tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44295088218649235782024-02-11T15:44:13.434-08:00Eric's pondering and musings from Brooklyn, Boston, and wherever life takes me. Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.comBlogger196125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-85572977564751138552023-06-15T18:47:00.000-07:002023-06-15T18:47:11.101-07:00Beating Cancer and Battling Anxiety<p>Just a few weeks ago, I got my first "good" scan calling my body all clear from the melanoma I've been battling for 14 months. We paused treatment a few months prior after my intestines decided they couldn't take it any more. Then the clear scan meant that we can stop treatment as long as the rest of my scans stay clear. <br /><br />I'm feeling like a million bucks. I forgot what it was like to only need 8 hours of sleep most nights, to have my stomach not ache and my GI tract be almost regular. My memory and recall are coming back too after what seemed like forever of not remembering names, projects, and simple things. </p><p>I've been toasted, taken out to dinner, and sent the most charming notes. I'm ecstatic, really, I am. This is such welcome news after the ups and downs of my treatment. </p><p>I'm going to the gym again, starting to train for a half marathon again, eating better, and learning more about healthy breathing. I set most of this aside during treatment to just get through it all. </p><p>However, once you've had this diagnosis, you know that the fear continues. The chances of recurrence for this and all cancers are quite high. Even if the chances of the cancer coming back were not significant, I'd still be scared, reticent, reluctant to fully celebrate. </p><p>I'm not alone in this. A coworker who beat testicular cancer twice said he has just, after 7 years of clear scans, FULLY started to live his life again. Another amazing lady who beat brain cancer said it's been 12 years since she had her first clear scan and any odd headache still scares her. </p><p>My brilliant and powerful sister recently feted her 2 year anniversary of clear scans, yet any unusual pain in her mid-section has her afraid that the monster has returned to feed again. </p><p>My friend Michael lost his battle this year and so did my friend Teale. Another co-worker has been told her cancer is incurable and must just be held at bay. </p><p>With that in mind, PLEASE celebrate with me. Hug your loved ones and live life to the fullest too, because every day is a gift. </p><p>Also, please understand that the fear, anxiety, and uncertainty are still very fresh in my mind daily. Based on all of my conversations with other survivors, those feelings just like those of grief NEVER fully go away. Said feelings just come less often and become less debilitating over time. So as I grieve the loss of my Teale and my Michael, I also hold my head high in spite of those feelings because they aren't here to do the same. <br /><br /><br /></p><p><br /></p>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-72751135594925256432022-12-05T18:47:00.004-08:002022-12-05T19:01:12.606-08:00Tears and Being Extra<p>It's crazy what makes you cry after you've had cancer. And what makes you laugh. And the changes you make in your life. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPRINUFCzlMbY0Jdh-hZ76k7ROroSusUx-9GzjISu3PZM2qMlYlB7urwGy19pb5a4dy3SNEw1wkcMji1PPiIkmwjcvNLQHy_vqP8jdqk2p_udIi2KCYkXd3jEWodQsFGTBdKNmdR11GJnFejCTL-60vgGrsVQWsncomfyONDhBnEQj7BTQLLkWuXHK/s3088/69188014645__F18F5A24-D2EE-43D9-B2A9-ECAFDE3FBACA.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamUkKpYhw5bKXpbRq_e0ZV8SBYMcuc-JwHRSq1DqrFc8J-n0RnVJy-p9ZMYyYVDfsUMqCOv1YGXOSU63VMfbMB0rGOGl9kwfpjGjOXqvxrbYyWpYqP7vSpU_bv02TrXybjZO7sz9gVOYOuX6NdYjIEn6YZ77cajZQVe_q_rsKOMTu412iCBsPLZZ5/s5184/IMG_2578.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiamUkKpYhw5bKXpbRq_e0ZV8SBYMcuc-JwHRSq1DqrFc8J-n0RnVJy-p9ZMYyYVDfsUMqCOv1YGXOSU63VMfbMB0rGOGl9kwfpjGjOXqvxrbYyWpYqP7vSpU_bv02TrXybjZO7sz9gVOYOuX6NdYjIEn6YZ77cajZQVe_q_rsKOMTu412iCBsPLZZ5/s320/IMG_2578.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />When I was first diagnosed, just hearing the word cancer made me burst into tears. My poor friends would be at a concert with me and the performer would mention beating cancer.....queue the waterfalls. Then any story of someone dying from cancer, especially got me crying. It still does. <p></p><p>Now, 10 months into treatment, references to the future trigger mini-panic attacks. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOirsrzx4JeWZ3yfnLAUdcC7tyEYx6eQ44RQK2pACyhWR3VVQ5ncFjaCyQ3SafvUxQI9RX9_Ct0LabNKmsDLtHv55p6wiGAWNG5iyw-K3_Lg79TRPsvS6ql3DtK-KqMngA1z0dd5FpW0feSqACilDwZIbp84XL_pcaslTC1q_OdELtrsadV7QaaPW/s5184/IMG_2575.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5184" data-original-width="3456" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkOirsrzx4JeWZ3yfnLAUdcC7tyEYx6eQ44RQK2pACyhWR3VVQ5ncFjaCyQ3SafvUxQI9RX9_Ct0LabNKmsDLtHv55p6wiGAWNG5iyw-K3_Lg79TRPsvS6ql3DtK-KqMngA1z0dd5FpW0feSqACilDwZIbp84XL_pcaslTC1q_OdELtrsadV7QaaPW/s320/IMG_2575.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><p><br /><br />My mom (pictured at a holiday light show we visited in Maine) said to me, "Eric, you seem like the happiest you've been in years." My friends also keep telling me I look great and I'm doing so much. </p><p>Because I'm scared I won't be able to fit it all in before life's over for me. I don't want to miss a chance to sing again, to dance, to laugh, to camp, to make art, to skinny dip in a lake, to hug friends, to travel, to get drunk and tip a stripper too much, and so many other things. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wq1XQRUE777M8q5rygQO19Oa5Bz7-HgAe9ekjErIDsEsSxiozcTUa-R6Xxeb1oXXl3XmgSwex4y2ZVGwtVLLKJ16zLN2q3bxWHOH8Kl5oJVbqch7wZ9CKNIJF_f8aY5ka59qFozdoP2g-z9jCqoeHgpoGdq1lEpSZZ0VLhAXEVFXXHKm-x_XJ-O9/s1773/5228EAA8-4281-456D-A811-B7E76E45E1B0%20(1).JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1773" data-original-width="1440" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3wq1XQRUE777M8q5rygQO19Oa5Bz7-HgAe9ekjErIDsEsSxiozcTUa-R6Xxeb1oXXl3XmgSwex4y2ZVGwtVLLKJ16zLN2q3bxWHOH8Kl5oJVbqch7wZ9CKNIJF_f8aY5ka59qFozdoP2g-z9jCqoeHgpoGdq1lEpSZZ0VLhAXEVFXXHKm-x_XJ-O9/w205-h252/5228EAA8-4281-456D-A811-B7E76E45E1B0%20(1).JPG" width="205" /></a></div>Saturday, I spent my entire day filling my apartment with Christmas decorations......and I mean more than one person should probably put up in a one bedroom apartment. My tree takes up 30 percent of my living room and I've put up two smaller artificial trees in my bedroom and bathroom. Yup - a tree in my bathroom. <br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAQ4-HKi2ldcOFLE6BQLzho55f0NnoOcMir_Is5Ng6HvkKV-sbBrgyUZ2wQdEGoINEfFgy66Fr59Qlgjq3A5IhNknbcZhKN5yWHf8QAdsWvveGltup4RUK_g0lZLNZeX_rZ7G1vp8jSvG3Km6gyuH0q9EmbCUSHJ0NWqDm9b11Yj1WOKxTnLSgTID/s2048/IMG_8526.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOAQ4-HKi2ldcOFLE6BQLzho55f0NnoOcMir_Is5Ng6HvkKV-sbBrgyUZ2wQdEGoINEfFgy66Fr59Qlgjq3A5IhNknbcZhKN5yWHf8QAdsWvveGltup4RUK_g0lZLNZeX_rZ7G1vp8jSvG3Km6gyuH0q9EmbCUSHJ0NWqDm9b11Yj1WOKxTnLSgTID/s320/IMG_8526.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Sunday, December 4, I performed a holiday concert with the <a href="http://www.bgmc.org" target="_blank">Boston Gay Men's Chorus</a>. Two of the songs talk about making it through the next year. I've practiced them for months, but trying to sing it in front of my friends in the audience made me break down. I kept singing even though my voice kept cracking, tears were streaming, and my nose was running. <br /><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqErqRcr8ZR5ILCSa-fsowVx-lz-IMVzhmHUKYvJ_yMtS3ohmjS1rcjy4DWxFiFCxOz1NtodHtewVgt_n717fGNDRvbPmaQqjYKdXY71t2NC1Qim_PEiFwemgn3vwSz8bSoT5nUk-1H43YGu4ik2gkotNesM71dELnMZNvXCIl6v7_a3_5VPjAyhI/s3088/68902469073__96DB2A87-4414-4F0F-A1C8-816E9D7530FC%20(1).jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqErqRcr8ZR5ILCSa-fsowVx-lz-IMVzhmHUKYvJ_yMtS3ohmjS1rcjy4DWxFiFCxOz1NtodHtewVgt_n717fGNDRvbPmaQqjYKdXY71t2NC1Qim_PEiFwemgn3vwSz8bSoT5nUk-1H43YGu4ik2gkotNesM71dELnMZNvXCIl6v7_a3_5VPjAyhI/s320/68902469073__96DB2A87-4414-4F0F-A1C8-816E9D7530FC%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I've also been dressing a bit more crazy than most people can accept. I've been asked if I "love costumes" or have a "holiday party to go to later" since I'm dressing in all my holiday glory every day. <p></p><p><br /></p><p>I wore a halloween costume to treatment in November and made people laugh. My joke of the day was that it wasn't real fur. <br /> </p><p>I'm also trying to fit in more of my life into many less hours a day. Treatment makes me exhausted and I sleep 10-12 hours a night when I used to survive on 6-7. So if I'm crafting, dancing, rehearsing, or doing a live cooking demo, then I'm choosing to do that because I want to. There is no down time right now that I don't want to fill with goodness and things I enjoy doing. </p><p>I'm not going to let anyone rain on my parade....not now......hopefully not ever again. I'm going to be as Eric as I want to be. Try and stop me and I'll probably just make moves to spend a lot less time to you, if not cut you out of my life entirely. I'm me. I love me. If you don't like it, then find someone else to judge and smother. I'm doing all of me...maybe even more than I ever have in case I won't be able to any more next year. And I'm liking it. It's bringing me happiness that counteracts the days when I won't come out from under the covers and worry about the future. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUks4_8P3ARreKA82j6KDRed9KZdmgSKC9EudSsHOlTfgo9E8qLXq3UJi_Y6GFKM32RMOlXraQHG9_d6do9BcPPRO-_IYzSdQxUwUzBx-lutlqUp4mFfe3igaWdc8eJLGuAiTGmbJpxTttrdYcEr9gdlJHX4ZbP7OeD9qRSzOX3iHeg_LwwIfFFBxO/s3088/IMG_8447%20(1).jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUks4_8P3ARreKA82j6KDRed9KZdmgSKC9EudSsHOlTfgo9E8qLXq3UJi_Y6GFKM32RMOlXraQHG9_d6do9BcPPRO-_IYzSdQxUwUzBx-lutlqUp4mFfe3igaWdc8eJLGuAiTGmbJpxTttrdYcEr9gdlJHX4ZbP7OeD9qRSzOX3iHeg_LwwIfFFBxO/s320/IMG_8447%20(1).jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>My advice....do you. Don't let anyone else tell you not to. If they ask if you like costumes, try my response, "What this old thing? It's my everyday wear." or "It's always fun to sparkle." or "If it makes me smile, then others might smile too." Or just laugh maniacally and walk away. </p><p><br /></p>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-22709016597279989372022-10-10T16:55:00.004-07:002023-01-10T09:49:19.422-08:00Being an online fundraising Rockstar! <p><span style="font-family: times;">I've been fortunate to find a career that I love as a professional fundraiser. Currently, I manage the Donor Relations department at Brandeis University. This falls within the larger Institutional Advancement or Fundraising division for the university. Donor Relations is the thanking and reporting side of fundraising, which is a lot of fun. Leading up to this, I've spent the previous 20 years as a front-line fundraiser working in annual giving, planned giving, major gifts, and alumni relations. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">In my spare time, I love cooking, photography, crafting, running, and so much more. However, once a year, I use my fundraising experience to raise money for a charity that is very close to my heart, Special Olympics. I've been fortunate to tap into my friends, family and the community to raise over $20,000 online over the past 14 years from for this charity. Pictured below is my merman costume from last year's Polar Plunge for Special Olympics in Lake Ontario. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TODIfMuDmCLT7qpGvs8H5FwTCnUn2JmG577S7R5sSYCl98bxd5adxLqnS81HXgURPfA7FaGvCFRvCNwztpTqYwltLMMibJR1hgGN2w6GFaPgYNI2sczsz7YkETbYp8LtNMyEZKdT5yO2DuuSgUKqXnWJxCnqI0tblj4CYZK8Ri2egau7IBaNBoFY/s5184/IMG_0013.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: times;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0TODIfMuDmCLT7qpGvs8H5FwTCnUn2JmG577S7R5sSYCl98bxd5adxLqnS81HXgURPfA7FaGvCFRvCNwztpTqYwltLMMibJR1hgGN2w6GFaPgYNI2sczsz7YkETbYp8LtNMyEZKdT5yO2DuuSgUKqXnWJxCnqI0tblj4CYZK8Ri2egau7IBaNBoFY/s320/IMG_0013.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br />I want to share with you what has worked for me in fundraising so you too can have fun and raise money too for your favorite charity online. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;">REMEMBER - your friends and family only have so much money, so pick one or two charity fundraisers a year and stick to them if you want to make the greatest impact. If you ask your friends every month, they will start to experience "donor fatigue" from you and will ignore all of your requests. </span></p><div style="background-color: white; color: #1d2129; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div style="direction: ltr;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div></div><div style="background-color: white;"><div style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;">If your charity has an annual event or fundraising giving day, that's the easiest way to join and raise money without building your own fundraising page. </span></div><div style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;">If that isn't the case, I recommend reaching out to the charity itself to see if they can set up a special fund for you or code so people donate directly on their website to your favorite fund or at least give you a separate web address (URL) to count your money only. Sometimes they have the ability to set up a separate code or page as well through their giving platform (usually called crowd funding). </span></div><div style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br />When I raise money for a charity outside of my day job, here is what I do using mostly social media:</span></div><div style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="white-space: normal;"><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">1.) Set up a webpage (blogspot or <a href="https://wordpress.com/">wordpress </a>are free) that tells your story</span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">2.) Figure out how to collect money through their website and set up paypal and the cash ap or venmo to collect money for those who give it to you and don't care about the deduction. <b>Many charities are linked to facebook so you can just click the "make a facebook fundraiser" and it's done for you. Love this when it works. </b></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">3.) Prepare yourself to use facebook, instagram, tiktok, Linkedin, and any social media you have. You should learn (google it if you don't know) how to add your give link to both posts and your "home" page. </span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">4.) Film a short video (use your phone, don't get fancy) with a compelling story as to what this fundraiser would do for you and for others (cell phones are amazing now and there are free apps for simple editing). Remember to have fun with it. Then it gets views, comments, and shares which help you raise even more money. </span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9bSSCEqFB_CXmdxvVQQpSJ5pUCL3-rFVwsDkxKXvuSWCVcg7j8HADSqctTJGMxDY9pzslW6XOwCPv9Wc0iXKLYQ1rHqmtwKIo2jBdt2N9C7maIkReOSP81aMWI05bTCOdpZmUQVF9_L9lIBBFslX3IZG7-2a8DG588y2vi0fKPVZOIolBNlyBlUz/s4032/IMG_7612.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi9bSSCEqFB_CXmdxvVQQpSJ5pUCL3-rFVwsDkxKXvuSWCVcg7j8HADSqctTJGMxDY9pzslW6XOwCPv9Wc0iXKLYQ1rHqmtwKIo2jBdt2N9C7maIkReOSP81aMWI05bTCOdpZmUQVF9_L9lIBBFslX3IZG7-2a8DG588y2vi0fKPVZOIolBNlyBlUz/s320/IMG_7612.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">5.) Make sure before you publish the "ask" that you have a few people in advance that will give you some money. Folks like to give to things that others are giving to support and are successful. Line a few up before you go "live." </span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">6.) Write out a story about the why. Make sure to include the words I and you (unlike formal writing these words are important for fundraising). The you words (or your) should be twice as numerous as the I words. You can make a difference. You can help me. Your support will ..... Your financial contribution will offset the costs for us to.....or clients to....</span></div><h2 style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #6aa84f;">Remember to make it personal. People give to people and stories about people. Tug the heart strings. </span></i></h2><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">7.) Make a list of 12 people (or more, but I think anyone can do 12) that you will reach out to personally. Call them. Tell them you are raising money for this and that you would like them to support you. Ask them if you can email a link. Ask until they say no. If they say they want to think about it, tell them, you'll call back in a week to check in and do it. Unless they say no, you can still get the money. </span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">8.) If you are really creative and a friend has the money, ask one of your friends if they will match any gift dollar for dollar up to a certain amount. If this happens, save this match for day two or three of your fundraising.</span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><br /></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">9.) Set a finite period for fundraising. I would not let it go past two weeks. If you don't make the money, you can start again in six months.</span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u-d60wWQKSFX1knT7wYWQguN32ECTvZxPVdP-T-xgKgS3OpUqcvrdF0rFjg_OSs_5Iw9jN0uLN-CVvV3F9wv1a1M3ybMSZ0snuKEvTI_hnjs_jvHP5A0x-0rCoKVpehtTvRW1xS7cw7ZYhhOksBAhey8-ZbO6-iZWGaEy0j2FaYv8Qx6q-DysFKP/s2016/IMG_7613.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0u-d60wWQKSFX1knT7wYWQguN32ECTvZxPVdP-T-xgKgS3OpUqcvrdF0rFjg_OSs_5Iw9jN0uLN-CVvV3F9wv1a1M3ybMSZ0snuKEvTI_hnjs_jvHP5A0x-0rCoKVpehtTvRW1xS7cw7ZYhhOksBAhey8-ZbO6-iZWGaEy0j2FaYv8Qx6q-DysFKP/s320/IMG_7613.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">10.) Share the link on your social media, text it out, facebook message it, etc, WITH images of you and or people you support. People like to see faces. Faces earn money.</span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">11.) Update people as you make money. Tag them in your thanks on facebook, "Thanks to @eric shoen for making my dream of helping folks INSERT WHAT THE DONATION HELPS DO with their donation. INSERT GIVE LINK. This makes it show up on other people's feeds without you posting over and over and asking over and over. Encourage those friends to donate AND share, like, and/or comment. This also helps with the placement on social media because of the algorithm. I also post a funny gif about that person as a thanks in a comment below the thank you. You can search words like thanks, yeehaw, woohoo, that's awesome, good onya, etc in the add gif on facebook. If the friend loves star wars, for example, I usually put up a dancing ewok. Sometimes I just put dancing or smiling animals including puppies or kittens. </span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><br /></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">12.) Thank people with personal emails, texts, or messages. Thank them at least twice (phone, text, postcard, or something) in addition to thanking them publicly once on social media (unless they want to remain anonymous).</span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTbOK-owlY8ZEXcFOQ5AV_Z880DD2AIINNVYFJCUvuKJRUMy4XGXyE-bxv-s56Lx-lzX1pLKkOdsj3y40KylB4YW5z-2qEDq4acqJPYFbzOfIfVqehmrjf7UpatVuNcvy3pteWhf9BzbtT9sUjzKFW0UTP0wKO5AtlrJ2_iXg12qzrn4_Bz7lfNDM/s2016/IMG_7615.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZTbOK-owlY8ZEXcFOQ5AV_Z880DD2AIINNVYFJCUvuKJRUMy4XGXyE-bxv-s56Lx-lzX1pLKkOdsj3y40KylB4YW5z-2qEDq4acqJPYFbzOfIfVqehmrjf7UpatVuNcvy3pteWhf9BzbtT9sUjzKFW0UTP0wKO5AtlrJ2_iXg12qzrn4_Bz7lfNDM/s320/IMG_7615.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">13.) Consider offering perks for any donor over $100, like a postcard from a client or one digital print emailed to them. You can be creative here. Don't go overboard though. Think things that are free or cost only a dollar or two. I use a photo from my event each year and buy enough postcards to send one to each donor. I just print the front and back with an update and some thank you text using vistaprint (but you can use any online company). I use labels, but hand sign and write a hand postscript on each one. </span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: times;">14.) Don't be afraid to send out letters or written notes to people asking for money too. If you included a stamped envelope inside, they will feel guilty and be more likely to give. </span></div></div><div style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #1d2129; direction: ltr; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;">I hope this helps. There are reasons why fundraising departments have 30 people working on individual fundraising and only one corporation and foundation person. Corporate sponsors take a lot more time and energy because the return on investment just isn't there. Sometimes you get lucky though by asking companies for support, however, you will have more luck doing personal fundraising.</span></span></div><div style="color: #1d2129; direction: ltr; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #222222; white-space: normal;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="direction: ltr;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: times;">FINAL POINT TO HELP YOU STAY ON TRACK: </span></div><h2 style="text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="color: #6aa84f; font-family: times;"><b><i>The most successful fundraising is asking face to face. Second most successful is asking over the phone, third is personal email or hand written note. Fourth is blanket email, post, or letter and social media. </i></b></span></h2><div>Feel free to share this post with anyone you know who is doing social media fundraising personally. I'm also happy to consult with anyone who wants some fundraising advice or consulting for their own charity. </div></div>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-32427922492052642962022-10-05T12:38:00.002-07:002022-10-05T12:46:03.997-07:00Lunch is so damn expensive....now what? <p>I don't know about you, but inflation pricing is scaring me. I still remember going out to lunch on $5-$10 for a sandwich, drink, and chips. I've found that now I can't eat at even one of the usual fast food places for less than $20. So I need to get better at packing my lunch. Most of these things can be eaten at room temperature which is also a plus if you don't have access to a microwave for lunch. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrVnmsqtB41X-CLO5IW23EsHwwBBYOBkApcLnsXYlHleBr94eJ2osMIvFejtm-SOEm4a18PXXi2VlUdNDGCdq0srWbMPCU3hoVBb593HB-WqKwFu_YJ3Rqd2Bk0adPbumguJ-GZKXue5Lj5nSKdJ7QIAl6WxI3jneUPHrRuhYaC43caKqQmx_DBRt/s640/IMG_7504.PNG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQrVnmsqtB41X-CLO5IW23EsHwwBBYOBkApcLnsXYlHleBr94eJ2osMIvFejtm-SOEm4a18PXXi2VlUdNDGCdq0srWbMPCU3hoVBb593HB-WqKwFu_YJ3Rqd2Bk0adPbumguJ-GZKXue5Lj5nSKdJ7QIAl6WxI3jneUPHrRuhYaC43caKqQmx_DBRt/s320/IMG_7504.PNG" width="180" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Here are some of my new favorites: </p><div><br /></div><div>1. Bento Boxes (adult lunchables):</div><div>You can look up bento boxes on amazon, and they <a href="https://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen/shop/Kitchen+Tools/Storage/Bento+Lunch+Box/100745">sell them at pampered chef </a></div><div><br /></div><div>Each box should have five things (at least that's my style). You probably want to include 1. fruit or veggies, 2. cheese, 3. nuts, 4. meat, and 5. some type of bread cracker or pretzel. I also like to add something sweet like a cookie, granola bar, muffin, etc. </div><div><br /></div><div>Here are things I like to eat in my "bento box" lunches:</div><div><a href="https://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen/recipe/Appetizers+%26+Snacks/Deluxe+Cooking+Blender/Homemade+Hummus/1552474">Hummus</a></div><div>Mini Carrots</div><div>Peanut Butter</div><div>Nuts - peanuts, almonds, cashews, pistachios </div><div>Raisins</div><div>Craisins</div><div>Sliced Cheese (sharp cheddar, pepper jack, gouda, dill havarti, etc)</div><div>Grapes, apple slices, orange slices, Pitted Cherries, Peach slices, etc.</div><div>Spinach (salt and pepper, lemon juice, or a bit of extra virgin olive oil)</div><div>Pepperoni</div><div>Grilled Chicken pieces</div><div>Deli meat</div><div>Crackers </div><div>Pretzels</div><div>Broccoli and Dip</div><div>Avocado</div><div>Chips or corn chips</div><div>Tuna or Chicken salad - goes nice on crackers. </div><div>Melon</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNsLZGobi-ugBmvOw6FFReIsXU-HqeB1JQZRL633vJlVuxuXFnNH81imGEei5jXTADhdmBGNQsSy4WXIesFpdL6YcPHBoTbKaatrKiDA1nS8MjldfULC_bKWwUn98EoqAi7utRtmQLECUihaLKKxoBcA3ho5DSVRgD20dXjtq1-U1sK4-IwJgxjFF/s960/70324529_1134351170087364_3233543227751530496_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitNsLZGobi-ugBmvOw6FFReIsXU-HqeB1JQZRL633vJlVuxuXFnNH81imGEei5jXTADhdmBGNQsSy4WXIesFpdL6YcPHBoTbKaatrKiDA1nS8MjldfULC_bKWwUn98EoqAi7utRtmQLECUihaLKKxoBcA3ho5DSVRgD20dXjtq1-U1sK4-IwJgxjFF/s320/70324529_1134351170087364_3233543227751530496_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>2. Stir-Fried, Grilled, <br />or baked chicken (or turkey breast that I sometimes see) - flavor with spices (<a href="https://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen/shop/Pantry/Seasonings/Seasoning+Salt/100381">love this seasoning salt for mine</a>) </div><div>Add to salad</div><div>Add to pasta that you will eat cold (like pasta salad)</div><div>Chicken Salad Sandwich</div><div>Add bbq sauce which is not as volatile as mayo. </div><div>For a unique treat, I also sometimes mash up banana with mine. I've also made it with salsa or guac instead of mayo. </div><div><br /></div><div>3. Sandwiches or wraps or pita pockets - The better the ingredients, the better they are. I find that I like to keep the parts separate and put them together just before I eat. It makes it seem fresher (using my bento box or little jars to keep them separate. <a href="https://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen/shop/Kitchen+Tools/Sets/Reusable+Storage+Bag+Set/100486">I also love my reusable ziplock bags. </a></div><div>Bacon</div><div>Avocado</div><div>Salsa</div><div>Good bread</div><div>Fun cheeses - pepper jack, provolone, dill havarti, gouda</div><div>Good meat like grilled chicken, real turkey, meat loaf. pot roast, etc. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdNDZ59UDxp_Oxj8qStWqnv9-SWDu2n7-m9ADme2dk5MJ6UtmT0OenHV9N_K33SVyFO0BlO8j_pw1m9iW2C40dR0qU25SfyisCYqlhTxTgqrviihafeaHAsLJRvv3SFh99VVnuU3wT9-6D1Xo77SEl-TeclmUBAvZ8RMUNv8j7z1l2i2GRK3jgWFL/s640/IMG_7506.PNG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRdNDZ59UDxp_Oxj8qStWqnv9-SWDu2n7-m9ADme2dk5MJ6UtmT0OenHV9N_K33SVyFO0BlO8j_pw1m9iW2C40dR0qU25SfyisCYqlhTxTgqrviihafeaHAsLJRvv3SFh99VVnuU3wT9-6D1Xo77SEl-TeclmUBAvZ8RMUNv8j7z1l2i2GRK3jgWFL/s320/IMG_7506.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>I find that pesto, pepper jelly and guac add some zing. Bbq sauce, honey mustard, etc. without me<br /><br /> worrying about salmonella. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I like to do is find sandwiches I love at a fancy restaurant or deli and make my own version. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>4. Sushi - veggie or cooked shrimp. I sometimes pick up sushi and maybe would learn to make it. </div><div><br /></div><div>5. Salads - This can be just about anything. I like five bean. Pasta salad, potato salad, etc. The key is that green salads might get soggy. So I keep soggy things separate from the greens and other veggies. Then I put it together when I'm about to eat. The key for me to not be hungry soon after is to make sure you have protein with it. So potato salad needs a side of grilled chicken or something. Make sure that stuff with mayo stays cold. I prefer salads that have vinegar or oil based dressings. Green goddess dressing is fun too. </div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdIqnT2iQH3tO_Y71VAa4hb7TCRIKQAb40i9Rv6EqleLc42txshLqvYcfJxF6RDmcAPZhsMKXmJjn_MUGa_HVsnHUszKPH_75JOUMHUlaHLOdyAEa5eXCFnXuQZQ7v8bf61t4hmTETuxuXTWLBrxOey4YXAPdxKoGpXFwXjmrhxDzQIQj8Hoi9aRu/s640/IMG_7505.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqdIqnT2iQH3tO_Y71VAa4hb7TCRIKQAb40i9Rv6EqleLc42txshLqvYcfJxF6RDmcAPZhsMKXmJjn_MUGa_HVsnHUszKPH_75JOUMHUlaHLOdyAEa5eXCFnXuQZQ7v8bf61t4hmTETuxuXTWLBrxOey4YXAPdxKoGpXFwXjmrhxDzQIQj8Hoi9aRu/s320/IMG_7505.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>6. Sometimes I just eat a bowl of roasted veggies (sweet potato, butternut squash, roasted brussels sprouts, broccoli, etc.) </div><div><br /></div><div><br />7. Tacos can be fun - same thing...make it into something you'd enjoy. Tacos can be anything inside and any type of shell.</div><div><br /></div><div>8. Spring rolls using rice wrappers with veggies and some type of meat inside and a peanut dipping sauce or sweet sauce etc. example here:<a data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://cookieandkate.com/fresh-spring-rolls-recipe/&source=gmail&ust=1665074160194000&usg=AOvVaw11ztAAgXCa4guGsOSWZMPK" href="https://cookieandkate.com/fresh-spring-rolls-recipe/" style="color: #1155cc;" target="_blank"> https://cookieandkate.<wbr></wbr>com/fresh-spring-rolls-recipe/</a><wbr></wbr>. I would make mine with carrots, spinach or lettuce, maybe cabbage, and throw in some cooked chicken or shrimp. I also love them with sliced apples or pears inside. The peanut sauce makes it fun. </div><div><br /></div><div>9. I also like making things like Caprese salad, or prosciutto wraps (cooked asparagus or tubes of cheese wrapped in ham, turkey, prosciutto, etc.)</div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVuCEPae-NEHWz4HFks2ZdElFAvT4lu7R0Xjf4JF-fWnaJjvFKZcfX3Jr6uluOwGuNSVTe3lxGFEQIwVRQg9STFhcnOYPoHT5J87vm5jB9l5vWCheiKcY95jCq5EEMnQFPIIchaJXyiIkv--t4ZnWeVRSVb_NhzmOP3pYa3qpBlZ-KTUCe012IO6X/s640/IMG_7508.PNG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioVuCEPae-NEHWz4HFks2ZdElFAvT4lu7R0Xjf4JF-fWnaJjvFKZcfX3Jr6uluOwGuNSVTe3lxGFEQIwVRQg9STFhcnOYPoHT5J87vm5jB9l5vWCheiKcY95jCq5EEMnQFPIIchaJXyiIkv--t4ZnWeVRSVb_NhzmOP3pYa3qpBlZ-KTUCe012IO6X/s320/IMG_7508.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>10. I also have used pillsbury crescent or biscuit dough with some meat and cheese baked in using muffin<br /> tins. They remind me a bit of those wrap roll ups you make with wraps and then cut into disks, but I like the dough better. They are just one of the many things you can make with muffin tins. For some reason, I prefer mine square rather than round and use this <a href="https://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen/shop/Favorites/Favorites/Brownie+Pan/1544">brownie pan</a>. I've done crab cakes, ham and cheese bites, sausage biscuits, spinach "rolls", mini-pizza rolls, mini quiche, little lasagnas, and so much more. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYRm2xq-61-xqcitdoFlWxwt8sFPflDwoWXiN67aMZhKWBpzMl1T1ZvFTXi_6-rKaTM7jvMPnvcurFp-yeMAwBLHrnIrlo5xyp3wvMp7MlN5VJJpUweq7l7HvnIVqqsv3eM9WeDs3jqc7-SGF35GSsCGoR75DpCX_5fPBSpTthUM6VsaE4lj5nnlY/s640/IMG_7512.PNG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYRm2xq-61-xqcitdoFlWxwt8sFPflDwoWXiN67aMZhKWBpzMl1T1ZvFTXi_6-rKaTM7jvMPnvcurFp-yeMAwBLHrnIrlo5xyp3wvMp7MlN5VJJpUweq7l7HvnIVqqsv3eM9WeDs3jqc7-SGF35GSsCGoR75DpCX_5fPBSpTthUM6VsaE4lj5nnlY/s320/IMG_7512.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>11. Lettuce Wraps - I love these as my new obsession. Boston Bib Lettuce is the key. Then cook up a protein (ground pork is my go to) with some garlic, ginger, sesame oil, soy, and season. Then eat in wraps with peanuts, shredded carrots, scallions, or other shredded veggies. </div><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>12. Quiche - I love making a quiche on the weekend. I usually use the pre-made crust, one cup of shredded cheese, one cup of cooked veggies (love roasted broccoli), 1/2 cup of cooked meat (bacon is my go to), 8-10 eggs. I just beat it all together and then bake till the middle doesn't jiggle. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I hope this list helps you with some ideas. What is your go-to lunch that is easy and fun (or different). Comment below :) </div><div class="yj6qo"></div><div class="adL"><br /></div><div class="adL"><br /></div><div class="adL"><br /></div><div class="adL"><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;" /></div>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-41528943842933473462022-09-26T20:05:00.009-07:002022-09-27T06:24:12.625-07:00Stop fucking asking me "How are you feeling?" Cancer Tips to support me and others (maybe)!<p>So I'm working through some major stuff here. I've tried to be honest about it. It's not easy, or fun. I know that I don't have it as bad as others, but fucking fuckity fuck this shit is scary. And that's just the cancer. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_XqQboy0if8MALMhEqqcbxuG-6ITKE74DeejuP7aqiLMfJt4mvos74O6qe1MzL9Y7wtQB61BbLVbJlpCVFBfrq1Ra0ZvnItcUSbuQNjtiK2FoY911jVb2LQmP-EOO5kwYdOiNMfhlMmAmIn56ZjVjLoT4UJsqatHjxIb7LFegfWo_f6IG7zvI71k/s3088/IMG_7239.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_XqQboy0if8MALMhEqqcbxuG-6ITKE74DeejuP7aqiLMfJt4mvos74O6qe1MzL9Y7wtQB61BbLVbJlpCVFBfrq1Ra0ZvnItcUSbuQNjtiK2FoY911jVb2LQmP-EOO5kwYdOiNMfhlMmAmIn56ZjVjLoT4UJsqatHjxIb7LFegfWo_f6IG7zvI71k/s320/IMG_7239.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Since finding out that I've got melanoma in March, through surgery and recovery, immunotherapy, more cancer, and more immunotherapy, I've been trying to be strong. <b>I am strong, dammit. </b> </p><p>I'm also scared, anxious, pissed off, sad, depressed, and overwhelmed. I have days when I can't get out of bed and other days when I can slow jog a 5k with my dear friend, Brian. Some nights I sleep more than 12 hours and others I just cry all night and can't sleep. </p><p>I wonder if I'm going to make it. I try pep talks. There are mantra's written in dry erase marker on my mirror. I'm praying. I'm speaking the good. But this is still really fucking hard. That's just part of it. Like so many of you, I also have a job that needs me where I want to succeed. I've got family who loves me and have relied on me for years. I'm trying to get through the end of my marriage and juggle grad school. I want to be the inspiration, not the reason for worry. I'm trying to keep up with the things I love like singing, hiking, and costume parties. </p><p><b>As I go through this, the hardest thing to answer up to a few hundred times a day is "How are you doing?" or "How are you feeling?" </b> </p><p>Do me a favor and don't ask me that. Please. I'm already reminded of the cancer with bouts of exhaustion, nausea, and vertigo. The random skin rashes that itch like crazy also like to pop up in case I forget. Do you really want to know all these details? Do you want to listen to me rant about the fact that my doctor's missed this through four appointments over six months? Hear about my anger? My sadness? My depression? My diarrhea? <b>Even if you do, I don't want to talk about it again. </b> I am posting updates on my <a href="https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/ericshoen" target="_blank">caringbridge</a> if you really want to know. </p><p>Instead, try: What's new? How's it going? What's going on? Then if I feel like talking about treatment or prognosis, I can choose to add it into the conversation. <br /><br />Otherwise, you'll get a pat answer that makes neither of us feel better: "good days and bad days." <br /></p><p>Also, for fuck's sake don't talk to me about a fad diet or something you read on the internet that cures cancer that you have no idea if it actually works because you DON'T KNOW ANY REAL PERSON who has tried it with success. Just because you read it works on the internet doesn't mean I should give up what trained medical professionals know about my cancer to try this stupid shit. Look at what you are sending me. See if there are any studies out there that show it works beyond those done by the same people who are selling this diet or that herbal supplement. And even then, I DON'T WANT TO SEE IT. I've got a team of doctors at two major medical centers. Both are open to alternate therapies. We are already talking through them all. </p><p>It would also be lovely if you didn't tell me about the friends you had die of cancer. Or those that had a dozen surgeries and are still fighting melanoma or other cancers. Neither one of these things makes me feel any better. I don't want to be reminded of the fact that I might die or the fact that I might have to have a dozen more surgeries to fight this. One was enough. I promise. It's good to tell me you had friends beat cancer, but please don't tell me a friend had a melanoma cut off and is fine. These are very different things. </p><p>And if I haven't talked to you in 20 years or we are only Facebook friends because I made out with you at a bar one night before I got married, your offer to be a listening ear is just plain creepy. Honey child, if I thought we were that close, I'd have talked to you about this and all of the other crazy shit with my failing marriage, my depression, my job worries, and my other problems over the years. </p><p>Don't share my address with strangers and ask them to send me get well cards or gifts. It's fucking weird to get a note in the mail from someone I don't know, or even worse one that isn't signed at all and just says "We're praying for you." </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEhlAhib3olFoGJ3sGkIzMWQI5Qb0WcJRF2AiBt_HKzgG1-rBaY9NxV7reP9lS0eoqDnQhrauumKIVdo4Ob--_NFevNchkuCSlfacZvRkLIlAq2hIh-b9Hz6Ev3niF-00uoMnYnp-kCOdi18dfTIhiKxd9FZi6u01jLDGOBvgRU1OdAEzwTQT6sQ2/s4032/IMG_6270.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEhlAhib3olFoGJ3sGkIzMWQI5Qb0WcJRF2AiBt_HKzgG1-rBaY9NxV7reP9lS0eoqDnQhrauumKIVdo4Ob--_NFevNchkuCSlfacZvRkLIlAq2hIh-b9Hz6Ev3niF-00uoMnYnp-kCOdi18dfTIhiKxd9FZi6u01jLDGOBvgRU1OdAEzwTQT6sQ2/s320/IMG_6270.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p>Please don't suggest that I should be laying in bed wallowing in pity either. If you see me out at a concert or going to an event, cheer for me. Trust me I took an extra nap and will pay for it later with more exhaustion. It's much better for me to live my happy moments and sleep around them then fall into a depression because my health is declining. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;">So what does help me in all this? </b></div><p>Send me postcards or notes or cards. My cousin and a few friends have been doing this and it's lovely. Hell, it doesn't even have to be a postcard or note. I love kid art for my fridge and bathroom mirror. Or your own art too. You can still color me a picture from a coloring book to make me smile. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n1WkhC8tVtVwBECRIo9BwIfSdJwOxkKrIfYO0H-g00_n6lwaoIgYTPGiPiOjMaRddbPsjy7Mnuos0FzGi0jJnBhim3zqH6xfbZzn4rGsJza5GnjWAlU1WP-qt44cobZB4A4AJI0tl1gVrBc8GMmGHki0QgK02Bo2X2eaNGw9TB4ASt-acg30HIkI/s4032/IMG_7237.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4n1WkhC8tVtVwBECRIo9BwIfSdJwOxkKrIfYO0H-g00_n6lwaoIgYTPGiPiOjMaRddbPsjy7Mnuos0FzGi0jJnBhim3zqH6xfbZzn4rGsJza5GnjWAlU1WP-qt44cobZB4A4AJI0tl1gVrBc8GMmGHki0QgK02Bo2X2eaNGw9TB4ASt-acg30HIkI/s320/IMG_7237.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Emails from old friends (like one of my college professors) also really make my day. Especially when they just say things like, "what's new with you?" It's ok to mention that you hope things are going well with my treatment. Tell me about you, too, though. I want to hear about your garden, your kids, your hobbies, your life. I want to be reminded why we are friends. I want to read about our memories together and the new memories you are building. I want to live vicariously through you as you run races and travel since that part is hard for me right now. I'll update you on my treatment/health on days I feel like it. I'm not shy, but don't want to be reminded about it. <p></p><p>Post great photos, jokes, or send me funny tik-toks or instagrams. I love that stuff. Kittens, puppies, cooking failures, dad jokes......I'm all eyes and ears. </p><p>Offer to meet me for a meal or set up a game night or craft night. As my treatment gets tougher, I'm sleeping more and getting out is no longer easy. If you know me, I'm a super extrovert. I'm usually the convener, the person making the plans, and I'm missing seeing friends right now. I've not got the energy or clear brain to make the plans to see people that I used to. Even just offering makes me smile, whether or not we set a date. </p><p>I want to hold your babies, pet your puppies, and feel your cats purr too. Those are all good things. Some of my greatest moments of joy lately are playing with the puppies in my building on the elevator. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaIzRFhS66SuNOOOKzlUJyoBj3yOqcncWSe_p1L8XW4MWwVPl8WquIQtiry72QJu4QTm_owxVW8BKuizSK-LnAwpzfHVJgcxLHMzjcqC4UaFlks1HTD7rSUQel9KZeSbTvtEAxL74W37C1s8Sxg-S8WRfNUYM6i_2xlTzySPrLTenBfuXGV5_driO/s3088/IMG_6986.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3088" data-original-width="2320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMaIzRFhS66SuNOOOKzlUJyoBj3yOqcncWSe_p1L8XW4MWwVPl8WquIQtiry72QJu4QTm_owxVW8BKuizSK-LnAwpzfHVJgcxLHMzjcqC4UaFlks1HTD7rSUQel9KZeSbTvtEAxL74W37C1s8Sxg-S8WRfNUYM6i_2xlTzySPrLTenBfuXGV5_driO/s320/IMG_6986.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><p>Love on and with your loved ones. And tell me about it. Remember to live every moment to the fullest and not let work become your life. Just hearing those stories in a phone call, email, Facetime, or in person makes me happy.</p><p>Pray for me and/or send positive energy my way. I believe that it helps and buoys me up on rough days. </p><p>Although not necessary, meal gift cards like door dash and grub hub are awesome. Even better if you are local is to offer to pick up a meal from a local place and come eat with me. Eating alone can be pretty lonely, and even worse when you are going through it. </p><p>Accept and understand that for me, I'm going to probably be more self-centered than you've ever seen me before. Even if your life is horrible, I'm working on focusing on me. That might mean that I'm not the listener I once was. It may also mean that I seem short with you. I may cut you off when you start to talk about something that I know will trigger tears or anger, sadness or depression. Indulge me in this for a bit. I feel like I've been a pretty good listener for the first 45 years of my life. I'll try to get back to it once I'm through this hard stuff. </p><p>Tell me I look great and you are glad to see me, preferably without mentioning the fact that you are surprised I have hair. </p><p>Offer to meet me for a walk, hike, or stroll. </p><p>Make sure to advocate for yourself and your family members in medical care. You know your body better than any doctor or nurse. If something feels off, trust your gut and get checked. Insist on that biopsy or test rather than being poo-pooed by a doctor. </p><p>Those are my own personal wishes for how you can help me beat this. Maybe they will be helpful to others too. </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-80779528761782415292022-02-18T17:37:00.009-08:002022-02-18T19:00:05.726-08:00Kicking Depression's A$$<p>For decades, I've struggled with winter depression. It usually sets in on or about December 1 and runs through the end of March-ish. I'm not sure of the cause. It may be that I'm separated from my other half, my twin. I could also be affected by seasonal affective disorder. Maybe the craziness that is year end giving at work also impacts me, and the fact that there is so much going on that I neglect self-care. <br /><br /><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;">During the pandemic, my depression management was even worse. </span></p><p> I was not seeing people, my marriage had fallen apart, I was worried about my family, and the list continues. As the pandemic intensified and my home life got worse, I started running regularly to alleviate stress. I ended up training for and completing a marathon for charity and running a half marathon a month....something I'm continuing into 2022. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimVhJlZpYWFr7QZge_q838WIPQXpJQutGnMVrHTUWNfHHVxDlv6_3vZbOG6TfqX30ULMPrkmnmsVncqAe2reMA2iF4YUGZ5wxodsDGmUqfvuxTzr1wULTffCTTI3djUYJkGDEn8D6L-wpqisxaDUJ9FJyLiTAnyjvlqApLipGyPVEEmwLcKEfB4eLk=s2500" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2500" data-original-width="1664" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimVhJlZpYWFr7QZge_q838WIPQXpJQutGnMVrHTUWNfHHVxDlv6_3vZbOG6TfqX30ULMPrkmnmsVncqAe2reMA2iF4YUGZ5wxodsDGmUqfvuxTzr1wULTffCTTI3djUYJkGDEn8D6L-wpqisxaDUJ9FJyLiTAnyjvlqApLipGyPVEEmwLcKEfB4eLk=s320" width="213" /></a><br />My first half marathon in years in 2021</div><br /><p>But the entire reason I wanted to write this blog post was because of my cheer chart. What I decided to do as the pandemic got worse and I saw winter coming, was to make a reminder of what to do to pull myself out of it. </p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe;"><span style="font-size: large;">I made a list of things that either make me happy or are good for me and put it on a chart on my refrigerator. </span> </span></p><p>I had a bunch of random round magnets left from craft projects that I put on there. Each morning, I try to make sure I do at least three of the things on the list before I start work. At the end of the day, I aim to do two more. On weekends, I want to use all seven magnets at minimum. This sounds silly, but it has really made a difference in my day. When I'm feeling down, I look at the chart and try to do at least ONE. Some of these are super easy, like drinking a pint of plain water or taking a photo to post online. Soon, I'll update the chart with other things, but my cheer chart has helped me fight depression this year. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgx5PbVRHRi4_RpX8B2p41-3v40m68KfPP6ox72r7L37ut5aeeXB9gTCVjdMmIFBLMwsXvd_xveHEb3pAPsI_pBr5zD7x5TPgyHfqAiUk_pgl-6vME5xKVP3PhpWcrEx3LS2xhjQrdYQqTob7KCv1Blivc6VMahQQzCBpOYGryicTKq7PF0uFE7HZuU=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgx5PbVRHRi4_RpX8B2p41-3v40m68KfPP6ox72r7L37ut5aeeXB9gTCVjdMmIFBLMwsXvd_xveHEb3pAPsI_pBr5zD7x5TPgyHfqAiUk_pgl-6vME5xKVP3PhpWcrEx3LS2xhjQrdYQqTob7KCv1Blivc6VMahQQzCBpOYGryicTKq7PF0uFE7HZuU=s320" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My current 2022 Cheer Chart</div><br /><p>Here are some of the things that are on the chart or help me:</p><p><b>Running/Gym/Exercise</b> - If I get 30 minutes of exercise, I usually feel better.<br /><b>Stretching </b>- some days I just can't motivate to exercise and stretching is good.<br /><b>Brushing, Flossing, Vitamins, Drinking Water, Eating my Veggies</b> - these are things that I am whiny about, but I know they make my life and body better when I do them. They are easy wins on days when I can't seem to even get out of bed. <br /><b>Crafting </b>- I love making sea glass art to send to friends or doing other crafty things with my hands. <br /><b>Cooking/Baking</b> - Making my own food, once I can get started, is good for me and makes me happy. I just have to get started. It also helps me sell pampered chef stuff for an added benefit. Another bonus is when I can make food to share with friends. <br /><b>Friends </b>- Seeing friends for a walk, game night, meal, or just to chat over tea always makes my mood better. <br /><b>Writing </b> - I love writing postcards or note cards to mail to friends. I imagine them seeing it in the mailbox and smiling. Getting real mail makes me smile as well. <br /><b>Adventure </b>- This one is hand-written on the bottom in case you can't read it. I love trying new food, activities, new hikes, going thrifting, or exploring. <br /><b>Reading</b> - Encouraging my brain to explore another world with a good book also is something that helps me escape negative thoughts. <br /><br />Other than the chart, here are added anti-depression measures I've been utilizing. <br /><br /><b>Mirror Reminder</b></p><p>I purchased wine glass markers and write quotes, scriptures, and sayings on my mirror in the bathroom to see each time I am there. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9LEpU2I20Da00SjrrC_iFXDr2zP3mS_tVuzkW_GF0kuv3um1TwlchoZe-EZqlfNz1uazheGvPfEQSMY-LXtdd3e8JPT8HxuNl9IBZcN7VivRW4QIfko3me51EWFeDX05F9c_h3xfq6UwGmZFB7gKPNyFIz8aNd4pF0b7I3cwc6pXjVpoaP725trQ3=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg9LEpU2I20Da00SjrrC_iFXDr2zP3mS_tVuzkW_GF0kuv3um1TwlchoZe-EZqlfNz1uazheGvPfEQSMY-LXtdd3e8JPT8HxuNl9IBZcN7VivRW4QIfko3me51EWFeDX05F9c_h3xfq6UwGmZFB7gKPNyFIz8aNd4pF0b7I3cwc6pXjVpoaP725trQ3=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">My current mirror quote. </div><br /><p><b>Sleep</b></p><p>Sleep seems to be super important for me too. There are nights when I can't get out of my head. Two things have helped with that. First, I stumbled on <a href="https://cooksorganics.com/about-sdfc">magnesium cream</a> at a farmers market. I don't use it all the time, but a little dollop on the bottom of each foot before bed knocks me out on most rough nights. If my crazy thoughts attack earlier in the night, I have been drinking a bit of <a href="https://www.backyardsodas.com/">cbd simple syrup</a> with some seltzer or sprite. On occasion, I follow the recipes on the bottle and make a cocktail. However, it puts me to sleep within 20 minutes, so I don't do it often. <br /><br /></p><p><b>Future Planning</b></p><p>The other thing that I've learned to do is to find crazy things that I look forward to. In some cases, I focus on not letting people down by missing something. Other times, I find things that bring me so much joy that I think about them on rough days. <br /><br />This is my winter plan most years:<br />Thanksgiving With Family<br />Christmas Gift Making (crafting and more from list above). <br />Birthday - connecting with my twin<br />New Year's Day Run<br />Polar Plunge for Special Olympics in February<br /><br />These activities are supplemented with other races, game nights with friends, concert and show tickets, trips to sunny places or adventures on the calendar. </p><p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;">If I've got something on my calendar to look forward to, I can usually muddle through the ugly stay under the covers and feel like crying days. </span></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjG9-5RU0yaAUiZy6LVAefk9vDk-X-6OYF_mQSp1k88SO_NjGsVGaAeHU57XqjYf6h1OftVhR1D_osbs7kq-GkUoD9Tv8kubFXHi_ItFVCnpXibqf4CuRwkA2wBf3gpGpBMGJeh5HZnflb_27Dwe39E4OMx9agmFfyp7unnr6bJHztWVaoS4IQR8VY=s5184" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhjG9-5RU0yaAUiZy6LVAefk9vDk-X-6OYF_mQSp1k88SO_NjGsVGaAeHU57XqjYf6h1OftVhR1D_osbs7kq-GkUoD9Tv8kubFXHi_ItFVCnpXibqf4CuRwkA2wBf3gpGpBMGJeh5HZnflb_27Dwe39E4OMx9agmFfyp7unnr6bJHztWVaoS4IQR8VY=s320" width="320" /></a><br />Polar Plunge 2022</div><br /><p>Then as the flowers bloom and the days are longer, I seem to be better. I still have tough days where I don't to get out of bed or talk to people. However, it's easier to run, find adventures, see friends, get fresh air, and live my life. I go hiking more often with my friend Kristen, flea market shopping with my sister, camping, sea glass collecting, national park exploring, cocktail drinking, speedo racing, and so many of the other things that bring me joy. Seeing all the posts lately about depression makes me think I'm not alone. Hopefully you can make a chart that helps you too. </p><p><br /></p>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-73763890023352776892020-10-08T16:43:00.000-07:002020-10-08T16:43:01.728-07:00Holding Grudges - forgive me. Excuse me...Eric? <div><br /></div><div>Yes</div><div><br /></div><div>"You are Eric Shoen, right?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, that's me." </div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm sorry, I'm not comfortable cutting your hair today." </div><div><br /></div><div>"Is it because I came from out of state?" </div><div><br /></div><div>"No. You made me very uncomfortable last time I saw you and I don't feel like being uncomfortable cutting your hair. You'll have to find another place." </div><div><br /></div><div>"I'm so sorry. I hope that you find healing for that wound. Thanks." </div><div><br /></div><div>This happened to me today. I know I must have said or done something years ago that hurt this man. Here's the thing. I haven't lived here in 10 years. In fact, I don't think I've seen this person for at least 15 years. I'll be darned if I can remember it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I've said and done some mean and stupid things in my life. I've done that to people that didn't deserve it. I think I remember every time I did that and realized it. The words or actions would keep me up at night. I'd be sick to my stomach and replay the scene over and over in my head to try to make sure I didn't do it again. In fact, I still get sick to my stomach when I think about some of those things in my past. In most cases, I apologized as soon as it was out of my mouth and I realized how bad it was. In others, it took me a few days to apologize. Sometimes, I've apologized over and over for years for saying or doing something that hurt someone else. In a very few cases, I've decided it was best to say nothing because I was either too uncomfortable or thought even bringing it up would cause more harm to the person I had hurt. </div><div><br /></div><div>My friends and I joke that I don't have any filters. I just say things. </div><div><br /></div><div>My mom thinks that I just say things that other people are afraid to say, but are reality. She lives by this philosophy with us kids which has caused more than one hang up phone call. </div><div><br /></div><div>I have people that have done things to me. For most of them, I've forgiven them. I'll never forget what they did to me, but have moved on. </div><div><br /></div><div>Most people in my life have confronted me when I've done something wrong, or at least I realized it. At least I hope that's the case. </div><div><br /></div><div>For this person to have held onto this feeling for 15-20 years without telling me, or forgiving me, makes me wonder how he lives his life. </div><div><br /></div><div>For anyone else out there reading this who I may have upset, insulted, or hurt in some way, forgive me. You can try to confront me about it, but I'm not sure now is the best time. Still, feel free. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-89142915281140359062019-08-12T06:07:00.000-07:002019-08-12T07:03:01.971-07:00Dog pee.....right or wrong?Yesterday, David and I took our pooch Casper with us to a very large outdoor flea market. There were dozens of dogs there. Casper was a very good dog. He listened to us, never barked, and stayed by our side for the whole morning of walking around.<br />
<br />
Occasionally, as dogs are want to do, Casper was sniffing and peeing on things other dogs had peed on. We were very careful to make sure he didn't pee on anyone's products that were on the ground. If you have ever had a dog who does this, they spray the equivalent of two or three tiny drops of pee on things.<br />
<br />
As we were almost finished walking around the flea market after four hours, Casper apparently peed on one of the table legs of on a vendor's folding table. I didn't notice because I only focused on him when we were near products on the ground or if there were other dogs around and I needed him to sit and focus on me.<br />
<br />
I was looking at a lovely set of cufflinks at a table when this woman marched up to me and grabbed me by the shoulder to spin me around. Casper, was laying under the vendor table where I was looking and was very calm.<br />
<br />
"Your dog peed on my table."<br />
<br />
"Oh, did he? I'm so sorry."<br />
<br />
"YOU didn't HEAR me....your dog PEEEEED on my table. I have to put that back in my car."<br />
<br />
"I heard you very clearly. I'm sorry that my dog may have peed on your table leg."<br />
<br />
"DINT you HEAR me? Your dog peed on my table leg."<br />
<br />
"I did year you and I have said I'm sorry."<br />
<br />
"YOU are DISGUSTING FILTH. That is disgusting. You are gross and disgusting."<br />
<br />
"Mam, I've apologized to you and am not sure what else you'd like me to do. I'm going to walk away now."<br />
<br />
"You vile piece of shit."<br />
<br />
This lady was screaming at top volume with spittle landing on my face with hundreds of people stopping to listen. I maintained my calm. I honestly don't know what she expected me to do.<br />
<br />
Ten minutes later, while Casper was giving a friendly greeting to another pup and we were chatting with a vendor, I felt a tap on my shoulder.<br />
<br />
"You dropped this," said a man as he handed me a wad of paper towels the size of a softball. <br />
<br />
"Um...thank you, but I don't think I did."<br />
<br />
"Yes, you did, you asshole, it's your dog's piss."<br />
<br />
"Ok then."<br />
<br />
Now the other vendor looked at me in an odd way. I explained what happened. She felt that it was very odd and told a similar story about her dog at a fair. David was furious, as was his cousin. I told them that we wouldn't stoop to the level of these people and I just needed to find a garbage to throw away the napkin.<br />
<br />
So my question is this? What would you have done?Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-60416794218965620612019-05-01T19:37:00.001-07:002019-05-01T19:48:55.904-07:00Anxiety, Tears, Anger - we remember<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDLNfftDCAWPGZk0muTDoujPFYCofyOkVnebBfZjLd9gO9ICIpg9jjmSAgguAV3g2RvifOtan_Ur1vMowmN6Qp0FD990qRx2uRmw90uygb68iT8qeBRmj5pjrtQwKTodQMMVWBxqD4A4/s1600/IMG_8117.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwDLNfftDCAWPGZk0muTDoujPFYCofyOkVnebBfZjLd9gO9ICIpg9jjmSAgguAV3g2RvifOtan_Ur1vMowmN6Qp0FD990qRx2uRmw90uygb68iT8qeBRmj5pjrtQwKTodQMMVWBxqD4A4/s320/IMG_8117.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In 2011, I visited <a href="http://www.terezin.org/the-history-of-terezin">Terezin.</a> It is a concentration camp from the Holocaust that is located just outside of the city of Prague. I didn't realize until that time that so many gay men were also killed as part of the holocaust. They were considered deviants and forced to wear a pink triangle instead of a yellow star of David. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bRIsT80camNOXlGCcPyUnHeygGgJi2f5n0zkB0T-FzZh0IoRA_ZPrIF7AAC2biu4n2fRwk5RB10-sZNherw9YUcGW1xi_hPyx2Cq4qU4lT1dbh24rA8dq26F4k5JVlQd35e3n7BOOf4/s1600/IMG_8119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_bRIsT80camNOXlGCcPyUnHeygGgJi2f5n0zkB0T-FzZh0IoRA_ZPrIF7AAC2biu4n2fRwk5RB10-sZNherw9YUcGW1xi_hPyx2Cq4qU4lT1dbh24rA8dq26F4k5JVlQd35e3n7BOOf4/s320/IMG_8119.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It broke my heart to see the museum that was filled with remembrances of so many people. The statue above is a memorial at Terezin to the people who died there. Tonight marks the beginning of Holocaust Remembrance Day. The day is marked on the jewish calendar and this year falls on May 2 (May 1 at sundown).</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhhyphenhyphenWUGIknnhdI58MwDeysTcxMIvEIt7mBOy2FQh62J7So-CTJV4gk5jccKecdgqUmyMoOF7844ennVh851-ZjdiVGltw8mcTXHVaIRC-fVYBZ-74eaKm0k9jQEtRI0xuCOedm3iRS5o/s1600/283539_10150246178313100_6010687_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhhyphenhyphenWUGIknnhdI58MwDeysTcxMIvEIt7mBOy2FQh62J7So-CTJV4gk5jccKecdgqUmyMoOF7844ennVh851-ZjdiVGltw8mcTXHVaIRC-fVYBZ-74eaKm0k9jQEtRI0xuCOedm3iRS5o/s320/283539_10150246178313100_6010687_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
Over 6 million jewish people were murdered during the holocaust. Another 6 million people considered "deviants" were also murdered. This included gay people, gypsies (Roma), and political dissidents.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Tonight, I was invited to join my sister at a Holocaust remembrance day ceremony at the Etz Hayim Synagogue. As we arrived, I was surprised to see at vehicle in the parking lot covered with NRA, Trump, and Republican party stickers. It made me nervous and fearful. As we approached the temple, my sister and I noticed a policeman at the door to check guests. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiuFp3ptijbELCvI5EMCJsFHu5ctaRNiostrdg_Vw9-PhE59Xc-U6ZVqx3fPOjBPckBwwayVSmFXnEgFSm5j6iiSQnpkJFBe0ivtJBVj62wayLQVqXg7CPsy7a-j6Cz0BBeR61Yxc6zk/s1600/57844224908__D4962113-53A6-4E2E-A47C-B8498CD3BCF7.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiuFp3ptijbELCvI5EMCJsFHu5ctaRNiostrdg_Vw9-PhE59Xc-U6ZVqx3fPOjBPckBwwayVSmFXnEgFSm5j6iiSQnpkJFBe0ivtJBVj62wayLQVqXg7CPsy7a-j6Cz0BBeR61Yxc6zk/s320/57844224908__D4962113-53A6-4E2E-A47C-B8498CD3BCF7.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We entered the synagogue and were warmly welcomed by the members. Men were encouraged to cover their heads, and I chose a fitting yarmulka for this ceremony to remember my gay brothers and sisters who were killed. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89TMW7mssIQ5JUuLo2HNd5tHBNcgI1rkOqHK-mFG3zzIYGsE-DCFv5KjzzLQ2oTJ_dkk_K41r6C5mFVeSIiSsL3XlLLi-FxgsFWaqbIBODSt3XYfyP__hYgbsCCXVv6FZBX1DchD9yOE/s1600/IMG_8109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1203" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi89TMW7mssIQ5JUuLo2HNd5tHBNcgI1rkOqHK-mFG3zzIYGsE-DCFv5KjzzLQ2oTJ_dkk_K41r6C5mFVeSIiSsL3XlLLi-FxgsFWaqbIBODSt3XYfyP__hYgbsCCXVv6FZBX1DchD9yOE/s320/IMG_8109.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As we entered the temple, I was anxious about my safety. This is a feeling that I've had a lot lately. It happens when David and I go to a dance club (we went out last weekend and I made sure to mark exits even though every guest was patted down by security), at Easter Service (we went to a church next to where the Boston Marathon Bombing happened), and now at a small remembrance day in the middle of small town Derry, NH. </div>
<br />
The rabbi mentioned that this was the first time in his career that he has felt the need to hire police to protect his temple. This made me sad and angry. I also struggled during the prayers to close my eyes and focus on praying. Instead, I worried that there were no hymnals or bibles that I could throw at a potential attacker if one came in. I was grateful to sit next to a side exit, but anxious that there were so many windows around us.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Kim and I, though, were there to celebrate the lives of some musicians who died in the concentration camps. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gideon_Klein">Gideon Klein's </a>Opus 2 (selection here) was dark and dissonant. He was killed in a concentration camp. </div>
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxSB6aalkzfoYI0iTZsysiQ8XO1Q4oESc5iFhTHMX8aBsWD8ECexj437z_gyATqvzapa_6i0gYU312V8EmEjg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simon_Laks">Simon Laks </a>survived in spite of the horror's he saw and his music was a bit more uplifting. It is not known when this String Quartet (selection below) was composed, but it premiered a mere months after he was liberated from a concentration camp. </div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxKpxva7kbbFn9otqEkpRi7irsKVOvStjS5xZKLu2Pb9abAgnhR9RilONjyL9DJSkP7yUkVgEgQqMXTLJGj6w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We can't forget these people and this atrocity. We also can't let it happen again. I won't let fear and anxiety prevent me from worshiping, remembering, yelling from the rooftops at injustice. We can't let this country or this world be taken over by hate. We must stand up for each other and stick together. Each one of us must sing our songs of defiance and stand together against hate and injustice. We need to vote with our money, our hands, our brains, and our hearts. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Help me remember those who have gone and honor their memory by continuing to fight to prevent this from happening again. </div>
<br />
WE REMEMBER<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2XXqlc7tvjSvbbyPl5eqaZhV6cV0SUBLzvkqQ1NVpnaJo9JUjLRSHROwEOi4lrLZcy-_W0YBlTBBkyYsA7qV_a0d4gtFxymJe5IA81nhe55WcbrKJrIrq4ttQpD7pfGShAUCwWXk8UM/s1600/IMG_8118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ2XXqlc7tvjSvbbyPl5eqaZhV6cV0SUBLzvkqQ1NVpnaJo9JUjLRSHROwEOi4lrLZcy-_W0YBlTBBkyYsA7qV_a0d4gtFxymJe5IA81nhe55WcbrKJrIrq4ttQpD7pfGShAUCwWXk8UM/s320/IMG_8118.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-88817912194443362712018-11-19T18:18:00.002-08:002018-11-19T18:18:36.309-08:00Arming the Left - getting ready for a revolution - is that the solution?The only guns I've ever fired were paintball guns, bb guns, and toy guns. As I watch the news and see the current state of politics in our country, I am more and more convinced that I should probably learn more about guns and firearms.<br />
<br />
What I'm afraid of is that a revolution is coming. With a divisive president in office only trying harder and harder to divide the country, I worry that the liberal, left leaning folks are going to be in trouble. The more conservative faction in our nation all seem to love and understand guns, ammunition, and how to use them. Most democrats and liberals are all for gun control yet don't know the first thing about shooting a weapon.<br />
<br />
I realize that my opinion may be colored by my upbringing. I grew up on a dairy farm in northern New York. We had a dozen shotguns in the house. It wasn't unusual to have one in the back of the truck on a rack in the cab of the truck or in a gun holster on a tractor to kill gophers that were digging holes in the fields we were working, squirrels that chewed a hole into our attic, and foxes that kept getting into our hen house. My dad and brother regularly hunted white tail deer that would be both a trophy head on the wall and meat in our freezer that helped feed our family. I grew up not wanting to join my family in the hunting. I didn't mind having the meat, but didn't want to be part of the killing.<br />
<br />
Now, my family runs the gamut of the political and religious spectrum. Having a gay son who married an African man and his twin brother who also married someone from a foreign country has slowly shifted them more left than they were. Still, my family doesn't vote for parties, but policies. One of my brothers has a large gun collection and my parents continue to have guns on the farm for hunting.<br />
<br />
I feel like I am the only person in my family who knows very little about guns. My sister and her husband taught their daughters about guns, as have my brothers with their kids. I know that some of them vote for the right, and some for the left. What I also know, and appreciate, is that even my liberal siblings are teaching their kids about guns.<br />
<br />
The thing is, none of my more liberal friends are teaching their kids about guns, gun safety, and gun use. I, myself, am for gun control. I really am. I want gun and ammo control in our country. BUT, I also think that it is essential that kids learn how dangerous weapons are and how to use them. I think all adults should learn the same thing.<br />
<br />
Why I bring politics into the picture, is that I'm truly afraid that this revolution is coming in America like we haven't seen for one hundred fifty years. ON our doorsteps in a matter of seconds, we may be fighting face to face with our neighbors and our friends to win our way regarding what we think this country really should be. When this revolution happens, my intellect, and that of my friends, isn't going to protect us from our conservative friends who have been pitted against us and all know a lot more about guns and how to use them.<br />
<br />
I'm not advocating for violence. I'm not cheering for murder, war, or a revolution. What I do want, though, is a country where both the left and right understand how to use guns for protection and for feeding themselves WITH sensible gun control. I also want a country where we can talk about these things, politics, guns, religions, race, and class warfare civilly so that my fears of us killing each other in a revolution can be assuaged.<br />
<br />
Until I can no longer live in fear of a revolution, I guess its time for me to learn about guns.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-19465771857162769872018-11-04T14:57:00.004-08:002018-11-05T06:08:11.660-08:00Smile - even if you are faking it. Since my move to Boston, I've been less and less inspired to write, exercise, or get together with friends. To be frank, some of it has to do with the rough transition. David, my husband, and I moved here for my new job at a local nonprofit. I was so excited with a passion for their work and a desire to make a difference in a new type of nonprofit work for me. Sadly, the entire thing fell apart within two weeks of my arrival. Unfortunately, in spite of my love for the nonprofit and their work, the job itself and work environment were a really bad fit. David and I had already quit our jobs, moved everything here, and signed a lease on a very nice, expensive apartment. Instead of giving up, I decided to put more hours and effort into making things work at the new job. No matter how hard I tried, things just got worse. <br />
<br />
Concurrently, David was trying to find a new job and not having much luck. The public transit system in Boston isn't as far reaching or convenient as New York. The people here also have been much colder toward us and harder to get to know. We've felt both overt racism and homophobia where we least expected it. <br />
<br />
Fortunately, after six weeks, David found a job in our building renting out apartments. This helped David try a new profession and helped us with a rent discount, health insurance, and an easy commute. Six weeks after he got his job, I ended up leaving mine. There was no way I could make the job work and still be happy.<br />
<br />
The entire thing gave me great pause to evaluate myself and my life. I became very depressed about my future, my ability to take care of my family, my ability to do my job or work in my profession. <br />
<br />
Not one to give up easily, I began looking for work again within one week of starting the job that was a bad fit. One week after leaving my job, I was offered a new one. The new job is at a college directing alumni relations. I love alumni relations and know that this is good work in my field. I will miss the fundraising aspect of my work certainly, but know I can impact fundraising daily at the new job.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtej6Bi3n4DWcQMvo-ARtir1h4jR0PSpPvgN57-JdhyphenhyphenT_3pph18XZCp-Ndnl5r5EhbUSMpk_YFd1hBYPQaxVffgZ5pLa5JwmW-eFrhCrfzMuy2Nc7cjkkymbB-hkXSNI971wl7_5yIxM0/s1600/IMG_4074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtej6Bi3n4DWcQMvo-ARtir1h4jR0PSpPvgN57-JdhyphenhyphenT_3pph18XZCp-Ndnl5r5EhbUSMpk_YFd1hBYPQaxVffgZ5pLa5JwmW-eFrhCrfzMuy2Nc7cjkkymbB-hkXSNI971wl7_5yIxM0/s320/IMG_4074.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">photo from C. Estes-Schwartz</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Even with this job lined up and the paperwork signed, I still could not motivate myself to dig out of this depression. I took five weeks before starting the new job hoping that I could use the time to do things to elevate my spirit. Unfortunately, my body and mind did not cooperate. David and I went camping, I visited my family, and I read some books. Still, all I wanted to do was sleep in a dark room all day and night. I tried to smile and have fun through all the travel and social time while I was screaming in agony inside pretending to everyone that it was ok. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVYU-pcmHn0CRBh7auYegKG0z6fAaHnVNr6qt4u3VG9ZkIEI8MuMqDKs8qjQd2xs8XWTqvf5njEJXeBrAlSSwHdw_gKd-xNihfhLDQzBkLRleTTKwNtvp5Q0pzuRKjVPdyf-arwI7v7k/s1600/IMG_2408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVVYU-pcmHn0CRBh7auYegKG0z6fAaHnVNr6qt4u3VG9ZkIEI8MuMqDKs8qjQd2xs8XWTqvf5njEJXeBrAlSSwHdw_gKd-xNihfhLDQzBkLRleTTKwNtvp5Q0pzuRKjVPdyf-arwI7v7k/s320/IMG_2408.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My dog kept me company in bed, but also made me get out of bed to go for a walk on a regular basis. This is my first dog and I think he was one of the main reasons I never sank too far. He just wouldn't let me. He greeted me at the door with a smile and licks every time I came back even if I just went to toss the garbage in the garbage shoot across the hall. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhD9F0mr2ePV67KVZTNWJOYiot3XQaEYLcY96iYY_6ECvYGpDRNa2H9PBucsrlu42sSPlhdXqPyJVPNjYVbXLgmmcwWDYZJpHJ636VVWNRXp5fkW7OjgsSqEw5CggwSLwxVC_hu7Tu0I/s1600/IMG_3484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhD9F0mr2ePV67KVZTNWJOYiot3XQaEYLcY96iYY_6ECvYGpDRNa2H9PBucsrlu42sSPlhdXqPyJVPNjYVbXLgmmcwWDYZJpHJ636VVWNRXp5fkW7OjgsSqEw5CggwSLwxVC_hu7Tu0I/s320/IMG_3484.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUtaoNdmyQw4Vo-L08tZIhBeA7tc2QAJZeCr_6f52idmnObGnYX2Bzy82Z-r59xZGPM0TgfCOzVgVw9SS4OXwiLJKpOfeB17cSb_pKSUSE6OewcTG22W_QVilPpQetPjT08WpbhxCK2M/s1600/IMG_3856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUtaoNdmyQw4Vo-L08tZIhBeA7tc2QAJZeCr_6f52idmnObGnYX2Bzy82Z-r59xZGPM0TgfCOzVgVw9SS4OXwiLJKpOfeB17cSb_pKSUSE6OewcTG22W_QVilPpQetPjT08WpbhxCK2M/s320/IMG_3856.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
My friend, the Reverend Diane Ellis, said something to me that has stuck with me for a long time. I can't remember her exact words, but know she mentioned that it is important to let yourself be in the bad feelings and sit with them for a bit in order to help you get out of them.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #351c75; font-size: large;"><b>If you don't let yourself feel bad once in a while, those negative emotions haunt you and never let you truly experience the height of goodness and joy. </b></span></blockquote>
I'm glad to have let myself experience this down energy, but enough is enough. I know what I need to do to get out of it, and I refuse to let the demons of depression become the dominate chords in my life.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I am fortunate to have so many people that love me in addition to Casper (my dog). I have been speaking about this with them and that is one big reason I can say things are getting better. My husband, mom, brother, college friends, Brooklyn friends, Hartwick friends, and people in my life have given me hope that I'm not alone in going through this and that there is a way out. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
I started by starting a running club in my apartment complex. At least I will be running once a week, even if I'm the only one who shows up most nights.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwwiviSUFPC-VKnARJ4ahYDF98jgbi5MV44xBzDLOkXGSo0_1S8PirKEb8b_A0OBMPivNILqaaEWD1ODsNFEWTFi9-XUCM9-qk-scoDlFZhCn5BndCXHnZPDutnROMm4wYR2VmcH6kUk/s1600/IMG_3790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwwiviSUFPC-VKnARJ4ahYDF98jgbi5MV44xBzDLOkXGSo0_1S8PirKEb8b_A0OBMPivNILqaaEWD1ODsNFEWTFi9-XUCM9-qk-scoDlFZhCn5BndCXHnZPDutnROMm4wYR2VmcH6kUk/s320/IMG_3790.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
I know that cooking makes me happy and I have a new office full of people who love food. I started trying new recipes every week and building up <a href="http://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen">my pampered chef stuff again</a>. Although I don't spend the time to build it into a huge business, it gets me cooking for my family, trying new recipes, and reaching out to my friends to ask them to host parties. In fact I just bought a quick cooker (Pampered Chef's better version of an instant pot) and have learned a bunch of new delicious recipes for quick dinners. I've also learned some recipes that I'll never make again and suggest my friends don't try them either (healthy apple bars yuck). Peach cobbler muffins though, below, are definitely going in to my regular rotation when peaches are local in the market.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxWT90k2RMqHeg38n30shB9YkhhS6tZsBGyIsR4CIq9YgjY1uv4y8ORFd2asPggzuPLmZSkw00zFWf3cM7KwmHX7c4DZz8ENDJ85l9-WZ3AIhJZdG6wCqFcWLFpdleBVeyDCQfxVOAeM/s1600/IMG_3474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyxWT90k2RMqHeg38n30shB9YkhhS6tZsBGyIsR4CIq9YgjY1uv4y8ORFd2asPggzuPLmZSkw00zFWf3cM7KwmHX7c4DZz8ENDJ85l9-WZ3AIhJZdG6wCqFcWLFpdleBVeyDCQfxVOAeM/s320/IMG_3474.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm also doing what I can to be social. Just because New Englanders seem to give their cold shoulder at first doesn't mean I should give up. Between making sure to spend time with my friends, David and I are trying to meet new ones. I visited my alma mater for homecoming. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQa38BekOtmaQ4uKuTkp64o-q7bB21xrch6c80hQ9z_OqfksdEmh6WPGFe7kG0acaENZ4E8fDgMIguvS7vNhthDMClfr1AWwHjeu6HAFO9O7qh_zTFS57101UaoEIEo9YnfWXulTqbXk/s1600/IMG_3777.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUQa38BekOtmaQ4uKuTkp64o-q7bB21xrch6c80hQ9z_OqfksdEmh6WPGFe7kG0acaENZ4E8fDgMIguvS7vNhthDMClfr1AWwHjeu6HAFO9O7qh_zTFS57101UaoEIEo9YnfWXulTqbXk/s320/IMG_3777.JPG" width="179" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">original photo by Vernon Burnett at Hartwick College</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I also went to see my sister who now lives an hour away. Even just walking on the beach with her sometimes gave me the peace, time to think, and conversation that lifted me a little beyond where I was. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTyv97lfqXT9ugLWSl8z4SZO9Y_Mz3fRVoDvjsmqstk4q39tlli5zXQb1VJiz9-DEdnIiG0dLvfZXTRAmfZZjH0h7IL2o_saZkgGV8W8iLLoNFk6J46hLqtc2aTkOR-gDn-Ona-GQc5M/s1600/IMG_2875.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="962" data-original-width="1280" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTyv97lfqXT9ugLWSl8z4SZO9Y_Mz3fRVoDvjsmqstk4q39tlli5zXQb1VJiz9-DEdnIiG0dLvfZXTRAmfZZjH0h7IL2o_saZkgGV8W8iLLoNFk6J46hLqtc2aTkOR-gDn-Ona-GQc5M/s320/IMG_2875.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
David and I also went on to meetup.com and joined some groups. We don't know that we've found the ones that are a good fit yet, but we keep trying and going to events. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Things are better. I am blessed. I'm not feeling down every day any more. This took time though, and energy, thought, and lots of talking, texting, Facebook chatting, crying, sleeping, running, cooking, and not always being my best self to the world around me. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Through it all, I've had my friends and family listening, supporting, and usually understanding. I'm grateful that David, in spite of his own challenges here, has been my rock. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmAYkyvmxPGfxB5PjTNhIDs-KToUwvtGIbYXsStkpwzW_QtuLtDAt4j3j2-w_wKj5KKjZR4DC5Xv2naOMOn375YAWwHV23HmTHh17ZCuMtgEIFUo5jxpdenYLToeL_sRE__xvlArlK9A/s1600/IMG_4137.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="1280" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmAYkyvmxPGfxB5PjTNhIDs-KToUwvtGIbYXsStkpwzW_QtuLtDAt4j3j2-w_wKj5KKjZR4DC5Xv2naOMOn375YAWwHV23HmTHh17ZCuMtgEIFUo5jxpdenYLToeL_sRE__xvlArlK9A/s320/IMG_4137.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
With my current state of being, I'm limited in my wardrobe. I cleaned out my closet yesterday to get rid of things that I can't wear any more and found that I needed one or two more pairs of pants that fit around my belly for work. This was part of doing what I need to to dig out of my depression, find clothes that fit and I like as well as donating still awesome clothes to people who need them. While there, I spent quite some time waiting for a dressing room. The woman at the counter scowled at everyone and was anything but polite. I tried to be overly kind, but let my snarky self get the best of me when I walked away saying "thanks for smiling." As I drove back to our apartment, I started wondering what her day and life is like and that maybe she was struggling. I wonder how often I gave my jerk self to people during the past six months. <br />
<br />
I like to smile even when things are down. I try hard. This has helped me a lot in life and in my work. I'm not always successful at it, but when I am, the world feels like they are getting the attitude they should from me. It also helps people treat me better which in turn lifts my mood. May I always find a way and a reason to smile. <br />
<br />
I hope you find reason to smile today, lift yourself away from the bad feelings, even just for a bit. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUrT_zZfIJcNxssPm0X1DvymP6KHbjFFZc7D83i8h4EoF2wYQBrmHhl_xp9S50znIb_xuN5XIg90Jr_s89NfAagFdWP9wEplAhBx0RuwQYQFSizJvtrS_uv3Onn7dKCl5B2XVDGzSavc/s1600/IMG_3442.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="962" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZUrT_zZfIJcNxssPm0X1DvymP6KHbjFFZc7D83i8h4EoF2wYQBrmHhl_xp9S50znIb_xuN5XIg90Jr_s89NfAagFdWP9wEplAhBx0RuwQYQFSizJvtrS_uv3Onn7dKCl5B2XVDGzSavc/s320/IMG_3442.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-12429568964047414872018-06-17T11:04:00.001-07:002018-06-18T10:59:14.913-07:00Not a Pet PersonI've been asked many times over the years if I was a dog or a cat person. I've answered time and time again that, "I'm not a pet person." The responses have varied:<br />
<br />
"You must not have a heart."<br />
"How could you not love dogs (cats, bunnies, fish, etc.)?"<br />
"You just haven't found the right pet yet."<br />
<br />
My husband, David really wanted a dog. I explained that we should start with a fish. That's when Zi came into our life. He was a beta that we had for about four months before a tragic filter accident.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdian0pU-Uilf3A5HuFejAIjWr5pLuRyKrw5R4cPyiP1Jf_cdykic_CXEPUW-uh8tInZ_QeLmIJgknMJsUPiuDgHt2BcNxfK14CDezXgG8ZKE6oe9u_SdQo66hAWzRlzQaU30y5HyO4g/s1600/image2+%25281%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdian0pU-Uilf3A5HuFejAIjWr5pLuRyKrw5R4cPyiP1Jf_cdykic_CXEPUW-uh8tInZ_QeLmIJgknMJsUPiuDgHt2BcNxfK14CDezXgG8ZKE6oe9u_SdQo66hAWzRlzQaU30y5HyO4g/s320/image2+%25281%2529.png" width="179" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Prior to our poor little Zi's departure, we started looking for a dog. Neither of us knew what we wanted. I made up my mind that I wanted to get a rescue instead of going to a breeder. I also wanted a dog that I felt was going to do well in a small apartment and love us both. We started by going to the local rescue one or two times a week and walking the dogs that they had. I fell in love with one after our first visit, but she didn't impress David. For the next three months, we walked two dozen or so dogs. Some of them just didn't like either of us and some only preferred one of us. I still wasn't sure that I was ready for the responsibility of a dog (I'm still not sure today). </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix48Zl5_-ET2MchkX5OsiJN5Vmi7quUfLPvydMGrhPELiD_0GoBNulnDtWuui6ZII4Zo84C5bN9lNzL4EOg-kYAzi2jh6GupvjPLQJwjv5ya5nZqkWUd1ONj28v6tXH5ZELJE9HhbCxCQ/s1600/IMG_4675.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix48Zl5_-ET2MchkX5OsiJN5Vmi7quUfLPvydMGrhPELiD_0GoBNulnDtWuui6ZII4Zo84C5bN9lNzL4EOg-kYAzi2jh6GupvjPLQJwjv5ya5nZqkWUd1ONj28v6tXH5ZELJE9HhbCxCQ/s320/IMG_4675.PNG" width="179" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
One day in January, I ended up parking our car near the rescue. Living in Brooklyn at the time, we parked on the street. When I walked in, one of the volunteers said I had to meet PJ. When I walked over to his cage, I wasn't impressed immediately. He seemed like a scruffy little white dog. I was really looking for something more regal. As I approached the cage, he started licking outside of the bars and not barking at all in spite of the cacophony of noises from the other dogs. Normally, they ask you not to get close to the cage, but the volunteer said he was friendly, so I stepped forward to let him lick me. I decided to take him for a walk in the snow before going home. They took him out and put him on a leash and he was so excited he wouldn't calm down. He ran up to me and started pawing my pants and nuzzling my head quite like a cat. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfQqZ0kD5bXEWswB0uqbRG6zyYFaf-PsUfTJrIwuyRZRXbeq0b2BX_4F8JJrlCegqZLx8NjhKRqwTg7r50G5eWxiSzIQO3IjlCG20UTyA9GDdoDkeagCmaPxmzGcfrCy33w1e3r6ZKRA/s1600/IMG_4677.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJfQqZ0kD5bXEWswB0uqbRG6zyYFaf-PsUfTJrIwuyRZRXbeq0b2BX_4F8JJrlCegqZLx8NjhKRqwTg7r50G5eWxiSzIQO3IjlCG20UTyA9GDdoDkeagCmaPxmzGcfrCy33w1e3r6ZKRA/s320/IMG_4677.PNG" width="179" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I was excited to show him to David, who was coming home for a quick change before going to a fashion show. I knew that David needed to meet him and a photo wouldn't do him justice. Sure enough, PJ was just as, if not even more, lovingly excited to meet David. We walked him around the block and David said we should get him.</div>
<br />
<br />
As David rushed off to be in a fashion show, I filled out the paperwork and paid the fees for PJ. He was going to the vet to get fixed and get his shots. I found out that his family had a fire and had to surrender him to the rescue. While PJ was at the vet, David and I were headed to Washington, DC for an event. On the way, we talked through names that we liked. We were not a fan of PJ, so we tried other names. The rescue said that the dog really would easily respond to a new name. After two hours of talking through names, we settled on Casper. Having never lived with him, we didn't realize then how much the name would be so cute on him. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RR4p11oErAJ7oMDD6MEXfVz0Pk6EBU1mrGKOrUMo3pYGtTXCDiJdoKgPqnKLgPsQTGAR4I-Y5_YY10KvL96VrZpQkNmuj5V8loFl_U4vfGcSNGzdvRrxUEc8xaQaZh5ZzUjNEQzIo4Y/s1600/IMG_4674.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-RR4p11oErAJ7oMDD6MEXfVz0Pk6EBU1mrGKOrUMo3pYGtTXCDiJdoKgPqnKLgPsQTGAR4I-Y5_YY10KvL96VrZpQkNmuj5V8loFl_U4vfGcSNGzdvRrxUEc8xaQaZh5ZzUjNEQzIo4Y/s320/IMG_4674.PNG" width="179" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After coming home from DC, we purchased the supplies we thought we needed. The next day, I got a job offer to move to Boston. We picked up Casper and tried to get him settled into our apartment. Even though he is estimated to be 3-5 years old, he clearly didn't want to go into a crate and preferred peeing on our carpets to outside or anywhere we suggested. He hated chew toys and didn't want to be left alone at all. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The first week was really rough and that weekend, he joined us as we drove to look at apartments here in Boston. Fortunately, he was great in the car. He slept on David's lap the entire trip and did his business when we needed him to at rest stops. It was tough to listen to him bark as we put him in a crate in the back seat while we ate all of our meals in the car. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We found a dog friendly apartment and then went back to Brooklyn to pack. The last month in Brooklyn was full of learning for us. We ended up throwing out our carpets and leaving Casper in a pen with pee pads during the day. Our neighbors said he barked a lot. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YDO0cf8baxGZAYG55buOgQ3QZ_slnp_i9gY6urOBBm8m_5uvvQPZa-qVKyucaJA2v82zlW6MmWJmr7nPsCbdBgMvQloh2zrGwougL8Tfgs6Chyphenhyphenom1TgwBWS8TyQXr7sCZzXpaE3qO3E/s1600/IMG_4676.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="359" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-YDO0cf8baxGZAYG55buOgQ3QZ_slnp_i9gY6urOBBm8m_5uvvQPZa-qVKyucaJA2v82zlW6MmWJmr7nPsCbdBgMvQloh2zrGwougL8Tfgs6Chyphenhyphenom1TgwBWS8TyQXr7sCZzXpaE3qO3E/s320/IMG_4676.PNG" width="179" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In moving to Boston, we ended up having a lot more time with Casper. Fast forward 90 days, and we have figured out a schedule that includes a few days of daycare and lots of time with us. He no longer needs to be in a crate when we go somewhere at home an is usually pretty good. He will do his business on the carpet outside of our apartment door, but no longer does anything in the apartment. He still doesn't like most toys, but we have found some that he likes. He has also been in training with us and a trainer and is a good learner. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxtZnLSxOwpx6Ikp-WkZhx_88_TzalYG1_8Fk9atMeEavhDl5kGHNXp4Jb1S9Bg7Dd2Tzlhyphenhyphen_I1_LfTCtGquNyOyP7p1gqkBFWXIxXjmutaCvkvtIIYUiuycgsny_9ul-08CQf6B94BU/s1600/IMG_7069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxtZnLSxOwpx6Ikp-WkZhx_88_TzalYG1_8Fk9atMeEavhDl5kGHNXp4Jb1S9Bg7Dd2Tzlhyphenhyphen_I1_LfTCtGquNyOyP7p1gqkBFWXIxXjmutaCvkvtIIYUiuycgsny_9ul-08CQf6B94BU/s320/IMG_7069.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
When things have been tough for David trying to find a new job and me having problems at mine, Casper knew that he needed to comfort the one of us that needed him most. He follows us everywhere. We have to be careful stepping out of the shower or the bed so we don't step on him. It is easier to leave the bathroom door open because he would rather sit at your feet than bark at the door for you to come out. He seems to do ok when we are gone as long as we play the tv for him.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmpnXrBK1Vl-N5aHfG45cQOL7VSFh0ceyYp4Rp5RCR2PFOjvnAAgELddhBWcN1lxkC1icg8uVphD0bKFtGbgARlNcthsfht3x8NznWy_mJGrlmBBbxj94qOzRVVn-btAQ2j6wKwDB-0w/s1600/IMG_3152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGmpnXrBK1Vl-N5aHfG45cQOL7VSFh0ceyYp4Rp5RCR2PFOjvnAAgELddhBWcN1lxkC1icg8uVphD0bKFtGbgARlNcthsfht3x8NznWy_mJGrlmBBbxj94qOzRVVn-btAQ2j6wKwDB-0w/s320/IMG_3152.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the end, I wouldn't say I'm a pet person, but I AM a Casper person. This little bundle of fur and licks has brought me laughter, joy, peace, and comfort almost every moment that I am with him. Even as I type, he is next to me waiting for me to wrap up so we can cuddle again. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In spite of some continued frustrations with the little bugger, I can't imagine our lives without him. The good far outweighs the challenges. </div>
<br />
I thank God that David wanted a dog so we could invite Casper into our lives. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJhs5xaOIyXtUW8LQn1Bz_pt_aLoKqRYzivGleyGYtdR81WlIdppskAuDd_Q4W8KO-xrGNgeGBi7V_8nB-J-42NSQLMwNt3Pt6lhINauwGMQtdPdhnBJvCXJQNO26h8vkxNCvjwutx7M/s1600/image1+%25282%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGJhs5xaOIyXtUW8LQn1Bz_pt_aLoKqRYzivGleyGYtdR81WlIdppskAuDd_Q4W8KO-xrGNgeGBi7V_8nB-J-42NSQLMwNt3Pt6lhINauwGMQtdPdhnBJvCXJQNO26h8vkxNCvjwutx7M/s320/image1+%25282%2529.png" width="179" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-66222354383955604922018-04-03T13:24:00.000-07:002018-04-03T17:06:20.572-07:00Apologizing Even Though You Were RightJust before leaving my last job, I was asked to apologize for speaking up about something I did that was not wrong or incorrect.<br />
<br />
A person felt slighted by my manner of speaking to her. The person who asked me to apologize admitted that the person I was apologizing to was actually the person in the wrong.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing.....if I do something wrong, I admit it. I may struggle a bit with doing so, but it isn't as painful as apologizing when I was RIGHT. My supervisor asked me to apologize to this lady. I wrote an email apologizing about how she felt, not about what I did. I was then asked to write a sincere apology. I countered that a sincere apology is one that comes from a place of truth and honesty. If my supervisor wanted an insincere apology where I admit that I am wrong, then I would do what I was told. <br />
<br />
In the end, I wrote a half sincere, and half completely false apology. It was, frankly, one more straw on the camel's back which encouraged me to pursue other work.<br />
<br />
My parents sometimes would make me apologize when I fought with my brothers growing up. What they always made me apologize FOR was for hurting my brother or hitting him or fighting. I do feel like my mother always listened to both sides of the argument before making us both apologize for the wrong we had done. I can't remember one situation where I was asked to apologize for something that I hadn't done wrong.<br />
<br />
What about you? What would you do? Would you lie just because someone felt hurt? Make up an apology? Only apologize for making them feel bad?<br />
<br />
Just curious.Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-47824008245074389782018-01-14T16:44:00.001-08:002018-01-15T05:48:23.132-08:00Finding Humanity Where I Thought it Was Lost. On Friday morning, I visited the Barbershop near work. It's a colorful place to say the least. I'm usually the only caucasian there. The barbers, who are four guys from Trinidad, frequently make comments about white folks and how terrible they are around me. The other day they were talking about getting basketball jerseys and the guy cutting my hair said, "why would any of us want some white guy's name on the back of our jersey." Everyone looked at him bug eyed and then did the eye sweep down to me. He apologized a dozen times, even calling me later to apologize.<br />
<br />
Additionally, the gents are pretty homophobic. I'm not surprised by it. Although it is against my nature, I haven't revealed that I'm gay. I never say the gender of my spouse, and they assume that David is a Nigerian woman. They frequently speak in pigeon and I know that they are talking about me on occasion and not in such a nice way.<br />
<br />
I keep going there because it is close to work and every other place I have tried is just not convenient and doesn't do a very good job. I get frustrated every two or three months and try another place, only to return here.<br />
<br />
There is one barber there that all the mom's who drop their kids off at the shop flirt with. I've flirted a bit too and poked a bit of fun at him. He is the most muscular and handsome man in the group. He is always talking sports or women with all the guys waiting for cuts on the bench. He is the alpha male of the shop and everyone knows it.<br />
<br />
I haven't seen much goodness out of the guys in this shop. The guy talk is as all guy talk is in lockerrooms or barbershops I'm guessing. Only on occasion does a woman come in. It's usually an older woman who the gents all treat like a grandmother.<br />
<br />
On Friday, a lady who was about 50 years old came in. She was dressed in very baggy clothes and had a hoody on with the hood up. I was in the chair getting my cut and there were four guys on the bench waiting and all talking basketball loudly.<br />
<br />
Alpha barber was leading the conversation. A guy popped in and asked him for a cut and how long the wait was. He said that guy was next. Then the lady said quietly, "I was hoping I was next." He looked a bit surprised and told the guy that she was next, he thought she was waiting for whoever was open.<br />
<br />
At this point, I'm in the barber chair next to alpha barber. I was there when he came in. I greeted him with, "Good morning, sunshine." That made him glare a bit because the gents waiting for him thought it was funny. Needless to say, I was advising my own barber on how to get his daughter more involved in medicine. She is only 12 and he wants her to be a doctor. Given my work at a medical school, previous work at Hartwick, and other involvement with youngsters as a Sunday School teacher, I'm happy to talk about how to get any youngster more engaged.<br />
<br />
As alpha barber finished up the cut in his chair, my barber started shaping my beard. As this lady sat down, she started to talk in a very quiet voice to alpha barber. She put down her hood and her hair was falling off in patches. She took a deep breath and held it in for a moment as if steeling herself up to talk to him. He continued to talk loudly about basketball and the current players and teams. She then let out an almost inaudible sigh and her shoulders slumped.<br />
<br />
I was pretty pissed off at this thinking what this poor woman must be going through and here this muscled jock alpha barber was just going to brush her off.<br />
<br />
I don't think anyone else heard her but me. He kept up the banter with the guys while having a very quiet conversation with her that made me tear up a little.<br />
<br />
Lady: "I wanted to come to you because I knew you'd do a good job for me."<br />
Alpha: "What's going on? What do you want?"<br />
Lady: "I've just finished chemo. I don't know quite what I want. I just want it to look ok."<br />
Alpha: "Don't worry, I'll help you out. How was chemo? Are you ok?"<br />
Lady: "It hurts a lot. I'm still in pain, but I'm here."<br />
Alpha: "I'm going to fix you up. Don't you worry."<br />
Lady: "What are we going to do?"<br />
Alpha: "I'm just going to shape this all up so you come outa here shinin'. Do you want to talk about it? Are you ok."<br />
Lady: "Thank you. I trust you."<br />
<br />
I wish I could have captured the other talk he was having about basketball loudly with the other guys while he did this. I frankly care so little about sports that I didn't pay attention. This all happened as my haircut and shave was finishing up. The timid lady who looked like she was having a terrible day when she walked in seemed to be at least being cared for. My heart melted a little for alpha barber. I guest you can find a bit of humanity in some surprising places.<br />
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-46282560514393875882018-01-03T11:21:00.001-08:002018-01-03T12:26:59.131-08:00Death Threats are NOT the AnswerI know what is like to get death threats because of something you do. My husband, David, and I got a number of death threats after <a href="https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/the-gay-marriage-that-broke-the-nigerian-internet_us_57acc16ee4b03d06fe844d18">our wedding photos were leaked to the Nigeria press</a>. To say that it was disheartening is the understatement of the century. We were threatened with torture and death, and had curses put on us that we get cancer and die. Why? Because we are two men who fell in love and got married in front of our family and friends by a pastor who blessed us.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c0P87z4X0mPEkak4CcWBHMEd9IZQ68QUk0SDHwPxODHggDx2H9Iz7orTN0IymsQOdnQH4nree_jmPNW0XyM9R8lbIG-qWHJD8_acTYQjoGfMhNXd9Q6H3Cb9-uLePtsqoBD41_fw7nw/s1600/cake+cutting+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1c0P87z4X0mPEkak4CcWBHMEd9IZQ68QUk0SDHwPxODHggDx2H9Iz7orTN0IymsQOdnQH4nree_jmPNW0XyM9R8lbIG-qWHJD8_acTYQjoGfMhNXd9Q6H3Cb9-uLePtsqoBD41_fw7nw/s320/cake+cutting+2017.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
You might wonder why I'm bringing this up now. Recently, I've been having a debate with my best friend who happens to be a straight, conservative, Christian, Republican. We've been best friends forever even though our political and religious views don't always align. My friend is concerned that the law is forcing people to do things that are against their personal religious beliefs. I do agree that the law is forcing people to provide equal services to people regardless of race, gender, or sexual orientation. This issue has blown up in the case of the couple who are bakers (and other cases) that refused to make a gay wedding cake.<br />
<br />
When I brought up that this was the same as not providing a wedding cake to an interracial marriage, my friend said that he disagreed. I explained that religion and personal beliefs were also used to deny service to black people for many years. Most business folks today are much more sly if they personally don't want to serve you and instead just make you uncomfortable, raise the prices, or provide sub-par service to discourage you, but some stand by their religion and beliefs to deny service.<br />
<br />
When we started having this discussion, my friend said that the people were being "killed" for their religious beliefs. I challenged that assumption saying that they were by no means killed, but might have lost their business b/c of refusing to serve gay people the same way they would serve straight people. He explained that t<a href="https://www.today.com/news/baker-who-refused-make-cake-gay-couple-i-ve-had-t119878">he couple in question received death threats from the gay community because of what they had done. </a><br />
<br />
I wasn't aware of that, but to me it is the same as me receiving death threats for marrying David. NEITHER ONE IS RIGHT! <br />
<br />
I implore any of you who think that violence and threats are an answer to ANY problem you are facing to look into the long history of conflicts to see that it rarely if ever has ANY positive impact.<br />
<br />
If you are a Christian like me, or my friend, you know that we have to love each other even when we disagree; to respond to hate with love. Jesus said if someone hits you, turn the other cheek. That can be interpreted a lot of ways. I choose to walk away from violence and pray peace and blessings on anyone who wishes it on me, usually. Every time I respond by yelling back or snapping at people, I only regret it later. Regardless of your religion or beliefs, anger and hate only make things worse. <br />
<br />
WE CAN BE BETTER THAN THEM. Anyone who is violent is losing at life. We need to do our best to either stay out of it or respond in love. If nothing else, walk away from any violence or hate. If someone won't bake your cake, do your flowers, or host your wedding, pray that God give them guidance and open their hearts and minds AND find a place that will do whatever you want in a LOVING way. You don't want any part of your marriage or your life to be tainted by the hate and curses of others.<br />
<br />
Thanks to the people who have shown me and David love in our lives. We keep you close and hope you are blessed 10 fold. We won't respond in hate to haters.<br />
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-82674745525581076972017-12-26T09:19:00.003-08:002017-12-26T11:52:32.142-08:00Christmas 2017It's quiet this week in my office, so I have more time to think than at other times of year. I'm sitting here typing with two burns on my fingers from grabbing a hot pot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfOfrXP54RssOvEuVAtoM5cvfGwXAFqDwhzAaIqkO_bUuWulH_eEsXeHDuX_4w7oysrZgxry6OtjselSiEugizhJZ_DSsF-zWcOUgbZO2KZQtg6M4MKgtV_Cq4UiCqJWAEmpl6PjrpmQ/s1600/IMG_2110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBfOfrXP54RssOvEuVAtoM5cvfGwXAFqDwhzAaIqkO_bUuWulH_eEsXeHDuX_4w7oysrZgxry6OtjselSiEugizhJZ_DSsF-zWcOUgbZO2KZQtg6M4MKgtV_Cq4UiCqJWAEmpl6PjrpmQ/s320/IMG_2110.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
With that said, I'm not upset, but happy. Even though they burned for hours after it happened, they were such a minor part of a lovely day that I shrug and say, "shit happens." </div>
<br />
Last Christmas was my first Christmas with my husband, David. We both surprised each other with quite a few really nice gifts. We probably spent more than we should have on each other, but neither of us will ever forget that first Christmas as a married couple. After opening gifts, making waffles in our new waffle maker, and having a google chat with my family, we laid down to rest while poking around shuttefly to make a wedding album with our newly delivered wedding photos. <a href="http://www.brooklynjunk.com/2017/01/">What we didn't realize is that we left a candle burning resulting in a fire. </a>Fortunately, no one was hurt and most of our things were saved.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
This year, we planned a much smaller Christmas together. We have a friend visiting us from Nigeria, so we picked up a few gifts for him to open. We also bought each other a few nice things. My mom and dad sent us quite a few big boxes along with gifts from other family. We woke up at our own pace and laid a blanket on the floor to open gifts from each other next to our tree. Our friend, James, joined us. We each opened some fun gifts. My favorite was the three foam dart guns from Santa. A toy like this for three grown men brings quite a bit of laughter (and that laughter continued throughout the day). Even when one of the tail fins came off the dart, it still flew with a big curve.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After we opened gifts, I made breakfast for everyone. It's really fun for me to cook for folks that I love. Some buttermilk biscuits, sausage, and cheese garlic scrambled eggs hit the spot and tided us over for most of the day. <a href="https://www.pamperedchef.com/pws/ericshoen">I got to use some more of my new pampered chef knives and other products. I love kitchen gadgets. </a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrzrjtTx6XTBQV2puDgg64mFIftCXwCCgjVD5NlE0ojp9-VJUhQX3KAkqLJvVpslbEoqNJUWirWYKpis1RFs4ieCYr3L4wOl4qUnjHavzntJ0Xh7m94_lt8cFLaQZFgWfCy_tSNdxCNY/s1600/IMG_3258.JPEG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJrzrjtTx6XTBQV2puDgg64mFIftCXwCCgjVD5NlE0ojp9-VJUhQX3KAkqLJvVpslbEoqNJUWirWYKpis1RFs4ieCYr3L4wOl4qUnjHavzntJ0Xh7m94_lt8cFLaQZFgWfCy_tSNdxCNY/s320/IMG_3258.JPEG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
David got a new men's jewelry valet, a watch case, and a cufflink case, so he tore apart our bedroom and reorganized his jewelry and his closet. James and I watched folksy Christmas movies on netflix while I texted back and forth with my family and friends. I got up after a while and started working on Christmas dinner. We had some friends that had asked to join us, so I was a bit worried about having enough food. I looked through my cupboards and decided to add a few dishes in case we didn't have enough main course. I realized that if I have ever done a full holiday meal, it has been years. I vaguely remember a Thanksgiving meal back when I was 25. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGFJc_S-xS2V39m_W822PpgzffyJ_6Cq-I67KILPTbrSztD96PwIajjzYajpoPV5oI2q0Z2RuFf_KQx8SA4_gV2AzV1G6QkCSPNH8PGwW-nleKnT2NoeyRbGA0B0YIGKIy9z1XLwlr-E/s1600/IMG_2089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1160" data-original-width="1544" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoGFJc_S-xS2V39m_W822PpgzffyJ_6Cq-I67KILPTbrSztD96PwIajjzYajpoPV5oI2q0Z2RuFf_KQx8SA4_gV2AzV1G6QkCSPNH8PGwW-nleKnT2NoeyRbGA0B0YIGKIy9z1XLwlr-E/s320/IMG_2089.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm blessed to have my mom who talked me through some of my questions. I cook a lot at home, but I don't think I've ever made some of my mom's usual holiday dishes. The hard part about it is that she doesn't have a recipe for anything. If you call and ask her about how much of an ingredient to add, her answer is always that "it depends." I cook the same way all the time now, BUT, I usually start with a recipe and then alter it to my taste after I've tried it once. Funny thing is that I have lots of cookbooks and printed recipes that are only basic guides for that dish. Regardless, the food looked and smelled great. It wasn't quite as good as mom's (it probably never could be). Our friends got stuck on the train, so I couldn't keep everything warm. I called mom and asked her what to do about the mashed potatoes. She told me to put the entire kettle back in the oven for ten minutes. </div>
<br />
I did so and then pulled them out with my handy oven mitts. They looked dry so I grabbed some milk to add to them (again thanks mom). Forgetting that the kettle had been in the oven and knowing that the handles don't usually get warm when I use it on the stove top, I grabbed the handle with my bare hand. Fortunately, I realized it before both hands hit the handles and quickly ran cold water over my fingers. I grabbed an ice pack and guided David through fixing the potatoes.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We served a meal to our three friends, and opened some Christmas Crackers (leftover from our wedding) that always make us giggle. We had some wine to drink and enjoyed the charming, witty, funny, and loving company of each other. I had waves of contentment flood over me repeatedly all evening. The burn was a minor set back in what was a reminder of the millions of things I have to be thankful for. God has blessed me, blessed my marriage, and our friends this year. In spite of the bad things going on in the world both in our own country, in Nigeria, and elsewhere, WE PERSISTED. We are RESISTING. We are SURVIVING. We are LOVING, LIVING, and trying to help those around us do the same. </div>
<br />
As 2017 starts to wind down, I am grateful for the good and cognizant of the bad things that have happened. I (with my love at my side) am ready to face 2018 with open arms and an open mind. We will take all of blessings we can get, give as many as we can give, and have faith that we will have an even better year next year!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3CjxAaj-u1i-5_XG9BsNut7f7iFua4Moh8T9JKlQAPhzDChi2em0cQhMmlTWHjIkhIk4lKDkAYv4fZnvzNQYSQomHFXVTEMAOm1NRORdIcqEhMUYDCVuXoLu8EWObBk0Bl-fAoUrP3s/s1600/IMG_2094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3CjxAaj-u1i-5_XG9BsNut7f7iFua4Moh8T9JKlQAPhzDChi2em0cQhMmlTWHjIkhIk4lKDkAYv4fZnvzNQYSQomHFXVTEMAOm1NRORdIcqEhMUYDCVuXoLu8EWObBk0Bl-fAoUrP3s/s320/IMG_2094.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-84112243816816920502017-10-21T19:29:00.001-07:002017-10-22T04:37:06.518-07:00Disgusting ColonizerI'm traveling for a board meeting this weekend in Rochester, New York. It's the first time I've had both enough time and enough inspiration to write a post in quite some time.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When I got here to Rochester, I checked out my house, posted some pictures, and I signed into Grindr. Grind is a gay application on a smart phone. A politically correct person might call it a gay dating app like Tinder. Many gay men also use it for more than just dating. As for me, David and I have met some fun people from there who have become friends and clients of our photography business. It's also kind of fun to find out what gay men are in your area even if all you do is chat with them.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPImtDvRiOjOsxJT6dGzEcGzK4hmp0g9PTFN3gOs_daUXDly7KIydbmDM5X82_6lldHuJiRgCpeDM8G5Vh0bhQvFHeWVocUMMHvddjXKjDF-FG0HPbDAZ-nPVync-J5tTU_e7BAIvdp_k/s1600/IMG_0863+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1544" data-original-width="1160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPImtDvRiOjOsxJT6dGzEcGzK4hmp0g9PTFN3gOs_daUXDly7KIydbmDM5X82_6lldHuJiRgCpeDM8G5Vh0bhQvFHeWVocUMMHvddjXKjDF-FG0HPbDAZ-nPVync-J5tTU_e7BAIvdp_k/s320/IMG_0863+%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Our photo on Grindr</span></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I signed in and left my phone on my bed while I showered to get ready for my lunch meeting. I didn't message anyone, and frankly planned on just messaging the few guys I already knew as friends to just kill time for five to ten minutes before I had to leave. My weekend was entirely too packed for anything else.<br />
<br />
<br />
As I stepped out of the shower and began to dry off, I heard a notification that I had a message. Being that this is not face to face, sometimes men can be really crass. When I checked the message, it was from a handsome black man who was 24.<br />
<br />
"Disgusting Colonizer."<br />
<br />
That's all that the message said. I don't know this man and have never met him. It made me wonder why someone would have so much vitriol against another man/couple that he has never met. My photo on grindr is a photo of me and David. Our profile says that we are seeking clients who want photos and new friends. I was a bit disgusted by it, but am coming to realize that the sentiment is one that I am hearing more and more often not just online, but in many gay social settings. There is a great deal of animosity toward me because I married David. Apparently, I somehow fooled him into loving me and because he is black, he is expected to marry another black man. I don't know how your love life works, but I've never let any of my dates be constricted by race or economics. I've dated men from many different races and so has David. Our love has nothing to do with skin color and everything to do with how we make each other feel. I message back, "May God Bless You," and then blocked the man.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Again this morning, I signed on again as I hopped into the shower. There were a bunch of other messages from all kinds of men. Some of them were friends, and some of them wanted to chat and find out more. In a pleasant surprise, I connected online with one former friend who has since given up drinking and turned his life around. On my next trip when David comes to visit, we are planning on grabbing coffee together. Unfortunately, as I was sitting on my bed chatting with him and trying to politely reply to all of the other messages (some nice and some just asking for sex), I got another disturbing message....<br />
<br />
"Can we just say GREENCARD marriage!?!"</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Now I'm not unused to hearing things like this. I do think that it is really odd that in less than 24 hours, I got two negative messages from handsome black men who I don't know and did not reach out to in any way shape or form that are disparaging me and my relationship with my husband. I did respond to this man saying, "that's an incorrect assumption. My husband happened to have an adjusted status before we were married." David had a secure case for asylum when he arrived in the USA. When we met, his asylum case was pending, but we were assured that he had a solid case. Within months of our marriage, he was granted asylum. He didn't need our marriage to stay here and still doesn't to get his permanent residence. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Typical of a negative person, this man (I refuse to call him a gentleman) blocked me instead of engaging in conversation. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What makes this even more surprising to me is that this happened in a place that I hold so dear, Rochester. I have spent many happy years living and visiting in Rochester. My work with the nonprofit sector has included quite a bit of social and racial justice work. I'd be less surprised if this happened in Brooklyn, but I'm wrong. As you can see in the image below, it does happen there too, but this message was so shocking, I saved it to show David. Something has made at least a few black gay men hate white men in this wonderful city.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkb98eqDG5Jfew6EAAPDY4Pwi7u2ct8HBO5_tUiArfxKxWWCvcpeVdDthrLSe8xlBzxVW3UGM6TIERa-ocQV-0FjjlqUuwM8s771WVnFpwJPn7hNXghQedenQ1p-S1EEscrZ7ky8lfAvE/s1600/IMG_9953.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkb98eqDG5Jfew6EAAPDY4Pwi7u2ct8HBO5_tUiArfxKxWWCvcpeVdDthrLSe8xlBzxVW3UGM6TIERa-ocQV-0FjjlqUuwM8s771WVnFpwJPn7hNXghQedenQ1p-S1EEscrZ7ky8lfAvE/s320/IMG_9953.PNG" width="179" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Another message with hate, but this time in response to the message "Hi" and this time in Brooklyn a few weeks ago. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
On Friday night, I spent four hours in a workshop on structural racism and what we can do as individuals and as a board to help move our nonprofit as well as other places where we have influence to be more racially inclusive by design. This night of tough conversations was another opportunity for me to grow and learn. Strange that it coincided with the same weekend of these negative racially motivated comments. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I also tried to figure out what else could be going on. I last lived in Rochester full time 8 years ago. I've visited a lot since then, but haven't lived here. Both of these men were 24 years old according to their profiles. If they grew up here, then they were 16 when I moved away. Has so much changed in our racial disparities in 8 years that this animosity has increased? I might also wonder if the young people we are attracting here to work or study (maybe these gents were/are transplants) could also have their own race issues that they are bringing from elsewhere. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My goal in life is to try whenever possible to be polite to people. Sure, on Grindr I get messages that are sometimes a bit crass or vulgar. Sometimes I see people and may make small judgements in my mind about them. I refuse to attack them with no provocation and make assumptions about them. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
LISTEN to me fellow gay men and women when I say that there are enough hateful people conspiring against us to make our lives difficult. In the current political environment it seems to be getting even more precarious for us in our fight for equal rights. If we cannot support each other with positive messages and energy, we become worse than the haters that are trying to suppress our rights. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love yourself first. Try to love other people too. If you think something hurtful that divides us, then keep it to yourself and don't attack strangers you know nothing about with your own racism and baggage. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We are stronger together. </div>
Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-41801034810448514432017-06-23T07:20:00.003-07:002017-06-23T10:43:11.786-07:00My Superhero Husband Fights Homophobia in Coney Island<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhNNgfPwiOaAhIQ13cW5idudamEw2CAxeigfHcMgpqtYV9F96OckIrY0wfj6vNyaFtYFcjnK5SXSO-m5WeSgrTblOulp-yWiVgtwMVJVvuI8NzhuNuvqLTAYtN9tCnqyFAZd3Q770PA0/s1600/IMG_7244.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRhNNgfPwiOaAhIQ13cW5idudamEw2CAxeigfHcMgpqtYV9F96OckIrY0wfj6vNyaFtYFcjnK5SXSO-m5WeSgrTblOulp-yWiVgtwMVJVvuI8NzhuNuvqLTAYtN9tCnqyFAZd3Q770PA0/s320/IMG_7244.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Last weekend, David and I decided to check out the annual <a href="http://www.coneyisland.com/programs/mermaid-parade">Coney Island Mermaid Parade</a>. We hadn't been before and both had heard great things. <br />
<br />
When we got up that Saturday morning, it was pouring rain. David and I had not had a Saturday morning where we were able to sleep in and not go running to some appointment in months. We listened to the rain and talked about our plans for the weekend and the coming weeks (also jam packed with parties, events, work, etc.).<br />
<br />
As the downpour continued, we checked our weather app on our phones a few times. It looked like the rain would stop just in time for the parade. I was hesitant and thought maybe we should just stay home, but David insisted.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjGDFzwZ_-vD5s3bZl8tLkdzWIjXg_vkbAkwutkN9jdnJwlNULS5aPFWOnDyuHOwbYoYOdrT1DUoRjfKeOZeqRP5r3vufHvZVFaVuU8LHTBrDWBIh9bfj7wL_2UUG6ZOS0k6GXqluV0U/s1600/IMG_6666.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjGDFzwZ_-vD5s3bZl8tLkdzWIjXg_vkbAkwutkN9jdnJwlNULS5aPFWOnDyuHOwbYoYOdrT1DUoRjfKeOZeqRP5r3vufHvZVFaVuU8LHTBrDWBIh9bfj7wL_2UUG6ZOS0k6GXqluV0U/s320/IMG_6666.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We grabbed some sandwiches and hopped on the F Train. In less than 30 minutes, we got off the train into a sea of costumed people all standing in the station waiting for the rain to pass. David grabbed our camera and started shooting right away. We both have cameras and started our own photo company as a side gig. David has been modeling and it helps for us to be able to light and take our own shots for his portfolio. We have moved beyond beginner and are starting to get some paid gigs. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5P97FKOmBTXK3HGMIfBzg2ZgN2vqDjD3VUwNbaHy7yLpwwqKhBIBKqYIO6uVbdlxGJrTbov3qExalqJ59RZ57xz6-EU0Wyg4fMoCqlekprLtWHQMRe72bMbvmPQ6Ol55DC-hXqcW0WRA/s1600/IMG_6713.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5P97FKOmBTXK3HGMIfBzg2ZgN2vqDjD3VUwNbaHy7yLpwwqKhBIBKqYIO6uVbdlxGJrTbov3qExalqJ59RZ57xz6-EU0Wyg4fMoCqlekprLtWHQMRe72bMbvmPQ6Ol55DC-hXqcW0WRA/s320/IMG_6713.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
After getting photos of most of the people in the subway station, we decided to brave the rain and find a place to watch the parade. As we jogged through the rain, we noticed a spot that had some openings. David and I approached the group. We saw a pack of photographers. David asked me if he could go into the barricades and shoot with them. I pointed out that they all had press passes and said he could try his luck.<br />
<br />
David proudly marched in through the barricades with his camera around his neck. I didn't find out until three hours later that one person kept telling the police officers David needed to leave because he didn't have a press pass. All of the other photographers seemed to welcome him as a member of the unique pack of artists. The other thing that happened surprised me. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3h0T-rUuF3qvAgI_r-mizcs3d2hzjpypckRlPRyFQojqR9vTa7t82dC2IIgVp_IXFZbZNS-gjA33jaVtO248lWkEueMgu0Y_lQDPIG05N4Iw9hMp_6h2GOQdam8T7TU7-2BXMatI7tY/s1600/IMG_7080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ3h0T-rUuF3qvAgI_r-mizcs3d2hzjpypckRlPRyFQojqR9vTa7t82dC2IIgVp_IXFZbZNS-gjA33jaVtO248lWkEueMgu0Y_lQDPIG05N4Iw9hMp_6h2GOQdam8T7TU7-2BXMatI7tY/s320/IMG_7080.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
It is important to understand that the Coney Island Mermaid Parade is a parade that celebrates art, uniqueness, culture, fluid sexuality, and people from all walks of life. The people in the parade are of all genders, sexuality, colors, shapes, and sizes. Over and over again, people in fabulous costumes would stop to get their photo taken by the group of photographers, and these photographers would utter quietly to each other that the person was a "homo" or "fag" and decide not to shoot them. This was especially prevalent among the men that these photographers perceived as gay. If the subject was a woman, especially one who was scantily clad (there were quite a few of them who wore very little), it was fine. They were happy to shoot some tits and ass. David was surprised and a bit hurt by this. When he told me, I was too.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM59hcH0bHQpB43zn3CqdIT5FSzEAzJQiJXRJmvZk82q-dzxFAQ9daZrwWruuFrTuym5A7DH-9VRK0LbrOuoKXxGZZy_eZEGAohbq1CyOsNMRhQ4s82uvTnDdjY-8O3COHNHMHXb-gqOA/s1600/IMG_7025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM59hcH0bHQpB43zn3CqdIT5FSzEAzJQiJXRJmvZk82q-dzxFAQ9daZrwWruuFrTuym5A7DH-9VRK0LbrOuoKXxGZZy_eZEGAohbq1CyOsNMRhQ4s82uvTnDdjY-8O3COHNHMHXb-gqOA/s320/IMG_7025.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
So, what does my superhero husband do? He goes above and beyond to photograph every person there. David decides to spend extra time on the few men who these ignorant photographers thought were gay or gay looking. David has no idea, just like me, whether someone is gay or not. We frankly don't care. We celebrate all people and their fabulousness. Bring on the costumes, cover us in glitter, sashay all you want and we will say....yaaassss mama, you go girl, bring it dude, and whatever else we can to embrace you for who you are. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrlCTrZBt2lzqGZuwDEPFRKHc6of6od9CujCz4nF29EpgYdcoYKfo0wkiJWy_zEhaB5JLB68EopHqC8BKT1BhXS48CF467zGyzuWtYot9fl44OtFND-wjaDFpoBaea0Y8fq-nFMZfHgc/s1600/IMG_7092.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVrlCTrZBt2lzqGZuwDEPFRKHc6of6od9CujCz4nF29EpgYdcoYKfo0wkiJWy_zEhaB5JLB68EopHqC8BKT1BhXS48CF467zGyzuWtYot9fl44OtFND-wjaDFpoBaea0Y8fq-nFMZfHgc/s320/IMG_7092.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The only group we knew were gay included our friends. We were ecstatic to see them there. We are proud supporters of<a href="http://www.gaysagainstguns.net/"> Gays Against Gun</a>s (GAG on that, will you). I'm proud of David. Although confronting the photographers would have resulted in his removal from the photographer section of the parade, at least he was able to show some love to people that the homophobic old fart photographers (who all happened to be male) were to insecure to photograph.<br />
<br />
We can all do something to show our love for people different than us. Even Jesus said:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">"Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt <b>love</b> the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt <b>love</b> thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments <b>hang</b> all the law and the prophets."</span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
</span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBGYtBc_6wSeDVwjTFgmruVwEEfmh2JThSYagvFGhXA2uqudlwcdrpnRlG9MRq81K_efrDF4po_kQmfUrbFSN3_DaFoIbZ0MlbmyF7prNfBzEeW5vx5X3cp1_djYOYydnnuccdmvCATE/s1600/IMG_7241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZBGYtBc_6wSeDVwjTFgmruVwEEfmh2JThSYagvFGhXA2uqudlwcdrpnRlG9MRq81K_efrDF4po_kQmfUrbFSN3_DaFoIbZ0MlbmyF7prNfBzEeW5vx5X3cp1_djYOYydnnuccdmvCATE/s320/IMG_7241.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "roboto" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">
</span>
<br />
If you want to look at all of the photos that David took of the Mermaid Parade, check out our the Shoen-Ukre photo share website: <a href="http://shoenukre.smugmug.com/MermaidParade2017" style="font-family: Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">http://shoenukre.smugmug.com/MermaidParade2017</a><br />
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-42002370618290539022017-06-13T13:28:00.000-07:002017-06-13T13:28:22.262-07:00So which one of you is the husband and which one is the wife?Last night, my husband David and I had the privilege to speak to a class on sex, ethnicity, race, and gender at the <a href="http://www.downstate.edu/publichealth/">School of Public Health for the State University of New York at Downstate </a>(SUNY Downstate). We were invited by the professor of the class who is on the board of the organization where I work. <br />
<br />
David and I were there to talk about our story and how we fell in love. The students were there to learn about gay relationships in a setting where they could ask questions without fear. One of the questions we were asked, which we have been asked a lot by small kids, was:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: x-large;">I understand that you are married, so which one of you is the husband and which one of you is the wife? </span><br /><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAyKHNbAODViKy5n-2RMYQVcX3TKyHt9EI7fAsXozVuWvQ0vsspU5TlF9XkwuPCkeMvprAjTcPU7KSxGel7_xLtC1hKSHOz03av6yU7_caqErM6cbsD11IXEo5x_C6SAb2U48pksdnlI/s1600/IMG_6920.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCAyKHNbAODViKy5n-2RMYQVcX3TKyHt9EI7fAsXozVuWvQ0vsspU5TlF9XkwuPCkeMvprAjTcPU7KSxGel7_xLtC1hKSHOz03av6yU7_caqErM6cbsD11IXEo5x_C6SAb2U48pksdnlI/s320/IMG_6920.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Now it's easy for a gay person to get offended by this question. David later admitted that he was offended saying, "why would someone even ask that, don't they understand?" <br />
<br />
As I looked at the class, I related that the same question had been asked by my four year old nephew who had been the ring bearer in our wedding. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QLzWXtAKfsROY0qRFrDyDe-ZNd8aZWCmpYRsB5Dg9wP2sx3Efl9jmC7V6FIHEuLzIE4qg6P1GURoRXV36_OekhGwdm4AioBCfYC0C_B0u8hHYOxGPi1fZlOHeDRfta9yIcAAeKjTF48/s1600/IMG_8324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9QLzWXtAKfsROY0qRFrDyDe-ZNd8aZWCmpYRsB5Dg9wP2sx3Efl9jmC7V6FIHEuLzIE4qg6P1GURoRXV36_OekhGwdm4AioBCfYC0C_B0u8hHYOxGPi1fZlOHeDRfta9yIcAAeKjTF48/s320/IMG_8324.JPG" width="240" /></a><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
My older brother and his wife were so shocked that he asked it and then tried to apologize and cover it up. I raised my hand to stop them as I hugged my nephew Christopher and explained:<br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">"Uncle Eric and Uncle David are both husbands. We don't have to have a wife or a mommy in our relationship to be happy." </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
As I relayed this story, I realized that there are probably many reasons why someone would ask this question (or think it but not dare ask it). One of the biggest reasons is that we as gay people are fighting to not be assigned a gender and a role all of the time in our relationships. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Na1sV78-iQC0BJ1jNB_KPsCRgHbSl2JPc9q7IXzydbMoKCkKmOS_vVxDdm8tMasErTZWfOad0PCVcQ4dyb5DIXZ4iBY0TvZXuM8qBP3iK2EsSFAZHxcFrpJLGypbK8ikPgbFaQEgTQ4/s1600/IMG_6656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Na1sV78-iQC0BJ1jNB_KPsCRgHbSl2JPc9q7IXzydbMoKCkKmOS_vVxDdm8tMasErTZWfOad0PCVcQ4dyb5DIXZ4iBY0TvZXuM8qBP3iK2EsSFAZHxcFrpJLGypbK8ikPgbFaQEgTQ4/s320/IMG_6656.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Society has said that a marriage must have a man and a woman, a husband and a wife, or one who is nurturing and one who is not. In my own family, my dad works a job outside of the house and brings home the money while my mom does all of the cooking, cleaning, organizing, laundry, raised the kids, sewing, gardening, ironing, shopping, and other household chores. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In glbtq organizations, we frequently ask people <a href="http://www.transstudent.org/pronouns101">which pronoun they wish to use and how they want to identify.</a> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbI1NEXsiq_Bg8v-GidWG0JJGa4EedDhgee9oD5gwlCRJXzoE1vn3Gv7jKQGA_R9527l78GjVuo9JfazeLnJ5VMj7Yt7qtyrno86uI5fLU2yCUUXCq1dycs9HGN4LXjn3nvto5cSm-_Nk/s1600/IMG_7635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbI1NEXsiq_Bg8v-GidWG0JJGa4EedDhgee9oD5gwlCRJXzoE1vn3Gv7jKQGA_R9527l78GjVuo9JfazeLnJ5VMj7Yt7qtyrno86uI5fLU2yCUUXCq1dycs9HGN4LXjn3nvto5cSm-_Nk/s320/IMG_7635.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Unlike earlier times in my life, I was reminded that not everyone wants to fit on the traditional gender/role spectrum. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I chose to respond in a way to hopefully help this student understand: <br /><br />"David and I both identify as men. We are both attracted to other men. We are both husbands in our relationship. Every relationship is different. In some, there may be a relationship where one of the couple identifies as the wife and the other as the husband. Other relationships have a partners who identify as dominant and submissive, masculine and feminine, top and bottom, or male and female." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jdZKMAdDJSUQEONcystopsK8I-XdG_X81wwYFRxIf_Z1lN1CHRv1O4my-lYshCet5xm2kF0XRh2CBJyQTdy45DrjgTSOIXsOh3SUEg4HK7lTiFAaTCC_vIkvYUwAbyq3iQvnga5qKts/s1600/IMG_6106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jdZKMAdDJSUQEONcystopsK8I-XdG_X81wwYFRxIf_Z1lN1CHRv1O4my-lYshCet5xm2kF0XRh2CBJyQTdy45DrjgTSOIXsOh3SUEg4HK7lTiFAaTCC_vIkvYUwAbyq3iQvnga5qKts/s320/IMG_6106.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_o5hZ4kQ6Q03lK_wOv4rrsv7w0hyphenhyphen3SC5h7lqj6lw4xF-lY6LIeTrYJvM5xRGpdZDXZ9qZezoqhK6_qdSadH_YzzHTQOjw2AYnQnJwJp4SK7Th-7L_yLWJzE3VVbSDllrNz5AupGRIwU/s1600/IMG_4438.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_o5hZ4kQ6Q03lK_wOv4rrsv7w0hyphenhyphen3SC5h7lqj6lw4xF-lY6LIeTrYJvM5xRGpdZDXZ9qZezoqhK6_qdSadH_YzzHTQOjw2AYnQnJwJp4SK7Th-7L_yLWJzE3VVbSDllrNz5AupGRIwU/s320/IMG_4438.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"As gay people, we want to be seen as two people who love each other and are in a committed relationship. We want you to stop assigning a role to us and let us love each other in a committed way regardless of the role we play in our relationship." </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
"David and I consider ourselves masculine, but we sometimes can be feminine too. We both cook, we both clean, we both care for each other, do the laundry iron, and even both are sexually versatile. That's us, but you can't apply who we are to all gay relationships."<br /><br />That was just one of the interesting questions that we were asked, but it was the one that affected us the most. It was clear that people in the class came from all walks of life and had many different levels of experience with gay people. We were honored to be able to expose them to our life and to try to provide them with experiences that will make these students better health care professionals when they graduate so that they can work alongside us to make our community safer and healthier for all individuals regardless of race, gender, ethnicity, or sexual orientation. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-38653042775910751422017-06-10T09:14:00.001-07:002017-06-10T09:14:39.050-07:00A reset. Organizing and de-clutteringSaving things for future use is in my blood. I grew up on a small dairy farm in northern New York. The barn and house were both built over one hundred years ago. They both always had something that needed fixing. My parents are/were very careful with money. We tried to reuse things and save spare parts and extra cloth, rope, pipe, grease, etc for when it might come in handy. Because of this, my amazing mother is a master at making an abundance of random things fit in small spaces, logically, in ways that you can find them, but also look attractive to the outside world. <br />
<br />
I'd like to think I'm really good at this too. I'm no where near the master sensei level that Momma Shoen is, but I try really hard. <br /><br />Having grown up this way, and having this skill, also means that when my house/home/apartment/car is a cluttered mess of things, I go a little bit crazy. I love my husband, who appreciates this art/skill, but has yet to master it.<br />
<br />
I say this because during the past two months, our apartment has gotten out of hand. Although David, my husband, has kept the floors swept, the rugs vacuumed, the shower, sinks and toilet scrubbed, and the kitchen in order, there are little things everywhere. Surfaces were covered in books, papers, boxes, things we needed to put away, etc.<br />
<br />
Yesterday, I had one glorious day to myself. I needed to feel like my house was in shape again so I could focus on the rest of my life and getting that in order too. <br /><br />I started by getting the laundry and dry cleaning dropped off to be done at the Chinese laundry on our block. I then put up two separate shelves that we had been holding onto. Then I took the things off of the floor and end tables and put them on the shelves. I emptied three baskets and re-organized things in a way that made sense. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGND17hV7SJxHhGBFYU4KY_4qNPs7QDzDNevgSd-Ms54Rzo_aUV8MvUdeLraA2hWDIpgGst3hNm5DbnYceWMTQd83Nd9bENOyDZpGg4N8yXof2iJ1p3CviEbluedog_TmIb_dPl0hxbEY/s1600/18921951_10154718733648100_2140911077632489612_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGND17hV7SJxHhGBFYU4KY_4qNPs7QDzDNevgSd-Ms54Rzo_aUV8MvUdeLraA2hWDIpgGst3hNm5DbnYceWMTQd83Nd9bENOyDZpGg4N8yXof2iJ1p3CviEbluedog_TmIb_dPl0hxbEY/s320/18921951_10154718733648100_2140911077632489612_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Next I tackled our bedroom. Both of us have two bureaus. The tops of the bureaus are gathering spots for mail we need to respond to, papers we need to file, our watches, wallets, sunglasses, receipts, cameras, headphones, chapsticks, photos, hair products, etc. Twice this week, one of us had knocked a pile of things on the floor as we tried to get ready for work or find something.<br /><br />To tackle this task, I put an old blanket on my bed and took everything off all four bureaus. I then moved them, swept around them, wiped them down with a clorox wipe, and then began the organizing. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
At the end of the day, I had organized not only our living room, but also our bureaus in our bedroom, and the storage section of our car. This made me feel so good. Waking up today, I look at every part of apartment and smile. There is still more than can be done (there always is), but just getting the things that were bothering me the most organized helps me focus on what else I can do.<br /><br />My short directions for getting organized:</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
1.) Determine what you need and what you don't need (donate or throw out what out what you don't need).</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
2.) Make sure you have appropriate space for all you have (if you don't then you have to get rid of other stuff). I find that having a basket, box, or container to put like items in helps them stay together. I use twist ties, rubber bands, boxes with the lids cut off, mugs, hooks, etc. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
3.) Set out everything that you anticipate going into one certain area (a shelf, a bureau, a box, etc). </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
4.) Put like things with like things. Consolidate when possible (half used lotions can be poured together, etc.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
5.) Clean the space before you put things back. You don't know when it will be empty again</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
6.) Decide what things are most important and should be most visible. It helps to know which things you use most often. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
7.) Start with the big stuff and then put small stuff in. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
8.) Don't be afraid to be creative. It's ok to stack things on top of each other and to store things under beds, tables, etc. Use hooks, magnets, string to tie things, and thumbtacks to place things on walls of cabinets or hang them from the top inside instead of just stacking things from the bottom and relying on that limited space. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
8.) Don't try to tackle all spaces at once. It gets overwhelming. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-78109449732887000832017-06-05T16:48:00.000-07:002017-06-05T16:49:00.892-07:00Worth every penny - A trip northMy parents have been extremely supportive of me for most of my life. They don't always agree with my decisions, but they have proved over and over again that they love me. The last time I saw them in person was at Thanksgiving until just two weeks ago. Now that I'm in Brooklyn, it takes almost a full day to drive and see them. There are no airports near by. I decided, in spite of worrying about money right now, that I was going to see them on Memorial Day weekend. Fortunately, my husband David agreed to join me. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfzylF1MPD8gDpz_bFlB6J6WmpGX6KhChgUgXezBjlVXmhxAgXgXNTEqWtW3XqAvT2kg5cBt8zyKiiJpN8iu1DYChnWHhjEeqbMMp_PQBl1r0WXgj0hFf-rOWOsEF0GKUiRHEOKDaP7s/s1600/image1.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1334" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvfzylF1MPD8gDpz_bFlB6J6WmpGX6KhChgUgXezBjlVXmhxAgXgXNTEqWtW3XqAvT2kg5cBt8zyKiiJpN8iu1DYChnWHhjEeqbMMp_PQBl1r0WXgj0hFf-rOWOsEF0GKUiRHEOKDaP7s/s320/image1.PNG" width="179" /></a></div>
It was worth every moment of the 6 hour trip up and the 9 hour trip back to see them. I know they won't be around forever. None of us will be here forever. On our way up, David and I stopped halfway to surprise my older brother and his kids with a visit. We are blessed that the kids love David and he is good with them. He plays with them so I can catch up with my older brother. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VNXMT3nwYaS9iMAHQmD2bpjwkvnDB_du-Mjrlm-mpYl7K5HQUk8PKqJFheKxIHrQRtu_nATcOxQLE1d71-6K9meFni8RS21R8Fct64Cx1CcmLq313m9TuFGTgvLD3E3_EvCXvAnC__I/s1600/18839889_10154687934023100_305888068806585734_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1440" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VNXMT3nwYaS9iMAHQmD2bpjwkvnDB_du-Mjrlm-mpYl7K5HQUk8PKqJFheKxIHrQRtu_nATcOxQLE1d71-6K9meFni8RS21R8Fct64Cx1CcmLq313m9TuFGTgvLD3E3_EvCXvAnC__I/s320/18839889_10154687934023100_305888068806585734_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
David and I stayed at a cute little hotel in Potsdam, New York. We met mom and dad at their favorite Mexican restaurant for dinner and were able to talk. I wasn't ready to go to bed, so David and I followed them to the farm to chat some more. Mom, David, and I talked until I couldn't keep my eyes open any more. I then said I needed to go before we fell asleep. As I left, I was reminded about how different the sounds of home are from the sounds of Brooklyn. There isn't much to see, but you can hear the wonderful noise. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/7_4LEwRRrUo/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7_4LEwRRrUo?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The next morning, David and I got up early and drove back out to the farm to cook breakfast and eat with mom. She, of course, had been up for hours and already baked muffins. It was so relaxing and rejuvenating to just sit on the bench in our country kitchen and chat while watching the birds at dad's bird feeder. I needed that recharge after some stressful months at work. Sometimes only a mom's love can do that. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the early afternoon, I finally brought David to meet my grandmother. <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/a-special-gift-from-my-grandmother_us_585f1259e4b014e7c72edcf1">Although I came out to her in our Christmas card, she had yet to meet David. </a> She was even more welcoming than I anticipated. It was a pleasant surprise. David was very quiet, as he normally is meeting someone for the first time. Still, I'm happy to have crossed that bridge and don't have to hide him or me from her anymore. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
That night, we had dinner with Dad and Mom again and then breakfast the next morning with just mom. David and I loaded up a cooler of home grown beef, co-op butter, home-made applesauce, home grown berries, and everything else my mom foisted on us. It made for a lovely week of fun cooking when we got home. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I drove back to Brooklyn, David and I listed to the cast recording of <a href="http://comefromaway.com/?gclid=CjwKEAjwgtTJBRDRmd6ZtLrGyxwSJAA7Fy-hxKiNVA926CQn39p_TCBsg07BpCMDryEe1SsClttxDBoCuADw_wcB">Come From Away</a>. I realized that I have much in common with the Newfoundlander's (I am an islander) in the show. We both come from places that are a bit rough around the edges and not as modern as other parts of the world. We love, we give, we work together, and we survive there. I hope that Newfoundlanders feel the same way I do when they go home to Gander or the surrounding towns. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Thanks, Mom and Dad, for helping me recharge and bring a bit of home back with me to Brooklyn. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-28406591403865465982017-03-12T15:20:00.004-07:002017-03-12T15:20:39.107-07:00Cry if I Want To"It's ok to cry."<br />
<br />
I sometimes have to say these words to myself out loud.<br />
<br />
David, my amazing husband, just got home from the gym. He walked through the door of our Brooklyn apartment singing along to his music. David went to the gym this afternoon (yeah...I will get back to the gym soon, I know). I was crying on the sofa.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrzTnTKiwRoR0MZBzsmXa0a6nzPo2uB1hes-MD008DptsIrkWw0LAVUpIHSD1kYmaTUFMWlwMz-R4jAl4BXow4RUoMAYzO5BdRWeaOsZo9G_EfNJFLsM1BrWGFMtmw1oVu4izMsNc-qQ/s1600/crying+right.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrzTnTKiwRoR0MZBzsmXa0a6nzPo2uB1hes-MD008DptsIrkWw0LAVUpIHSD1kYmaTUFMWlwMz-R4jAl4BXow4RUoMAYzO5BdRWeaOsZo9G_EfNJFLsM1BrWGFMtmw1oVu4izMsNc-qQ/s320/crying+right.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
"Don't cry, honey"<br />
<br />
"I'm good, I swear."<br />
<br />
"What's wrong?"<br />
<br />"It's just this television series I'm watching."<br /><br />"Why do you watch things that make you cry?"<br /><br />"David, sometimes I just need a good cry. How will I ever truly experience the good and awesome things if I don't let myself experience the sad ones."<br />
<br />
<br />
MOM - don't read the rest of this if you are reading my blog. <br />
<br />
SPOILER ALERT FOR THE TELEVISION SHOW,<a href="http://www.nbc.com/this-is-us?CID=Search%7CThis-Is-Us&nbc=1"> "THIS IS US." </a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I'm watching this television series on Hulu that our friend, Jan, has recommended. It's called "This is Us." It really has hit a lot of my emotions.<br />
<br />
Today, though, it touched all of my buttons. Over the past few episodes, we have fallen in love with the sweet old grandpa who ends up being gay. On this episode, we follow him to the end. As he is about to die, he tells his son, "I am scared." <br />
<br />
These words opened my flood gates today. You see, those were the last words my sweet, loving, awesome grandmother said before she died. It was two years ago, and she was on the phone with her son the day after Christmas and had a stroke. I miss her. I miss her a lot. I was missing her every day. Now I only miss her when I'm reminded of her. My mom collected a bunch of little things from grandma's house when she passed. She had an angel collection and a bell collection. I have one of each in my living room. She had dozens of salt and pepper shakers, and I have a pair of those. In fact, my twin brother bought me a pair of new ones that remind me of her too. Every time David and I cook a meal, we have her spoon rest on the stove, so that her love is in our food too. At every party, we put out a green carnival glass dish full of nuts or candy that was in her house. I want her at all of my parties. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiWy6e1zQ8qa6hBaBQzmqnwC6aXkviTgBiQ23DuVLJa7OexVec0xIYGGJl-BpgxoSP6j4P2VXBos_wWAb92Bf8zJNzv-jSb9iLRK75Got0vBrXUd4NxUV5h5TZc5BllzrcOo1wVskmik/s1600/gram+brown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWiWy6e1zQ8qa6hBaBQzmqnwC6aXkviTgBiQ23DuVLJa7OexVec0xIYGGJl-BpgxoSP6j4P2VXBos_wWAb92Bf8zJNzv-jSb9iLRK75Got0vBrXUd4NxUV5h5TZc5BllzrcOo1wVskmik/s320/gram+brown.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
You see, my grandmother was great at parties. No matter how much people didn't like each other, had bad blood, didn't trust each other, were poor, or rich, clean, or dirty, smelly or sweet smelling, grandma wanted them all to get along at her parties.....AND WE DID. For grandma, we would put away old grudges. In fact, if grandma came to my parent's place, we put away our fighting, too, just to spend time in her loving company. <br />
<br />
That's who I want to be. I struggle sometimes. I fight with my brother, or snap at my mom. I decide not to invite someone over because they were rude to me at my last dinner party. <br />
<br />
Thanks, grandma for being at all of my parties and reminding me to be loving. Yeah, I'm going to cry a little today as I miss you. I'm sorry you were scared at the end. I hope you are in a better place now. <br />
<br />
<br />
As I finish this, my husband just came back in from outside again....<br />
"I don't like this thing you are doing." <br />
"I know, David, thanks for loving me even when I cry." Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-60211766668503742442017-03-05T08:33:00.000-08:002017-03-05T08:52:02.872-08:00Cathartis - Come From AwayIt was cathartic yesterday afternoon, to sit in a darkened theater with two dozen college friends and hundreds of strangers and cry. We were there to fete an old friend. Some of us went to <a href="http://www.hartwick.edu/">Hartwick College</a> with him, were <a href="http://www.sinfonia.org/">fraternity brothers</a> with him, performed with him over the years and had followed his career trajectory. Others didn't know him or any of the performers on the stage, but instead came to see a show on Broadway.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDWZ6Ttft6rnsdZOSV8iQTGqqJFKfI5OKTq9CZH0PGJnS_IJCIR3CwUNV2AFrX2vD6iJLJciXxtOg84LtskcP4x8OUZ4YuilkZSAdJQoDgdjRpxSD3ZfY8dKd4neMYSZ3N9SVRL6h-T8/s1600/IMG_4077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglDWZ6Ttft6rnsdZOSV8iQTGqqJFKfI5OKTq9CZH0PGJnS_IJCIR3CwUNV2AFrX2vD6iJLJciXxtOg84LtskcP4x8OUZ4YuilkZSAdJQoDgdjRpxSD3ZfY8dKd4neMYSZ3N9SVRL6h-T8/s320/IMG_4077.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
What, I think, we all shared was a moment or a string of moments where we relived that painful day on September 11, 2001. <a href="http://comefromaway.com/?gclid=CjwKEAiAi-_FBRCZyPm_14CjoyASJAClUigO32tGdv0tT0SJLDJ0pWPvrQh2uCWW0Ak_voPogrUMxBoCJlDw_wcB">Come From Away</a> is finishing previews on Broadway. <br />
<br />
As I stepped into the theater, I was hoping for a good show. I wasn't expecting much. I read the reviews, looked at the news articles, and read the story that the show was based on. I didn't think that the writers would be able to pull enough out of the story to put together a musical, let alone an entertaining one. I was there to support my friend and see some other friends.<br />
<br />
I'm pleased to say that the writers and performers proved me wrong. I'm usually an emotional person. I admit that freely. I've seen quite a few broadway shows in the past two years. I've enjoyed some of them (Kinky Boots and Lion King) while hating or sleeping through many others (Cats, On the Town, etc.). This is the first time in my two years of living in Brooklyn where I've been glued to my seat. I didn't want to miss a word or a note. The tears started flowing as the second song began and kept on flowing through the end of the show almost 90 minutes later. I even had to get up to use the bathroom (no intermission) and didn't want to miss anything. I cried while I ran down the steps to the restroom and cried when i entered the theater again. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZqouRHuG-NLb-Vbnt1OGvvxP_Lx9KSTckzAYaTRAUn3LoleTJCbfhEl1OmpnbFXJM4QRABXTmt_njlQUQ4WzuP_XcH_d2I-Y9MKFDixfwLPBOq5pspVQbbutsQ2eVj9gN6CjLBHY0kg/s1600/IMG_4078.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ZqouRHuG-NLb-Vbnt1OGvvxP_Lx9KSTckzAYaTRAUn3LoleTJCbfhEl1OmpnbFXJM4QRABXTmt_njlQUQ4WzuP_XcH_d2I-Y9MKFDixfwLPBOq5pspVQbbutsQ2eVj9gN6CjLBHY0kg/s320/IMG_4078.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
This isn't a sad show. Don't get me wrong. This show is beautiful. The story line has been weaved into a magic tapestry of humanity and human goodness. Our friend Tom summed it up best at the end of the show when he said, "We, each one of us, was remembering where we were, how we felt, and all of those crazy emotions on that day." In this political climate with vitriol and hate, we are reminded that there are good people out there. It's fitting that our neighbors to the north are highlighted so well in the musical. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJakpxLEl6F-PhrF9qsBmOYn6npH78ud7e2tkVEXIFhM7hnGxhvYK8W936QrGjUbTtDP_amyKw8NpZGold0vQyKrK-yY8urapBJgXuLBFWyWwRA2LIOlvfsCeXksvGdBKmqWAxh5OvRU/s1600/IMG_4110.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaJakpxLEl6F-PhrF9qsBmOYn6npH78ud7e2tkVEXIFhM7hnGxhvYK8W936QrGjUbTtDP_amyKw8NpZGold0vQyKrK-yY8urapBJgXuLBFWyWwRA2LIOlvfsCeXksvGdBKmqWAxh5OvRU/s320/IMG_4110.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://mentalfloss.com/article/31491/september-11th-and-hospitable-people-gander-newfoundland">Come from away is the story of 38 planes stranded in Gander, Newfoundland, Canada</a> when the USA closed it's air space on September 11th and how the tiny villages welcomed the strangers from around the world with open arms and hearts.<br />
<br />
The writers have peppered the show with kindness and humor. They have also captured the emotions and feelings that so many of us went through when we found out that planes had been used as weapons in the Pentagon, NYC, and Pennsylvania.....feelings of confusion, fear, disgust, anger, anguish, and hurt. The actors bring you almost to the point of sobbing before you hear some heartfelt jokes and uplifting music.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3jnBiY_Dhq5B3kOVDj6DwDc-YTUk3EbagHbAcxDJrRzgm7utL59rfVNDQl7ZYA_WV3glRNPaR4OGFrApIy8G0LqslIx4wwIjOnYEzZqSRCbO5OeLXSfWw2OqmagIVfJmGIOqrG2Rbyxc/s1600/IMG_4071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3jnBiY_Dhq5B3kOVDj6DwDc-YTUk3EbagHbAcxDJrRzgm7utL59rfVNDQl7ZYA_WV3glRNPaR4OGFrApIy8G0LqslIx4wwIjOnYEzZqSRCbO5OeLXSfWw2OqmagIVfJmGIOqrG2Rbyxc/s320/IMG_4071.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The people of Gander, and this truly inspiring show remind us of who we are and who we are called to be. People from all races, cultures, genders, sexualities, and religions prayed together, ate together, and mourned together on that day around the world. They supported each other with open arms, hearts, a warm place to sleep, and home-cooked food to eat. <br />
<br />
I have been replaying scene after scene from the musical in my head over and over again since the matinee yesterday afternoon. I'm inspired to try to be better, more loving, and more caring. We all have the ability to be welcoming and loving. Now let's show the world that's who we can be too. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2l4cMBBfrMv8XoeMc3KCer-nxt0QSEgRQSuW6zveg9FVUpSE2IizbKt7Uy3LIMdGDYVrnq5GR9i56H29UVAw8PTgQGrfDgxPUJmIj3Qb1QQUHvGDTeE765oc925V_VDOWeW5SJtDQ1EI/s1600/IMG_4101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2l4cMBBfrMv8XoeMc3KCer-nxt0QSEgRQSuW6zveg9FVUpSE2IizbKt7Uy3LIMdGDYVrnq5GR9i56H29UVAw8PTgQGrfDgxPUJmIj3Qb1QQUHvGDTeE765oc925V_VDOWeW5SJtDQ1EI/s320/IMG_4101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-91219269924260219032017-02-18T09:30:00.001-08:002017-02-18T14:12:39.179-08:00Memories of a metal feed cartYesterday as I was walking through the hospital basement to the mail room to pick up a package, I noticed one the large carts that they use to transport things. I was reminded of a childhood memory. <br />
<br />
Growing up on a farm, you start doing chores as soon as you can safely help out. When you are little, that typically means feeding the animals and staying away from their back end where you might get kicked. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTG2vuDC6Tp1Q1FHdE7XuFbtO3yjLhwlNyUAoBJxI2FdzfiLbCnmLUNNCScUPZ_evWBTVpuB0o0RuP1XXYk2oCxSwNGWPPFYirJcCcZdk1q4CVYSAe7ExMIITr4XHC6cIw8O_g-8y5rPo/s1600/IMG_1669.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTG2vuDC6Tp1Q1FHdE7XuFbtO3yjLhwlNyUAoBJxI2FdzfiLbCnmLUNNCScUPZ_evWBTVpuB0o0RuP1XXYk2oCxSwNGWPPFYirJcCcZdk1q4CVYSAe7ExMIITr4XHC6cIw8O_g-8y5rPo/s320/IMG_1669.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
As my twin brother and I got old enough to help out with heavier things, my father trusted us with more and more chores. <br />
<br />
One of the things we had to do to feed the cows was to wheel around a large metal box cart of feed. This particular feed was called silage and came from our silo. Silage is fermented hay or corn. The silage cart that my father owned at the time was very heavy and metal. I looked online for images, but couldn't find any. Picture a metal box on wheels that is approximately 4 feet tall, 5 feet long, and 3 feet wide. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhpcDFXXl-Bw3jZP5-WEZIpBtNSYHTViPHzl3nGEPEcTxFcFlZ7dMffAgxj8thyphenhyphenovrD5NE9ApfDJHqr-AV7qJo__k0y7yDTnUnkkM4RRP76zVXkX01811sNI54G8qFxZ-lJOQcbyTH_s/s1600/IMG_0479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBhpcDFXXl-Bw3jZP5-WEZIpBtNSYHTViPHzl3nGEPEcTxFcFlZ7dMffAgxj8thyphenhyphenovrD5NE9ApfDJHqr-AV7qJo__k0y7yDTnUnkkM4RRP76zVXkX01811sNI54G8qFxZ-lJOQcbyTH_s/s320/IMG_0479.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My dad would fill this cart full of silage/feed to feed the cows. Our job was to wheel it around and give a large forkful (pitchfork) full of feed to each cow. We, of course, had to give our favorite cows a little extra. The feed cart was so heavy that it took both of us to push it. We would rock it to get it moving and then move it ahead a few feet before we took out some feed. It was heavy when it was empty, but especially so when it was full.<br />
<br />
To understand why this made me laugh, you have to understand the construction of small scale barns in the mid 1900s. Today's barns are large open sheds where each cow gets their own feed area, but where farmers can use a large front end loader to scoop out the manure. My parent's farm only had 30 or so cows. <br />
<br />
Each cow had its own assigned spot in the barn. Each cow was a registered pure bred cow. They had name tags above their spots. Sometimes a cow would go in the wrong spot, and you would have to move it back to it's rightful spot. My dad would put cows who were trouble on the ends so they would only have a cow on one side to fight with. Once in a while, a cow had to be moved to a new spot and you had to spend a few weeks guiding it there when you brought them in from pasture until the cow learned it (some cows never learned and you were forever trying to move them to the new spot). <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiojy_TuiBZtJEyWL-IGAW3BMDksm2CH6fniRt5eeEEqsko_ro2yPYNGimyeBvijWXFrMUU-Dred091fvZg71JJfX4vw3wMRfRn6d5thbO1pcbIKqDUiilJ1ELpvLbR-yMcbqIBOy7MA/s1600/IMG_0496.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPiojy_TuiBZtJEyWL-IGAW3BMDksm2CH6fniRt5eeEEqsko_ro2yPYNGimyeBvijWXFrMUU-Dred091fvZg71JJfX4vw3wMRfRn6d5thbO1pcbIKqDUiilJ1ELpvLbR-yMcbqIBOy7MA/s320/IMG_0496.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
The cows were lined up on both sides of the barn with a large alley in the middle. At the top of their heads was a vacuum pipeline. We would hook milking machines up to the pipeline to suck the milk from the cows and into a large tank in the milkhouse, a clean separate room in the barn where milk was stored and chilled until it could be picked up by the milk truck tanker. Just behind the cows butts, was a gutter with a metal chain in it that had sticks on it. When you cleaned the cows twice every day you would scrape their manure into this gutter. At the end of the day, you would turn on the machine that made the chain move around the track in the gutter and pulled all the manure around the track and up into a manure spreader (we of course rarely used the word manure, preferring the more vulgar term that seemed much more fitting for something that smelled so bad - shit). <br />
<br />
Half way down the barn there were two side passage ways to help you cross the barn. The gutter had a large metal plate over it on each side. This was so you could wheel wheelbarrows of food or carts across. Well, as kids, we didn't have enough strength to wheel these slowly, so we had to get a running start. Many times, we would end up knocking the entire feed cart into the gutter of shit because we were unable to steer it or because the angle knocked the gutter cover into the gutter catching the wheels of this heavy cart in shit too.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7TGd7um23FoA_N1HErEfRJ_5KduzU-OTN12re1b7gnylGHyd7dbCeGNNuozqgjizLasOCVgO7ZViwk-nHL1crmjRkxPWARg4TAKWzJ1AEywzN4lBowk00LlPk2l-uLQQRd4eGLE8GR4/s1600/IMG_1694.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM7TGd7um23FoA_N1HErEfRJ_5KduzU-OTN12re1b7gnylGHyd7dbCeGNNuozqgjizLasOCVgO7ZViwk-nHL1crmjRkxPWARg4TAKWzJ1AEywzN4lBowk00LlPk2l-uLQQRd4eGLE8GR4/s320/IMG_1694.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My father sometimes had a temper. For some reason, I only remember him slightly mad at this and never super angry. After all, we were doing our best to help feed the cows. It wasn't until much later in life that I could wheel that cart without help. When we were kids, the cart was as tall as us. We couldn't lift the cart out of the gutter or even lift the gutter cover (although some of it was that the gutter cover was covered in messy shit and we didn't want to touch it). It was always a pain in the butt to get that cart across the gutters. <br />
<br />
I'm grateful, though, that from an early age, my dad had us helping in the barn. To this day, I don't like to sit still and always keep busy. I'd like to think I work as hard as he does and did to make sure we had a good life, but I don't think that will ever be possible. Dad worked and worked and worked to provide for us. Most farmers did and do. All I can do is try to live up to the example he sets. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEndAEK-Ibdx8PNMLDOH_B2raNG98xLrp9Ut5Qqw5jfA7Y3qhZeUBylWCH4z4tghzSHWU_ZTIxKuY4Rw3zjaBc8iwzhlU_u3Xcv33GZ9HHZOn-r647r8eICINdwAQsbay2vZVlLuzCoj4/s1600/IMG_1722.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEndAEK-Ibdx8PNMLDOH_B2raNG98xLrp9Ut5Qqw5jfA7Y3qhZeUBylWCH4z4tghzSHWU_ZTIxKuY4Rw3zjaBc8iwzhlU_u3Xcv33GZ9HHZOn-r647r8eICINdwAQsbay2vZVlLuzCoj4/s320/IMG_1722.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4429508821864923578.post-74494790525955690352017-01-21T15:01:00.002-08:002017-01-21T15:01:23.470-08:00The Adventure of my First Married Christmas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ76LQzmIaK1Kvz8XtRrccWekc7UCTnuFilAl5tBZ85OAffKYq148hsjPRp3Jo1JEy1WNFXtLd4LO0mQdwdwblCC0733TRpoWc4o7gwMr6VY5PB4y2WZGQlfuOcuW8iuTPnRWlMAKYjY8/s1600/IMG_6445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ76LQzmIaK1Kvz8XtRrccWekc7UCTnuFilAl5tBZ85OAffKYq148hsjPRp3Jo1JEy1WNFXtLd4LO0mQdwdwblCC0733TRpoWc4o7gwMr6VY5PB4y2WZGQlfuOcuW8iuTPnRWlMAKYjY8/s320/IMG_6445.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A custom christmas ornament from my twin brother, John that says "Our 1st Married Christmas 2016"</div>
<br />
During our wedding on July 30, 2016, David and I promised each other that we would seek out adventure and make sure that we didn't live dull lives. We would thrive on new exciting experiences. We didn't realize that one of them would be on Christmas morning.<br />
<br />
We decided to stay in NYC. We both had a lot of work to do and we have been trying to be more frugal in our spending. Christmas Eve, David worked (or so I thought) until almost 9:00 p.m. What I didn't realize was that he was also getting the last of my Christmas gifts. I'm the kind of shopper that has all of my shopping done a month in advance and has done most of it online. He is a bit more last minute.<br />
<br />
David came home and we got ready and went to <a href="http://www.middlechurch.org/">Middle Collegiate Church</a> for the service. It was really beautiful and the perfect way to get us in the right mood. Our friend Jeremy was there playing the organ and piano and had done some wonderful gospel arrangements. After the service, we stopped into a pub to grab a drink. Then we came home and crashed. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfMGNaOM-l809oBHMr33W2I0_Lkqd9sO1WlZ-BLsAAjyqYcqRmz4ijCVEsRfmS_p41J1nBa8Y74zGhVzHLbZOqERNqFQncIdBSrr_EjF3xJ0EFYTE45mH9NboFugbA3W0gYcpwaUSOSo/s1600/15698283_10154235289228100_6727801779884650369_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgfMGNaOM-l809oBHMr33W2I0_Lkqd9sO1WlZ-BLsAAjyqYcqRmz4ijCVEsRfmS_p41J1nBa8Y74zGhVzHLbZOqERNqFQncIdBSrr_EjF3xJ0EFYTE45mH9NboFugbA3W0gYcpwaUSOSo/s320/15698283_10154235289228100_6727801779884650369_n.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<br /><br />Christmas morning, I was up at my usual 7:00 a.m. and spent some time reading some books that I got for my birthday and waiting for David to wake up. He had been working many late nights and I knew he needed some sleep. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
When he first woke up, we decided to google video chat with my mom so we could open the gifts from her that we put under our tree. It was so much fun to chat with her. Her video chat had not been working, but it worked Christmas morning. We closed all of the shades to make sure that we didn't have a glare. Mom got us matching pajamas (our first pair ever). She got David some American flag cufflinks and me a pair of golden snitch ones. She also got each of us some other clothes and things. David's big gift from her was a deep fryer. She got me books on investing and other things I had asked for. We spent more than an hour talking to her. <br /><br />Then David and I sat down to open gifts from each other. I got him a cashmere coat and a piece of art that he had admired as his two big gifts.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIyrFK01F7-nFR1fRG-fmAD-y7dDekt4jfTQ9b-NtkxK8RElq51e-OWndbd9g1UEpE65wP82BJw8vc8kY-V_z54DoN0srLiuy0Xwoora8wmnj2qxrN8jk5uR1KHMrcEObawUnH7fS-Gw/s1600/IMG_6741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUIyrFK01F7-nFR1fRG-fmAD-y7dDekt4jfTQ9b-NtkxK8RElq51e-OWndbd9g1UEpE65wP82BJw8vc8kY-V_z54DoN0srLiuy0Xwoora8wmnj2qxrN8jk5uR1KHMrcEObawUnH7fS-Gw/s320/IMG_6741.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Bmj5EMuE2_EGpgtRwWDirK2PhJ4O5vd1LGeR6NLE3M6FPIBYeMZlOmiGRhvMKyEVRChNWJnh04N4pspQDFlVZ8qA9nfv2-VnI1A09AP_vxIhaQ3EjKLbtuiY3vMcNzxoiA79qPjx2c4/s1600/IMG_6543.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Bmj5EMuE2_EGpgtRwWDirK2PhJ4O5vd1LGeR6NLE3M6FPIBYeMZlOmiGRhvMKyEVRChNWJnh04N4pspQDFlVZ8qA9nfv2-VnI1A09AP_vxIhaQ3EjKLbtuiY3vMcNzxoiA79qPjx2c4/s320/IMG_6543.PNG" width="180" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
David also was cold a lot in the winter, so I found this onesie. I think it was one of his favorite gifts. He wore it every day for a week when he came home from work. I think he's cute as a button in it. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfthvt6CvhuWAiH7-22a9y3j7_22AQVeWRQPDCEeknfFkdhywxqxoynO71S7k_G6qYnlXmug_MRVlrHgIuDIFqva6GGn6hFbIYBk7V1N5pFxpBf87OCpgTkZut78m11PFQpmfuaRWuLds/s1600/IMG_6540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfthvt6CvhuWAiH7-22a9y3j7_22AQVeWRQPDCEeknfFkdhywxqxoynO71S7k_G6qYnlXmug_MRVlrHgIuDIFqva6GGn6hFbIYBk7V1N5pFxpBf87OCpgTkZut78m11PFQpmfuaRWuLds/s320/IMG_6540.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />David really went above and beyond my expectations. He got me the most beautiful watch, a nice backpack, a camera lens, and a comfortable and fashionable scarf. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeJnPsQFSlB_WdHMrJARCMmt6armIkINgYwIESXx7k_2AyZ80AAQ33zP9a6j_7t6ph-39LJBPqiq1NrodHOy_SionKM3F4cNZaMS0j2TiJ8cJt8k_Wai-o8PBq10atdVTOQ8L14gsBes/s1600/15781580_10154251422463100_955766523481454672_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfeJnPsQFSlB_WdHMrJARCMmt6armIkINgYwIESXx7k_2AyZ80AAQ33zP9a6j_7t6ph-39LJBPqiq1NrodHOy_SionKM3F4cNZaMS0j2TiJ8cJt8k_Wai-o8PBq10atdVTOQ8L14gsBes/s320/15781580_10154251422463100_955766523481454672_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We were feeling very blessed and enjoying each other. We had tried on all of our clothes from our families and each other and started to put them away. We opened up the waffle maker that my twin brother gave me for my birthday and made some waffles. We lit the candles in all of our candle holders and put netflix on the fireplace channel. It was really fun. Our waffles were great. Then we retreated to our bedroom to work on my laptop which was under the bed to putting together our wedding album. The photos had arrived three days before and there was a coupon that we wanted to use. We spent about an hour putting together the album when David smelled smoke. We walked around the bedroom and couldn't find the source. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When I opened the bedroom door, a plume of smoke invaded the bedroom. I ran out into the living room and the entire coffee table was engulfed in flames. I yelled at David to grab water. He did and then I went to do the same. At about that time, someone started banging on our door and buzzing our buzzer. David managed to get the fire out, but the apartment was full of smoke and we couldn't see. Neither of us had put pants back on after trying on our clothes. I rummaged in the smoke and put on backwards the one pair of sweatpants with the broken string. I managed to get to the door and open it, and there were a dozen neighbors there yelling at me. One handed me a fire extinguisher. I stood holding up my broken pants and just wanted to work on getting the smoke out. One concerned neighbor kept yelling and asking if David was ok. I said yes, but she wouldn't have it. I yelled at him to find some pants and come show them he was ok.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We then rushed around opening windows and trying to air out the smoke with fans. It was cold, but not unbearable. </div>
<br />
When we finally got some of the smoke to clear, we noticed that the one candle we forgot to extinguish was on our coffee table in a centerpiece that my mom had made us. We were fortunate. We only lost our three remotes, a candle lighter, and had minor damage to our carpet and coffee table.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEini6KwjRvS1E50PiPD8jNKyUqb-SWzMJ948jIAjURUUP1E8I-nbDohyOSq6u37mBrH1kTYIrabK_9bIOFG6cz9ECMzkkTD9Uw8OBdb9yJCmZORz61q8pC780FsoD7MrI4MKCMwEuPyAq0/s1600/15723373_10154237731218100_3995671051253558005_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEini6KwjRvS1E50PiPD8jNKyUqb-SWzMJ948jIAjURUUP1E8I-nbDohyOSq6u37mBrH1kTYIrabK_9bIOFG6cz9ECMzkkTD9Uw8OBdb9yJCmZORz61q8pC780FsoD7MrI4MKCMwEuPyAq0/s320/15723373_10154237731218100_3995671051253558005_o.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Our wedding photo thumb drive, some DVDs, magazines, and other things were all on the same table, but were not ruined. The ball of flames was only the center piece and the remotes burning. All of our Christmas gifts including the big gift from each of us to each other were on the sofa next to the table. We were not hurt. No one was hurt. We didn't lose much. The smell, after much cleaning and airing out, and some <a href="http://www.febreze.com/en-us">febreeze </a>dissipated after two weeks. We got new remotes, and I sanded the spot in the coffee table. It is now even more distressed and charming than before. <br />
<br />
We now know that it is no joke to leave a candle unattended. We never intended to do so, but are more diligent. I also purchased a new smoke detector that is very good and doesn't go off every time I cook. That had happened that morning and I had taken the battery out again. Modern smoke detectors seem to be smarter.<br />
<br />
I feel like we will continue to be blessed with adventures. I'm hopeful that more of our adventures will be planned in advance (like my Christmas shopping), but all of them will result in blessings and not losses. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFdPMglJGUIfEv0Yp1EtW-NzQvgidmf-Q90A6pvOEU7FN5M4lla9qUm7YN7D6LHKsPd6CQZrLvBtjxzCWY3u8JD1WPoCFjvZx1dyKJQ3VU7EGjsWPSaZlNrClC3MMOFFNIrkZ4930lvY/s1600/15577918_10154222086053100_2310358347871246096_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFdPMglJGUIfEv0Yp1EtW-NzQvgidmf-Q90A6pvOEU7FN5M4lla9qUm7YN7D6LHKsPd6CQZrLvBtjxzCWY3u8JD1WPoCFjvZx1dyKJQ3VU7EGjsWPSaZlNrClC3MMOFFNIrkZ4930lvY/s320/15577918_10154222086053100_2310358347871246096_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />Erichttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11154200152780364705noreply@blogger.com0