tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69890483595189800062024-02-18T18:10:44.117-08:00This Side of Towncheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.comBlogger113125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-61694231843963977942010-01-14T05:32:00.000-08:002010-01-14T15:14:28.482-08:00Triumph Comes<span style="font-size: large;">Once in a while I come across extraordinary stories that are made even more special by retelling.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Florence is one of my nurses on night shift. She's from Uganda, and has been in the States for 20 years. She left to escape the political and civic unrest in her country. Truth to tell, I am glad to have met her because Uganda, when I was very young, meant only gory stories from the book <em>The Rise and Fall of Idi Amin</em>.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 1986, at the height of war, Florence was on her ninth month of pregnancy, and one night, felt the first pangs of labor. Her family took her to the nearest clinic in their village, unable to brave the flying mortar and face the violent, bloody riots in the streets, to go to the hospital. Foremost on everybody's mind was to escape.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She was in labor for hours but the baby wouldn't come out. She was the only patient, and the doctors and nurses wanted to leave. The country was in a big chaos, and survival and self-preservation was the priority. Finally, after more than 12 hours, the baby was delivered, dead. Florence's water broke a long time ago, and for whatever reason, the amniotic fluid had continued to seep, and the baby died in her womb.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The baby was delivered, and the doctors and nurses left. They said the clinic was the safest place for Florence. If anybody happened to come by, they were unlikely to hurt a newly-delivered woman. So she lay there on the delivery table by herself, while all around her the war raged on, her baby gone. For how long, I forgot to ask.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She said she wasn't even able to name the baby, and because of the general chaos, somebody just offered a portion of their private property to bury it in. That place is now a gymnasium. I said to go to that place and just offer a prayer the next time she goes home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This story is special for two reasons. First, she has never told anyone (at least, at work) about it except me (she said it's okay to write about it here), and she's been there years before I even got employed. Second, Florence never got pregnant again after that, and had just had a total hysterectomy last October, meaning, she will never be able to conceive anymore. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">She likes to cook African food for the staff, and has a recipe for me, which I will share next time. She is a very good nurse, and said I inspire her (thank God for that). </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I like to meet and work with people whose passion for life is deep and touching. Their experiences and outlook make my life all the more meaningful and purposeful. Sometimes, we don't fully appreciate what we have until we hear stories of survival and triumph.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">______________</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>The recent earthquake in Haiti is heartbreaking. My thoughts are with the survivors, and hope they get through this difficult time.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>All my prayers for everybody. Let's be thankful for the gift of life.</em></span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-13093801611651601222010-01-04T00:30:00.000-08:002010-01-04T01:00:44.119-08:00Inspired to Live<span style="font-size: large;">After the fall of Saigon, there was much oppression, alienation, and public outcry between the divided Vietnam. Many people lost their lands and property to the Communists. It was amid this chaos that able-bodied Vietnamese decided to flee their country, in hopes of a future (not even a BETTER one, just a <em>future</em>).</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Many of them landed in the Philippines (as many more had perished in the sea). This story is about a couple who had managed to beat the odds. Before I continue though, please be warned that I am not sure if this was one story or two stories I'm melding into one, as I have read it/them a long time ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But read on. The gentleman belonged to a prominent family in North Vietnam, so much so that they owned maybe 2/3 of all North. When the Communists took over and they had lost all, he was among the people who fled. He sought refuge in the Philippines, along with his wife, and in time, had assimilated the culture. However, because they were deemed illegal immigrants, they couldn't be granted citizenship. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This gentleman, though, was educated, and helped improve the fishing industry of the country. In time, he was allowed to go to America with his wife. While on the boat, he felt a sudden wave of depression thinking about the life he left in Vietnam, the fortunes he had lost, the family members so long not seen nor heard from. He was filled with so much anguish that he wanted to jump overboard. He almost succeeded if not for his wife, who stopped him, and begged him to change his mind. She willed him to think not of what they had lost, but what they stood to gain, however hard it was to understand. In that moment of darkness, the couple looked to each other for hope and reason to live again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They reached California, and started a life working in a bakery/grocery store. They helped bake the bread, and tended the store in the daytime. They slept on the kitchen floor at night. They used public bathrooms to clean and relieve themselves. For two years. And even after they had saved up enough to afford a decent apartment and a car, they chose to continue their disciplined if not odd existence, because they had a goal. In 3 more years, they would be able to buy the grocery from the owner. They reasoned that if they lived in an apartment, they would have to spend for everything that went with it. The same was true if they bought a car.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So for 3 more years, they slept on the kitchen floor. After 5 years, they had enough money to buy the place, and that was the beginning of their good life. Maybe they were able to send for the rest of their family in Vietnam. I don't remember. But somehow, their story found its way in the pages of a book, and I read it. It is a source of inspiration for me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>In a few months, my family and I will become American citizens. While we have not endured the hardships that the Vietnamese couple in my story did, we have our own story to tell. Every immigrant in a strange land always has a story to tell.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>The moment we pledge allegiance to the American flag, my heart will weep a little because it is then that we have to renounce our loyalty to the Philippines. Or at least that's what the application forms say. In my heart and mind I will always be equally a Filipino and an American. In due time, we will make that possible by applying for a dual citizenship.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Meanwhile, life goes on. And we celebrate.</em></span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-61449330564973227952009-12-30T18:10:00.000-08:002009-12-30T18:49:32.761-08:00Happy Reunion<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFjMVjStfYTdEhEUfJOEyZbXtob1igKVL7VbeweHNmi5Wbph9KERbXp4mt27fBW6mpK7RKBPHODJ1WrkBjLEsWgJR33_3luA9zF36ewPH7cL0VGMLByEt8x8-rydmK1T-bRpQg2mo/s1600-h/DSC05213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFjMVjStfYTdEhEUfJOEyZbXtob1igKVL7VbeweHNmi5Wbph9KERbXp4mt27fBW6mpK7RKBPHODJ1WrkBjLEsWgJR33_3luA9zF36ewPH7cL0VGMLByEt8x8-rydmK1T-bRpQg2mo/s400/DSC05213.JPG" /></a><br />
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</div><span style="font-size: large;">That's Helen with me. She is a dear friend and classmate from Nursing school, and we had not seen each other for 19 years. So we decided to meet at the mall. I said, don't tell me where you're seated. Just tell me what color shirt you're wearing. She did just that, and of course, it was a BIG mall with an equally BIG food court. My eyes turned as round as saucers when I got there. But slowly I walked. From table to table. Scanning faces. On the look-out for a green shirt, thinking, what in the world did Helen look like now? </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then I spotted a bewildered-looking girl who probably thought she was as lost as the one looking for her. Ha! What a joyous reunion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I thought I'd post it here because Sir Joey sent me a beautiful sentimental email (the one that has nostalgic music against a picturesque background), and it made me think of good friends, happy memories. You know how it is when you say good bye, and you just can't finish? That's the kind of friend Helen is. Well, I hope you remember one of yours this holiday season and catch up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's a good feeling.</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-9652848643223712802009-12-30T14:49:00.000-08:002009-12-30T15:17:06.892-08:00Oh, yeah, bring it on!<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow's the 31st, so out with the old and in with the new. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Curtains, bed sheets, cushion covers, towels, rugs - we changed them all. The laundry room's busy, there is absolutely no piece of clothing to be left behind. Wash, wash, wash.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">M put coins on the windowsills. Yup, attract the gods of the finances, to always keep them in order. Only round fruits on the table. "Mom, onions?" "No, dear, just fruits."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">No broken anything. I have a vase in one of the bathrooms that I fixed with superglue a few weeks back. That has to go, too. My china and utensils have to be in perfect shape. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only good thoughts now. That's right, bring it on! Let the tiger ROOOAAARRR!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What are you doing to usher the new year in?</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-58620171744588278492009-12-30T00:00:00.000-08:002009-12-30T00:27:38.377-08:00Falling Leaves<span style="font-size: large;">I watch the leaves fall to the ground</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Before the wind rushes </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">To take possession of them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The leaves are the reddest, fiery and golden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">They tease the senses</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">At their most transcendent.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I watch enticed</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only for so long.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">In a whisper, they all glide away with time.</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-79974728151802372622009-12-29T22:58:00.000-08:002009-12-29T23:36:36.256-08:00Cold<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ytKWVX7aP8E1-_4_UtJbxeNlNjhJuUNIpF7Wea0mbJMO9oYLVH3qQ7TDcbP6KbD6IPJRlCqMj1KYpZ5EQpUO88bzaED7rDDKyMD-9c8ikgA5eMRauHA2BsMrR3xmYSKXfehiCE1h/s1600-h/freezing_man.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ytKWVX7aP8E1-_4_UtJbxeNlNjhJuUNIpF7Wea0mbJMO9oYLVH3qQ7TDcbP6KbD6IPJRlCqMj1KYpZ5EQpUO88bzaED7rDDKyMD-9c8ikgA5eMRauHA2BsMrR3xmYSKXfehiCE1h/s320/freezing_man.jpg" /></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">picture source: ourhangout.net<br />
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</div><span style="font-size: large;">The electric bill came up to $146.00 for last month. Whew. That alone makes me shiver even more. But we can't help it (or can we)? It's the winter break, and the kids are mostly at home, we've had some guests over the holidays, and it's REALLY just cold. It's 22 degrees outside right now as I type this. I crank the heater way over 70 almost everyday because despite sweaters and socks and quilts (thanks, Ms. Sandy, AJ takes his Thomas quilt everywhere around the house), it is still freezing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I think I'm getting better, though. When I talk, my voice is raspy, booming, whispery, or not there at all. I am following everybody's advice, thank you so much, and since I'm off today and tomorrow, I hope to get the rest I need.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">How do you all cope with this winter chill? Brrrr!!!</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-36171294213538136032009-12-28T14:56:00.000-08:002009-12-28T17:06:50.707-08:00Understanding Jesus<span style="font-size: large;">On December 9th at 11pm, Debbie was not to be seen. It wasn't like her to be late. She was one of the CNAs scheduled to work. But before I could find out what happened, someone blurted out the news. At 5:30 that afternoon, she was caught in traffic by the train tracks in her SUV with her two young sons aged 9 and 6 sleeping at the back, when the Amtrak train barrelled down on the car. The boys were instantly thrown off the vehicle and killed on the spot. Deborah was rushed to Duke, and survived. All that the witnesses could remember was an explosion and Debbie's screams.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">My legs crumpled. A staff member fled to the bathroom and threw up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Later that night, I gathered my staff in a circle and, holding hands, we offered individual prayers for the children's souls and for Deborah's peace of mind. Fourteen months ago, she had just lost her first-born son to a shooting incident, and before this recent event, was still visibly grieving.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't get it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I don't get that we have to die in such a violent way, especially children - in which case, people are bound to point fingers. Why leave the living in anguish and pain? Debbie was heard to say later, "Somebody up there must really hate me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I married late, and it took three years before I became pregnant. It was an ecstatic moment, more so knowing we were to have twins. But I miscarried at 13 weeks. They would have been the first grandkids on both sides, and the third generation of twins on my side, at least. We buried the placentas, but the memories lingered. I saw the pain in my mother's and my husband's eyes, which compounded my grief. I felt the burden of guilt and blamed myself for the longest time, even though I am a nurse, and knew better than to do so. My mind did, my heart didn't. Nobody blamed me, but I tormented myself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Earlier this year, I was pregnant again, but lost the baby in June, at 6 weeks. Matthew wept and the memory of my 6-year-old clinging to my bosom wailing the loss of "my baby sister" (as he was sure it was a girl) continues to sting my heart. My husband cried a silent tear. "She" has a simple resting place by the tree behind the house.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am comforted by the thought that we have three angels watching over us, and that the twins now have someone else to love, and they won't be so lonely. It takes a lot of explanation to Matthew, and I know I am not equipped. He is on a journey to knowing Jesus, while I keep on stumbling on my way to understanding Him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Jesus died in the most violent of fashions. His disciples and the multitude of His followers were stricken. They felt horrified, and scared. And they also pointed fingers. They were guilt-ridden.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Debbie must feel the same wretchedness as the disciples, the same unworthiness, loneliness, and grief beyond all griefs at the untimely deaths of her sons, leaving her to bear the brunt of suffering. Fingers pointing her way must feel like a thousand daggers, even as her mind screams for mercy, and her heart wails for her loss.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I draw my analogies as I type, and so forgive my lame attempts. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">One day, I hope to understand what I have written. </span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-68747225876996091712009-12-28T03:13:00.000-08:002009-12-28T05:31:38.453-08:00A Very Sore Throat<span style="font-size: large;">Does anyone please know of any remedy?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I had the H1N1 mist about a week ago, and then, with FULL warning of course, started feeling an exodus of symptoms. First came the backache, then my finger joints just felt sore, my muscles hurt like crazy, everything was out of whack - I had to ask my husband to give me a good massage right away. My whole body was on fire, it was unbelievable. Eventually, Extra Strength Tylenol quickly got rid of all that. (I still take it PRN/as necessary.) But then came this awful, awful sore throat that I can't shake off.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">It is so bad I've had to apply Vicks on my neck and wrap a short kind of scarf around it TO and AT work for two nights now. I've been drinking hot tea, eating nothing but soup, and pumping up on vitamins and pain killers, to no avail. A friend suggested ginger. I'll probably have to drink the water I boil it in, I forgot to ask.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">My throat feels swollen, (though I don't believe it is), and swallowing is extremely painful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What a nightmare and a half.<br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">HELP!</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-71107469028138280092009-12-24T12:58:00.000-08:002009-12-24T13:03:39.079-08:00'Tis indeed.I am all geared up to write if only to greet you all a blessed Christmas. I don't suppose anyone will have the time to sit down in front of the computer on Christmas day, though, what with all the hype and rush, but I am taking my chances.<br />
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I think of all the Christmases past, and how they compare with this year's. I think of the Philippines heated up not only by the Mayon volcano acting up in Albay, but also by the horrendous political goings-on there. I think of the thousands of Filipinos who are brilliant, capable of making names around the world, whose talents remian untapped because of lack of opportunity. I think of those to whom opportunity is given, but who happen to be wasteful, arrogant, deceitful, and greedy. I think of all the blessings laid out before me, and how I have used and (squandered) many. I think of the friends I made and kept, and those who have betrayed me for personal gain. I thnk of hearts I have broken, and those who have broken mine. But I push them all away, clear my mind of cobwebs, and look forward.<br />
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This is the Season of Nativity, when the Lord has shown us great mercy through the birth of His Son. I think and I think deep, of the times I had thought I was not worth redeeming, of my unworthiness in His eyes. But this Season, I think even more. Of hope and renewal, of acceptance and forgiveness. I think of all the hurts I caused because I judged people to be less than I. I think of my own weaknesses and how I can transcend them and perhaps improve myself. I think of ways to make this Christmas different from the others - beyond all the cooking and gift-giving, and trimmings and nice clothes. The smiles will hold. The hugs will not be mere politeness. Perhaps that way, I will continue to touch more lives.<br />
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This article is for all the family and friends I cherish and keep. I know we've all been busy one way or another. But I thank you for always remembering. Here's to you - for your loyalty, respect, and love. May your life continue to be full, may the Lord watch and keep you, may you be blessed this Holy Season and always.<br />
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'Tis indeed the time to embrace each other and give thanks.<br />
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</div>Happy Christmas, one and all!cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-42312264428879925112009-10-24T01:23:00.000-07:002009-10-24T01:25:06.810-07:00Trial Post<span style="font-size: large;">Hi, friends, I don't know if this will be published, but I did some tweaking because it has been the longest time since I last accessed my blog: couldn't open the dashboard to post new articles. I could and can open the past posts and reply to your comments, but as far as posting a new one, no go.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">So let's see.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I miss you, guys. I don't know if I can come back to this site, but we'll see. I can always start a new one. I had been really busy, too. My calendar's full, that without the boys' schedules yet. But I'm here. For now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I hope you get this. Thanks! Take care!</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-75116990265056709532009-10-11T21:45:00.000-07:002009-10-11T21:46:20.595-07:00Sorry<span style="font-size: large;">I had been busy, and preoccupied lately. Still am. I have you all in mind, and will sit here and serve you coffee, truffles, and whatever you fancy.</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But not right now, friends. Momma's a little busy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So bear with me, please. Be good.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And don't forget to wash your hands.</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-18960431995946010722009-10-09T00:30:00.000-07:002009-10-09T00:31:49.257-07:00Out of this World!<span style="font-size: large;">At 3 o'clock this morning, after I had gruellingly 'fixed' a new site and told everyone about it, this comes right back! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, I am happy. But, I'll see you on the other site as well, okay, my friends?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I'm bushed. Good night!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">(To those I hadn't informed yet, my other URL is <a href="http://uncoveringaculture.blogspot.com/">http://uncoveringaculture.blogspot.com/</a>)</span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-33986648498225629942009-10-06T22:37:00.000-07:002009-10-07T04:38:36.199-07:00Unbankable deliveries<span style="font-size: large;">Got a phone call from a bank today.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Me:</strong> Hello.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>B:</strong> Hi, may I speak with Cherie De Castro?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Me:</strong> This is she. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>B:</strong> Ma'am, this is (name) from (Very Prominent Bank). You have a problem with your account, and ....</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Me:</strong> A problem with my account? What happened?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>B:</strong> (chuckles) Well, we are about to send you a .... for .... You don't have to commit right now. Your account shows you have an excellent record...</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Me:</strong> Wait a minute. First of all, you just said that my account shows I have an excellent record, which contradicts your introduction to me. (I could hear the poor girl sounding embarrassed on the other end of the line.) Second of all, I have already told somebody from (Very Prominent Bank) that I would contact you if ever I became interested. And I am not. Thank you for calling.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>And I put the phone down.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Really.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>And that's just one of those. Try this. It happened about a few months ago. Also from <strong>them</strong>.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>B:</strong> Hello, is Aristotle De Castro there?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>A:</strong> This is Aristotle.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>B:</strong> My name is (name) from (Very Prominent Bank). Do you speak English?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>A:</strong> Aren't we talking already?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> <em>And Aris continued to entertain. But reported the rudeness to someone higher up.</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><em>Now, I don't know if it's just me, but I think people-oriented jobs require a lot more refinement from the employees, especially so if the company they're working for has a reputation to protect. Whatever their reasons, the first scenario showed perfect incompetence, and the second one outright idiocy based, we suppose, on records of a not-so-English-sounding last name.</em></span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-89480116735065031142009-10-04T23:35:00.000-07:002009-10-06T01:10:50.692-07:00This Side Of Town<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMBJDFEjRAAXZxy1uPXD-G7tNMjo1iUgtLL7HxLSYoPM07Fry2nmxbamIkfMV4eQwMFTVzK_Pn3NbNtB9aEQWHXo2DayuwTtC6ga185MrFtsz6A7YltCRjO3h-lK9FIrFGrSKLp54/s1600-h/betty_boop_wine_glass_sitting2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5389011269010268050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 328px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMBJDFEjRAAXZxy1uPXD-G7tNMjo1iUgtLL7HxLSYoPM07Fry2nmxbamIkfMV4eQwMFTVzK_Pn3NbNtB9aEQWHXo2DayuwTtC6ga185MrFtsz6A7YltCRjO3h-lK9FIrFGrSKLp54/s400/betty_boop_wine_glass_sitting2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="color:#ffcccc;">turned a hundred posts today.</span><br /></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I truly didn't mean to celebrate. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">But my neighbor Carol (of the <em>tamales</em>) chose this night to knock on my door again.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">This time, she waved a plateful of delectable roast beef complete with garnishings in front of me. <em>(I seriously MUST work on my Spanish - and quick.)</em></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">I took one look at my man. He took one look at me.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;">Then he went to the kitchen and reached for a bottle of red wine.</span> <div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;">Come, let's clink glasses!</span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center">(photo source: Google Images bettyboop-a.doop.com)</div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-28404291589294311382009-10-03T22:24:00.000-07:002009-10-04T14:20:07.048-07:00Indomitable Spirit<span style="font-size:130%;">Catastrophes can either make or unmake us.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I was 18 when Super Typhoon Sisang (designated Nina) slammed into the southern part of the Philippines, most especially the Bicol Region, where I was studying. It sustained winds of 275 mph as compared to Ketsana's 105 mph. Sisang/Nina was (at that time) reportedly the worst typhoon to have hit the Philippines in 20 years. I was in the dormitory, in bed, on the second floor, with no clue as to what was to come. Suddenly, I heard and saw girls screaming, doors slamming so hard, beds flying outside the window - yes, from the second floor. All of us who could pry our doors open ran downstairs, and huddled close as the winds continued to lash against the windows. Then the building shook. The piano in the corner slid to the other end. Other furniture followed. Broken glasses. More screaming. Flooding in. I remember hugging two of my friends and praying out loud, "Jesus, save us."</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We stacked chairs and furniture one on top of the other as high as we could and perched on top, my fellow dormers and I. I helped remove shards of glasses from the arms and legs of the other girls who were unfortunate enough to have been by the windows when the winds lashed their fury.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We waited out the 'eye of the storm.' It was past midnight when the stillness engulfed us. Nobody slept, to say the least. Morning greeted us waist-deep in water. No breakfast, of course (I was mildly amused despite the situation), but everybody talked of going home, which was 60 km away (1 1/2 hours) for me. I packed whatever I could and started off with my friends. As the dormitory was inside the university campus, we had to walk through the maze of corridors in order to get out. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">There was no university in site. One building was ground to a pulp. The rest was a sight to behold. Flood and debris everywhere. Hugging my belongings to my chest, I gasped when, thigh-deep in water, I saw a rat, about a foot away from me, swimming for dear life. It was then that reality sank in.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">No transportation (we took buses). Landslides everywhere, buried bridges. We walked. Not the whole way, but miles and miles and miles of it just the same.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Home meant overlooking the moon at night as part of the roof was ripped off from my room. One friend joked he had to enter their house by the window. It was the only one open. Many more were worse off, as they had no houses left.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">The whole thing meant no electricity (I think in the whole province) for 3 months. None. I do not know when we resumed classes (I was in my second year of Nursing) but when we did, it was in a <em>modified</em> building. No fish on the table. All sorts of stories like finding fingers and rings inside fishes' bodies circulated. And plenty of dead. I heard a story about a body floating from one town to another. And not enough coffins. The local priest had to minister benediction to bodies rolled in mats. And at least one woman went crazy looking for her dead. I heard these stories. And there were many more.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Ketsana's damage was in the unceasing rains, causing the 20 feet flooding, a catastrophe unheard of in more than 20 years. I perched scared and cold on top of chairs many years ago, while many of the recent typhoon survivors ENDURED hopeless days and nights on rooftops, not knowing if they would live or die. There is no fear like the fear of the unknown, and certainly the fear of death.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I am almost ashamed to admit that I do not know how I would have survived Ketsana with only the clothes on my back, and my undying faith. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;">Especially since my sister says the pedicab driver across the street continues to mindlessly ferry people to and fro while playing Christmas songs.</span></em><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">***</span></div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I thank everybody who has joined me and millions of others in the crusade of helping the calamity victims not only in the Philippines but also in Vietnam, Indonesia and the American Samoa. As we sleep tonight, many of them are still hungry or in search of their loved ones, or sick and injured. Let's keep them in our prayers. Many, many thanks, and God bless us all. ~~~ To those who still want to donate or help spread links to relief centers, please check out my older posts. Thank you for your kind heart.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-9693997545068376532009-10-01T20:53:00.000-07:002009-10-02T02:04:41.967-07:00"Please give me back my smile."<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2R-yyLOyV7t10lCkr_dqYMcb-gX069XQZrkBzwgai1tlNeHrnFjlmFh8IZ8mmgch0AZ93PHJuQN8MdQL-GjPGcqrTYyDYuyvx70AaYBNZeiqJXZB2Rwb6hXxcxkZJqz5pifDwCUU2/s1600-h/A_300909NZHBPTSUNAMI7a_300x200.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387919903861452802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2R-yyLOyV7t10lCkr_dqYMcb-gX069XQZrkBzwgai1tlNeHrnFjlmFh8IZ8mmgch0AZ93PHJuQN8MdQL-GjPGcqrTYyDYuyvx70AaYBNZeiqJXZB2Rwb6hXxcxkZJqz5pifDwCUU2/s400/A_300909NZHBPTSUNAMI7a_300x200.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div align="center"></div>(photo source: nzherald.co.nz)
<br /><div align="center"></div></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Skywatch and a still picture of the tsunami aftermath in American Samoa a few days ago.
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<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4EJQAFcTLhsajDMOFuPhxVvgm1cYsGts-E80KRwTKSBs7nnoqdnIZZ-bmtifOZc1zPIfstB7znK_dLF_Hw8YovzqPkRV6NIkh7gmnm4mF6o6buWWVg0qlLine_m9oxXTayFMadp5/s1600-h/capt_42af4a84a80b43ba93defc646611076b_indonesia_earthquake_xwm109.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387913033765021426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 399px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE4EJQAFcTLhsajDMOFuPhxVvgm1cYsGts-E80KRwTKSBs7nnoqdnIZZ-bmtifOZc1zPIfstB7znK_dLF_Hw8YovzqPkRV6NIkh7gmnm4mF6o6buWWVg0qlLine_m9oxXTayFMadp5/s400/capt_42af4a84a80b43ba93defc646611076b_indonesia_earthquake_xwm109.jpg" border="0" /></a> (photo source: BBC News)
<br /><div align="center"></div></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Skywatch over Indonesia after the killer quakes a few days ago.
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<br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-rbCh8O87U5mKNS-IFyehJ5a_6aj7Fuu4ozZZQ7fELmEXN1N3ZeCXFVOMt8Q0ZPqRkQTwjyemx5OiWZfreJ6IFHbXdVA47-lAoZ7CLg7-yFcgeDpl4om3W3tlWbBSe6Vp4L2gcrs/s1600-h/_46462427_manilafloodingafp466b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387912168526566770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 223px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP-rbCh8O87U5mKNS-IFyehJ5a_6aj7Fuu4ozZZQ7fELmEXN1N3ZeCXFVOMt8Q0ZPqRkQTwjyemx5OiWZfreJ6IFHbXdVA47-lAoZ7CLg7-yFcgeDpl4om3W3tlWbBSe6Vp4L2gcrs/s400/_46462427_manilafloodingafp466b.jpg" border="0" /></a> (photo source: BBC News)</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">~~Watery Wednesday meme entry~~
<br /></span></em>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Twenty feet of floodwaters swallowed these houses, and so much more in a month's worth of rain that poured non-stop for 12 hours in the Philippines over the weekend.
<br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br /><span style="color:#ffff33;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>My dear friends, here are a few more links to our desperate brothers and sisters
<br />in the Philippines, Indonesia, and the American Samoa. Let us help them get their smiles back:</em>
<br /></span>
<br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;">1.<span style="color:#ffcccc;"> <strong>The Catholic Relief Services</strong><strong></strong></span>. It is the international humanitarian agency of the Catholic community in the United States. It provides assistance to people in more than 100 countries and territories based on need, regardless of race, nationality or creed.
<br />
<br />This week alone, it has responded to 4 emergencies, including those in the Philippines and Indonesia.
<br />
<br /><strong><span style="color:#33cc00;">To donate via phone</span></strong>: <span style="color:#ffcccc;">1-877-HELP-CRS</span>
<br />
<br /><strong><span style="color:#33ff33;">To donate online</span></strong>: <span style="color:#ffcccc;">www.crs.org
<br /></span>
<br /><strong><span style="color:#99ff99;">To write a check</span></strong>: <span style="color:#ffcccc;">Catholic Relief Services
<br />P.O. Box 17090
<br />Baltimore, MD 21203-7090
<br />
<br /></span>(source: Thomson Reuters Foundation AlertNet - Alerting Humanitarians to Agencies)
<br />
<br />2.<span style="color:#ff9966;"> <strong>To donate to Samoa (as I am not sure that it is included in the countries CRS serves, maybe so): please contact the American Red Cross</strong></span>
<br /><span style="color:#33cc00;">ARC - 1-800-RED-CROSS</span> <span style="color:#ff9966;">(1-800-733-2767)</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="color:#ff6666;"><strong>Disaster Relief Fund</strong>:
<br /></span>
<br /><span style="color:#cc6600;">American Red Cross
<br />P.O. Box 37243
<br />Washington, DC 20013</span> <span style="color:#ff6666;">or your local ARC chapter
<br /></span>
<br /><span style="color:#ff9966;"><strong>For a secure online donation</strong></span>: <a href="http://www.redcross.org/">http://www.redcross.org/</a> </span>
<br />
<br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">(source: the American Red Cross. org.)</span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p>
<br /><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">***</p></span>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><span style="color:#ffff66;">Thank you, everyone, for your patience. Would you link this up to your site (write a short article) so maybe we can gather more readership and touch more humanitarian hearts? We can't help these countries enough. Their needs are immediate. Many, many thanks from the bottom of my heart.</span></em>
<br />
<br /></span></span></span></div></div></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-13481574859264265372009-10-01T14:16:00.000-07:002009-10-01T14:36:10.415-07:00An Article on Southeast Asia Improving Its Response to Disasters</em>(lifted from CTV news, Oct. 1, 2009)</em>
<br /><em>
<br /></em><span style="font-size:130%;">About 60 per cent of the world's natural disasters happen in Southeast Asia, and in the last few years important measures have been taken to limit the impact of these tragedies in the world's most vulnerable region.
<br /></em>
<br />The region is fraught with environmental circumstances that challenge rescue and relief organizations, experts say.
<br />
<br />The last few days bear witness to just how fragile the region is:
<br />
<br />Two earthquakes have hit Indonesia, killing hundreds of people and leaving thousands trapped under rubble.
<br />
<br />A deadly Tsunami washed over the nation of Samoa, killing at least 150 people.
<br />
<br />Residents of the Philippines are still trying to recover from devastating floods and Vietnam, Cambodia and Laos are bracing for a dangerous typhoon.
<br />
<br />These low-lying Southeast Asian countries are located on "extremely active" grounds, said Alison Bird, an earthquake seismologist with the Geological Survey of Canada.
<br />
<br />There are several subduction zones in Southeast Asia that not only trigger earthquakes but spark volcanic eruptions and stir tsunamis.
<br />
<br />Tsunamis are the most dangerous of natural disasters, Bird said in an interview with CTV.ca Thursday.
<br />
<br />"Even the smallest wave can go quite far inland and cause quite the destruction," she said. "You can't outrun these -- they're too fast, too powerful."
<br />
<br />Part of what makes the region so vulnerable is the land's topography. There's not a lot to protect residents who live close to the coast from a tsunami or even high winds.
<br />
<br />Plus, poverty and dire circumstances has forced hundreds of people to live close to the water, putting them and their shelter in immediate danger of being destroyed.
<br />
<br /><strong>Smart structures</strong>
<br />
<br />A key element to helping people survive these disasters is better infrastructure and smarter engineering, said Bird.
<br />
<br />"It doesn't take a lot to make structures earthquake resistant," she said. "It's been proven that there's an incredible increase in people's chance of survival."
<br />
<br />Building better shelter and training Southeast Asian volunteers about survival has been a key mandate of the Red Cross, particularly since the calamity of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami that killed nearly 230,000 people.
<br />
<br />The Red Cross has built 5,500 homes in Indonesia since the disaster and has trained 1,200 volunteers in first aid, emergency evacuation, shelter and community preparedness, said Christina Lopes, a spokesperson for the organization.
<br />
<br />"Build back better is our policy," she said. "The homes were built with more earthquake-resistant materials and they are better located, further up from the shore."
<br />
<br />She said the recent disasters have shown her how much better residents in the area are prepared than they were back in 2004.
<br />
<br />People were quicker to evacuate and the impact -- though devastating -- was not quite as deep.
<br />
<br />She said she wouldn't be surprised if the Red Cross relied less on international assistance this time around than it did when it dealt with previous disasters.
<br />
<br /><strong>Tough to overcome</strong>
<br />
<br />Despite the overwhelming response from disaster relief charities to Southeast Asia, there are some obstacles that simply can't be overcome with charity work.
<br />
<br />The challenges of developing countries are always exacerbated during a crisis. Weak and aging infrastructure turns into washed out roadways and bridges that make it impossible for relief workers to deliver supplies in a timely fashion.
<br />
<br />"Poverty makes difficult living conditions even more difficult when there's a disaster," said Wesley Normington, a spokesperson for GlobalMedic -- an organization that sends paramedics and police officers from the Greater Toronto Area overseas to help out during a catastrophe.
<br />
<br />The organization has sent several people to Indonesia to help with rescue and relief efforts.
<br />"Their sewage system gets backed up which makes flooding worse. People don't have funds to purchase new items for their homes that would help them survive or they can't get themselves to a hospital," he said. "In the third world, they can't afford transportation so they have to walk for days to get to the nearest health care."
<br />
<br />However, because the region is so prone to natural disasters, relief agencies have learned from experience over the years and have begun to coordinate their efforts.
<br />
<br />Best of all, Normington said, accountability of the charities have drastically improved.
<br />
<br />"Accountability is probably the most important thing that has come out after the (2004) tsunami," he said. "Not only are people more aware now but steps have been taken by the international community to make sure charities are more accountable."
<br />Bird agreed that things have certainly improved since the 2004 disaster and credited public education.
<br />
<br />"The tsunami really woke a lot of people up and education goes a long way," she said. </span>
<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>
<br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">***</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><em><em>I want to thank everyone who has extended most valuable and needed help to the Philippines. It seems as though there is no end to all the tragedies. With one out, another one comes in. It is very sad. But there is no devastation so immense that can break a faithful heart. Thank you for crossing the lines, for embracing brotherhood, and for giving LOVE a whole new meaning. I am a mere stranger to many of you but you have not been hesitant. Let us now help our brothers and sisters in Indonesia, Vietnam, and the American Samoa. I will post the international relief organizations here for said countries as soon as I can. Or if you have them, please forward them to me, too. God bless you, my precious, blogger friends, my brothers and sisters</em>.</em></span></div></em>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-36714142115549953812009-09-28T12:38:00.000-07:002009-10-02T21:00:55.295-07:00Thank you for helping us.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQMUhzWFW1aRcvzsYza__TDeNE-cE342DUWmw4ZhUbCAObJtGYmixeDCNRDfrI3cED68ZabTOEtiMULEbci8SQnJjqchLO99ZJRqE13fjS8KKyo3rGXeB850qUUDcLs5WAstEweXL/s1600-h/capt_22b974696af44299bb6c88c4de1e1d7e_philippines_flooding_gfx413.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 187px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 345px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386606641090238418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtQMUhzWFW1aRcvzsYza__TDeNE-cE342DUWmw4ZhUbCAObJtGYmixeDCNRDfrI3cED68ZabTOEtiMULEbci8SQnJjqchLO99ZJRqE13fjS8KKyo3rGXeB850qUUDcLs5WAstEweXL/s400/capt_22b974696af44299bb6c88c4de1e1d7e_philippines_flooding_gfx413.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">My dear friends, this is the map of my country, with the darkened areas severely affected by the Typhoon Ketsana over the weekend. 12 hours of rain (a month's worth), 20 feet of sweeping, muddy floodwaters in Marikina, Pasig, and Antipolo, and over 300 thousand lives displaced. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">This is an excerpt from the letter of my friend Melodie of Immateur Anthropologist, to me, and I forward it to you.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;">If anyone from abroad is planning to send donations in cash or in kind to any of the relief organizations in the Philippines, please be informed that at this point, the relief orgs prefer that assistance from abroad be sent in the form of cash/funds.<br />Help is needed ASAP and relief orgs do not have the time / personnel / resources right now to arrange for the release of any shipment of goods from customs. They need the funds to purchase food, medicines, drinking water, toiletries, blankets, mosquito nets, etc.</span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><br />Click </span></em><a style="LINE-HEIGHT: 1.22em; OUTLINE-STYLE: none; COLOR: rgb(30,102,174); TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://www.gmanews.tv/story/173288/update-list-of-verified-relief-centers-for-ondoy-victims" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">here</span></em></a><em><span style="font-size:130%;"> for an updated list of verified relief orgs. (More organizations are setting up their own operations.) Some of them do not accept cash donations of course as they are government agencies. But maybe you can send help through your relatives here. </span></em><br /><em><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></em><a style="LINE-HEIGHT: 1.22em; OUTLINE-STYLE: none; COLOR: rgb(30,102,174); TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://www.redcross.org.ph/Site/PNRC/wtd.aspx" rel="nofollow" target="_blank"><em><span style="font-size:130%;">Here</span></em></a><em><span style="font-size:130%;"> is the link to the Philippine National Red Cross.<br /><br /></span></em><em><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></em><span style="font-size:130%;">We thank you for helping us help our countrymen. Please contact any Filipino in your neighborhood, and see if their church accepts help by any means. Thank you so much.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;">(photo lifted from Yahoo Pictures)</span></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-78340877572713319742009-09-25T08:47:00.001-07:002009-09-25T16:52:46.136-07:00Litratong Pilipino: Palengke<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff6666;">The title literally means Philippine Photo/s: (the) Marketplace</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">Since the holidays are coming up, I'm taking the opportunity to showcase some of the products that are very much part of the Philippine tradition: the Christmas parols or Christmas lanterns. These are usually made of bamboo, crepe paper, and a candle inside (I don't know how it's done without burning the lantern). More sophisticated ones are made of shells from Capiz, a region in the Philippines known for its mother-of-pearl shells.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjumDanqHGtN-WgyqrIMS-exg-yp5xkHgZMTrsveY263acltBozI8O4hXn5Q-ZKnA-7V7ayUuSSShmcBZcxvJ0LybPkQzKey4vgmsM30pURr-7-JIwut2nv4pzO02HlDMG5EHhaDzGb/s1600-h/101697_f520.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 367px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385433231548813026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjumDanqHGtN-WgyqrIMS-exg-yp5xkHgZMTrsveY263acltBozI8O4hXn5Q-ZKnA-7V7ayUuSSShmcBZcxvJ0LybPkQzKey4vgmsM30pURr-7-JIwut2nv4pzO02HlDMG5EHhaDzGb/s400/101697_f520.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><em> Parol</em> comes from the Spanish word <em>farol</em>, which means lantern. Our intricate tradition owes much of its roots to 400 years of Spanish influence. Seldom will you see a Filipino household without at least one hanging parol by the window at Christmastime. It symbolizes the star that led the Three Wise Men to the manger where Jesus was born.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnWv-I1aYE6RQd_VBwsWUm0flcFlY7PzoXrC81Z2WFmaBDDvaPKieZ6mTxaHfi_LinUjkEdLAUTz3Fa76-r7s_gc1HzHLnAhNEzRzwXMYOJpnAhyphenhyphenoLZoYYldaZT7uOyPOEVgZJPuXr/s1600-h/119243_f496.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385432972753267954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnWv-I1aYE6RQd_VBwsWUm0flcFlY7PzoXrC81Z2WFmaBDDvaPKieZ6mTxaHfi_LinUjkEdLAUTz3Fa76-r7s_gc1HzHLnAhNEzRzwXMYOJpnAhyphenhyphenoLZoYYldaZT7uOyPOEVgZJPuXr/s400/119243_f496.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> This is an example of Capiz-shell-made Christmas parol, for export. You bet it is expensive. But go to the Philippines and even kids will make you export-quality ones! LOL!<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjil1w-lQfowFCMlE_uzm4BZ9KjgKvoCDVkNVqZg5ehyUf_o0KtOn3kOH4Xr7u4qVuldn18kpyigtKLrWjO4M-yBvIATxg90FKsPsTDuLt1L5AuqW1tZzkqbl2D-u75o2fbEdbyI9aU/s1600-h/135408_f496.jpg"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385432527284474114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjil1w-lQfowFCMlE_uzm4BZ9KjgKvoCDVkNVqZg5ehyUf_o0KtOn3kOH4Xr7u4qVuldn18kpyigtKLrWjO4M-yBvIATxg90FKsPsTDuLt1L5AuqW1tZzkqbl2D-u75o2fbEdbyI9aU/s400/135408_f496.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> The guitar shows the Philippine flag. That's all for now, folks. Hope you enjoyed this one!<br /><br /><em>(photo source: hubpages.com)<br /></em></span></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-52262280349379567172009-09-24T04:00:00.000-07:002009-09-25T16:44:02.081-07:00I swear<span style="font-size:130%;">Earlier today, Aris was running a fever, and had all the classic symptoms of a cold. That was all it had to take to set the stage.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I had done everything else from the medicines, the massage, the fixing and changing of the sheets. Even the tissues, small trash can just for him, the alcohol for his hands. And the remote. Everything except for one. He wanted to cuddle. I relented after he'd begged about three times. Locked in that firehot hold, I braced myself for the expected monologue. <em>"You don't want to come here because you think I have swine flu? Well, at least if I die, this is the last thing you'll</em> <em>remember."</em> I told him to can it. Did he? Oh no. <em>"And then, when I die, you're free to marry again. You know."</em> (Will you stop?) <em>"Is it time for my medicine yet? I've probably overdosed myself, maybe I will really die soon."</em> (Arrrghh! Eeeee! All this drama, I don't want to hear another word of it any more.)</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Of course he was teasing me, but he was so corny and I finally managed to bite his arm and run for my life.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">This house is full of it. Even the three year-old has the bug. When denied something he really likes at the moment, he goes<em> "Mom, look at me. I'm sad."</em> Eh?</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">And how so the first born? Last night, he showed me the letters he made for Santa. (Don't ask.) He wrote 4 letters, asking for 4 different items for each of us. I said, <em>"Well, remove the</em> <em>apostrophe in </em>like's<em>."</em> That was it. He threw into a fit because he said he used an inkpen, and erasing was hard. I said to rewrite, there was plenty of paper. Did he? No. He went to the room and wrote this:</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2k5-KcbjAewdkx0uk6NQm5ondAtG_3eq3kz4Tl_sUNmw0knlGcfrWxMI9r2VADJo7TJPxcCJR1WTazUwR-ftK0nm9EzUPkYuWqPYUH0uRXadyrjr9tZAzo-hvZsTp7MsjsvU73S7t/s1600-h/DSC04792.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384951942017027730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2k5-KcbjAewdkx0uk6NQm5ondAtG_3eq3kz4Tl_sUNmw0knlGcfrWxMI9r2VADJo7TJPxcCJR1WTazUwR-ftK0nm9EzUPkYuWqPYUH0uRXadyrjr9tZAzo-hvZsTp7MsjsvU73S7t/s400/DSC04792.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> and gave it to me. I said, <em>"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings Matthew but I just want you to write well. What would Santa</em> <em>say?"</em> It didn't work. He came back out with this:<br /></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCGZdUYagG6Yw34AB0pPfvdFgwaJJQpalEJRWnjDMdZHRnYr5EzZm02TZLR09-VaO9Md-ywC0a-wCZtjEvw4z-9-CXL3ZigDjkrRLg77Dh3nIoP4xXwvKjJPhwsaZ4SgvIoKK3oB1/s1600-h/DSC04801.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384951814771437730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixCGZdUYagG6Yw34AB0pPfvdFgwaJJQpalEJRWnjDMdZHRnYr5EzZm02TZLR09-VaO9Md-ywC0a-wCZtjEvw4z-9-CXL3ZigDjkrRLg77Dh3nIoP4xXwvKjJPhwsaZ4SgvIoKK3oB1/s400/DSC04801.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Man above! What's with the testosterone level in this house? So I said, <em>"Come here, let's talk."</em> He came out and I gave him a lecture on how a seven-year-old who is in the advanced classes should be careful with his letters. I said, a smart boy listens to his mom and does not get frustrated so quickly. Blah-blah-blah. I guess that did it. Eventually, he got 3 letters done. Except for one. He said, <em>"Mom, what does Dad want for Christmas?"</em> The Dad, of course, heard, and was on cue, <em>"If I live to see Christmas, son."<br /></em><br /></span><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jzo1vcOJlTyWa64JpOIbCh9E7_p8HyorMOC7wabwy1EuCMxFhHW3WtmJ87BUJ6v7_R8Na25LTYtJex0vJaI9YgW48bHjQXTfiL-AKYTZIXoSvwVagSHdemHtemy2a6VftaBBrz8H/s1600-h/DSC04799.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384949828668940178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4jzo1vcOJlTyWa64JpOIbCh9E7_p8HyorMOC7wabwy1EuCMxFhHW3WtmJ87BUJ6v7_R8Na25LTYtJex0vJaI9YgW48bHjQXTfiL-AKYTZIXoSvwVagSHdemHtemy2a6VftaBBrz8H/s400/DSC04799.JPG" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> Really. Only in this family. In the end, he got his letters sealed. I don't know what he asked the bearded man to give his dad. I hope the boy had sense enough to ask him for FORTITUDE for his mother to bear with more of this onslaught in the coming years.</span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div></div></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-49358207500936714502009-09-24T03:08:00.000-07:002009-09-24T00:08:57.995-07:00This Way Thurs-Way!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mF7mf75JGO1wp_5SRXY3xImAtreQrRVMN57eAy3YFCAJOmIGxcxc9SpG3O2XB-d6ExEEUOoXQSC_Ik80Ogl2GLv5kgtsESBfCskgEPs-fssZzIRFwPqNr0AoRUuCPq7JP22f4Eqp/s1600-h/DSC04409.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383258353580847890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mF7mf75JGO1wp_5SRXY3xImAtreQrRVMN57eAy3YFCAJOmIGxcxc9SpG3O2XB-d6ExEEUOoXQSC_Ik80Ogl2GLv5kgtsESBfCskgEPs-fssZzIRFwPqNr0AoRUuCPq7JP22f4Eqp/s400/DSC04409.JPG" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> I think we were on our way to Williamsburg, VA when I spotted this. I don't know what that means, really. Please enlighten me.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Thanks!</span> </div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-69254506052424221782009-09-23T09:14:00.000-07:002009-09-23T09:21:54.116-07:00Wordless Wednesday - If Women Controlled the World<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIfvoK1zHT1XoUT2ISkgq_9Yn7Mhh2JoilOHTMN8rXtDy1E8-a70J-dSJOwdnoyz0zmDLuvyHykq1I8-9YMk9W42KAeAhQkrZrzjNMO379b9yslbtGlFoiOjp2oFz6xDHs6myM98l/s1600-h/ATT00007%5B1%5D+(2).jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384698368429561058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzIfvoK1zHT1XoUT2ISkgq_9Yn7Mhh2JoilOHTMN8rXtDy1E8-a70J-dSJOwdnoyz0zmDLuvyHykq1I8-9YMk9W42KAeAhQkrZrzjNMO379b9yslbtGlFoiOjp2oFz6xDHs6myM98l/s400/ATT00007%5B1%5D+(2).jpg" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5jQP50iBfFvj3fIHpcSo6O2fOlsR46e_qbGKsFHE_1uxsIPJpBi5TbO2gIIBFKryY46ml1u0wXbhsnrHa_JI2jmtpZOJtg0aEMEMtwKzzsWE7xslpYnnFbgwqf_ma_AXCgNkl_8i/s1600-h/ATT00005%5B1%5D+(2).jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 390px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 344px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384697906295991490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5jQP50iBfFvj3fIHpcSo6O2fOlsR46e_qbGKsFHE_1uxsIPJpBi5TbO2gIIBFKryY46ml1u0wXbhsnrHa_JI2jmtpZOJtg0aEMEMtwKzzsWE7xslpYnnFbgwqf_ma_AXCgNkl_8i/s400/ATT00005%5B1%5D+(2).jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">These images were emailed to me by another friend. Aren't they funny?</span></div></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-32954237591638261192009-09-22T01:02:00.000-07:002009-09-22T06:38:26.195-07:00Random Tuesday Thoughts<span style="font-size:130%;">Well. </span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Fall has fallen. It is 4:15 in the morning, Sept. 22nd. My son wants snow TODAY but I said we live in North Carolina, where it hardly ever snows even in the deadest of winters.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I am very sleepy. But I am at work. The floor is quiet, thank God. Some nights are just glorious. (But I prayed really hard for this from the HOUSE, not just from the CAR, on the way here.) Answered prayer, thank You, Jesus!!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Yesterday, my neighbor knocked on my door with a plateful of tamales. Now I DID not have the slightest idea what it was, but tasted one. Very flavorful. I brought some to work last night, and Zulma (remember Zulma of the Picadillo post?) said she could guess my neighbor was from El Salvador because the food was wrapped in banana leaves. She also said it was a killer. That means very good. She said nobody makes tamales better than her mom and that the one I brought last night was cooked well. I heated mine up quickly and ate it hot. With my hot cup of cocoa. Sumptuous. (Don't know what tamales is? I had to google it myself - it's made of corn husk, pork or chicken, and an assortment of vegetables. The meat and vegetables are inside the soft, flour-y mixture. Go figure.) But now I have to make it up to Senora Carolina and dream up some dish to return the favor. Ai-ai-ai, gotta brush up on my Spanish!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I am presently reading Sakharov Speaks. Sometimes.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I want to eat some PILI. Not the candy. The pulp. And dip 'em in soy sauce with pepper and a dash of lemon.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm wondering how long it takes to carve a pumpkin because Matthew wants us to do one.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">That's the end of my random thoughts.</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">***</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><span style="font-size:130%;">Good morning ~ hope this one is bright and sunny!</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-36177948538359438812009-09-21T00:00:00.000-07:002009-09-21T01:49:47.930-07:00Macro Monday Entry<span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iGElH3Y9DQ_0_MV8_PHZSMhEMa7tdXo9Z9sXeXVgeEkXFH2Z9cCzaFGCxfoFFe6iseI6FFONtYFycsFHCTPR8UR9_1f6d2MJl4BRXVZb1PX7tnkEL17DWC-EawBgX1zenRSSX3Xw/s1600-h/DSC04743.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383265516817021554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8iGElH3Y9DQ_0_MV8_PHZSMhEMa7tdXo9Z9sXeXVgeEkXFH2Z9cCzaFGCxfoFFe6iseI6FFONtYFycsFHCTPR8UR9_1f6d2MJl4BRXVZb1PX7tnkEL17DWC-EawBgX1zenRSSX3Xw/s400/DSC04743.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxyV7JDtCloXxsD4Bxzyjs3ch5RDU8GRnC0RbSNxPq7jAcUsG3hv97srJQJ4OVrYjSuWzdJuO_7C01OU4q6-ihnqvaHx4C_duW_BZSkX_DwQZyKDOlfpXk8St4hNJZSZAgExyz-aVA/s1600-h/DSC04742.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383261811248579890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxyV7JDtCloXxsD4Bxzyjs3ch5RDU8GRnC0RbSNxPq7jAcUsG3hv97srJQJ4OVrYjSuWzdJuO_7C01OU4q6-ihnqvaHx4C_duW_BZSkX_DwQZyKDOlfpXk8St4hNJZSZAgExyz-aVA/s400/DSC04742.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">We were at Farmer's Market a week ago, and had fun snapping pictures! The owners of these pumpkins had them in all sizes! Happy Fall!<br /></span><br /><div></div></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6989048359518980006.post-19961970052199428622009-09-20T12:15:00.000-07:002009-09-20T12:21:33.794-07:00Sunday Stills - The Purple Color<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhZrd2X2detqunm9DUDoTdEvroVDpw6Sj_s9CaC5QkXBFi7myuYhBwQGXfR64dTqqwhm7YEhI4ZkdhOMmydF4WX9Y1BikeUOcdnxGLkuB-9Jnx4UaDw_xeuUIVYhk3-ip-xHz2REP/s1600-h/DSC04774.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383631275016025650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQhZrd2X2detqunm9DUDoTdEvroVDpw6Sj_s9CaC5QkXBFi7myuYhBwQGXfR64dTqqwhm7YEhI4ZkdhOMmydF4WX9Y1BikeUOcdnxGLkuB-9Jnx4UaDw_xeuUIVYhk3-ip-xHz2REP/s400/DSC04774.JPG" /></a><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJnACE8p8tboRz3LlcdjB0i8CM0T-khWKoZlgO0imSRgU9gEGPJ_jvIVuTpww6-gj7klXJC6KRLYBHlq-ZrR3OHlbIabBBlACZQu-IqvnG6wHZ1uYUsNmEkpxauaRRSIVyIVtwWEIE/s1600-h/DSC04775.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383630873764370482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJnACE8p8tboRz3LlcdjB0i8CM0T-khWKoZlgO0imSRgU9gEGPJ_jvIVuTpww6-gj7klXJC6KRLYBHlq-ZrR3OHlbIabBBlACZQu-IqvnG6wHZ1uYUsNmEkpxauaRRSIVyIVtwWEIE/s400/DSC04775.JPG" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Halloween is in the air, I guess. Can you tell?<br /></span><div></div></div>cheriehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00298789006491189094noreply@blogger.com19