tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83819832591452604392024-03-21T18:34:52.675-07:00Finnegan Begin AgainAuthor Margaret Finnegan's Thoughts on Wise Women, Demanding Goddesses and Everything in BetweenMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.comBlogger494125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-28917694741876270282013-05-15T17:46:00.002-07:002013-05-15T17:46:28.017-07:00On the contraryTo whom it may concern:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AwmkIQlYf4zsRBhrDfDNGVXV5yabfWsX9meI8Bb7pn2FEOcLF0bzB0JhkTR_lC8dL3CTwgErURer3RlAjP2kooE0351OMq1MXS6hhjJ-PIMTDFFNyO9a_zeu4yanO3ccHsLODtLLXNWJ/s1600/IMG_1809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2AwmkIQlYf4zsRBhrDfDNGVXV5yabfWsX9meI8Bb7pn2FEOcLF0bzB0JhkTR_lC8dL3CTwgErURer3RlAjP2kooE0351OMq1MXS6hhjJ-PIMTDFFNyO9a_zeu4yanO3ccHsLODtLLXNWJ/s320/IMG_1809.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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I disagree.<br />
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Slow and steady does not win the race.<br />
The swift and steady win the race.<br />
That's what makes it a race.<br />
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But does it have to be a race?<br />
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<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-68145009992024350082013-05-10T13:08:00.000-07:002013-05-10T13:08:30.961-07:00Goddess of the Week: Pele<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGJ4n97-1QPCYohbzhVWVZ-juv2B4yGNmfCdZwR0mz2KzidCviTNZhFiyyGDAHbpjoi2B4hyUbwBALjLvF-NIRsEmIE-k0EeFq1Fug5U8EuDYyk7MsvFMcyOqi1AnTuPBE7Dl48y0nN3DY/s1600/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGJ4n97-1QPCYohbzhVWVZ-juv2B4yGNmfCdZwR0mz2KzidCviTNZhFiyyGDAHbpjoi2B4hyUbwBALjLvF-NIRsEmIE-k0EeFq1Fug5U8EuDYyk7MsvFMcyOqi1AnTuPBE7Dl48y0nN3DY/s320/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Des writes: "My 21 year-old daughter is coming home for the summer, my 18 year old son is graduating from high school, and my husband works predominately out of the home. Help! </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I realize I need a goddess. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I like aloneness, solitude, quiet, punctuated by occasional social functions. I think I am poised to go nuts. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Please advise."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh, Des! Dear, Des! You need the Hawaiian volcano goddess Pele. Pele was just like you! She loved her solitude, which was convenient because when you are incarnated as a volcano people know to give you your space. But, from time to time, she liked a little company so she would take a husband or hang out with her sisters. Sadly, in the struggle to find that balance between alone time and family time--she sometimes had to burn her loved ones to a crisp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You see she was an artist! She created whole tropical islands that people literally call PARADISE, and sometimes her family just totally gave her grief so she had no choice but to lava them. It was a conflict.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">What we really need to do is find that difficult balance between having our creative, alone time and yet not feeling the need to set the house on fire. Hmmm. How to do that? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here's my idea: Tell your children that, in your need to find total creative expression, you will now be writing naked. Trust me: They will give you your space. As for your husband...maybe you should get a lock.</span></div>
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Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-70095744992726062442013-05-07T13:48:00.001-07:002013-05-07T13:48:17.223-07:00The Bravest Dog in the Room<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Y_p1M07SWac7jm9_fAljxvs3X50h6pWHUnZdT4HRgKdkzeJ766h-ASaxTt4utxeD5bEVUjQAt1pNijLTYmKNui9YDFNGaiGPaqkWWKD94fuZK3DKvd6uABQDao8MvR6Dd_UfyVS8zXHf/s1600/P1000197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Y_p1M07SWac7jm9_fAljxvs3X50h6pWHUnZdT4HRgKdkzeJ766h-ASaxTt4utxeD5bEVUjQAt1pNijLTYmKNui9YDFNGaiGPaqkWWKD94fuZK3DKvd6uABQDao8MvR6Dd_UfyVS8zXHf/s320/P1000197.JPG" width="320" /></a>The bravest dog in the room wants you to know that she knew that it was just a fly. But she would have you understand that it was a very LARGE fly. She would convey this information by jumping on your lap and STARING at you. When that didn't work, she would show you, via concerned pacing, that the fly was no mere housefly but a dangerous threat to your very well being. When that did not work (because you were simply too stupid to read THE SIGNS) she would hide in the closet. She tried her best with you. It's a dog eat dog world.<br />
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The bravest dog in the room would also have you understand that she is no fool. When sniffing around off leash (because she is just THAT amazing) she knows that one cannot be too careful. If a dog behind a gate barks at one, one better hightail it away from that gate. The bravest dog in the room knows that it is better to be a lover than a fighter. Give peace a chance. If, however, one is ON her leash and one walks by the same said dog behind the gate, one must SAVE FACE by crazy barking right back at said dog. One must show said dog, that even when one is on a leash, one can still be a tough bitch. That is not choosing fighting over loving. That is just called self respect.<br />
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<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-41511418377653586262013-05-01T13:39:00.000-07:002013-05-01T13:39:01.328-07:00Goddess of the Week: Tara<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkufPQMsiBlbUq_yWlaOV2lTkadaUDwND7eqUcqiVM6aERTsLJfkyc1VBrDOv0-PH3d7Urjt1et-Q5qnPYV4v4ObZCtclVyZqrw_zBckp5wDcXcexdx8nCwij0MzE3nlcEjLkwS6TFKLVz/s1600/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkufPQMsiBlbUq_yWlaOV2lTkadaUDwND7eqUcqiVM6aERTsLJfkyc1VBrDOv0-PH3d7Urjt1et-Q5qnPYV4v4ObZCtclVyZqrw_zBckp5wDcXcexdx8nCwij0MzE3nlcEjLkwS6TFKLVz/s320/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a>Gabriel Cordell needs a goddess. It only takes an instant to change your life, and in Gabriel's case, that instance left him paralyzed. He was an actor on the move until a driver ran a red light. Now Gabriel is in a wheelchair.<br />
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As you read this, Gabriel is rolling across America. He started in Santa Monica, CA. He will end in West Hempstead, NY, just in time for his high school reunion. He aims for twenty-plus miles a day. That's 75 Days.<br />
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Why is Gabriel doing this? Because he can. Because it's awesome. Because if Gabriel can roll his wheelchair across America you can certainly lose those five pounds you've been worried about, or write that novel you have inside you, or get through that freaking nightmare you're enduring.<br />
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We need heroes. Gabriel is being a hero and proving to himself and others that the adventures don't stop when your life gets derailed. In fact, sometimes it's the derailment that really gets you moving, and so, of course, he needs a goddess! I am giving him the Buddhist goddess Tara. Tara protects navigators and travelers, and it seems to me you need help with both if you are going to roll across the country. <br />
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As a Buddhist goddess, however, Tara is also all about compassion and relieving suffering, and what a perfect thought for such a journey. Twenty-plus miles a day. Seventy-five days. Man. Talk about your blisters and your sunscreen, and those are the easy pains! Think about the endurance, the self doubt. I mean all that rolling: that's a lot of time to think about things. You're bound to have good days and bad days, but you just have to keep the tires spinning. That's really where you have to cut yourself some slack and just be kind to yourself. Spin and be kind. Repeat, and repeat, and you will make it to wherever you are going.<br />
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Go Gabriel! We're rooting for you. Learn more about Gabriel's journey and how you can help at <a href="http://rollwithme.org/">Rollwithme.org. </a><br />
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<i>Channel this goddess: When you are tired of spinning. When your inner critic is being a real bitch.</i><br />
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<i>Need a goddess? I got goddesses! Post a comment explaining what you need a goddess for. Then check back in a week or two and see what you got. It's fun! It's free! It is way easier that rolling across America.</i><br />
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PS: My amazing friend Yvette is coordinating some of the logistics for Gabriel. Why? Because that's who she is, baby. That's the way she rolls.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-84004163205735668182013-04-29T19:24:00.000-07:002013-04-29T19:24:17.202-07:00Swimming in Cream<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some people possess such tremendous vivacity and creative energy that the space around them almost pulsates. They are not like the rest of us, who content ourselves with skim milk lives. No. These people swim in cream. They make things happen. They know everyone. They are always moving. And they are never stingy. No closing of the gated community for them. Uh-uh. They're all about widening the road and turning up the lights so that everyone can find their way to the party.<br />
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I am not such a person, but I don't think most of us are either. In my whole life, I think I have known five people who fit the description above. Five! And I don't know if the light inside them burns brighter because of their genetics or their parents, or if it's just that the light inside the rest of us has dimmed.<br />
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My friend Yvette is someone whose light burns extra bright, and I can only say that when you are with Yvette you just want to give her the reins of the conversation. Sit back. Listen. You will have a good time, but you will also be somewhat shamed, because Yvette is probably a better person than you, or at least me. She told me once that when she was pregnant she prayed that she would not have a child with special needs because she knew that, if she did, she would have to become the world's greatest advocate for that particular disability, and she didn't think she was ready to live that life.<br />
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If I said that, you might think I was being grandiose, but, I'm telling you, Yvette was just being realistic. She would have become the world's leading advocate for that disability. There is a a disability out there, somewhere, that should be mourning the fact that Yvette's children do not have special needs.<br />
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I'm going to tell you more about a special project Yvette is working on later this week, but right now, what I really want to know is what you think. Do you know people like this? What makes their life force so strong? Why are they oak trees to our crepe myrtles, which isn't to say that a crepe myrtle isn't lovely. I have one in my front yard. But the mighty oak. What would it be like to be such a force?Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-20204242166698287822013-04-26T10:13:00.003-07:002013-04-26T10:14:28.220-07:00The Best Places to Write in Pasadena<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXikxuS9ulkJZIcy86cLveSM7czD3PUJULBwBX_lk4FYRFdRTphHX6JT9g4qPsVpscljZBOFaSyBIANkNKoWrdvTcfO_5Rklxk9wWwNrb-2EqOLjzcfZ6i5iAUV9ZOxGAerLGyI91ktDRO/s1600/IMG_0025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXikxuS9ulkJZIcy86cLveSM7czD3PUJULBwBX_lk4FYRFdRTphHX6JT9g4qPsVpscljZBOFaSyBIANkNKoWrdvTcfO_5Rklxk9wWwNrb-2EqOLjzcfZ6i5iAUV9ZOxGAerLGyI91ktDRO/s320/IMG_0025.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
I'm guest blogging at Prospect Parks books today. Find out the five best places to write in Pasadena. I'll just say this: Sprinkle cookies are involved. Read about it <a href="http://www.prospectparkbooks.com/top-five-places-to-write-in-pasadena/">here</a>.<br />
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PS: Why the cute picture of Scout? Because she loves sprinkle cookies.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-56631494170940770422013-04-23T13:41:00.000-07:002013-04-23T13:41:03.816-07:00The Miraculous Water Cracker!Trouble yourself not. Miracles happen. <div>
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Exhibit A: Water Cracker with a relief of the Blessed Virgin. Discovered Monday, April 21, 2013, in a box of Open Nature Water Crackers labeled 100% Natural. 100%!</div>
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View when cracker is standing up (aided by napkin).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_lnn7d8DeRX3AG1roicSz-9fsLW9vvssYW61KXe7LNvuVzJI9fhypMBQ62P66xzKhd-RQ0FL1tNGRuCrSNTXIcLZn6msKHo_jIr2hVZ-JTLs335x5JfDZaapf_gWsIykRAj94mIQGDZe/s1600/IMG_0619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit_lnn7d8DeRX3AG1roicSz-9fsLW9vvssYW61KXe7LNvuVzJI9fhypMBQ62P66xzKhd-RQ0FL1tNGRuCrSNTXIcLZn6msKHo_jIr2hVZ-JTLs335x5JfDZaapf_gWsIykRAj94mIQGDZe/s320/IMG_0619.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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View when cracker lay flat on a plate (aided by gravity).</div>
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Mysteries abound, people. Mysteries abound.</div>
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In other news, in a completely impartial drawing of names from a hat, fate decided that Addey wins the Pass the Book Game. Addey, send your address to mail@margaretfinnegan.com and I will send you your copy of <i>Camelot & Vine</i> by Petrea Burchard, although I still haven't sent Katie her copy of <i>Death At Pemberly</i>, so don't hold your breath. I'm aiming for a post office visit on Friday. </div>
Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-1967328061610678822013-04-21T16:26:00.000-07:002013-04-21T16:26:29.113-07:00My Exciting Life as an Author (Read no further if you are easily plagued by envy and jealousy)Put on your sunglasses! The dazzling, hot brightness of my literary career is likely to burn a hole right through your retina. Saturday, I was invited to participate in a book signing at the illustrious Los Angeles Times Festival of Books. I was invited by Prospect Park Books, the publisher of <i><a href="http://www.prospectparkbooks.com/portfolio-item/literary-pasadena-the-fiction-edition/">Literary Pasadena</a></i>, an anthology of short fiction that includes my story "Genius Unleashed."<br />
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Naturally, my schedule is extremely busy, what with all my important obligations to the grocery story and laundry machine. But since I like to show my appreciation to the little people, I promised the good people at Prospect Park Books that I would try and squeeze them in. <br />
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They insisted on sending a car, but--now that I am famous and people are always looking to me as a role model--I said, "No! The planet needs me to take mass transit." Here I am on the bus showing ordinary people how authentic and normal I am. I'm with author <a href="http://petreaburchard.com/">Petrea Burchard</a>. (I think you can see that I am bit more authentic than Petrea, but that's because I'm all about my art and Petrea is all about her cheekbones.)<br />
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When your work is in an anthology, you naturally are delighted to share the spotlight with fellow co-authors, and I was especially delighted because I am not the sort of person who seeks glory. So, of course, it was a RELIEF to stand in the back of our booth and hand copies of <i>Elizabeth, the First Wife</i>, to <a href="http://www.liandolan.com/">Lian Dolan</a>, whose previous book, <i>Helen of Pasadena,</i> was an <i>LA Times </i>best seller and who perfect strangers come up and talk to as if they are all part of the same carpool. Lian has a story in <i>Literary Pasadena</i> too. So do <a href="http://www.naomihirahara.com/">Naomi Hirahara</a> and <a href="http://www.dianneemley.com/">Dianne Emley</a>, Wally Rudolph and Petrea, who were all also at the signing. They are all kind of a big deal, but again, I'm all about my art so, you know, I don't begrudge them their awards and per diems and book club invitations. Give me an un-air-conditioned bus and a little carpel tunnel syndrome and I'm good!<br />
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After the signing was when the real fun began. Here I am hobnobbing with the always charming Julia Sweeney (The tiny person to the right of the big head).<br />
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Julia read from her new memoir, <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Its-Not-Thing-Your-Mother/dp/145167404X">If It's Not One Thing, It's Your Mother</a></i>. I am sure she wanted to ask me all about <i>The Goddess Lounge</i>, etc, but I just felt like: It's your moment, Julia. Enjoy it! I already spent an hour handing books to Lian Dolan. I'm good.<br />
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XOX to all of you. One day I may be too good for you, but, for now, I am still humble me.<br />
Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-15520556628459344262013-04-17T00:30:00.000-07:002013-04-17T00:30:00.086-07:00Pass the Book: Camelot & Vine<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh392wG9t-dvDy1LWzovZNm2cvU6JJ5r4yJxaJMXZXZTV3mq6vZM4on8X5oc6Ba-SREvLsDp1PwcoIXg1K_sgpwMmh4feLAHgND57Xdf8llU_QgcuO9O0xCFZbZcmUSZb9wgdCrceMKe9Ev/s1600/camelot+and+vine.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh392wG9t-dvDy1LWzovZNm2cvU6JJ5r4yJxaJMXZXZTV3mq6vZM4on8X5oc6Ba-SREvLsDp1PwcoIXg1K_sgpwMmh4feLAHgND57Xdf8llU_QgcuO9O0xCFZbZcmUSZb9wgdCrceMKe9Ev/s1600/camelot+and+vine.tiff" /></a>Wanna play Pass the Book? I learned about Pass the Book from Deb at <a href="http://paperturtle.blogspot.com/">Paper Turtle</a>, but there is more about it <a href="http://pass-the-book.blogspot.com/">here</a>. <br />
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Here's how we play. I send you a book that I like and that I have signed. Then you read the book, sign your name under mine, and pass the book to another reader, who reads it, signs it, and passes it to another reader, and so on and so on.<br />
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The book I'm going to pass along is called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Camelot-Vine-ebook/dp/B00B67IE1I">Camelot & Vine</a>. It's by Petrea Burchard, who writes the <a href="http://pasadenadailyphoto.blogspot.com/">Pasadena Daily Photo</a> blog and who sometimes comments on this blog.<br />
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I really liked <i>Camelot & Vine</i>, and not just because I know Petrea. It's a fun read! It's about this gal, Casey, who finds herself hurled back to the time of King Arthur. Due to her dramatic entrance, her modern day clothes and her knowledge of the future, she is mistaken for a wizard. To protect herself and increase her access King Arthur, who she feels increasingly drawn too, she tries to keep that pretense going, but the stakes keep getting higher and consequences for lying keep getting more dangerous. What will Casey do?<br />
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Find out by playing my game! Just say "I'm in!" in the comments section. On April 24 I will draw a name out of a hat and mail the book to the winner.<br />
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Free! Free! Free! Fun! Fun! Fun! Let the game begin!Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-62016204400228918482013-04-15T15:09:00.000-07:002013-04-15T15:09:11.941-07:00Ugly Shoe Winner!So exciting! The winner of the ugly shoe contest is Katie. It was a very difficult choice! There were so many ugly shoes to choose from, but these shoes just seemed to scream, "Fuck You! My shoes are a modern weapon so get out of my way!" And I thought to myself, what could be worse than ugliness paired with sheer rudeness? Plus, I have been seeing a lot of these spiky nightmares and I want to register my OPPOSITION right here and now.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPk4hegoPOC14dKM4H0Hcs0d_W-dFhN2V2hJaeJfbxqC1dUwvBASozhN82m5_3itk7RgRD67eAQqrqm5jJQLzkxj63B6BAWZ5iJfaZoZSlW0IsgyczbI0sx4-GbEqMTS_TRSiVTcwfWMCh/s1600/ugly+shoe.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPk4hegoPOC14dKM4H0Hcs0d_W-dFhN2V2hJaeJfbxqC1dUwvBASozhN82m5_3itk7RgRD67eAQqrqm5jJQLzkxj63B6BAWZ5iJfaZoZSlW0IsgyczbI0sx4-GbEqMTS_TRSiVTcwfWMCh/s320/ugly+shoe.tiff" width="303" /></a></div>
However, if you MUST have them, you can find them <a href="http://www.zappos.com/giuseppe-zanotti-i27114-black-gold">here</a>.<br />
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Congratulations, Katie! I know this honor means everything to you. How will you ever top such an achievement? It will be hard, but I urge you to try because a life without goals and ambitions is a sad life indeed. Well done!<br />
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And what has Katie won? My copy of the book <i>Death Comes to Pemberly</i> by PD James, which I had such high hopes for but really found kind of uninteresting. But maybe you'll like it more, Katie! Email me your address at mail@margaretfinnegan.com and I will send it right out to you!<br />
<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-45687571073624082372013-04-11T08:37:00.000-07:002013-04-11T08:37:18.832-07:00We interrupt tonight's entertainmentBad cold. Cough. It's time like this I turn to my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hasKmDr1yrA">secret boyfriend:</a>Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-12921887264959432122013-04-09T08:32:00.000-07:002013-04-09T08:32:33.850-07:00Me, Me, Me! It's all about Me!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4szV0xGFfYjfR_0wRLbYFirVAZwnCqIWwYla18vvk6FFL75e16JICXOJqRWzcAYJ42f5YAIQvoTwriUErnz6yyR_7xKhx4-el_cs11dljvdu196GP_dwvevX1yzejm4OmQgBWiRsHjZW/s1600/IMG_0585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk4szV0xGFfYjfR_0wRLbYFirVAZwnCqIWwYla18vvk6FFL75e16JICXOJqRWzcAYJ42f5YAIQvoTwriUErnz6yyR_7xKhx4-el_cs11dljvdu196GP_dwvevX1yzejm4OmQgBWiRsHjZW/s320/IMG_0585.JPG" width="320" /></a>Can't get your fill of marvelous me? I've got you covered!<br />
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1. Hear me read my personal essay "The Reel Classroom," at <i>I Pretend,</i> a spoken word event featuring cool writers at <a href="http://www.spaceartscenter.com/">SPACE</a> this Saturday, April 13 from 7:30 to 9:00 PM. Adults only. Suggested donation $5. 1506 Mission Street, South Pasadena, CA. 91030. Phone: 626/441-4788.<br />
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2. Read my story "Genius Unleashed" in the new anthology <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Literary-Pasadena-The-Fiction-Edition/dp/1938849094">Literary Pasadena</a></i>, which also features stories by such acclaimed writers as Michelle Huneven, Victoria Patterson and the always charming Petrea Burchard. (Full disclosure: "Genius Unleashed" is a reworking of my story "Creation," which some of you may have read elsewhere.)<br />
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3. Visit me at the <a href="http://events.latimes.com/festivalofbooks/">LA Times Festival of Books</a>, Saturday, April 20, from noon to one o'clock, where I will be signing copies of <i>Literary Pasadena</i> at the Prospect Park Books booth. USC Campus.<br />
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4. I think it is time that I remind you that Mother's Day is just a month away. What better way to celebrate the moms you love than with a copy of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001H6NMNI">The Goddess Lounge</a>, a story of love, motherhood, a lot of dogs, tons of traffic, a few modern-day monsters and a little divine intervention.<br />
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5. You have until the 15th of this month to post a picture of the <a href="http://margaretfinnegan.blogspot.com/2013/04/walk-this-way-shoes-that-are-kind-of.html">ugliest shoes of the season</a>. The winner will get eternal glory and an as yet undetermined prize of very little worth. I know that's a little off topic, but I'm just saying...<br />
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6. Enough about me. Did I mention that you are rocking those sweat pants! You look fabulous. Stop losing weight already! You're shaming all of us!<br />
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7. Wondering about the picture? That's me (looking haggard) and my sweet teen E (looking adorable) at Disneyland a few weeks back. She's a cutie!Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-1767610514083391202013-04-05T12:12:00.001-07:002013-04-05T12:12:33.249-07:00Goddess of the Week: Hecate<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFskCbno66jgW81bRoinQHbhS75zRSZlJy27YXEOJD4oqYFpwnQun79lOY9NFac-fZzxI_YJZLNWjjHPkQupJpJt8fTpVkYNDvGuoj1HmsWsoB_BnaBQ005KGANBRPtELVOMVngbZDMzQl/s1600/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFskCbno66jgW81bRoinQHbhS75zRSZlJy27YXEOJD4oqYFpwnQun79lOY9NFac-fZzxI_YJZLNWjjHPkQupJpJt8fTpVkYNDvGuoj1HmsWsoB_BnaBQ005KGANBRPtELVOMVngbZDMzQl/s320/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a>Ok, people, we have to send good thoughts to Addey. She lost her job and now she needs a career goddess. I thought about this a lot, Addey. I wanted to find you a goddess that signifies not only prosperity (bills must be paid!), but also a goddess that can help you through the kind of journey you are going through right now. So I'm giving you the Greek goddess Hecate.<br />
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Hecate was a major player in her heyday, basically early, early Greece, where she was seen as a deity who could bring both prosperity and help around the house. So that should cover some of your needs.<br />
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Nowadays, Hecate is mostly remembered as goddess of the crossroads. Whenever ancient travelers would come to a crossroads they would stack up stones as way to honor Hecate in the hopes that she might help them choose the right road. And that seems like it is part of what you need to do right now, Addey: choose the right road.<br />
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Will you try and find the same sort of job? Something different? Or is that even a luxury to think that way? Do you need to take the first job you can land? Talk about your crossroads! Who wouldn't want a little divine intervention dealing with such issues?<br />
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Hecate reminds us to slow down. Think about your choices. Sometimes that means recognizing that you do HAVE choices. There is seldom only one road. So what will it be? Where will go? Where will your choices lead you? And who can you count on to give you some Hecate love? Who is going to help you through this journey?<br />
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I wish I could help you answer those questions, Addey, but this is your journey. Just remember to see it as such.<br />
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<i>Channel this goddess: When the road forks, when you are looking for a job, when you are making tough decisions, when your GPS breaks.</i><br />
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<i>Need a goddess? I got goddesses! Post a comment saying what you need or want a goddess for. Then check back in a week or two and see what you got. It's fun! It's free! It's not quite Siri but Siri doesn't do goddesses. Yet.</i><br />
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<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-37628274040183407662013-04-01T14:32:00.001-07:002013-04-01T14:32:43.066-07:00Walk this Way! Shoes that are kind of awful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This spring, the well-trod women will let her feet do the talking.</div>
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On your way to the top? No glass ceiling will stop you in these spiked sandals, although you might impale small co-workers or even amputate a pinky toe when fetching your morning latte. ($40)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX-ufYF4SO5xVDpyAiCl_itIFrYGdJGGyvI1IElzNWzU_etYNFZQ4JO598ym509iNJ6QEC9yUBbacBdymLBASbfSrt4KlmanKxm515JrwkEaiv4K_d9cjlh8y90Z6cQgadt7cAYNWWcHe/s1600/IMG_0596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaX-ufYF4SO5xVDpyAiCl_itIFrYGdJGGyvI1IElzNWzU_etYNFZQ4JO598ym509iNJ6QEC9yUBbacBdymLBASbfSrt4KlmanKxm515JrwkEaiv4K_d9cjlh8y90Z6cQgadt7cAYNWWcHe/s320/IMG_0596.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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Talk about March madness! High tops meet high heels! Three points just for the color alone! ($165)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5FZp0iLH5o7HVoZgTYrkejUlXNhM19VKlceARISxF9nFW2ufPhf2VLckeo9MadAfTOdz_pWYWcjO0i0mtm7fV-p_EDiV3R1wQBR-VvhE6PPi4s4v5oj-4Xd-z8FXPEiUiJumvhGrBwPq/s1600/IMG_0601.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP5FZp0iLH5o7HVoZgTYrkejUlXNhM19VKlceARISxF9nFW2ufPhf2VLckeo9MadAfTOdz_pWYWcjO0i0mtm7fV-p_EDiV3R1wQBR-VvhE6PPi4s4v5oj-4Xd-z8FXPEiUiJumvhGrBwPq/s320/IMG_0601.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto! The 80s are back. Chill in these pink dreams. Very good if you have bird ankles. ($90)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWvY9yaxDGQTQj6AZVQoz6kW0N6hdXPFmg6No5OeqO4JAjwzCdyc5V4Oy35MjZKWtzmLl676AhR_er49tXTlVI_ByYcK3k1XTKZ5_hx42C3gv275oGATRiLG0_SIunddk_TgNDyReZ5b0/s1600/IMG_0600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWvY9yaxDGQTQj6AZVQoz6kW0N6hdXPFmg6No5OeqO4JAjwzCdyc5V4Oy35MjZKWtzmLl676AhR_er49tXTlVI_ByYcK3k1XTKZ5_hx42C3gv275oGATRiLG0_SIunddk_TgNDyReZ5b0/s320/IMG_0600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Boots! Floral! Wide laces! You don't need to be Laura Ingalls Wilder to look good milking your cow in these babies. Best news of all: They double as mud flaps! ($160)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQ1tKZIITHr2bkIQgkoY5rZlApkQ9c2xYSWG5DoycsonURZEH-3wdm28rRhd6nd7u1l4jVSsxytGQWFuCZiJyKhkwKGBjICvDlRaGGigmKsQSk_VpVW34DZzUIFqss6CeUUsxpl1x7pP3/s1600/IMG_0603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGQ1tKZIITHr2bkIQgkoY5rZlApkQ9c2xYSWG5DoycsonURZEH-3wdm28rRhd6nd7u1l4jVSsxytGQWFuCZiJyKhkwKGBjICvDlRaGGigmKsQSk_VpVW34DZzUIFqss6CeUUsxpl1x7pP3/s320/IMG_0603.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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The blue metallic says, "Kiss my icy lips." The primary color print says, "I don't believe in coloring in the lines." ($80)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRozFsKzBoMLVAed0IRzdZU03FwR3OJYxNtBJkR8A1FPKoTGZiN3fme5JgRVDyySBa3J612ZlOdoOCxrRvp-XONcuvuuo1vPD1dWg2GT40tdAOfXdkhqxEKqHasMEo17s6ohomF-yLRJDR/s1600/IMG_0604.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRozFsKzBoMLVAed0IRzdZU03FwR3OJYxNtBJkR8A1FPKoTGZiN3fme5JgRVDyySBa3J612ZlOdoOCxrRvp-XONcuvuuo1vPD1dWg2GT40tdAOfXdkhqxEKqHasMEo17s6ohomF-yLRJDR/s320/IMG_0604.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Reptilian textured meets graffiti. It says, "I live for danger! ($100)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZE47FCQxHEtpZqG8aXkaPBUAWrhhD6anwTf8B5JJIlNxVLUNjJ5zPQPr5KzQr7kS8_3Ws3FZOQ1LtQkniQMGzzfqjjao62AOSdU_HFNYRYup3DMiRdhFwwiuPm54uFydW4ffwEJ7Rem2/s1600/IMG_0605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZE47FCQxHEtpZqG8aXkaPBUAWrhhD6anwTf8B5JJIlNxVLUNjJ5zPQPr5KzQr7kS8_3Ws3FZOQ1LtQkniQMGzzfqjjao62AOSdU_HFNYRYup3DMiRdhFwwiuPm54uFydW4ffwEJ7Rem2/s320/IMG_0605.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Breathtaking! I defy you to find an uglier shoe. ($195)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMpywnXOLgw4S1xNggrO0jqm1BX4S6l9c64uuqo39e4lVbR7IbRkRpYE352W-2bSiLX27zpx-kYlWdMIASh3rew_j4klt8Euzeu2UwMY2hvLBxkKp-oPJepB-8K_kEfM-JOG9DtD8jyYYA/s1600/IMG_0602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMpywnXOLgw4S1xNggrO0jqm1BX4S6l9c64uuqo39e4lVbR7IbRkRpYE352W-2bSiLX27zpx-kYlWdMIASh3rew_j4klt8Euzeu2UwMY2hvLBxkKp-oPJepB-8K_kEfM-JOG9DtD8jyYYA/s320/IMG_0602.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Wanna have fun! I dare you to post the ugliest Spring 2013 shoe you can find. (Details: You will win a prize that is practically worthless, but the glory will be more than you can possibly imagine. I get to chose the winner, although input will be accepted. You have to post it by April 15th.)<br />
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PS: All shoes available at Nordstorm. Buy at your own risk.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-1355386009126327692013-03-28T17:36:00.001-07:002013-03-28T17:36:57.377-07:00Goddess of the Week: Eostre<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb22KGswTWW45i7WW7KAxuVPlMADPaoWRTya-E9f4DKgQNTh5YmAEbZOTSvta_2RCAMfcepD6EWdcgZ-eO_e5eDGW_uWed_b3QW2K1LYgQbo4D5k8HCAuVSiW3aS0Cyje45iQJo4_76ivi/s1600/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb22KGswTWW45i7WW7KAxuVPlMADPaoWRTya-E9f4DKgQNTh5YmAEbZOTSvta_2RCAMfcepD6EWdcgZ-eO_e5eDGW_uWed_b3QW2K1LYgQbo4D5k8HCAuVSiW3aS0Cyje45iQJo4_76ivi/s320/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a>Tania wants a goddess for a glorious Spring. We must give her Eostre, the English (albeit originally German) goddess of spring and rebirth. <br />
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Eostre/Easter. Easter/Eostre.<br />
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Notice any similaries?<br />
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That's because the word Easter comes from Eostre, and we have Eostre to thank for all the fun stuff about Easter.<br />
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Easter bunnies? Eostre used to be carried around by a giant hare.<br />
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Easter eggs? They were one of Eostre's symbols.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_H8aNyDyp_YoxFcRed1VcZRp9XTsR4gxmR-MwkcvjWyqgG2cX_GaH39ypEQ3thPPyCxHvi1EOsDpaSmRlh29oxn7uIq4Ql6snZsv0MgQyd6WfODrsUhiSf09GRSfliBUiY85lswzMMQS/s1600/IMG_0594.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt_H8aNyDyp_YoxFcRed1VcZRp9XTsR4gxmR-MwkcvjWyqgG2cX_GaH39ypEQ3thPPyCxHvi1EOsDpaSmRlh29oxn7uIq4Ql6snZsv0MgQyd6WfODrsUhiSf09GRSfliBUiY85lswzMMQS/s320/IMG_0594.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
New life? That's what spring is about, baby: winter ends, which means death ends, and new life begins, as marked by the sudden proliferation of cute little animals, especially birds and bunnies. <br />
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Chocolate? Not Eostre at all. The poor English had never even imagined a little Cadbury Egg when Eostre was doing her thing since Cacao is native to South America. But, as Eostre would be the first to say, out with the old and in with the new. So eat all the chocolate you want this Easter! But just don't read <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/18/books/salt-sugar-fat-by-michael-moss.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0">this</a>. It will spoil the whole thing.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-77041878979248483252013-03-21T16:43:00.002-07:002013-03-21T16:43:49.523-07:00The poor little teacher versus the mountain of papers<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCv7R11QEl6lAiPK2oll82rjtLYV50_JPJZTjfP5PL9SosfB4j_Rl8a5Cyw3a9JsIrg3z5Dwv9bA4jCGDMPLreFevMUgYUGBUIqr5ozkTgAs97RvvftGPqFJIBfC0e2QdQKoC9irgSFfO3/s1600/P1010084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCv7R11QEl6lAiPK2oll82rjtLYV50_JPJZTjfP5PL9SosfB4j_Rl8a5Cyw3a9JsIrg3z5Dwv9bA4jCGDMPLreFevMUgYUGBUIqr5ozkTgAs97RvvftGPqFJIBfC0e2QdQKoC9irgSFfO3/s320/P1010084.JPG" width="320" /></a>The poor little teacher stepped onto the treacherous white mountain. The ground was slippery and unstable, as if she were stepping onto a mound of typing paper, and that, of course, was because she WAS stepping onto a mound of typing paper. With each step forward in her stalwart clogs, a page would come loose from the pile and flutter with ugly conviction to her feet. There, it would cut into her sad, exposed heels, leaving paper cut after bitter paper cut. The poor little teacher cried. <br />
<br />
Still, the teacher walked on. The papers lashed out at her. They taunted, "In these Untied States," and "In order to asses this program," and "Americans believe in life, liberty and the pursue of vapidness." The teacher covered her ears to silence the atrocities. She started to run. She had to get over the mountain! She had to! But the papers said, "You will not pass us--I mean, you WILL pass us. Like, literally, because this class is, like, really important to our major--BUT you will not get over our mountain because we are, like, way too POWERFUL and it's not like you have tenure or anything."<br />
<br />
Tears welled up in the poor teacher's eyes. She had to cross the mountain. Her very livelihood depended on it. She mustered every ounce of courage, ever ounce of stamina she had left and made one more desperate attempt up the hill. An shiver of laughter ran through the papers, sending each page shuffling in evil glee, and with sudden force the papers rose up before her. They shackled her ankles. She turned, desperate. Would someone save her? Anyone? The papers rose higher. They coiled themselves around her legs and arms. They pasted themselves to her torso. She screamed. "No! No!" But soon her scream was muffled by the sheer weight of the paper as it landed on top of her, smothering her, killing her, erasing her with nary a smudge from existence. The poor little teacher was no more. The poor little teacher...never would she asses anyone ever again.<br />
Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-7063756189624395012013-03-13T16:07:00.002-07:002013-03-13T16:07:53.595-07:00Margaret Finnegan: Fount of Wisdom<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujMHAKIpENH_FJf8CG9-jVc0KxvECOxoXpxJJ_ze3L1vmvP_ePQ8GvYD6SF5KQCZAbsKIf3Om-dk8yCdStqqeEFKkuUQ67ZH-wUoG4OBu4Vi3PNG55tyBM1N0UiFlhCfKbl7V2AfnL2P8/s1600/P1010408.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgujMHAKIpENH_FJf8CG9-jVc0KxvECOxoXpxJJ_ze3L1vmvP_ePQ8GvYD6SF5KQCZAbsKIf3Om-dk8yCdStqqeEFKkuUQ67ZH-wUoG4OBu4Vi3PNG55tyBM1N0UiFlhCfKbl7V2AfnL2P8/s320/P1010408.JPG" width="320" /></a>Margaret Finnegan has more things that she would like you to know. She is a fount of wisdom; you should really HEED HER WORDS.<br />
<br />
1. You need new shoes. The ones you've been wearing all winter are too beat up and heavy for spring. GO! BUY A PAIR NOW! <br />
<br />
2. I'm going to come right out and say it: You also need new bras. They don't last forever you know. This is may be the only easy fix to gravity's pull. Take it.<br />
<br />
3. Don't listen to those people who tell you that sugar was made by the devil. They are just bringing you down. They are modern Puritans, and no one liked the Puritans even when there were Puritans. One cookie won't kill you (even when you're trying to lose weight).<br />
<br />
4. Seventy-six year old Argentine Pope's with Italian last names may be from Latin America, but it is a stretch to see them as breaking any sort of mold. Also, do you know what people in Argentina call Argentina: the Europe of Latin America. Also, if, after 600 years, a Pope can say it's ok to retire, why can't he say it's ok to do a bunch of other things?<br />
<br />
5. You are still rocking your neck! It looks fabulous. So, you know, appreciate that.<br />
<br />
(PS: In case you're wondering, the woman in the relief is rocking her neck. That's why she is there.)Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-63941797188266300472013-03-10T15:55:00.000-07:002013-03-10T15:55:18.072-07:00Goddess of the Week: Yen koang p'ou sa<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvKH1P6-pSVGnEyN9-nMg2CLHHdVTIB_F1oezDSgUyxpHF6SREpO9xQcSBqrs9xoawqU0dzMbXT2AyvhS_ejse6fqovjmCQfhhrMv30DeXlIVcrdsaSGQ5TWHvJ91LsiWmc4OsfUkHax_1/s1600/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvKH1P6-pSVGnEyN9-nMg2CLHHdVTIB_F1oezDSgUyxpHF6SREpO9xQcSBqrs9xoawqU0dzMbXT2AyvhS_ejse6fqovjmCQfhhrMv30DeXlIVcrdsaSGQ5TWHvJ91LsiWmc4OsfUkHax_1/s320/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a>Laurie needs a goddess for her eyes, and boy do I get it. My family has a long history of eye disorders, and I can tell you that anybody worried about their eyes needs Yen koang p'ou sa, the Chinese goddess of eye diseases.<br />
<br />
Not a lot is known about Yen koang p'ou sa; she predates Buddhism. Yet despite her ancient roots, she is both modern and western in her determination to have a medical specialty. She heals eye diseases. That's it. She's not interested in your liver or your feet, just your eyes. And just so you don't get confused, she goes around carrying a big ol' eye. It's kind of her calling card.<br />
<br />
Since I couldn't find out any more than that, I am just boldly going to call on you to make her a little altar of edible sacrifices that are full of vitamin A, which is very good for your eyes. Think: carrots, pumpkin, sweet potatoes, butternut squash, spinach, kale and cantaloupe. In other words, if it's orangey or deep green you probably can't go wrong.<br />
<br />
Here's a little recipe to get your altar started. Get yourself some butternut squash. Make it easy: buy the precut kind. Take all those precut cubes and mix them with just a little bit of olive oil, sea salt and parsley. Put that in a 400 degree oven and roast until soft. (Every once in a while, while they are still in the oven, you will want to toss them.) You can eat them fresh from the oven, but I like to let them cool and keep them in the refrigerator for a few days. Then, you put them on top of a little salad made of lettuce and walnuts and maybe a little goat cheese. Dress with garlic, olive oil and lemon juice.<br />
<br />
It will be good for your eyes, and it will give you that satisfying feeling that you always get when you are practicing better nutrition than your negligent dining companions.<br />
<br />
Channel this goddess: When your eyes need a little TLC. Give them the love! Eat a carrot!<br />
<br />
<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-73054757400091479982013-03-04T21:10:00.002-08:002013-03-04T21:10:48.528-08:00I am very smart. Listen to me.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_xqtHhuUF1J_FNYKbgT-D-yuPgFILPulMl6EQB-ZxhnHPMpz2EVM7gPH2XAaZkWPbdOFOF5XjAhtlOsWteXJU_uB50XcGATj9ODLLTLGXO5i3nytKbENkLXrtJHHPfMZP3m94ODuEiQF/s1600/P1010014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_xqtHhuUF1J_FNYKbgT-D-yuPgFILPulMl6EQB-ZxhnHPMpz2EVM7gPH2XAaZkWPbdOFOF5XjAhtlOsWteXJU_uB50XcGATj9ODLLTLGXO5i3nytKbENkLXrtJHHPfMZP3m94ODuEiQF/s320/P1010014.JPG" width="320" /></a>Margaret Finnegan would like to remind you of the following:<br />
<br />
1. You look lovely in a little color. Lighten up on the beiges and blacks. Only the boring birds are desperate to appear neutral.<br />
2. That depressing book you're reading? The one about the futility of life? Blah, blah, blah, all ready. If you want depressing, Google landfills. Read something that reminds you that your life is a gift. Have fun. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Camelot-Vine-ebook/dp/B00B67IE1I">Read this.</a><br />
3. You are always happiest when you've made time to visit with that one friend. I can't remember her name. You know who I mean. Maybe you should call her.<br />
4. Treat yourself as well as you would want people to treat your children (or your dog). So go to bed! It's late!<br />
5. It's really not your fault. Let it go. You know what I'm talking about.<br />
<br />
I don't mean to nag. I'm just saying.<br />
<br />
PS: There will be a goddess later this week. Promise!Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-53811883104545484842013-02-21T06:32:00.000-08:002013-02-21T06:32:50.015-08:00The Birthday GirlThe birthday girl would like to make perfectly clear that she wants the following:<br />
<br />
1. To sleep in.<br />
2. To not have to look at any dirty dishes on her birthday.<br />
3. To be surrounded by happy, angelic faces that are not complaining about her cooking.<br />
<br />
She would like to further clarify that by happy, angelic faces she means more than actual faces. Happy, angelic faces should be attached to, if not happy, angelic bodies, at least bodies that do not exude a general disdain for the cursed circumstances of their lives, and by cursed circumstances she means everything they blame their mother for.<br />
<br />
She would also like to clarify that by not looking at dirty dishes she means that the dirty dishes should not be simply hidden at the bottom of the sink. They should be in the dishwasher. That is the only place for them.<br />
<br />
She would also like to clarify that by sleeping in she means that everyone should leave her alone for as long as she wants.<br />
<br />
Also, the birthday girl would like extensive praise and exhibitions of gratitude for all she does, but she will settle for cake.*<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjwT0N7xTGN6uI5MXV-CK1ZazBgRm1uXKrWtnxnVKkaP8bc9FEa_SDsGYcqZa-05Xd_h2K2dQpYjR2kO4vVjkbSmiB7Nzw3O5sdez45s4uoVAfAyiVTGjvdw_oYZFq-Md7gFje2f7q6lm/s1600/DSC00491.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjwT0N7xTGN6uI5MXV-CK1ZazBgRm1uXKrWtnxnVKkaP8bc9FEa_SDsGYcqZa-05Xd_h2K2dQpYjR2kO4vVjkbSmiB7Nzw3O5sdez45s4uoVAfAyiVTGjvdw_oYZFq-Md7gFje2f7q6lm/s320/DSC00491.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
*The Birthday Girl will not name names, but she would like to reassure her husband that this list is not about him. He is only good. He can, however, make her dinner. Also, she will allow Academy Award merriment to co-exist with her special dayness.<br />
<br />
<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-39799797307084099722013-02-17T16:40:00.000-08:002013-02-17T16:40:32.278-08:00Goddess of the Week: Lady of the Beasts<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKeIKWIzSJki5o-jo3jsLY6ers3aJ_ia1RrMeo8Wr2QdtCULf3vkH08H4M7DeeA7bp3tO7lK3LJwbukS0PM8ENqjpBeS5SkLQ-FCEWNvoXZY3ghh3TF2ybZSM8GRtj0tS6eWZqXA9r_uMB/s1600/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKeIKWIzSJki5o-jo3jsLY6ers3aJ_ia1RrMeo8Wr2QdtCULf3vkH08H4M7DeeA7bp3tO7lK3LJwbukS0PM8ENqjpBeS5SkLQ-FCEWNvoXZY3ghh3TF2ybZSM8GRtj0tS6eWZqXA9r_uMB/s320/TypeDrawing+copy.jpg" width="320" /></a>Ariane is readying her house for a puppy and a kitten, both rescues. Plus, she has two teenagers! She needs a goddess who can help everyone keep the peace. She needs the Sumarian goddess known now as the Lady of the Beasts.<br />
<br />
The Lady of the Beasts is totally ancient. She predates written history, so we don't know what she was originally called, but sculptures of her have been found in lots of your Fertile Crescent sorts of places. In most artifacts, she is either depicted with a lion or as a hybrid woman/animal. She is thought to have been the "Cosmic Creatrix," which I think means God. She is also thought to have been a figure of life and health and fertility--all that good stuff.<br />
<br />
So I think if you are going to have three species under one roof--including two teenagers, of which I know much--I think you can't go wrong with the Lady of the Beasts. Although I would caution you to keep the teenagers in separate rooms, at least at first, and to be sure to spend some special one on one time with the kitten and the puppy; strong attachment bonds are so important.<br />
<br />
<i>Channel this goddess: When you have lots of animals under one roof, when thinking of getting an animal companion, when wondering whether or not to crate. (We've had bad luck; apparently, teenagers need their space.)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Need a goddess? I've got goddesses! Post a comment explaining what you need or want a goddess for. Then check back in a week or two and see what you got. It's fun! It's free! It's not nearly as soft and cuddly as a puppy or kitten, but it's better than a poke in the eye.</i><br />
<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-21787823186409642862013-02-14T14:53:00.003-08:002013-02-14T14:53:51.964-08:00Tick, tick, tick...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJO_5Ef5iyVDPLkQzhp35vASKvutkZ4fFp-BZt8MlrB3Fh5b_HttUeoc4N1IGNtAUeSJjlAELZyJQSjSWg8QlUXFk3pnt7rY89lBipdPMpuJeAMM917L0_KrNz5N_drbH9baJtbdBneR_F/s1600/DSC00440.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJO_5Ef5iyVDPLkQzhp35vASKvutkZ4fFp-BZt8MlrB3Fh5b_HttUeoc4N1IGNtAUeSJjlAELZyJQSjSWg8QlUXFk3pnt7rY89lBipdPMpuJeAMM917L0_KrNz5N_drbH9baJtbdBneR_F/s320/DSC00440.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
It's not to late people. You can still butter up your Valentine.<br />
<br />
XOX<br />
<br />
MargaretMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-69924495136161447372013-02-12T14:09:00.001-08:002013-02-12T14:09:12.628-08:00To Dye For: Or the problem of my hair<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4YFbhMRAZRbMsUBWNPKJr_4kBu3eDuyD2QRUa5OrU_e-nHxUiFwin1Q218SZPdJBVX3KMDHfB4u4q9aXPqqDZtNt3C5Rs6Tqm-EVmxPCyd1nZn3r_cmhm7HTHKi_Nn8pnq1hYOKLqdii/s1600/IMG_0529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD4YFbhMRAZRbMsUBWNPKJr_4kBu3eDuyD2QRUa5OrU_e-nHxUiFwin1Q218SZPdJBVX3KMDHfB4u4q9aXPqqDZtNt3C5Rs6Tqm-EVmxPCyd1nZn3r_cmhm7HTHKi_Nn8pnq1hYOKLqdii/s320/IMG_0529.jpg" width="240" /></a>In the first world problems scheme of things, next to the dilemma of my lying pants, is the problem of my hair. <br />
<br />
The question is: Is there a politics of coloring your hair?<br />
<br />
Here is my concern: I worry that if I color my hair I will be buying into a culture that denies the reality of aging and death. The glorification of youth in popular and consumer culture suggests that the physical signs of aging are both ugly and unhealthy. We are thus encouraged to take all steps necessary to avoid succumbing to the inevitable: time. We are sold flesh-eating makeup, cosmetic surgery, Spanx, and, of course, hair dye to help us reverse the clock.<br />
<br />
But, the thing is, we cannot stay young. We will get older, and we will die. Unless you are reading this while driving your car or stepping in front of a bus, that is guaranteed. Any culture that tries to deny the reality of that truth is not just deluded, but cruel. Because you can't win! You cannot look 27 forever. You cannot look 40 forever. Pity the poor person who tries to win that game.<br />
<br />
About a year ago, I remember seeing this commercial with Raquel Welch, who is in her seventies, but has had so much work done that she looks thirty. I said to my kids: Who do you think is older, me or her? No question: her. But I couldn't help thinking: How are her knees holding up? How about her hip? After all, you can fool my children, but you can't fool your colon. What kind of fool's errand is it to try?<br />
<br />
So, I think, I have an obligation to let my hair go gray as a sort of prophetic act. I want people to look at me and say: "That lady is getting old. That lady will die. Ah! So will I!"<br />
<br />
But, you see, I am conflicted: Because what I just wrote is fricking crazy! Who wants people to look at them and think: "Wow! That lady is getting old! We're ALL GOING TO DIE!" Can you imagine me at Halloween? I'd be the house all the parents would say, "Oh, don't go there, Johnny. That old lady will suck your soul out and use it to pomade her scraggly gray hair."<br />
<br />
And here's another thing: while I dig the groovy streaks of silver that are starting to frame my face, I'm not so keen on the general lack of luster that the mousy brown predominance of my hair possesses. It's dull looking. It would look better if it was kind of...golden, as in chemically enhanced. And looking better sounds appealing (see my previous post). After all, it is my body and my one life: Shouldn't I be able to have golden hair if I want to? As postmodern feminist, isn't that my right?<br />
<br />
By the way: Look at that picture! Talk about your crazy prophets of doom! My eye looks like its ready to curdle you. Don't get me started on my eyes.<br />
<br />
<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-87482576999704923412013-02-08T12:15:00.000-08:002013-02-08T12:16:02.922-08:00A Disturbing Development (Or how I know J. Crew never loved me.)Facts:<br />
<br />
1. After a brief flirtation with the size eight when I was a senior in high school, I have worn a size ten until maybe the last two years.<br />
<br />
2. For most of my adult life, I have weighed between about 130 and 135 pounds.<br />
<br />
3. Recently, I have noticed the following DISTURBING developments: I have gained weight: 10.4 pounds, to be exact. I can point to no real reason for having gained this weight, although, if truth be told, I blame society. Even more disturbing, I now wear a size eight. That's right: I have GAINED ten pounds, and I have LOST one pants size.<br />
<br />
Evidence:<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLMd5c4wXx1pRcAtVYVxEKJ8qI0NW25ofTVdxaaoImtVYmLFp6MIFCf7hWrT4cvdgYJOBl8NXCeEUMmfjc_cAsuOmtuV8QHulLtcPni42uU00ziZuW9KUrtmvC1kInJ-6HooOhwZhuRUi/s1600/P1010563.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLMd5c4wXx1pRcAtVYVxEKJ8qI0NW25ofTVdxaaoImtVYmLFp6MIFCf7hWrT4cvdgYJOBl8NXCeEUMmfjc_cAsuOmtuV8QHulLtcPni42uU00ziZuW9KUrtmvC1kInJ-6HooOhwZhuRUi/s320/P1010563.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Here I am wearing a pair of now uncomfortably snug size ten jeans that I got about twenty years ago.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DNiuonpumu1_nEuN6Ak8agJQF8s6EXhtE6Llg6afDqXJczwGhgCIPtO60RIxf0_Eof7KB7p6XvCdvTCzIbGfssPohtTK0ptRmWUdxDsokCXkVVlmYAKD5UYR1D0WtSABISzj7nd4EcN9/s1600/P1010565.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2DNiuonpumu1_nEuN6Ak8agJQF8s6EXhtE6Llg6afDqXJczwGhgCIPtO60RIxf0_Eof7KB7p6XvCdvTCzIbGfssPohtTK0ptRmWUdxDsokCXkVVlmYAKD5UYR1D0WtSABISzj7nd4EcN9/s320/P1010565.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
Here I am wearing a pair of size eight khakis I got last year at J. Crew. My thumb is holding out the waistband, thus emphasizing that these pants are loose.<br />
<br />
My friends, these pants are A LIE.<br />
<br />
Now for the bitter truth: It is very possible that your pants are a lie too.<br />
<br />
I wish I could tell you that this was a good thing. Sure, when I walked out of J. Crew with my loose-fitting size eight pants I felt the wonderful smugness that comes with wearing single-digit-size clothing. And, yes, maybe, for a while, I did go around shaking my head at the heavier masses while extolling my clearly superior virtue as a human.<br />
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But don't you see? It was never true! I never deserved the size eight! I never deserved the smugness. If anything I deserved greater shame because I gained fricking ten pounds, the truth of which was revealed to me today when I had my annual physical and my doctor said, "Wow! You've gained some weight."<br />
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True, true. The signs were there. I can now balance a cup of tea on my stomach. But I just thought I was getting middle-age flabby. It turns out I was it wasn't a middle aged thing. I was a weight thing.<br />
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But, no. I chose not to believe my own eyes! I chose to believe my J. Crew pants!<br />
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Now I just feel dirty. Dirty and ashamed and stupid. J. Crew never loved me. J. Crew only flattered me for my money. I'm such a size whore.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8381983259145260439.post-54071169875514445952013-01-30T00:30:00.000-08:002013-01-30T00:30:01.532-08:00Winter in the Los Angeles Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Granted, the traffic is horrible, there is the occasional earthquake, there is heavy consumption of kale, and people will wear yoga pants even to church, but...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGT1u4hWGCoSUuSRZzallSMGJj0CqvD9BwOI31gm84WYdXilYcImo_TcCH6S429k5SiQjuXz1CwWe2SbruLVvSNIAYOfbLpn0f1rMdq0rmdiQezV24I7F2heBwrwL9Q25u6oEQKwB5wYOf/s1600/P1010557.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGT1u4hWGCoSUuSRZzallSMGJj0CqvD9BwOI31gm84WYdXilYcImo_TcCH6S429k5SiQjuXz1CwWe2SbruLVvSNIAYOfbLpn0f1rMdq0rmdiQezV24I7F2heBwrwL9Q25u6oEQKwB5wYOf/s320/P1010557.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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It is January and I am eating lettuce from my own garden.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9AnEslLRYTls9JIlYXOBKbjkmy8n6ktxmO-u9K41i7zPRmsHdv8r450WBj-15KKpK_0_uEDdGTa6ZEoyEvTTwUKUo0Y_p7G6JrFucq00vBIQhqXEfNVd7F-4SwzjSMqH1TUPK1zUlwuY/s1600/P1010558.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl9AnEslLRYTls9JIlYXOBKbjkmy8n6ktxmO-u9K41i7zPRmsHdv8r450WBj-15KKpK_0_uEDdGTa6ZEoyEvTTwUKUo0Y_p7G6JrFucq00vBIQhqXEfNVd7F-4SwzjSMqH1TUPK1zUlwuY/s320/P1010558.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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You can't grow everything this time of year. I tried beans, but we had two nights of frost. It was a tragic lose, but we are coping the best we can.</div>
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The Swiss Chard looks like its in league with Lance Armstrong. Behind it you can spy brussel sprouts; lots of leaves, but will I ever get my little baby cabbages?</div>
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Did you know arugula flowers? And when the leaves get too big they are awfully bitter. Don't tell it, but it will probably be pulled out soon. I hope it will enjoy the brief time it has left. </div>
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(PS: on another note entirely, I notice my novel has gotten a few more reviews on Goodreads and Amazon lately, and at least one reviewer found the book from the blog. Yay! My most sincerest of thanks for your taking the time to review The Goddess Lounge. Really, really.)</div>
<br />Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08668487489667818687noreply@blogger.com18