<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Fri, 01 Jun 2012 04:15:06 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Patsy's Ponderings by Patsy Terrell</title><description>Writer, Artist, Speaker, Reader, Ponderer</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>2939</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-348397970975914134</guid><pubDate>Thu, 31 May 2012 16:09:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-31T11:09:00.471-05:00</atom:updated><title>St. James Tea in Wichita</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-048w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met this little lady at the St. James Tea a few weeks ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-006w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The St. James Tea in Wichita is one I've wanted to attend for years. The timing just never worked out until this year. Fortunately, my friend, Jan, and I were able to go. She had been before. It was a perfect day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we walked through the church and over to the area where the tea was being held, we were guided on the path by this wonderful scene.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-009w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just inside the door was this nice vignette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-060w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tea goodies were on tables in the center of the room, with beautiful flowers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-059w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies charged with pouring tea were stationed at each end of the tables.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-017w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trays of food were continually replenished and you could help yourself to whatever you fancied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-019w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-020w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-015w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were quite taken with these little chocolate mice. I'd seen photographs of them in magazines, but never actually seen any that someone had gone to the trouble to make.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-021w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-022w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-024w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-027w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-028w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They had round tables set up all over the room, all with tablecloths, and you could sit down and enjoy yourself. Some people came and went as the day went on, and some - like us- stayed for an extended while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-032w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There were a number of young girls attending in beautiful dresses. This little girl was at our table for awhile with her mom and grandmother. She was really sweet. You can see she has a white chocolate mouse, as well as the traditional dark chocolate one!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-050w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a fashion show twice that day. We caught the second part of it the first time and stayed for the second show to see the rest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-053w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It appealed to all ages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-057w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ladies in their church bring treats for the tea. They also have sales of various things along the edges of the room, and a silent auction. I managed to bring home five more cookbooks. They were only $1 each. How could I resist?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-061w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-348397970975914134?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/st-james-tea-in-wichita.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-5360741680933245195</guid><pubDate>Wed, 30 May 2012 19:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-30T14:00:05.893-05:00</atom:updated><title>We Know</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120325-037w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the books I keep close at hand is Thomas Moore's, "Care of the Soul." When I feel a bit lost or confused sometimes I pick it up and flip to one of the many flagged passages.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did that recently and turned to something I didn't have highlighted, but that was just what I needed to see. It said, "The soul has no room in which to present itself if we continually fill all the gaps with bogus activities."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems life is filled with many bogus activities. I try to be in the moment and appreciate every breath I'm allowed, but it's a bit more difficult when shopping for toilet paper than when standing in a beautiful forest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We often find so many reasons to not do the very things our soul is crying out for. But we know. At our core, we know what we need.&amp;nbsp;We always know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know when we should end a relationship or start a new life or pick up a book.&amp;nbsp;We just ignore that voice that whispers to us, more insistently all the time. The universe keeps providing us with clues - from conversations, events, and even books. Eventually we have no choice but to heed the demands. And we stop filling our time with bogus activities. and let the soul present itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then we think... I needed this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-5360741680933245195?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/we-know.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-2550715985294039976</guid><pubDate>Wed, 30 May 2012 03:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-29T22:34:00.389-05:00</atom:updated><title>Weird Al in Wichita</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-211w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A friend shared a Weird Al concert ticket with me a few weeks ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-022w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to say it was a jam-packed, brilliant, fun show.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-028w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We pretty much started smiling from the first moment and never stopped. His show is very high energy. I can't even remember how many costume changes there were.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-042w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little Nirvana, of course...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-053w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-074w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-080w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was during this number, in the animal print/red suit, that he came out into the audience and sung to some of the women. I was lucky enough to be one of htem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-089w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-093w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He's very expressive!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-097w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-108w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This gentleman came out on stage and held the harmonica for Weird Al to play. It was a funny bit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-119w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-133w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amish Paradise, of course&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-135w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had all the Jim Morrison mannerisms down pat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-161w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-164w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-181w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-194w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.thelope.com/"&gt;Ace Jackalope&lt;/a&gt; met up with a storm trooper afterward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120502-216w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-2550715985294039976?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/weird-al-in-wichita.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-8122211999987422748</guid><pubDate>Tue, 29 May 2012 02:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-28T21:38:00.466-05:00</atom:updated><title>Still Packaged After All These Years</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120425-009w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You just never know what you're going to find at the thrift store. I didn't even know such things were manufactured, and it looks like it hasn't been for a few decades. For fifty cents I brought it home because it looks useful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, I am struck by the knowledge that someone bought this - probably in the 1970s at the latest - and here it is still in the package. No one has ever actually used it. Until now. It's about to find its way into my bright yellow kitchen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-8122211999987422748?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/still-packaged-after-all-these-years.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-6095464814830716829</guid><pubDate>Sun, 27 May 2012 21:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-27T16:00:00.998-05:00</atom:updated><title>Pretty Things</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120425-005w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately pretty little hankies have been finding their way to me. I love that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've washed some of my recent pretties and have started ironing them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's something odd about the fact that I won't iron my clothes, but I will iron decades old hankies into perfect squares.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-6095464814830716829?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/pretty-things.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-5979103660223176553</guid><pubDate>Sat, 26 May 2012 18:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-26T13:00:02.382-05:00</atom:updated><title>The Puerto Rico Jungle</title><description>&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lately I've been thinking about beautiful places on the planet. Puerto Rico came to mind and I went to find some of the photos from my visit there in July of 2005. Thought I'd share some with you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These were all taken at El Yunque Rain Forest. These were taken from the top of&amp;nbsp; &lt;span class="content"&gt;the Yokahu Observation Tower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prtower2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tower looks ancient, but it was built in 1962. You can climb the 96 steps and look out where you get these beautiful views of the clouds and the plants and the mixing of the two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of these photos really captures how beautiful it is.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud6.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud7.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prcloud8.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was raining the day we were there, which gave the flowers a dewy look.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prflower6.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prflower5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prflower3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prflower.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prplant2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It rains a lot there - or at least it did during my visit - and I loved it. I couldn't resist getting some close ups of leaves with rain drops.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prleaf.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prfern.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the things I love about the jungle is how lush everything is. What you don't get a sense of from these photos is that El Yunque is not very "wild." You'd have to get off the well beaten path and it's concrete to find those places. Unfortunately, I was with a whole group and no one wanted to do that so I missed that part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, there are beautiful things to see from that concrete.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prjungle.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prjungle3.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prjungle4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prjungle5.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img alt="" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/prjungle6.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm ready for another visit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-5979103660223176553?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/puerto-rico-jungle.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-4414288398207102749</guid><pubDate>Fri, 25 May 2012 16:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-25T11:00:00.161-05:00</atom:updated><title>Question</title><description>&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120325-036w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;What is the gift you were meant to bring to the world?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a question I'm really pondering these days. It seems like a good question to consider. If we are not being what we are meant to be, we can't fulfill our purpose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step one is to identify that gift, of course. Only then can we figure out how to bring it to the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-4414288398207102749?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/question.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-6816890742199900333</guid><pubDate>Thu, 24 May 2012 16:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-24T11:30:00.357-05:00</atom:updated><title>Tea pots on Tea towels</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120414-013w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tea pots embroidered on tea towels. I don't think any more words are necessary to explain how much I love this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's one of my finds from the MCC sale this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-6816890742199900333?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/tea-pots-on-tea-towels.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-7871336996532692246</guid><pubDate>Wed, 23 May 2012 19:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-23T14:30:00.648-05:00</atom:updated><title>Quote of the Day</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14px;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120325-044w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt; Begin doing what you want to do now.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;We are not living in eternity.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;We&amp;nbsp;have only this moment, &lt;br /&gt;sparkling like a star in our hand &lt;br /&gt;- and melting&amp;nbsp;like a snowflake.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;--- Marie Beyon Ray&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-7871336996532692246?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/quote-of-day_23.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-4788969453730497776</guid><pubDate>Tue, 22 May 2012 21:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-22T16:30:00.265-05:00</atom:updated><title>Digital Eye</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/digitaleye.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night I was playing around with the blur tool on a graphics program and kind of scared myself when I saw an eye staring back at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-4788969453730497776?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/digital-eye.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-7105666572576523283</guid><pubDate>Tue, 22 May 2012 01:44:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-21T20:44:00.248-05:00</atom:updated><title>Glen Campbell Concert in Wichita - It Looked a Lot Like Love</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-053w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few weeks ago we went to see Glen Campbell in concert at the Wichita Orpheum. As you may know, he has Alzheimer's Disease, and is making his farewell concert tour. I was a bit hesitant to go because I thought it might be sad, but it wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-047w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-038w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He is traveling with three of his children, his long time musical director, and two other performers. His daughter and two sons, along with two other performers, come out first and sing a few songs as the band, "Instant People." Campbell comes out then with the musical director and does all the songs you expect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-072w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still plays and sings great. He uses teleprompters to help him remember the words, and paces around the stage quite a bit. I'm not sure if that's part of the agitation sometimes seen with Alzheimer's or if that's just his way. I've never seen him in concert before, but I remember watching his TV show when I was a kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-039w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-074w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the performance, everyone keeps an eye on him to help him in any way he needs it. His daughter, especially, is vigilant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-061w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-008w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I had thought it might be sad, it wasn't. In fact, as Greg and I said afterwards, "It looked a lot like love." And indeed it did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-013w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love manifested before your eyes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120429-044w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-7105666572576523283?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/glen-campbell-concert-in-wichita-it.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-7550586038170090211</guid><pubDate>Sun, 20 May 2012 17:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-20T12:30:00.996-05:00</atom:updated><title>Quote of the Day</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20110720-063w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-large;"&gt;Be glad for life &lt;br /&gt;because it gives you the chance &lt;br /&gt;to love&amp;nbsp;and to work &lt;br /&gt;and to look up at the stars.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;--- Henry Van Dyke&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-7550586038170090211?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/quote-of-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-824754540037301270</guid><pubDate>Sat, 19 May 2012 20:50:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-19T15:50:00.578-05:00</atom:updated><title>Meanings that Remain</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120414-024w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is called the pineapple pattern, for the obvious reasons. It's one of my favorite patterns, not just because of its graceful curves, but because of the other meanings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pineapples have been a symbol of hospitality since the Victorian era. If you look closely, you'll find them decorating newel posts, carved into doors, and scattered throughout Victorian homes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a good chance that when this was made, the meaning behind the pineapple had already been lost. It's amazing all the ideas like that that we hang onto, without understanding why.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-824754540037301270?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/meanings-that-remain.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-1950057527691723913</guid><pubDate>Fri, 18 May 2012 20:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-18T15:00:03.323-05:00</atom:updated><title>The Unnecessary But Stunning Things</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120505-004w.jpg" /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recently went to a tea and as we walked between buildings we were greeted with this beautiful marked path. I knew we were in for a treat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While this wasn't complex, and could have been done relatively simply, it was that someone thought of it and took the time to do it. These details are what make the difference in an event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's always these little things. The unnecessary, but stunning, things - like frothy pink fabric rustling in a gentle breeze, welcoming you inside. These are the things we remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life is always in the details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-1950057527691723913?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/unnecessary-but-stunning-things.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-7217719853190173249</guid><pubDate>Thu, 17 May 2012 16:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-17T11:15:00.462-05:00</atom:updated><title>Quote of the Day - Dreams</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20111002-142w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;All men dream, but unequally.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those that dream at night &lt;br /&gt;in&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;the dusty recesses of their minds &lt;br /&gt;awake the next day &lt;br /&gt;to&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;find that their dreams were just vanity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;But those who dream&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;during the day &lt;br /&gt;with their eyes wide open are dangerous men;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;they act out their dreams to make them reality. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;-Thomas Edward Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-7217719853190173249?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/quote-of-day-dreams.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-5123641600728588650</guid><pubDate>Thu, 17 May 2012 02:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-16T21:30:00.663-05:00</atom:updated><title>Summer Butterflies</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120418-035w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this hand-embroidered piece. It says "summer" to me. I've not seen another one like it. Something to be loved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-5123641600728588650?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/summer-butterflies.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-5211396452482820827</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 May 2012 20:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-15T15:00:00.681-05:00</atom:updated><title>Chocolate Meringue Cookies</title><description>I made these chocolate meringue cookies for the first time a few weeks ago. If you want to give them a go, use some parchment paper and a piping bag - otherwise you'll have a gooey mess all over everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can use a plastic baggie with the end cut off if you don't have a piping bag. You could drop these by spoonfuls, but squirting them onto the parchment will be far easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img align="right" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120321-075w.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Chocolate Meringue Cookies&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 egg&amp;nbsp;whites&lt;br /&gt;1/8 teaspoon cream of tartar&lt;br /&gt;2/3 cup sugar&lt;br /&gt;1 tablespoon cocoa&lt;br /&gt;1/4 cup chocolate chips, chopped&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beat egg whites until stiff peaks form, adding cream of tartar as they're beating. Add sugar slowly, continuing to beat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fold in cocoa and chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Put into piping bag and drop onto parchment covered cookie sheets.&amp;nbsp;Bake at 350 degrees for 25 to 30 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-5211396452482820827?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/chocolate-meringue-cookies.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-4208840659188251703</guid><pubDate>Tue, 15 May 2012 02:27:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-14T21:27:00.607-05:00</atom:updated><title>Hand Crocheted Pot Holders</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120425-003w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love these potholders. I've been buying them for a few years - sometimes for a dime or quarter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aside from their beauty and all the hand work involved, I love to think about the kitchens they've adorned before they found their way into mine. They may have been crafted by a young woman about to get married, or given as a wedding gift. Maybe they were made by hands that were caring for young children. Maybe they were made by a doting mother or grandmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However they came into being, they're bits of beauty from a time gone by, and I love them.&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-4208840659188251703?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/hand-crocheted-pot-holders.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-383396714046315001</guid><pubDate>Mon, 14 May 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-13T19:00:04.733-05:00</atom:updated><title>White Roses For Mother's Day</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120419-004w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Mother's Day in 2001, we laid my mother to rest. She was buried with a corsage of white roses on her jewel-toned blouse. In the south on Mother's Day we wear a red rose if your mother is living, and a white one if your mother has passed. Mother's Day was on the 13th that year, just like today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't worn a Mother's Day rose since the year before when, through pure happenstance, I was with her. I wore a red rose on my dress to the services at Ohio Valley Church that morning. Little did I know it would be my last chance to wear a red rose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I bought my first house a few months after her death, I planted a rose bush in front - a white rose bush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never have reason to wear another Mother's Day rose. My mother is gone, and I am not a mother. But, I'm so glad Mama had one last Mother's Day corsage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-383396714046315001?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/white-roses-for-mothers-day.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-7922773064877153074</guid><pubDate>Sat, 12 May 2012 19:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-12T14:00:00.146-05:00</atom:updated><title>The dead have moved on. So should we.</title><description>This time of year, when I'm thinking of my mom so much, I'm reminded of this poem, "&lt;a href="http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/index.php?date=2012/05/03"&gt;Finding a Box of Family Letters&lt;/a&gt;" by Dana Gioia. It has a line I love: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;The dead have moved on. So should we.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Read the entire poem here:&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.davidgagne.net/2012/05/03/finding-a-box-of-family-letters/"&gt;http://www.davidgagne.net/2012/05/03/finding-a-box-of-family-letters/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, this is easier said than done. Mama always said, "Life is for the living." So I try to make sure I'm living every single day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greg took this photo of Mama at her 80th birthday party, a little over two years before she died. I'm so glad to have it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images2/19990508mama435.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-7922773064877153074?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/dead-have-moved-on-so-should-we.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-4547076398775023677</guid><pubDate>Fri, 11 May 2012 14:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-11T09:30:02.973-05:00</atom:updated><title>Blackberries, Signs, Decisions and Mysteries</title><description>At 4:32 a.m. on May 11, 2001, my mother passed from this world into the next. It was a Friday that year, too. There has not been a day since that I have not missed her. I am fortunate to be surrounded by some of her things, and I'm grateful to have her lingering energy in my presence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img align="left" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120510-008w.jpg" width="200" /&gt;Yesterday I was in my backyard and found one single ripe blackberry - weeks before it should be ripe. Mama always made a point of picking blackberries for me when I would visit in the summer, because she knew how much I loved them. I picked it by stepping over the wild violets that sprang up in my backyard the first year I lived here and have flourished - wild violets like my mother loved, and transplanted underneath the big maple tree in her yard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img align="right" src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120510-015w.jpg" width="150" /&gt;Later in the day I went to a local market and for the first time happened to notice they carry the coconut candy my mother enjoyed. Mama loved coconut - coconut candy, coconut pie, coconut bon bons Sears sold from glass cases when I was young, and fresh coconut when she could get it. Maybe at this time of year in particular I'm just more aware of these reminders, or maybe at this time of year they're just more plentiful. Regardless, I'm thankful for them. I think of her every day without any reminders, but they're nice nonetheless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama did her best to raise me well, but it was not a task she sought. I was one of those accidental pregnancies, more than two decades after her other children were born. She already had grandchildren when she found out she was pregnant with me - not a situation many people seek. I was incredibly lucky to have the benefit of her wisdom that had been gained with age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always felt my presence was a burden to her. Who knows how her life might have been different if I hadn't been born. Life offers so many twists and turns. We can't possibly foresee how things will turn out, and how they might have been different but for one small choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the second world war, when my brothers were small, my parents moved to Detroit. Although they lived there only a few years, when Mama spoke of it I could tell it was a good time in her life. What prompted them to go in the first place? Or leave? I don't have all those answers. Their lives would have certainly been different if they'd continued living there. I might not be here. We just never know those things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all make a million decisions - large and small - in our lives, that have far-reaching effects. And we are all mysteries, even to those who love us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-4547076398775023677?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/blackberries-signs-decisions-and.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-3976469747179592890</guid><pubDate>Fri, 11 May 2012 00:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-10T19:30:00.765-05:00</atom:updated><title>Augusta Historical Society Tea</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-018w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Augusta Historical Society has a tea each year. Last weekend was the 17th annual. I've only been able to go once before, but this year my friend, Jan, and I went. It was a perfectly lovely way to spend an afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-016w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one of the simpler teas I've been to, but I really like it. They have the food set up in part of the museum, and the tables are in their log cabin. So, you go in a buffet line, but you get the benefit of being able to choose the food you prefer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-032w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They also have place cards so you don't have the hassle of figuring out where you're going to sit, which is a nice touch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-023w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each table is decorated differently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-024w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-027w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our favors were the log cabin cookies, which were adorable. And perfect, considering the setting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-029w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love to go to tea and I need to find some more folks who like to go. There used to be a small number of us who would go to any we could find, but it seems it has become Jan and me. She is amazingly wonderful company, but we'd both like to have more folks so if one of us can't go we have others who want to share the experience. Fortunately, it all worked out this time because we ended up going to tea in Augusta one day and to another tea the following day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120504-020w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the whole tea experience!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-3976469747179592890?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/augusta-historical-society-tea.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-8336802640601859501</guid><pubDate>Thu, 10 May 2012 04:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-10T00:28:04.652-05:00</atom:updated><title>God Loves All People - Gay, Black and Unbelieving  - And the Christians Who Ignore the Bible</title><description>&lt;div style="line-height: 0px; padding-bottom: 2px;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/272749321152852556/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://media-cache3.pinterest.com/upload/272749321152852556_d4BxXVMA_c.jpg" width="435" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="float: left; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"&gt;&lt;div style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px;"&gt;Source: &lt;a href="http://thingstoknowaboutlife.blogspot.com/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;"&gt;thingstoknowaboutlife.blogspot.com&lt;/a&gt; via &lt;a href="http://pinterest.com/patsyterrell/" style="color: #76838b; font-size: 10px; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank"&gt;Patsy&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://pinterest.com/" style="color: #76838b; text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People sometimes use God to justify their personal dislike of one person or another. The God I believe in loves all people. He does not pick and choose like a high school clique gone wrong.&amp;nbsp;He loves black people.&amp;nbsp;He loves gay people.&amp;nbsp;He loves unbelieving people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will not accept a Biblical argument or explanation for anything unless that person is living by ALL of the Bible. I've always wondered how the flag-waving, constitution-thumping, conservative Christians reconcile that some of what the Bible teaches is unconstitutional. Personally, I'm anti-slavery, so this isn't an issue for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also intelligent enough to understand that the Bible has been translated multiple times, and was written by mere men, and should not be taken literally. But, if you want to use it literally for argument's sake, you must live by all of it, not just the parts you happen to like. If that's not the case, you are being dishonest. I think there are a few words about that in the Bible, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bible has some wonderful teachings in it. What could possibly be wrong with the Golden Rule? "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" shows up in most cultures and religions in one form or another. It's a basic truth - something we all know inherently - but something we all have trouble doing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the Bible teaches much, much more that isn't so clear cut. Only people who are living by ALL of it can use it as a yardstick by which to measure others. It seems like there's something about not judging people, too, but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are a woman who braids your hair and adorns yourself with gold or pearls - or if you lay with such a woman - you have no right to make any argument based on scripture. You are blatantly ignoring it. How dare you presume to use some other part of the Bible to justify your own hatred. Do your own dirty work and leave God out of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am no one's idea of what a "good Christian" should be. But I do know the Bible tells us to be wise. I think it wise to not align myself with any person or group who hides behind God as a way to spread hatred.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That said, I know God loves all his children - even those who have lost their ways. I have certainly been blessed by forgiveness. My own foibles are too numerous to list. I would hope those who are quick to say something is right or wrong based on the Bible will take a moment to consider if they are truly living by all of the Bible before they use some part of it to justify judging another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-8336802640601859501?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/god-loves-all-people-gay-black-and.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-6123938383462308830</guid><pubDate>Wed, 09 May 2012 03:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-09T01:03:15.842-05:00</atom:updated><title>Houses in Our Times</title><description>I've been doing a little research today - on a house my parents lived in during the 40s, when my brothers were small. It's a house I&amp;nbsp;never lived in, in a city I never lived in, and yet I'm curious about it.&amp;nbsp;I remember my mother talking about a bakery being nearby and smelling the bread cooking, and about my brothers walking down the street to get ice cream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had no idea what the address was, but then I remembered a telegram my mother saved from when she lived there. It was a telegram from her sister, Eva, about her son's death. It said, "Donnie is dead. Body will arrive Monday. Funeral Tuesday." Today I went and looked, and sure enough there was an address on the top of the Western Union Telegram.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I found the street on Google maps, and zoomed down the street, looking for the correct address. Before I found it, I spotted a bakery. And there, right across the street, are two houses, one of which has the address from the telegram on the front of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no telling how many people have lived in that house since July 1, 1944, when that telegram arrived. It's a duplex. I wonder which door received that knock. And how many knocks since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe we always leave behind some energy, wherever we may go. So, although there's probably no one in the neighborhood who remembers a young couple with young children who lived there in 1944, something of them lingers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe that's why it holds a fascination for me although I have no first hand knowledge of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are amazing times in which we live. I can sit in my office in Hutchinson, Kansas and zoom down a street a few states north, to take a look at the house my parents called home, the neighborhood my brothers played in, and the bakery that is still putting out the smell of fresh bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amazing times, indeed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-6123938383462308830?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/houses-in-our-times.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10718822.post-2243043485239065335</guid><pubDate>Tue, 08 May 2012 03:13:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2012-05-07T22:13:19.874-05:00</atom:updated><title>Use Me</title><description>&lt;img src="http://www.patsyterrell.com/images3/20120414-012w.jpg" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This admonition to "Use Me" can be read multiple ways. Stitched on a tea towel, I assume it was designed to be a clever kitchen adornment. But, I think it has far deeper meaning. It says, "Use Me," in bright multi-colored thread, and yet the only stains on it are from storage, not use. Why do we deny ourselves the pleasure of enjoying things like this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We save china until it gets chipped in storage, set back stationery until it yellows with age, and miss the chance to use things like this to brighten our daily lives. At the flea market yesterday I saw a tablecloth and napkins with the tag still on them - never used, but ruined simply by long term storage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This tea towel represents creativity and hard work. Someone went to the trouble to conceive of it, design it and stitch it. Then folded it carefully and stored it away, without ever using it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought it at the MCC Sale a few weeks ago. It has been washed and now it will be used. I'm not certain if I'll use it in the kitchen or elsewhere, but it will be used.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To not use things deprives them of their purpose. I'm sure that is not the right order of the universe. It also limits us. We don't enjoy them, then discover that while we've been saving them, they've been ruined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fortunately, this still has some life in it. And I will enjoy living with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----- &lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Connect with me on &lt;a href="http://www.facebook.com/patsy"&gt;Facebook&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.twitter.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Twitter&lt;/a&gt; or &lt;a href="http://www.pinterest.com/patsyterrell"&gt;Pinterest&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/10718822-2243043485239065335?l=www.blog.patsyterrell.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://www.blog.patsyterrell.com/2012/05/use-me.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Patsy Terrell)</author><thr:total>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>
