002024-01-08T10:43:33.686-05:00Secret Life of Objects: Jewels from the Mud Hens<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfUvE2Lkgf7u7xHLFITL4t92W-f2GSKiq4yIW87kcn-anWy03jOjQQljSACwCTnAgLPMWlNMfY2WRJi7lyOmQXBGp1RqinXghD6WJAQy1XZen6xDQCk6koLbVSqnSr8MPTxipgeQgTDE0kLp5rXA7MXOuMtcV2ljseiUqTv0_mTuEZ6yINUc10bIanRk2/s3088/IMG_1245.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfUvE2Lkgf7u7xHLFITL4t92W-f2GSKiq4yIW87kcn-anWy03jOjQQljSACwCTnAgLPMWlNMfY2WRJi7lyOmQXBGp1RqinXghD6WJAQy1XZen6xDQCk6koLbVSqnSr8MPTxipgeQgTDE0kLp5rXA7MXOuMtcV2ljseiUqTv0_mTuEZ6yINUc10bIanRk2/s320/IMG_1245.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A surprise</i>.</div><p></p><p>Dave had to go to Toledo on business and decided to stop by a Mud Hens game to say hi to a couple of our players, I don’t even remember who. </p><p>Bored with the game, he accepted a program and circled the park to check out the statues and get a beer. That’s when they made the announcement to check your programs for a mascot autograph on a particular jewelry ad; if you had it, you won!</p><p>He checked page 12, and there it was.</p><p>With time to kill before his morning meeting, he went to the store to see what he could find. He saw this dainty pendant with diamonds and Will’s birthstone. It was the exact value of the gift card and a surprise just because gift for me. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-72831627977334241132023-12-17T14:24:00.005-05:002023-12-18T15:08:37.448-05:00Typing Out Loud: Counting Down The Beatles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NX9qk2YmaZkRDOTUC3W0Q_0e5gylM9OAutpd04HMH3Y7qlk10o6mFah2Auw2NwISD6ucyoSvK_Wc_D1seY_nCTqQ903pLWSCqzBPam6Twok8kBqEeK5fVVFF-66HpZZIBkdM7qKut4sek0pgmaPYoDuwS0ybLbjUQFktn8EgRW_rppIIiNS37A4N0Es6/s3088/IMG_0086.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2316" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-NX9qk2YmaZkRDOTUC3W0Q_0e5gylM9OAutpd04HMH3Y7qlk10o6mFah2Auw2NwISD6ucyoSvK_Wc_D1seY_nCTqQ903pLWSCqzBPam6Twok8kBqEeK5fVVFF-66HpZZIBkdM7qKut4sek0pgmaPYoDuwS0ybLbjUQFktn8EgRW_rppIIiNS37A4N0Es6/s320/IMG_0086.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p style="text-align: right;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Selfie with Ringo, he’s a little far away.</i> </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPOWQz0htrzfK_EeQ7_h0bOlMv766wYiWRNdacDnNGcvzd3CSJJSSF6oDH21aYreBK96ff-uRe713o-1Nyn4k5zTVKXSFMoPM5YPC9MvQ_Qr_Gne7QRiitrCJyyNjKr0hf-eFKJfB3-z6pN9jkjRTOwCd3yLqXZYYe5NPDmxyDdEzR6oDiTSGI9xkUaKt/s4032/IMG_0084.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPOWQz0htrzfK_EeQ7_h0bOlMv766wYiWRNdacDnNGcvzd3CSJJSSF6oDH21aYreBK96ff-uRe713o-1Nyn4k5zTVKXSFMoPM5YPC9MvQ_Qr_Gne7QRiitrCJyyNjKr0hf-eFKJfB3-z6pN9jkjRTOwCd3yLqXZYYe5NPDmxyDdEzR6oDiTSGI9xkUaKt/s320/IMG_0084.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Talking ‘bout boys</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I’m listening to the Beatles Channel and have fallen into the habit of thinking “top third, bottom third, middle third” with each song and wondered why I haven’t done my own ranking of each song from last to first.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a huge undertaking and I’m sure ever-changing opinions on songs will make them slip up and down my chart. I don’t want to think this opinion is set in stone; the channel does rank songs by listener vote on an annual basis.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm pretty stubborn about what I consider proper Beatles albums, so what are my parameters for Beatles songs? And what do I do with the Anthologies, live at the BBC recordings, and alternative takes? What about Now and Then? I know for a fact A2 version of It’s Only Love ranks higher than the Help version, so I count them both? And what about the remixes for the Cirque du Soliel musical <i>Love? </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Simply, if it’s credited to The Beatles, it counts. Including Tony Sheridan, The Quarrymen, and The Silver Beetles. That means I get to give love to Pete and Stu! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Hearing a version of The Long and Winding Road off <i>Let it Be… Naked</i> changed my mind about ranking all to ranking the best version only. I really don’t want to have to sort out fifteen different versions of Rocky Raccoon. That means I have to pick a version of While My Guitar Gently Weeps.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Basically, my list, my rules. And I will say I don’t think Revolution 9 will be last. But what will be? I’m eyeing you, Yes It Is. Although Christmas Time is Here Again is in right now and… yikes.</div><p></p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-20641866095446993852023-12-14T20:36:00.001-05:002023-12-14T20:36:18.480-05:00Secret Life of Objects: Eu de Melissa<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8fm2-_8aAsZ6HEMjvI4_BRcWK06JjYJ2QccxlrkRpvpiMzub9GZVHNcf8hZVmySZMraGbAz9GzfquGswFmBn-kIGRNjMipsxWK2jieBRz8tvYEy1TBYPlh52I5VsLN0QirmxbnDrgNDt-_Rg3IXMvSHLtm5Y20cFRCoYFvm_GItyF9EGUXJctwQIvopG/s5712/IMG_1243.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5712" data-original-width="4284" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj8fm2-_8aAsZ6HEMjvI4_BRcWK06JjYJ2QccxlrkRpvpiMzub9GZVHNcf8hZVmySZMraGbAz9GzfquGswFmBn-kIGRNjMipsxWK2jieBRz8tvYEy1TBYPlh52I5VsLN0QirmxbnDrgNDt-_Rg3IXMvSHLtm5Y20cFRCoYFvm_GItyF9EGUXJctwQIvopG/s320/IMG_1243.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A signature scent!</i></div><p></p><p>I didn’t do a SLoO post for November! This should make up for it. </p><p>Back in 2011, my parents wanted Will all to themselves while giving me a birthday weekend. I had a bunch of freebies to redeem, so I reluctantly gave Will over to his grandparents who were ready to go show him off.</p><p>I gathered up my birthday coupons and treated myself to free makeup from Sephora and Ulta, ice cream from Baskin Robbin’s, a burger from Steak n Shake. It was the 10-year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks so I attended a memorial concert and planted a flag. I even attended the Hispanic Festival and drank pina coladas out of a pineapple.</p><p>The most curious giveaway I got that year was a free custom blend perfume from Aveda. All I had to do was find a salon and do a consult. </p><p>What I got was a quick lesson in how to build a fragrance. We discussed top notes and base notes, what my scent personality was. Jasmine! Bitter orange! Ylang-ylang! Vanilla! The consultant was waving around sticks and having as much fun as I was. She blended a bottle for me, threw in a few extras for my birthday, and sent me in my way. </p><p>I made it last as long as I could and when I got down to the last bits, I added alcohol to the oils to make it last. It still smells good just not as strong. I have since picked up more oils from Aveda - lavender, tangerine, stress relief blend - to create another scent. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-37590121311430794392023-12-13T17:04:00.002-05:002023-12-13T17:06:38.514-05:00Why Art Matters: A Date with Jet Screamer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was thrilled to see an episode of <i>The Jetsons</i> this weekend I hadn't seen in probably 45 years. The episode, <i>A Date with Jet Screamer,</i> is visually stunning and catchy as hell. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HZ02yqazo8spNy3d769IGMyJs6bhb5FyVG2B-uC2udG-PCBPY34Lxb4VbDg8BEdnu8Uj4wzUbZ0NSKNFvF2hQpyC-wAWGOkAM48vgudQgNZxKb9a25_R0vxlenqdLHHS606AjzfGL_3mw0uSNofRvgGeXK3-56lW7bu3RabMBwqVgfMKLqqCGH7B-x15/s400/JET%208.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="400" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3HZ02yqazo8spNy3d769IGMyJs6bhb5FyVG2B-uC2udG-PCBPY34Lxb4VbDg8BEdnu8Uj4wzUbZ0NSKNFvF2hQpyC-wAWGOkAM48vgudQgNZxKb9a25_R0vxlenqdLHHS606AjzfGL_3mw0uSNofRvgGeXK3-56lW7bu3RabMBwqVgfMKLqqCGH7B-x15/s320/JET%208.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Judy is a big fan of pop idol Jet Screamer. Dad not so much.</div><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfxSly6FEHCZshNQfWW_xvrzi6YXaf9C9DUbImUaabS1g7C5EHOzwMalwRyvEWJDsAqe4V_15wCJJ29hEAKEbtsK-CkhPde-tzEXqN2yh_VBOGvrc6oyCfBDgbS18P8KINBsamUQu-wXe31Vcs1XS6pPdEGa3_LYHFWZc9b_CCgFUkh2j76iv7LCBaf3i/s400/JET%2015.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="400" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYfxSly6FEHCZshNQfWW_xvrzi6YXaf9C9DUbImUaabS1g7C5EHOzwMalwRyvEWJDsAqe4V_15wCJJ29hEAKEbtsK-CkhPde-tzEXqN2yh_VBOGvrc6oyCfBDgbS18P8KINBsamUQu-wXe31Vcs1XS6pPdEGa3_LYHFWZc9b_CCgFUkh2j76iv7LCBaf3i/s320/JET%2015.png" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">He's hosting a songwriting contest where the winner gets to hang out with him and he will perform the song on his show. Judy writes a song, and George attempts to sabotage her by sending some secret code she wrote with Elroy instead. However...</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtp2BqjoOw0lFIYvQ2StNZh6Tuc-RPF2B_GH7Fsi_XXIEDaM-yInLFLtJvC9eswGl7S0JR8znoDgI_PHa-IC9q-5KajrN4S1joGDDeTsBum4j-VASAJbhMch6u00zMxiLQA-kTpKWbRhVeruUhEd4eihPcimueUbnNAT3NrAfGx69O-jq0UXFSBbHO-pC/s400/EEP%20AGAIN%20(4).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLtp2BqjoOw0lFIYvQ2StNZh6Tuc-RPF2B_GH7Fsi_XXIEDaM-yInLFLtJvC9eswGl7S0JR8znoDgI_PHa-IC9q-5KajrN4S1joGDDeTsBum4j-VASAJbhMch6u00zMxiLQA-kTpKWbRhVeruUhEd4eihPcimueUbnNAT3NrAfGx69O-jq0UXFSBbHO-pC/s320/EEP%20AGAIN%20(4).png" width="320" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">Judy wins!</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the name of the song? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFl7kMFzSEJEe1OoK3s7BaGyQ_6l6XdcfAxNrEmpUsbmssxikf53lJ7TKCSJXW575jEetAmA7Xinb8iBAxshc3ohv0SGtxdBJkNtpIQHnt09O3HENuWc-EpI6gnVMCNkqCu592KJ56AYT7VHIX_vbBcGnvu_BM-4pcME5LpQjPz_-xlaFn1RXVT-3pMFMG/s400/EEP%20(4).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFl7kMFzSEJEe1OoK3s7BaGyQ_6l6XdcfAxNrEmpUsbmssxikf53lJ7TKCSJXW575jEetAmA7Xinb8iBAxshc3ohv0SGtxdBJkNtpIQHnt09O3HENuWc-EpI6gnVMCNkqCu592KJ56AYT7VHIX_vbBcGnvu_BM-4pcME5LpQjPz_-xlaFn1RXVT-3pMFMG/s320/EEP%20(4).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YUjs8yI416_oXF7IYrqj4xlBB1OlUdLDlVjae7hKhIfajKAqAZxsZZQ7aUoz1ZNub216NEEVfigKRM5z1Z0QuZKEtHweAK6uc3bM1FR1hP-lrFoLeT5e1_YT-IRrVGGbybwHGo1NidCkXawnrSO-IKSwhVF0KbZ4uFlMYhZYQTHRJtKhrZUcTsD1YL3V/s400/EEP%20(5).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YUjs8yI416_oXF7IYrqj4xlBB1OlUdLDlVjae7hKhIfajKAqAZxsZZQ7aUoz1ZNub216NEEVfigKRM5z1Z0QuZKEtHweAK6uc3bM1FR1hP-lrFoLeT5e1_YT-IRrVGGbybwHGo1NidCkXawnrSO-IKSwhVF0KbZ4uFlMYhZYQTHRJtKhrZUcTsD1YL3V/s320/EEP%20(5).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitYNCTLO0QROK24gdKJZO9frDH9ESAzhGSOgLS-oBw64Km1ZLq4pjYav9ID1p_Xo2Otke414ehdztUqjGSF8f-3uraMATnecQfstKbvx84_co5FWbzdIosGXf498ZYT5WeY6pCfacEduAA_hd29RVylN3WxjMKl3r6YcJhBvXcVSvUQY6GYtpxRfhKDG6M/s400/EEP%20(6).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitYNCTLO0QROK24gdKJZO9frDH9ESAzhGSOgLS-oBw64Km1ZLq4pjYav9ID1p_Xo2Otke414ehdztUqjGSF8f-3uraMATnecQfstKbvx84_co5FWbzdIosGXf498ZYT5WeY6pCfacEduAA_hd29RVylN3WxjMKl3r6YcJhBvXcVSvUQY6GYtpxRfhKDG6M/s320/EEP%20(6).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtLBMMzYrFNXw_9tv5I5HOUh3idP7xvV2mrUnnvdF_IB9pX4cpJ23ZiIRWPtOGiyhG53hmBlCSSWLuyGoOjXTOipdu-2kHSjHy8Qbj9-FFsQsggQC9vYNgOKru760ZtC0jHZAI-VI09tqfOY_dFs-FxcwQKcrtBa511AfppHAff31A0KYmUlESJaav9qP/s400/EEP%20(7).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKtLBMMzYrFNXw_9tv5I5HOUh3idP7xvV2mrUnnvdF_IB9pX4cpJ23ZiIRWPtOGiyhG53hmBlCSSWLuyGoOjXTOipdu-2kHSjHy8Qbj9-FFsQsggQC9vYNgOKru760ZtC0jHZAI-VI09tqfOY_dFs-FxcwQKcrtBa511AfppHAff31A0KYmUlESJaav9qP/s320/EEP%20(7).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And that means "I love you."</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis56HYBBuz6Fxpk9L7IeIZumfiy2liyZbwv6rs0eydcUB4zHQ_HsKcgKHqiCLdTNal_iVtz6-FRNen6mWeFrBxxALX0a-Ap3RBj8lCm_oZhKPYpANAJd6Ea6OnWLC2DQETmniOTXl7yYvIil0T241vLZPMEtekq4WJi6CNoSu1HLAk6OPQqI4O0yIuLWiD/s400/EEP%20(3).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="400" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis56HYBBuz6Fxpk9L7IeIZumfiy2liyZbwv6rs0eydcUB4zHQ_HsKcgKHqiCLdTNal_iVtz6-FRNen6mWeFrBxxALX0a-Ap3RBj8lCm_oZhKPYpANAJd6Ea6OnWLC2DQETmniOTXl7yYvIil0T241vLZPMEtekq4WJi6CNoSu1HLAk6OPQqI4O0yIuLWiD/s320/EEP%20(3).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's a catchy piece of surf music, which was the norm in 1962. I would not be surprised to hear it on Little Steven's Underground Garage.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaWAm4YtjBhWm9LBExeFpi4tmRkT6H3SQdcdPUsKBImONMrfri3L53QS_x702MHheVZOxSVZCAfkTu1M7o6qVmkSJWRap1HOfoUN3JUtq8vKoDhiOXcTiRqX1ipxGMokSXgQfebD5AqHpxXeqcgAZiEnypL6yuE_GxMlnH2ualqb_87HRWR3hYoRWZ6Xj/s400/EEP%20AGAIN%20(2).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="400" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOaWAm4YtjBhWm9LBExeFpi4tmRkT6H3SQdcdPUsKBImONMrfri3L53QS_x702MHheVZOxSVZCAfkTu1M7o6qVmkSJWRap1HOfoUN3JUtq8vKoDhiOXcTiRqX1ipxGMokSXgQfebD5AqHpxXeqcgAZiEnypL6yuE_GxMlnH2ualqb_87HRWR3hYoRWZ6Xj/s320/EEP%20AGAIN%20(2).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">They meet a funny little man on their date. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFV6jdp5jS7kssk83IpZ1mSJEF1OzzkBfph4GpDa1M76Eu72TF_e6PMawZViGnqQ5PEpoup8DWPPNJo4e03regqNr3Etbx1RbXV3XyBLadMAEfU9vIiyAARosxBjAZp_BReKGj9p0pUuN3BNEAMzlPh3B28MZZuvXy6Yc0nmNDzLa8aLH7DUdUhEv24G1N/s400/EEP%20AGAIN%20(5).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFV6jdp5jS7kssk83IpZ1mSJEF1OzzkBfph4GpDa1M76Eu72TF_e6PMawZViGnqQ5PEpoup8DWPPNJo4e03regqNr3Etbx1RbXV3XyBLadMAEfU9vIiyAARosxBjAZp_BReKGj9p0pUuN3BNEAMzlPh3B28MZZuvXy6Yc0nmNDzLa8aLH7DUdUhEv24G1N/s320/EEP%20AGAIN%20(5).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Jet asks you to "come fly with me."</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqqquEMbrI4EOLzX_LE6N6lxihNJoxhww_FmwLK8TB_34srhqOXC-gWBs0vhGP2O4qZCdlGf9UrPlrgFVeEHpUYTIKZyqW-QvMQDAVCzX2JbZLbqmywHgjZ0z2osCSPOU647-bm8Hy7fCWeN20bnAyPuUZe_l-IsLiTYhjKVtiLa2CArEkkLh0rBtmpre/s400/EEP%20(1).png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeqqquEMbrI4EOLzX_LE6N6lxihNJoxhww_FmwLK8TB_34srhqOXC-gWBs0vhGP2O4qZCdlGf9UrPlrgFVeEHpUYTIKZyqW-QvMQDAVCzX2JbZLbqmywHgjZ0z2osCSPOU647-bm8Hy7fCWeN20bnAyPuUZe_l-IsLiTYhjKVtiLa2CArEkkLh0rBtmpre/s320/EEP%20(1).png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In my next life, I want to be a backup singer with rotating antennas in my hair.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRetfnfF96Ma57rdNkzOafTwAvg14jKnFI0VeIBRFkn-rx4oDiDdxSXuKzumRuNfhs5Fo_N2TNk1VzaTXgO3o-YMo7BZD1Ltbpz9yYCJMPQ4OJSSrpp_D86wTdP0Lhjns3ZO9nYXlAOVi266wqBvxbCMTXK4Acf9mvtiApNJG1rYHqxSaOspQ38m_6tLbE/s400/JET%20SCREAMER%206.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="400" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRetfnfF96Ma57rdNkzOafTwAvg14jKnFI0VeIBRFkn-rx4oDiDdxSXuKzumRuNfhs5Fo_N2TNk1VzaTXgO3o-YMo7BZD1Ltbpz9yYCJMPQ4OJSSrpp_D86wTdP0Lhjns3ZO9nYXlAOVi266wqBvxbCMTXK4Acf9mvtiApNJG1rYHqxSaOspQ38m_6tLbE/s320/JET%20SCREAMER%206.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Judy is thrilled by the attention from the paparazzi. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr_RQglIn5jSumrYwm7DIKNycKtHWK3sK9GuxUrLHn9nA3F30h0Utubg74AzxckZE0yYbIr1aD84VYs5KvCZE0G9LBEbthgYW4JPOE7J4s9jha7kp-mLN6-POZxnjfZiyVS5HZyq8mLeTRrLmC3cYu1Z7SK_zU1IPcxdZCql5VWThlJmnEg5FHAdkbDLZ/s400/JET%20SCREAMER%205.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="400" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcr_RQglIn5jSumrYwm7DIKNycKtHWK3sK9GuxUrLHn9nA3F30h0Utubg74AzxckZE0yYbIr1aD84VYs5KvCZE0G9LBEbthgYW4JPOE7J4s9jha7kp-mLN6-POZxnjfZiyVS5HZyq8mLeTRrLmC3cYu1Z7SK_zU1IPcxdZCql5VWThlJmnEg5FHAdkbDLZ/s320/JET%20SCREAMER%205.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Play that song on the piano, man. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsnH6VvFLBH9-PbTl2lZKvMWKnX0ZlJmC4YXjfy2MjVnTLcFpEZ3sxu4zbcLHPU-cuMktUtPwXUt5n7tFiqnZcy8wzcytJm_qG395dVv_6iy8XD2F3eizVPCbLk_tmbQJKnWvKD8HQHGDrJctNR3YTEWD1DLghOA4EpHfk6AI7m-J5crxmdIL6m6pz7Qk/s400/JET%20SCREAMER%202.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="400" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFsnH6VvFLBH9-PbTl2lZKvMWKnX0ZlJmC4YXjfy2MjVnTLcFpEZ3sxu4zbcLHPU-cuMktUtPwXUt5n7tFiqnZcy8wzcytJm_qG395dVv_6iy8XD2F3eizVPCbLk_tmbQJKnWvKD8HQHGDrJctNR3YTEWD1DLghOA4EpHfk6AI7m-J5crxmdIL6m6pz7Qk/s320/JET%20SCREAMER%202.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A date at the Fun Pad? I'm so there. </div></div><p></p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-936756032580591102023-12-11T17:11:00.003-05:002023-12-20T11:20:02.633-05:00Typing Out Loud: Do you, really?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH35ScXvdyuD0XgNxb4aKRr7fTQsU2kWLoD-2QKFfXUwYEvtUTW51NRZQDwP2-K79lwh7c1Y2HVUxkDjwa9EvorYDE5u3kTDVPSKqaDFGrDMy2812UwslXcIzFUEpmE-5-V1_pzXfDUO8gidGzvVNMX4ksHTJ3EJ2VzhWJikbyO0ANyUFCSF2Wj4smhpgM/s1308/tiffany-1837interlocking-circles-ring-24601463_1063549_ED_M.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="1308" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH35ScXvdyuD0XgNxb4aKRr7fTQsU2kWLoD-2QKFfXUwYEvtUTW51NRZQDwP2-K79lwh7c1Y2HVUxkDjwa9EvorYDE5u3kTDVPSKqaDFGrDMy2812UwslXcIzFUEpmE-5-V1_pzXfDUO8gidGzvVNMX4ksHTJ3EJ2VzhWJikbyO0ANyUFCSF2Wj4smhpgM/s320/tiffany-1837interlocking-circles-ring-24601463_1063549_ED_M.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Nice.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm struggling to type this as it is NOT MY BUSINESS. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A certain someone who was once in my life (yes, an ex) got engaged recently. I smirked "Fourth - or is it fifth? - time is the charm," which I admit is not kind. I am honestly pleased for him since he seems to be chasing happiness, but the narcissist in me is smarting from rejection that is nearly 40 years old. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then his fiancee/wife posted they found an open slot at the courthouse and went ahead and...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And what? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Suddenly, she stops posting, her Facebook account goes dark, and he deletes all posts going back before their reunion in August. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Again? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This particular ex always had one eye down my shirt and one eye on the door to see if something better had come along. He did break up with me during his senior year in high school so he could play the field unattached. Then broke up with me again once a pretty waitress started at the restaurant, thinking he had a chance. The third strike happened my senior year when he was dissatisfied with the - ahem - progress in our relationship, and I was out. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When I say the fourth or fifth time is the charm, he's been married, a lot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He has a pattern of dissatisfaction with the bird in hand. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My inner girl code is hoping he didn't break her heart at the altar. I don't know her, but she seems sweet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then again, maybe they are on their honeymoon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then again, not my business. </div><p></p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-74691626945596936752023-12-04T11:55:00.000-05:002023-12-04T11:55:07.517-05:00December: That's It, Just One Line - She Came in Through the Bathroom Window<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVrkjiHbobCnjSmnxHzoSu_ZHF-aBLOtvM21JIo4ydFDACaHilhDUi1vgHI4E5Vv22-ZGXzdvDZqz2iq65sAmgPS91splQstH5NEG6OFYS12Sd4HhTgXDLXPrfAWfj93AEvt6SwTUHHCqQKScHfdQ9T0EZE7p03IVj3KUeQ4-uxaBpVG0bP-a7z3kly5B/s1293/Screen_Shot_2013-01-17_at_12.03.51_AM.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1293" data-original-width="859" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeVrkjiHbobCnjSmnxHzoSu_ZHF-aBLOtvM21JIo4ydFDACaHilhDUi1vgHI4E5Vv22-ZGXzdvDZqz2iq65sAmgPS91splQstH5NEG6OFYS12Sd4HhTgXDLXPrfAWfj93AEvt6SwTUHHCqQKScHfdQ9T0EZE7p03IVj3KUeQ4-uxaBpVG0bP-a7z3kly5B/s320/Screen_Shot_2013-01-17_at_12.03.51_AM.png" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p><i>New feature, just one line from a song that just kills it. Tells the tale, sums it up, slam dunk, and out of here. </i></p><p>"She could steal, but she could not rob..."</p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7939634536637978613.post-49831170096087912542023-11-17T09:47:00.000-05:002023-11-17T09:47:05.954-05:00Typing Out Loud: Pen Pals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpGQM-93VYulqHddP3LfESzcBPag32VMXCwtrKyiC6gAyvNpCnvcnMAjARq4rCgUuc4zgePck-CoFxB0RtMXptW5TVYBDLMfyAlLo26c9gNodbXzj7SZVL0bVsOCvVEoZWu5kGcND3O4lG-t4PmOvCKBrOWWN5nY5EkL5xAd0lhxHX_L9xsRGJSU4GpO7/s340/pp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="340" height="282" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnpGQM-93VYulqHddP3LfESzcBPag32VMXCwtrKyiC6gAyvNpCnvcnMAjARq4rCgUuc4zgePck-CoFxB0RtMXptW5TVYBDLMfyAlLo26c9gNodbXzj7SZVL0bVsOCvVEoZWu5kGcND3O4lG-t4PmOvCKBrOWWN5nY5EkL5xAd0lhxHX_L9xsRGJSU4GpO7/s320/pp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The agency we got pen pal names from - I remember the newsletters! </i></div></i><p>In this digital age, it's easy to keep tabs on friends using social media like Facebook, Instagram, and Snapchat - and those are just the old people apps, as the kids are using TikTok and lord knows what else to keep in touch. </p><p>But once upon a time, we used pen and paper to forge a connection.</p><p>I feel like I've told Nancy's story here before, but it bears repeating. </p><p>I met Nancy at the Holiday Inn Holidome in Sandusky, Ohio when our day at Cedar Point was canceled due to major thunderstorms. I think I was probably about 8 years old. Our parents decided to cash in our tickets for rolls of quarters and all of us kids played video games, putt golf, and swam in the pool while they ordered pizzas and drank beer poolside. Nancy and I forged a deep friendship at that time and promised to write or call. </p><p>And that we did. Faithfully, for years, we would trade letters monthly and be allowed the occasional phone call. Our correspondence died out when I went to college and she was engaged to a guy in the service. I wasn't invited to her wedding, but I invited her to mine, and she sent a picture frame. I called her parents' house once while we were driving through Buffalo, and her brother excitedly said I had just missed her by a day. I left my number with him but I never heard from her again. I looked her up on Facebook again just now and think I found her and extended a friend request. </p><p>Sacha is a little different. I found her through one of those pen pal services they had for grade school kids to forge a better and bigger world in maybe seventh grade, which seems right since that's the kind of thing Mrs. Hanna would have done. IPF was the agency. I want to say I paid fifty cents and got three - a boy from Italy, a girl from France or Brazil (I don't remember), and Sacha from England. </p><p>Sacha and I wrote a little less frequently than Nancy and I, but we bonded over music, (Madonna, Culture Club, Wham!, Def Leppard), boys, school, and learning about each other's families, sports, and activities. We too kept writing up until the end of high school. </p><p>Did I do a pop-in on her? Well, while in England on our honeymoon we traveled through Huddersfield and fate had us turn on her street. Having no way of understanding how to find her house since she didn't have a street number, I stopped at the corner shop to ask. The shop owner knew who I was! Mail was delivered to the post boxes in their shop and Sacha and her sister would walk down to pick the mail up. When she got letters from me, she couldn't wait and would open them up and share pictures and news about me and that is how they recognized me. </p><p>Sadly, her mother had died and since the girls were grown, her father had sold the house and had moved... the week prior. I asked if there was a forwarding address or if I could leave her a note to post, but I never heard from her again. </p><p>A name like Sacha Kelly is fairly common, and chances are she's since married and hasn't been known by the last name Kelly for years. Still, I may trot that box out and see if there are clues - her school maybe? - in tracking her down. I'm suddenly bashful, wondering if I've lived an interesting enough life to track her down to say what's up. </p>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04240775400878246841noreply@blogger.com0