tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72557990562880477382024-03-13T10:49:29.193-07:00Hero In Your Soul"Do not let your fire go out, spark by irreplaceable spark. In the hopeless swamps of the not quite, the not yet, and the not at all, do not let the hero in your soul perish and leave only frustration for the life you deserved, but never have been able to reach. The world you desire can be won, it exists, it is real, it is possible, it is yours." Ayn RandSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.comBlogger638125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-53526659799083243452013-08-17T21:36:00.004-07:002013-08-17T21:36:58.826-07:00Taking ResponsibilitySusan Snyder of <em>The Philadelphia Inquirer </em>recently reported that Penn State has made its first settlement for Jerry Sandusky's victims. Twenty-six victims, $60 million. In exchange for taking the money, the victims agree not to sue the university or Second Mile, Sandusky's charity. I wrote several posts in the past about the horror that took place back in my home state of Pennsylvania. I am glad to know that the school is taking responsibility. In exchange for the settlement, the victims agree not to sue the university or Second Mile charity. <br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-43784762438447443242013-07-16T20:26:00.003-07:002013-07-16T20:26:38.848-07:00The $6.30 DressThis is a follow up post to the one called "The $4.95 Dress." Today I went into the same store where I found the $4.95 dress for my friend's wedding, and found one for the rehearsal and dinner the night before the wedding. It was marked down to $7.00, and with my employee discount I got it for $6.30. How about that? These are very important events, and I am so excited to have my dresses for both of them. <br />
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Money is tight for me. I'm not complaining, but just stating a fact. These two lovely dresses are just more proof that I can have pretty things, and that I can have what I need and want. You see, there were much more expensive dresses in the store both times I visited, but it just happened that the ones I really loved seemed to be waiting for me. The polka dot dress is a blue that is somewhere between royal and navy, and the dots on it are a light blue, close to an aqua. <br />
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Here is a picture of the dress, but not a picture of me. It is fun, and polka dots are one of my favorite things. I think I am a very lucky woman. The brand is Be Bop, which is also a fun name.<br />
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Susan<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-59726805613147475922013-07-14T12:33:00.003-07:002013-07-14T17:00:52.552-07:00The SystemWe have a lot of problems in our country, the United States of America. A lot of problems. There are many nations throughout the world that have some wonderful ideas that we would do well to implement here. I could give you my opinions on gay marriage and health care and our prison system and guns so on, but is that what you really come here for? If my father was still alive today, he would likely chuckle and tell me I'm a bleeding heart liberal. One of the things I loved about my father, is that he talked to me and conversed with me the same way he did my older brother. (My younger brother was only 13 when our dad died, so he didn't have adult conversations with him. Not that I was really an adult, but I think you know what I mean.) I have had extended family members tell me that my father hated women and had a low opinion of them and a general disrespect for them. I won't object to that, but I will say that as a girl child who was almost 18 when he died, I never saw that or felt it. <br />
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When I was in high school, I would work late at Burger King. In summer, we were open till midnight on week nights and 1 am on weekends, and I often worked the closing shift. I thought that my dad must like to stay up late, but now that I think about it, perhaps it wasn't so much that he was a night owl as it was he wanted to make sure I got in safely.<br />
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We would sit and have these discussions about politics and current events and life in general. And I am so thankful for them, for many reasons, probably the biggest being that although we didn't know it, my father would die at the young age of 54 and I would not be having any more conversations with him. I thought of them as "intellectual conversations," and it made me feel good that my dad thought I had a good mind. Sometimes he would poke a few holes in my arguments, and that's as it should be. It's no fun to talk with someone on a serious subject and not be challenged. But he never patronized me. He made me feel as I could hold my own on many topics, and it no doubt contributed to the confidence that I have always felt in the presence of men. I can remember over the years men old enough to be my father or grandfather, in business situations, seeming a little surprised and maybe amused at this young girl named Susan and how she conducted herself.<br />
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So while we have a lot of problems that need fixing in this country, one of the greatest things in my opinion is that each person accused of a crime is entitled to a vigorous defense, and a trial with a jury of his peers. That the jury is made up of people like you and me, is quite intriguing. It's not just a judge who decides someone's fate. It is not a group of professional, paid jurors. But just someone like me. Or you.<br />
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George Zimmerman went through the system. Although each is entitled to a speedy trial, most defendants choose to wait and allow a solid defense to be mounted. That takes time. So when it was all said and done, six female jurors concluded that he is not guilty.<br />
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The system works, the way it is supposed to, even when it surprises us. It was my guess that Zimmerman was overcharged with second degree murder, and when I heard that the jury would be permitted to consider manslaughter, I felt it likely he would be convicted of that. I didn't follow the case closely, but I kept up with it a bit. Mostly because it involved two young men. Martin was 17 at the time of his death, and Zimmerman 28. As the mother of two sons, as a woman who reflects on the values as a society seem to teach boys, as I think about guns and violence and such, it struck a chord with me. In this blog, my most popular post (the one that has been viewed the most) is one I wrote shortly after Martin was shot. It is called "I am Sabrina Fulton."<br />
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It is beyond tragic that so many of our young men kill our young men, for whatever the reason and whatever the circumstances. I wish them all peace. I wish peace for the families of Martin and Zimmerman, and I think of both Mrs. Fulton and Mrs. Zimmerman as my sisters. I wish George Zimmerman peace, for that night has forever changed his life. I would not want to live with the fact that I had pulled the trigger of a gun and took another person's life, regardless of the circumstances or reason.<br />
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Sometimes it seems that we will never have peace within our nation, that there will never be a day when some young man won't be picking up a gun and killing another young man. Not that women don't commit violence, for they do, but the young men just really resonate with me. I have to ask myself, however, what am I doing to make our country a better place?<br />
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The system works. I need to be working somehow to make things better.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-40605278199299969122013-07-13T04:26:00.002-07:002013-07-13T04:26:40.834-07:00Sweet Sixteen"Go on doing with your pen what in other times was done with the sword." Thomas Jefferson (writing to Thomas Paine)<br />
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Yesterday was her sixteenth birthday, and she spent it addressing the United Nations. Malala Yousafzai, you may recall, was shot last October for having the audacity to attend school. For her appearance at the UN, she wore her favorite color, pink. She has had surgery and is recovering quite well. Yousafzai received $3 million for a book deal. It will be titled, "I am Malala." Yes, my dear. You certainly are.<br />
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Susan<br />
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Photograph from Associated Press<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-48698901641449411532013-07-11T21:08:00.000-07:002013-07-11T21:08:30.251-07:00Creativity<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This quote is from Ursula K. Le Guin.<br />
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Sometimes the way we think of creativity limits it, as if the only creative people are the poets and the painters. We are all creators of some sort, from the man who creates a dinner from what he grew in his garden, to the woman who writes code for a living, and every person who creates a better life for himself through his thoughts and behavior.<br />
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One of the things that stifles creativity is that self-conscious feeling that maybe we aren't good enough. My first Art class in college was a few semesters ago. The course was called Color and Design, a very basic sort of class. Our professor was herself a talented artist, not that she ever drew attention (I used the word "drew." That is funny!) to that part of her life, but toward the end of the semester she showed us some of her work and it was amazing. It had been featured in various shows, and she even earned money by selling it, which is something not every artist can say.<br />
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What she created that meant the most to me, was a non-judgmental place where we as the students could create. We could express ourselves fully, and in fact, she did not allow us to criticize ourselves or be negative. I loved that class, because I stepped inside that classroom and I felt like I was a child again. One who was simply who she was, and let that come out with her Art. <br />
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My dear reader, what are you creating?<br />
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Susan<br />
<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-41790029800091524222013-07-04T09:50:00.003-07:002013-07-04T09:50:48.676-07:00Heart of GoldThis morning I'm in the mood for Neil Young. Enjoy.<br />
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Susan<br />
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"Heart of Gold" written by Neil Young<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-69300465728861818612013-06-30T17:20:00.002-07:002013-06-30T17:27:17.816-07:00The $4.95 DressI found the most wonderful dress for my friend's wedding, coming up in a few months. Since I will be the reader, I won't really be a part of the wedding party, but we thought a dress that would sort of harmonize with her colors (black and gold) would be just perfect. Because I have been losing weight, I have really been looking for a dress yet.<br />
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The other night, I was driving home when I my intuition told me to stop at a store which is on the way. It is a sister store of the one where I work, and I get an employee discount. I really, really didn't want to stop, because I was tired. And after working all day in a store, I didn't feel like going into another store. I actually was not even thinking about a dress for the wedding. But I obeyed my intuition, and walked in the store and began to look around, and there it was. It had several clearance tickets on it, one on top of each other, with $5.50 being the one on top. It must have been in the store for a long, long, long time to be marked down so many times. And even before then, it must have been around for a long time because this store is an off-price retailer which has merchandise other stores don't want. The dress has been waiting. Just waiting for me. <br />
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The $5.50 dress, which with my 10% discount, makes it a $4.95 dress. I tried it on, and can you say <em>perfection</em>? I have eight more pounds to lose, but it fits now and will look great then, too. It has black and gold sparkly spangles on the top, and the bottom is a creamy ivory lace that is almost yellow. I love this dress. Love. this. dress.<br />
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It is a Mimi Chica, which is a brand I knew nothing about, until now. I did some searching online, and found it on Macy's website under "item no longer available." Well. Of course it is no longer available, because it is mine. So here is a picture of my dress, but not a picture of me. The model looks happy, which is how the dress makes me feel. <br />
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So once again, my intuition leads me somewhere wonderful. Isn't this a great story?<br />
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Susan<br />
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<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-12181906576811228772013-06-30T09:11:00.000-07:002013-06-30T09:11:16.093-07:00Say It RightA while back, my younger son loaded some music on my ipod. I've been listening to it this morning. I like this one.<br />
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Susan<br />
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"Say It Right" by Nelly Furtado, Nate Hills and Tim Mosley Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-63759334586568657062013-06-29T09:14:00.001-07:002013-06-29T09:14:33.515-07:00Traveler"Please be a traveler, not a tourist. Try new things, meet new people, and look beyond what's right in front of you. Those are the keys to understanding this amazing world we live in." Andrew Zimmern<br />
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Have you ever stayed at a hotel where the chairs by the pool or the chairs for the beach become a big issue? Guests running over to the pool before breakfast, and putting down their towels and staking their claim? Being eyed suspiciously if you look in the direction of their chairs, when in fact, you might be just enjoying the gorgeous view or thinking about whether you want your Margarita on the rocks or blended?<br />
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I think these chairs are amazingly wonderful.<br />
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Susan<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-4138122935199380002013-06-26T09:15:00.003-07:002013-06-26T09:15:56.803-07:00DemonsShe has a new, exciting but challenging opportunity in her life, and she seized it. I say to her, "You can do it!" because I am certain she can. But it is pushing a lot of her buttons. Have you ever noticed that? When we step out of the usual day-to-day, and especially when we start to get what we want, we also end up confronting our demons. That should not be surprising; right? It could be that her biggest demon is "You're not good enough." It is a common monster in many of our lives, or at least it seems that way to Susan. Not unusual at all.<br />
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She recently had a memory, one she had not thought about for decades. Her father would call her into the living room on Sunday afternoon, and he and the mother would be sitting there. Her mother didn't talk, but her silence conveyed to my friend that she was in agreement with what Dad said. "You are nothing but a disappointment to your mother and me." Now it's likely her father said other things, too, but this very ominous statement is the one my friend remembers the most. <br />
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I have never met her father or her mother; both of them passed away years ago. But she has told me a lot about her dad, and there was a lot of good there, too. He was a good man in many ways, and he gave her a lot. She says he made her feel loved and special and pretty, and all the things a little girl needs from a daddy. But this statement that she thinks she heard every Sunday, "You are nothing but a disappointment" is a big demon of hers. I told her that her father must have been a very powerful person in her life, perhaps the most powerful person ever, for that statement to have carried so much weight. She shared this with her therapist, who said it seems to have influenced many of the things my friend has done throughout her life.<br />
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"Your dad hung the moon," I suggested, when she told me this story, and she nodded and started to cry. I know my dad certainly did. He put it up there in that big, dark sky. "He was the first man you ever loved," I added, and I got tears in my eyes, too. "With that pure love of a little girl." <br />
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So she is confronting her demon of Not Good Enough. She knows what some of my demons are, and I told her I think of mine as Muppets. Monsters. Demons. Okay. But ones that are really not all that scary, once I get to know them. The thing is, I have spent a lot of time and energy trying to avoid them and run away from them, when they are just big, adorable, cuddly things with green and orange fur. And although they can be scary, I want to share a secret with you. They are really my <em>friends.</em> Yes. You read that right. They are my friends, and are just there to help me. If I will let them.<br />
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How about you? You have demons, too, if you are a human like me. Could you begin to visualize them as Muppets? Can you begin to sing this song? I'll sing along with you. <br />
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Susan<br />
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"Mana Manam" written by Piero Umiliani. Muppets created by Jim Henson. Some are property of Disney.<br />
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<br />Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-66629650501649652442013-06-25T05:19:00.000-07:002013-06-25T05:19:03.128-07:00Susan, My SusanAt work, I overheard my colleague's conversation with a customer and knew that I was needed, so I began to walk over to her register. I heard her say, "I'll ask my su..." meaning to say supervisor, then she saw me and said, "Susan." So it came out, "I'll ask my Susan." We laughed and I called her "My Karin," and for the rest of the shift, and even a few days later, people were saying, "My Susan." <br />
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I like that. I am their supervisor, which is my job and I am good with that, but if I had my druthers, I druther be their Susan. It is wonderful to belong to someone; don't you think? Oh. I suppose if it turns into some weird stalkerish, possessive thing it's not fun at all. Jealousy can be an ugly emotion. But to belong to someone, and have someone belong to you, can be lovely.<br />
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This has always been one of my favorite songs. It is an old standard, and it's about belonging and travel, two of the best things in the whole, wide world.<br />
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Susan (Your Susan)<br />
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"You Belong To Me" written by Pee Wee King, Chilton Price and Redd Stewart<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-54733694808915102142013-06-18T17:29:00.003-07:002013-06-18T17:31:17.597-07:00Personal ShopperToday I felt that I should stop in the secondhand store that is in the same shopping center as where I work. I really wasn't excited about it at first, but thought who knows what I might find. So I obeyed my intuition, as I am learning to do. I popped in there on my lunch break. <br />
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There was a huge swarm of women around the rack of women's slacks. It all looked boring to me, a bunch of black and brown and navy blue slacks. So I was over looking at something else, and this woman yelled out, "If anyone's a 2, here are some nice white ones. Banana Republic." She held them up. I thought she might be talking to friends she was shopping with, but I guess he was just yelling it out for anyone who might be around. But I suppose she was really talking to me.<br />
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I went over, and saw that there were so many shoppers at that rack because women's slacks were half off. I took those slacks into the dressing room, and I imagine you are way ahead of me now. They belong to Susan.<br />
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A few months ago, a friend had given me a pair of white slacks she didn't want any longer, and that is always a smart kind of look for summer; right? But since I have lost weight, they are too big for me. This pair of slacks that I got today are actually more of an ivory color, which is a better shade on me than white anyway. Very pretty, with nicely designed pockets and buttons and smart cuffs at the hem. Fully lined, and I imagine you get the picture. They are awesome. $6.50! How about that?!<br />
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It's like that other shopper was my personal shopper. Wowzers! This intuition thing really works.<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-85089904659254444792013-06-17T10:55:00.002-07:002013-06-17T10:55:39.361-07:00The BridgeWe were listening to a song, my friend and I, sort of humming along and singing along, and I said, "This is my favorite part." She, who has some musical training, said, "That's the bridge." Then she added that often when we listen to music, I get all excited when the bridge comes. She explained simply that it's the connecting part of a song. <br />
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Sometimes I don't even care for a song, but I like just that particular part. The other day, I heard a song I had not heard in many years, "Daisy Jane" by America. I remember when my sons were little and we would take road trips, their dad and I would let them help choose the line up. This was back in the day of the cassette tape, long before ipods and satellite radio.<br />
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They liked the America tape we had, and the younger one particularly liked "Daisy Jane." I am going to share it with you, and let you know that my favorite parts begin around :51 and again at 2:08. Game. Gaaaaame. Blame. Blaaaaame. <br />
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Singing along in the car is one of the best things to do.<br />
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"Daisy Jane" written by Gerry Beckley<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-60263077431364855692013-06-15T22:19:00.003-07:002013-06-15T22:19:53.402-07:00Father's DayWhen I was a little girl, my stomach often bothered me. It is not surprising that I would have diarrhea or vomit, that my stomach would hurt. My mother would say it was the flu, but looking back I don't think it was very often the flu. Our home was a scary place. My mother was a scary person. My stomach hardly ever hurts anymore. I have a good life, one where there is no reason to be upset or scared or sad. I can't even remember the last time I threw up.<br />
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My father died a week before my 18th birthday, which means he has been gone for a long time. I remember the first time I was ill and threw up, after he was gone. I was an adult person, and I had never thrown up by myself. He would always go in the bathroom with me, and hold my head, and keep my hair out of the way. Throwing up is scary. There is a lack of control to it that frightened me, but he was always there to stay with me so that I didn't have to throw up alone. He would help me rinse out my mouth, brush my teeth, and he would get a cool washcloth for me. It was comforting.<br />
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I remember when I was married, telling my husband at the time that story, and he looked at me strangely and said, "Susie, I am not going to do that." He thought throwing up was icky, which it is. And I didn't ask him to, but I would have liked it if he would have held my head while I threw up.<br />
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Is that weird? That it is one of the tenderest memories of my father. He was not an affectionate man. I remember being a little girl, and jumping up in his arms, or getting on his lap, but like a lot of fathers, once I got to be a little older, he kept his distance from me. He didn't hug often, and I can't ever remember him saying, "I love you," although without a doubt, I felt loved by him.<br />
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I hug a lot. Not random strangers, but the people I love get hugs. I say, "I love you" a lot. One of the wonderful young women I work with gave a week's notice that she was quitting her job. Management doesn't communicate well, so no one told me. A few people knew that yesterday was her last day. When she told me, I felt so sad. I adore her, not just because she is a valued member of my team, but she is a lovely person. I said, "Oh, Daniela...." and hugged her. She said, "<em>This</em> is why I didn't tell you until today, Susan. I knew you would do <em>this,</em> and then I would cry, and I couldn't do <em>this</em> for a week." <br />
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It is just the way I am. If you have to throw up, just tell me and I'll be that person who goes into the bathroom with you and holds you so you don't have to throw up by yourself. You don't even have to be very careful not to get it on me, because sometimes vomit is projectile and you have no control. I just don't want you to be alone and scared. I'll change my clothes if I need to.<br />
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Maybe you prefer to be alone when you throw up, and I will respect that. I try to be respectful, but I really want to help. I don't want you to be scared and alone. And I guess when I say that, what I am really saying is that I don't want to be scared and alone.<br />
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So this is my Father's Day post. This is what my dad meant to me; that when he was there I was not alone and I was not scared. Every child should be so lucky.<br />
<br />
SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-67833258591426848912013-06-14T07:38:00.002-07:002013-06-14T07:43:01.011-07:00LoyaltyToday is Flag Day in the United States. I shall wear red, white and blue today. Are you thinking, "Of course you will"? I am not a flag waver kind of person. I don't think that we are the best nation in the world. Actually, I think one of our biggest problems is our arrogance; that we run around and say things like that. I think it's funny that many times the people who say we are the greatest country in the world do not even possess a passport and have never even been outside of our country. I wonder how they could possibly know that?<br />
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I am, however, a very loyal person. Is it because I was born in the Year of the Dog? It is part of who I am. So since I was born in America, I am loyal to her. Two of my uncles, and my older brother, and my older son, all served their country. I appreciate all of those men and women who have served, and I will also tell you that I think Edward Snowden is the bee's knees.<br />
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My life as a woman would have been quite different if I would have been born in some place like China, or Iran. But when I came to this planet, I landed in the United States of America. I love her, because she is mine. But I think I would also love China, or Iran, if she was mine. I love what is mine. I am loyal to what is mine.<br />
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She's a grand old flag.<br />
<br />
Susan<br />
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"You're a Grand Old Flag" written by George M. Cohan<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-27704820331261888292013-06-13T10:47:00.001-07:002013-06-13T10:50:24.548-07:00I Love BeerWhen I was a travel agent, I always gave a gift to clients booking a vacation package or cruise. The cruise lines would arrange something, like flowers in the cabin, or a bottle of wine at dinner with my compliments. There was a little gift shop in the same shopping center as the travel agency, and they had the most wonderful assortment of picture frames and albums, and I often chose one of those and gave that to the client when he or she picked up travel documents. That was back in the day where you actually needed paper documents, and when people actually put photographs in albums. I did it mostly because I needed to keep my costs down, and a nice $20 photo album was better than giving the cruise line $40 for a $5 bottle of wine.<br />
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Sometimes clients would bring me back a gift, or send me flowers, but not often. I remember one pair of elderly sisters who were going on an escorted tour of New Zealand, one of the most expensive vacations I ever sold. When they returned, they both came in to see me and told me how wonderful their trip was, and how wonderful I was for suggesting that particular tour company. With great flourish, they presented me with a bag. It was filled with the little jars of jellies and preserves from their breakfast table. They were so pleased with themselves, and one of them said, "None of them have been opened." <br />
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It used to be that I thought I didn't like beer. The only beer I had tasted was Bud or Rolling Rock and I thought it was icky, so I never explored the world of beer. Also, I was convinced that beer makes you fat, and I didn't want that. A client and his wife were traveling to Germany for Oktoberfest, and when he picked up his documents, he asked me if I liked beer, and I said I didn't care for any of the beers I had tasted. He said, "I'll bring you back a bottle of wine. Riesling." And he did, and I loved it, and to this day, my favorite white wine is Riesling, or Moscato, which is very similar, at least in Susan's mind. It was a lovely way for him to show his appreciation.<br />
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Last year, my younger son and I took a trip to Nantucket Island, and he introduced me to the world of craft beers. He has a good deal of knowledge about them, and we went to a brewery and I learned what a flight is, and we did some beer tasting. The brewery was within walking distance of where we stayed, so it was the perfect way to spend an afternoon. The people there were impressed that we were from San Diego, because San Diego is well known for its craft beers.<br />
<br />
So. Guess what? I like beer. Correction. I love beer. I just didn't know it because I had never had anything good. The other evening, my roommate and I went out for a snack and the bartender recommended Sculpin IPA, which is made by Ballast Point, a local brewery. So we split one. Then we ordered another one, and split it. Which means Susan had an entire beer. It was yummy, and the perfect beverage to have with a veggie wrap. I like beer. I love beer. It's funny that it took me 53 years to discover that. I wonder what else I have been missing out on, just because I never had the good stuff.<br />
<br />
Susan<br />
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I have not received any remuneration for my endorsement.Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-54449665781355540982013-06-13T06:18:00.000-07:002013-06-13T06:21:07.528-07:00Come Take My HandWhen I was in fourth grade, my dad took up a hobby. He got his pilot's license, and he and a friend bought a plane together. My father most of the time was a very unhappy person, but this new venture was something that made him smile.<br />
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I loved going up with him in that little airplane. We always had his friend with us, because my dad would not fly alone with his kids in the plane. I remember how carefully they checked everything out before we went up, and how diligent they seemed to be with all the controls.<br />
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My mother hated his hobby. She was a woman extremely dedicated to being miserable, and she disliked it when others were not as miserable as she was. I don't know all her issues, but she was very vocal at how much she objected to him doing it. <br />
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She refused to ever fly with him. I don't believe my mother was ever on an airplane her entire life, although I can't say for sure. She said those little planes are dangerous, and a person could die. And she wasn't completely wrong about that, because there is definitely a risk.<br />
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I didn't think it was dangerous at all, and even relished the times he would zip that little plane around a little, just to amuse me. I was in my early 30's before I ever flew on a commercial aircraft, but I remember thinking that you really didn't even know you were flying, except for the take off and landing.<br />
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One of the best times we flew was when he and his friend flew me from Pennsylvania to Virginia so I could spend a week at my sister's home there. I was amazed that we got there so quickly, because it was a very long and tedious drive in the car. I totally remember thinking that was the way to go. I still think so.<br />
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When I was a travel agent, I learned to deal with clients who were afraid to fly, or had some trepidation, or simply were a little nervous. Fear is an emotion, so you really can't reason with it. But statistically speaking, traveling in a car or in a train is much riskier.<br />
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Flying. How I felt was this. My dad was the person I trusted most in the world, and he would never put me at risk, so I just enjoyed it. What is there to fear when you know the pilot?<br />
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Toward the end of my marriage, I attended a jazz festival with my husband at the time. His favorite music is smooth jazz/R &B. Being the good sport that I am, I went with him and I enjoyed seeing him have a good time.<br />
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Everyone was all abuzz about Jeffrey Osborne. He must be a really important artist in this genre, I remember thinking. My ex-husband didn't know who he was. I wasn't interested enough to Google him on my phone, and then as we were sitting there, the announcer introduced him. Jeffrey Osborne. The crowd went wild, and I thought, oh this will be interesting. <br />
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And then he opened his mouth and sang, "Just smile for me and let the day begin..." And I was all, oh my gosh! So <em>that</em> is who Jeffrey Osborne is. He wrote the lyrics and made famous one of the best songs ever, and here it is.<br />
<br />
Susan<br />
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"On the Wings of Love" written by Jeffrey Osborne and Peter Schless<br />
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Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-56819789498589833122013-06-11T11:03:00.000-07:002013-06-11T11:03:37.553-07:00Rawwwwrrrr!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love this. Opening the cage door right now.<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-69037959734155959292013-06-07T10:29:00.002-07:002013-06-07T10:30:38.990-07:00Feel Good<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/plvpV9p0ywg" width="459"></iframe><br />
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"When you make the choice to start living as you would in a perfect world, you let the universe know you expect greatness. And by doing so, the universe has no choice but to identify you as a magnet for all you desire." Phil Good<br />
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Occasionally, at the store where I work, corporate decides we should Improve Morale. So we got a coffee maker. This is ironic to me; that our store sells items for the home and we didn't have a coffee maker in the break room. I would occasionally bring in a cup of coffee from home, and heat it up in the microwave, which is sort of ghetto, but if I wanted coffee, this is how it would happen. My colleagues would be all, "Cofffeeeeee" as they longingly smelled the aroma. Then we got the coffee maker. But we had no coffee. This was also ironic, since we have a food section in our store, and we sell coffee. Then we had coffee, but no creamer or sugar. Then we got creamer and sugar, but no cups. Then we got cups, but we would run out of coffee. It was funny in a sad way, like I need to laugh about this, or it will make me cry.<br />
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We didn't have coffee for a long time, so my sweet roommate suggested I take some in that she had bought and didn't like. So I did. I also donated a box of tea bags, for tea drinkers. Yesterday I made a pot of coffee when I got in, and people were all excited. And we had creamer and sugar. And cups. But they were the cold cups, those red plastic ones. One of the wonderful young men I work with and I had this humorous debate in the break room, about whether or not the hot coffee would melt the red plastic. He is such a nice guy, and works so hard, and he said, "I'm afraid." I told him I'd stay there with him, to have his back, in case there was a "meltdown." Meltdown. Get it?<br />
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It is not my job to make sure the break room is fully stocked at all times. This is up to a certain assistant manager. I have had other jobs where that was part of my job description, and while I am a flawed and imperfect human being, I think I was always able to keep the whole coffee thing going. It is such an easy thing to do, but it means a lot to people.<br />
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Someone asked me later, "Susan, did you make the coffee?" I said I did, and that it was compliments of my roommate. See. The thing about me is, I try to light a candle instead of just curse the darkness. I have been on this planet for a while now, and believe me, I know that it isn't perfect. But I try to live just as I would if it <em>was</em> perfect. Then I ran across this quote by Phil Good, and it makes me feel good. Phil Good; get it? I love the idea of being a magnet for all I desire.<br />
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The world is not perfect, but to Susan, there is such a thing as a perfect cup of coffee. Close enough. For now.<br />
<br />
Susan<br />
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"Feel Good, Inc." written by 2D, Murdoc Niccals and D JolincoeurSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-1987360433899565722013-06-06T18:36:00.002-07:002013-06-06T18:36:22.263-07:00PassionFor eight years, I was a travel agent. The business was in the same small rural town in which our family lived. Folks there were not terribly sophisticated, and I am not saying there is anything wrong with that. There were many people who were going on a tropical vacation for the first time, their first cruise, their first vacation to Mexico, or what they would often say was their first "real" vacation. That usually meant one that didn't involve visiting relatives. I enjoyed introducing them to the world of travel, which is one of my passions. It was fun, to send someone somewhere for the first time, and have them come back and tell me how wonderful it was. It was great to see people get bitten by the travel bug, and to plan their next trip and the next and so on. <br />
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When I say I love to travel, I mean I <em>really</em> love to travel. It doesn't have to be expensive, or exotic. Anyplace but here, you might say. Not that my "here" is bad. I live in the San Diego, California area, for goodness' sake. My "here" is paradise. But I love to go places. So travel is definitely a passion of mine. Somewhere different. Somewhere I've never been before. <br />
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It is not that way for everyone. I think many people would say they love to travel, and they might love the <em>idea</em> of travel, but some really don't like it or enjoy it all that much, and they definitely don't love it like I do or have a passion for it the way I do. I discovered this when I was a travel agent, and I saw how uncomfortable some people became with the idea of leaving the familiar. It sort of surprised me really, because I thought that money might be holding some folks back from a vacation, but that wasn't it at all. They had trouble stepping outside their comfort zone. They couldn't seem to just let go and let it all happen. <br />
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No matter how well we plan, things do go wrong from time to time when we are away from home. Customs agents are not always friendly, back-slapping kinds of guys. No matter how carefully you pronounce and then spell your last name, those people at the hotel desk might decide they have never heard of you. Diarrhea. While not all of it is pleasant, having a pleasant, go with the flow attitude about it, and a sense of humor will help. <br />
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Go with the flow. Have a sense of humor. Not be surprised if something goes awry. Step outside the comfort zone. Let go and let it happen. It sounds like the things that make for a good travel experience, come in pretty handy in everyday life. And whether it's traveling or just plain living, to fully and completely enjoy it, we need to love it and have a passion for it.<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-7758599665062919142013-06-04T09:21:00.001-07:002013-06-04T09:22:24.637-07:00Cover Ground<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/KUeLfpQU9aw" width="459"></iframe><br />
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"It's Enough To Be On Your Way" written by James Taylor<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-61778469586078392332013-05-31T20:27:00.001-07:002013-05-31T20:27:24.784-07:00The Face "Nature gives you the face you have at twenty. Life shapes the face you have at thirty. But at fifty you get the face you deserve." Coco Chanel<br />
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Several years ago, my friend and I worked together and the boss we had treated my friend awful. I got a text from my friend today that said she had seen this woman, and "seven years have not been kind to her." My friend is not at all a catty person usually, but this boss was really mean to her.<br />
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I texted back, "She shall wear her evil deeds on her face for all eternity!" <br />
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Have you ever noticed that about people, especially women, as they get older? Being sweet always pays off in the end.<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-7534528389797669732013-05-30T11:40:00.001-07:002013-05-30T11:40:49.090-07:00No Harm<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/at_t4b9C8Os" width="480"></iframe><br />
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Beatles' lyrics are simple, aren't they? This is Roxy Blue and the Handful's rendition of the John Lennon and Paul McCartney song, "Oh, Darling." What could be simpler than "I'll never do you no harm"? Roxy is my friend. It started out that her mom was my friend, then Roxy became my friend. I love being the age I am, because it means my friends' kids can be my friends, and my kids' friends can be my friends. It is also very possible that I am Roxy's oldest fan, but not for long because she is going to become famous very soon, I believe.<br />
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Roxy just celebrated her first wedding anniversary, with a wonderful woman. I'm glad I live in a world that is becoming more accepting of all the different ways people love. It's happening way too slowly in my opinion, but at least it's happening. <br />
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Whoever you love, and whoever loves you, surely there will be times when there is hurt. But it's one thing to hurt unintentionally, and it's another thing to do the person you love harm. So with all the kinds of love in the world, all the different varieties of how people pair up, that's the thing to remember. We need to make a vow, "I'll never do you no harm." Or if you're like Susan and grammar is your thing, you could say, "I'll never do you harm." Yeah. I know. Lennon and McCartney's way does sound better.<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-51405572593042908912013-05-29T11:55:00.004-07:002013-05-29T12:36:02.430-07:00Little Sister"The feelings that hurt most, the emotions that sting most, are those that are absurd. The longing for impossible things, precisely because they are impossible. Nostalgia for what never was; the desire for what could have been; regret over not being someone else; dissatisfaction with the world's existence. All these half-tones of the soul's consciousness create in us a painful landscape, an eternal sunset of what we are." Fernando Pessoa<br />
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This is quite a list; right? I finished reading it and thought that this must be why I am such a happy person, because I don't do any of these things. What a painful way to live.<br />
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A dear friend asked me yesterday how I was doing. She knows that I am grieving my brother's death, and how I feel is different from day to day. I am the sort of person, that the longer I process something, the more I become at peace with it. I shared with her some of my thoughts and feelings. About my brother, and how he lived his life. It's safe to say he didn't have the painful existence that Fernando Pessoa speaks of in the quote. I was thinking about his wife and children and grandchildren, and other members of our family. I told her that my younger brother and his wife arrived in Hilton Head yesterday afternoon, and were staying at my sister-in-law's house with her. I was happy she would not be in a big house by herself. So we talked a bit, and she listened kindly as she always does.<br />
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She said, "This is just like you, because you have such a generous heart. But I was wondering how Little Susie was doing." I had not thought about it that way. I told her that Little Susie liked it that her big brother was proud of her. My brother was a great fan of my writing, followed this blog daily from its inception, and applauded the fact that I am working on a novel. He approved of everything I was doing in my life; school, work, my family, my life in general. I didn't think I needed his approval, but once I had it, guess what? I knew I had needed it. <br />
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And let me tell you, he was not the kind of person to say things just to make you happy. He could be critical, although as he got older, he mellowed and so he would phrase what he felt a little more gently. But he had no problem telling me he disagreed with me. We had that kind of relationship, where he did not patronize me because I was his little sister. I liked that.<br />
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My brother was a man for whom I had a great deal of respect. To think that he also respected me? Well now. That makes me feel really good about myself, and makes me think that while I certainly don't have it all together, I am doing just fine. A while back I got an email from him, just the usual details of his life, and he ended it with, "Your writing, as always, is excellent. I am jealous." <em>Him</em> jealous of <em>me? </em>Wowzers!<br />
<em></em><br />
My friend said, "Maybe you will dedicate your book to him." I answered, "Maybe I will." And you know what? Little Susie thinks it's a grand idea.<br />
<br />
Susan<br />
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My brother took this picture of me, age 5.</div>
Susanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7255799056288047738.post-37745458477580602562013-05-27T19:02:00.001-07:002013-05-27T19:04:03.280-07:00Please Show Me How To Love You<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ejrYo7I9Da8" width="459"></iframe><br />
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"Just Show Me How To Love You" written by Dario Baldan Bembo and Amerigo Cassella<br />
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SusanSusanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12705788002352470163noreply@blogger.com0