tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62274223194764706322024-02-19T07:11:10.022-06:00The Junk RevivalAlison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-48766758719690527762015-06-24T03:36:00.000-05:002015-06-24T04:09:34.821-05:00Livin' La Vida Local, no. 4: Boulevardia 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s1600/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s640/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Known for its many fountains, a ridiculous number of barbecue restaurants, stellar live jazz and blues, and a well-established art scene, Kansas City, Missouri, provides plenty to experience. I thoroughly enjoy livin' la vida local in the Flyover Zone. Join me as I explore new finds and old faves in this big small town I call home. </em> </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Welcome to Boulevardia! And can we talk about how many rompers we saw? What I want to </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">know is how people use </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Johnny-on-the-Spots while wearing them. Yikes!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaegFxwEwgITHBQROdb0OLAEGaz95ReUwttUOkeP06tAWqnQywnpcgwB49ELQyyeC-oeBDXs6XJbGJkOnGCF4uhRqagKwBvZi3taD6U3fgQDjvdmquF3wAKa7_4TBp4IYLF5_3oWQLgGk/s1600/Boulevardia15-CanBar.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaegFxwEwgITHBQROdb0OLAEGaz95ReUwttUOkeP06tAWqnQywnpcgwB49ELQyyeC-oeBDXs6XJbGJkOnGCF4uhRqagKwBvZi3taD6U3fgQDjvdmquF3wAKa7_4TBp4IYLF5_3oWQLgGk/s640/Boulevardia15-CanBar.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="520" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Boulevard Brewing Company's <em>Can Bar</em>. Yes, we<em> can</em>!</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Boulevard Brewing Company hosted </span><a href="http://boulevardia.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Boulevardia</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">, a combination food, music and beer festival held in Kansas City's 12th Street Bridge Historic District (known as the West Bottoms by us locals), over Father's Day weekend. My friends Lora, Kate and I joined the throng on Saturday afternoon to celebrate Kate's birthday. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Upon entering Boulevardia, we found photo booths set up. If you know me, you know I love a photobooth:</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFq9jXijV9YESBe__yIwxzGg1YWTyxWWhZF8duFqN4WpLCQGkTxs2r75x1ahgORrQnsiLiOwYLWf-LKGcp4uzu-FuaKqs_WqZz3CbxNDyGYFWHytxhFv6wp_bg9MGT0-2XUgSuFjbX1w/s1600/BLVDIA1.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFq9jXijV9YESBe__yIwxzGg1YWTyxWWhZF8duFqN4WpLCQGkTxs2r75x1ahgORrQnsiLiOwYLWf-LKGcp4uzu-FuaKqs_WqZz3CbxNDyGYFWHytxhFv6wp_bg9MGT0-2XUgSuFjbX1w/s640/BLVDIA1.gif" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Kate looks cute. Lora and I are being goofy. We all look cool and collected, though. No sweat yet.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMZgC1exPSewwEDbftGihw6V9c2uSSB4sm9BdOJJMbkTdFcTsOBMhn2j2tVGzQgeAqKV3bcJo8q_r67CeV3ueXu7YBJ42Tc5cLCZazDA4WEcbqLxDytDGOQI09hpmIAZGZ98x-EtPM6E/s1600/Boulevardia15-OurSassyPantry.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUMZgC1exPSewwEDbftGihw6V9c2uSSB4sm9BdOJJMbkTdFcTsOBMhn2j2tVGzQgeAqKV3bcJo8q_r67CeV3ueXu7YBJ42Tc5cLCZazDA4WEcbqLxDytDGOQI09hpmIAZGZ98x-EtPM6E/s640/Boulevardia15-OurSassyPantry.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="432" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Our Sassy Pantry offered samples of their wonderful jams. </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I especially enjoyed the bacon jam. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">How could I not!?</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We enjoyed browsing through the Makers Market and the many shops selling antique and handmade items. We found d</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">elicious bacon jam, maple seeds beautifully set into rings, vintage-inspired printed tea towels, and much more.</span><br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprNfs8pyWqsp003QAKB4ofKNDe-J7cN0C33uZfz5K8s_pss1MxqLA2tcapMc9sQ9ETfBDqZRqXnIkGTQZXvfV3Z6QkSbtjYc4tIu0sXTRLdjpoLD8F864RDg2aQiORnbEJdughBZmts8/s1600/Boulevardia15-BellaPatina2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprNfs8pyWqsp003QAKB4ofKNDe-J7cN0C33uZfz5K8s_pss1MxqLA2tcapMc9sQ9ETfBDqZRqXnIkGTQZXvfV3Z6QkSbtjYc4tIu0sXTRLdjpoLD8F864RDg2aQiORnbEJdughBZmts8/s640/Boulevardia15-BellaPatina2.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="476" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I was so excited to see this place!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjMuQ9R-DIIKbpmoYnFwQ13PcH5MKASpGgYENacPbr_DugApO81dd1zsN2LLSmBtyc0zV9zjV4AD9uEBQkAyimN4AukHgssanlTfxFTDP8VL0Mt-Aan2wQbWZThFo03isOOnPX_ZlqX0/s1600/Boulevardia15-BellaPatina1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfjMuQ9R-DIIKbpmoYnFwQ13PcH5MKASpGgYENacPbr_DugApO81dd1zsN2LLSmBtyc0zV9zjV4AD9uEBQkAyimN4AukHgssanlTfxFTDP8VL0Mt-Aan2wQbWZThFo03isOOnPX_ZlqX0/s640/Boulevardia15-BellaPatina1.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">I bought a cute little vintage white and gold sun pin. It perfectly fits my style. Photos later.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As for the shops, I was especially excited to go into Bella Patina. I have been following them on </span><a href="https://instagram.com/thejunkrevival/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Instagram</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> for-ev-errr, but I had never been inside. It was fantastic! The displays were well-curated, and the mixture of handmade and vintage goods charmed me.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXY9lAqI833bogUNdTLhguHQJlExwIJInyMKTvvPFowCM0XnDAPVwP1dwhMq5y_Yf7L2VUSvK4YA5ZnXNJS7BU_quSb21z08rOGU2-WKxkHxTt6oFcQneaAs-3oXH3wcTLWbPFwXGKU2k/s1600/Boulevardia15-Bridge3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXY9lAqI833bogUNdTLhguHQJlExwIJInyMKTvvPFowCM0XnDAPVwP1dwhMq5y_Yf7L2VUSvK4YA5ZnXNJS7BU_quSb21z08rOGU2-WKxkHxTt6oFcQneaAs-3oXH3wcTLWbPFwXGKU2k/s640/Boulevardia15-Bridge3.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Gorgeous people. Gorgeous architecture. I love Kansas City.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Later, we people-watched and talked as we ate street tacos. We were not at all fond of the hot, sunny weather. However, we were appreciative of the (alas, warm) breeze that dried our sweat, which cooled us down until we dried out. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Unfortunately, Kate became overheated and felt sick after we had been walking around for a while. Her boyfriend Alex picked her up and took her home. I know she felt bad about leaving early, but you can't help getting sick. And getting overheated can be so dangerous. It is much better to get to a place where you can cool off than end up in the hospital. Luckily, the people running the First Aid tent were very kind. They helped cool Kate down and walk her to Alex's car.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMPmGw8Q5241Bj_iAunffYLfIkkgMH0Nu84-OJtbtMxsb_07DTvvVInF3cm4erzmlqKGhmpGbz_Ol5MfuG7PrlNpq4fEN7-PkizBu3DxvIf7SYLbmFrnZpV6wHtZ_fh28b1T0eDRCC0M/s1600/Boulevardia15-HomegrownStage.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTMPmGw8Q5241Bj_iAunffYLfIkkgMH0Nu84-OJtbtMxsb_07DTvvVInF3cm4erzmlqKGhmpGbz_Ol5MfuG7PrlNpq4fEN7-PkizBu3DxvIf7SYLbmFrnZpV6wHtZ_fh28b1T0eDRCC0M/s640/Boulevardia15-HomegrownStage.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Getting ready for Making Movies. Photo by Lora!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxO3BcchghRDRtD-mv1H4H0Q8tlLIKJHnmase3pTJ7zybc8-HkYQUG3F2mNZqCxOq6_Qcl0Qg1cVjRuy1V6bIIMndWJxxoRLyWFQQAlEJUJXGLYfWMYKh2BmsTKvCsrD7mWAeob8S-F4/s1600/Boulevardia15-Lovelorn1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxO3BcchghRDRtD-mv1H4H0Q8tlLIKJHnmase3pTJ7zybc8-HkYQUG3F2mNZqCxOq6_Qcl0Qg1cVjRuy1V6bIIMndWJxxoRLyWFQQAlEJUJXGLYfWMYKh2BmsTKvCsrD7mWAeob8S-F4/s640/Boulevardia15-Lovelorn1.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Lovelorn makes such haunting beautiful music.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">After Kate went home, the weather grew milder. Lora and I listened to music - most notably local bands Making Movies and Lovelorn. We also ran into some friends and chatted with them for awhile. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTACt05KDe3a1pxxZIavVhiB5j5i0Mc0wIqKGhiTC-oxEC-1vPhd_ctYVQvdtelXCqgP26MxiUZ5jeXcbFJ8k5qaBHlr3sYkeKiGucqIpL281gqfn_JDO5Od50uGRH-wn52AlN82nT2Cg/s1600/Boulevardia15-FerrisWheel.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTACt05KDe3a1pxxZIavVhiB5j5i0Mc0wIqKGhiTC-oxEC-1vPhd_ctYVQvdtelXCqgP26MxiUZ5jeXcbFJ8k5qaBHlr3sYkeKiGucqIpL281gqfn_JDO5Od50uGRH-wn52AlN82nT2Cg/s640/Boulevardia15-FerrisWheel.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">We almost rode the Ferris Wheel...</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We waffled back and forth about riding the Ferris Wheel, but ultimately decided $5.00 a ticket was too much for us. In retrospect, though, I would have loved to have seen that westward-facing view around sunset.</span></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvO5So8SyDijoYcywP8TfU1wpjwwKQScL7cd6o7zKqoI6yH6D36a0p9ao6z1y9blG1kzEENF0t0QyV-oPrv0xYum4tZe0RNsef9WWR58UENcGlTZo1yR7sfWbrNtDWFrOP1nU_r6mFSvo/s1600/Boulevardia15-ElevatorShaft.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvO5So8SyDijoYcywP8TfU1wpjwwKQScL7cd6o7zKqoI6yH6D36a0p9ao6z1y9blG1kzEENF0t0QyV-oPrv0xYum4tZe0RNsef9WWR58UENcGlTZo1yR7sfWbrNtDWFrOP1nU_r6mFSvo/s640/Boulevardia15-ElevatorShaft.JPG" tabindex="-1" width="472" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">This was my favorite "seating area" at Boulevardia.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify;">All in all, I had a good day, but I really wish Kate could have joined Lora and me for these end-of-the-day-looking-kind-of-greasy pics:</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_ara38RbD6tsnNvmj1nlRohAhqVMFOUNEDMoQDPouiblzDJgI2aNS8ERnZIIgNo-O6KrC6KchVbobDhGV97KkqxogW-NVpvHoDC7XAIQGWjtfn5VzTH76LUjFfWSh02snJUtzAak0mo/s1600/BLVDIA3.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL_ara38RbD6tsnNvmj1nlRohAhqVMFOUNEDMoQDPouiblzDJgI2aNS8ERnZIIgNo-O6KrC6KchVbobDhGV97KkqxogW-NVpvHoDC7XAIQGWjtfn5VzTH76LUjFfWSh02snJUtzAak0mo/s640/BLVDIA3.gif" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">We weren't ready, but those expressions are just so me!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw636rTfxQdI7713xwPT-zQdJSFXvoqPPFAmcKrEWM1fQSkbTp1BrJsIAG81QQwiDtqWPNvBm-cPQtnJx8hsvXEwec9qsEsPHCyRrdZ_GQJqcGrCdJdYtQfzKIRLSo9IXJrmS6YYQdqw/s1600/BLVDIA2.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiw636rTfxQdI7713xwPT-zQdJSFXvoqPPFAmcKrEWM1fQSkbTp1BrJsIAG81QQwiDtqWPNvBm-cPQtnJx8hsvXEwec9qsEsPHCyRrdZ_GQJqcGrCdJdYtQfzKIRLSo9IXJrmS6YYQdqw/s640/BLVDIA2.gif" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Yeah, we're adorable, if a little (a lot) sweaty.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">What festivals have you been to this summer? Did I miss out on anything fun? Should I put any upcoming events on my calendar?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I'm so glad to be back,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Alison :)</span></div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-20451496888864682652014-03-02T13:43:00.000-06:002014-03-02T13:51:13.754-06:00Art Education and Artist's Statement<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I studied art. I make art. I teach art. This semester, I enrolled in the newly founded art education program at the Kansas City Art Institute, in order to bring those interrelated disciplines together - in my life and in my mind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So far, I am loving my first course - the theories, the history, the looking into myself and reflecting on what art and teaching art mean to me. Despite my enjoyment of being back in the classroom as a student, I have a lot less free time nowadays. Maybe that will help me become more organized, so I can keep track of everything I have going on?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We were recently assigned to bring our artist's statements to class. I revamped mine a bit before turning it in, and I would like to share it here:</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-lUonqdSAvl7HYe06pRE0eVJ46h92yHPVvHkwhkoFs9jbn5un7ls9qU-RaZ-PVpqanfLRwPlwsvEW_y_eIINi6PRm7joNixyDewQDlIKyBdLV0xbaH9QWNq4h_kGWL_qfx4tGCExw1tI/s1600/Combo+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-lUonqdSAvl7HYe06pRE0eVJ46h92yHPVvHkwhkoFs9jbn5un7ls9qU-RaZ-PVpqanfLRwPlwsvEW_y_eIINi6PRm7joNixyDewQDlIKyBdLV0xbaH9QWNq4h_kGWL_qfx4tGCExw1tI/s1600/Combo+3.jpg" height="236" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> <i>Swoop and Stream</i>, 2012. Digital photography.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">“When we
consider the movement of form in space over a certain time, we are entering the
realm of geometry and mathematics in the same way as when we construct a
machine.”</span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>-<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Marcel Duchamp, concerning “Nude Descending a
Staircase”</span></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Time. Motion.
Repetition. Addition.</span></span></i><br />
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">I repeat. I make by employing repetitive processes,
such as knotting, tearing, piling, picking, purging. Repetitive bodily
gestures, actions and movements send me on an intimate tour of myself and my
surroundings. These motions transport me beyond the confines of my own body.
Or, rather, they redefine or extend its boundaries. I become fused with the
materials within, on and around me. </span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Where does self end and other begin? What is mine to
manipulate? I consciously explore the connection between bodily repetition and
creation, motion and ecstasy/disengagement. I am fascinated by the genesis of
intelligence. Abiding by specific rules can result in an entity that is more
than the result of its instructions*.</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">My art acts as metaphor, not simply (simple) geometry.
Through non-rational, or inexact, repetition (spiral not circular) people may
rail against the discontinuous, nonsensical nature of existence.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">***</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">People rarely see or have seen without some sort of
additive implement (in other words, tool). Even the use of a pencil reshapes
the human body, its desires, functions and ways of interacting with the self and
other. Human interaction with machines, then, also re-purposes human boundaries
– it alters the ways in which humans experience.</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Sight remains impoverished without lights to see by.
Tools light the night skies. Now machines have taken on new mutations. They can
learn from humans and one another, act autonomously, read emotions, give the
semblance of humanity and intelligence, and are otherwise self-evolving.</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">If a gaze could be based upon the simulation,
mediation, connectivity and artifice these new machines exercise, then it would
belong to a cyborg.</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">According to Donna J. Haraway, a cyborg is “a hybrid of
machine and organism, a creature of social reality/lived experience as well as
a creature of fiction.” (Haraway, Donna J. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Simians,</i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Cyborgs and Women: The Reinvention of
Nature. </i>New York: Routledge, 1991. Print.) Humans possess a bionic gaze,
which is a way of knowing the world through electronic, mechanical, digital and
other enhancements.</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Because of the technology we have invented and to which
we have access, the bionic gaze is entirely plausible and definitely employed.
So, we are hybrids of man and machine. We are synthetic communications systems;
our bodies have become virtually re-crafted. We have been entranced by the
exchange of intelligence.</span></span></div>
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<div style="-ms-text-justify: inter-ideograph; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 9pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">Enhancement, though, does not mean we are privy to the
right information – just different sets of information.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria;">*Sometimes, it just makes a mess.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My goal is to set up an art/art education website. A personal website is LONG overdue. I will definitely report back when it is in working order and fit to be seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Alison :)</span></div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-44431717645024027882013-09-25T16:39:00.001-05:002013-09-25T17:03:26.936-05:00Brach's, You Read My Mom's Mind & Cheated Her Out of Millions!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUK6eu_e310_iXA_Xu9t29bF7CGefVcb-vwxpiZsM1-0uBExYaWp6wXFnTXCdFu2JjvwkcY_rp3WTG5LMBvp5J9XDbTaKhi91pujIZAs-qC6mWZx1kNe1MVMHy9tp7d3DBzpuOVjYV0k/s1600/BrachsCornNNutMix.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="412" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUUK6eu_e310_iXA_Xu9t29bF7CGefVcb-vwxpiZsM1-0uBExYaWp6wXFnTXCdFu2JjvwkcY_rp3WTG5LMBvp5J9XDbTaKhi91pujIZAs-qC6mWZx1kNe1MVMHy9tp7d3DBzpuOVjYV0k/s640/BrachsCornNNutMix.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Dear Brach's,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Regarding your Corn 'N Nuts Mix: I can't decide whether I am seriously appalled my mom didn't get rich off this idea before you stole it from her, or if I'm ecstatic someone has started marketing one of the tastiest fall treats there is - candy corn and salted peanuts.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thank you... I think.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Love,</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.S. Fair friends, have you tried this amazing mixture? If not, you must. You can either buy Brach's Corn 'N Nuts Mix, or you can do what I prefer to do - purchase Brach's candy corn and mix it with your favorite brand of peanuts.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.P.S. If for some reason you do not love this divine coupling of peanuts and candy corn (which tastes akin to a Payday, by the way), what are your favorite must-have Fall treats? If you say Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte, I'll forgive ya. ;) </span></div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-15779623015281898172013-09-17T11:55:00.000-05:002013-09-17T11:55:57.497-05:00Surviving Brad - An Altered Existence<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_PvTPIMHEJcy4GDYmtA0s130aN_8cppBBvt0XN8-OlGfneFzifIqe2LCSITNyHGW7i_qR0dnLjGDpanaYhhBT5_2SgsPxAQJwnE_nkBehikR0t1wdi4bSsHhVVpttcVFhbX8lWkg2oc/s1600/alisonlisabrad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="563" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-_PvTPIMHEJcy4GDYmtA0s130aN_8cppBBvt0XN8-OlGfneFzifIqe2LCSITNyHGW7i_qR0dnLjGDpanaYhhBT5_2SgsPxAQJwnE_nkBehikR0t1wdi4bSsHhVVpttcVFhbX8lWkg2oc/s640/alisonlisabrad.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The siblings! Brad, Lisa and I during my senior year of college, 2003.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some people create when they feel desperate, when life is hard. It's the only way they can survive the pain. I am not like that. When I am ill or under duress, I have a hard time making. Depression gets me nowhere artistically. I just want to hunker down with the people I love and watch movies, read, or play on Facebook. I escape from myself through mediated experiences. When I make, I turn into myself and become contemplative. I reflect upon my difficult experiences, but I can't create my way out of them. Instead, I nurture myself and rise up with the passing of time. Then, when I have enough distance, I can use that raw material as fodder.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have been silent this year, at least in blog-time. In realtime, I've been many things, from eloquent to writhing in pain.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The most existence-altering experience I have been through this year is the death of my brother. My 27-year old brother Brad died in a car accident on May 19, a beautiful Sunday afternoon, while he was on his way to work along a straight road. In fact, the business he worked for was just yards away from the crash-site. For some unknown reason my brother's car crossed two lanes of traffic, traveled along the curb, knocked down a speed-limit sign, hopped the curb, and then crashed into a tree. After that, it caught on fire. The medical examiner and the investigating officer both think my brother probably had a medical emergency in the car (such as a stroke, heart attack or seizure), which prevented him from steering or braking, because there was no sign that he had attempted to do either.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There's part of me that wishes I had recorded every thought I have had since then, especially in the first days following Brad's death. The first week, in particular, was surreal. It takes a lot of time and energy to plan a funeral. It doesn't help that what we were experiencing was primarily shock and disbelief, even while framing Brad's drawings and finding the right ammo box for his ashes to be buried in. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On the other hand, those memories will remain with me. The physical pain, the feeling that I had lost an arm - an actual member - of my body, of my family - subsides with time. Now, it's been nearly 4 months since Brad died. I think of him every single day - multiple times. Sometimes, I'm happy. Sometimes, I'm sad and angry. At other times, I think of Brad as a matter of course and it hardly interrupts my mood or the day at all. It's still a surreal experience and one I wish upon no one. I have discovered since May 19 that many other people I care about, as well as complete strangers, have been through similar experiences. They have come out on the other side. That gives me strength, and helps me feel less alone in my and my family's grief.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am sure I will write more about my brother. I am ready to share and translate my experiences into a new form, something outside of myself. Know that while no one ever moves on, I am moving along into the "new normal", as my family refers to life after losing Brad. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Many thanks to those of you who loved Brad, the family and friends who have offered unfailing support to my family and me, and those generous strangers who I have bonded with over our losses. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Much love goes out to those of you who have lost family members or other loved ones.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, obviously, I owe everything to my family. I am glad I belong to you guys.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-47594911925430526132012-11-26T21:03:00.001-06:002012-11-26T21:03:57.880-06:00First Snow<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizD4PxDzeszqZCMXkC0Qg0Wqb67bXu43lfLsCyo1FmR9CVFbCm5x2vSLNA2STvogjcNx94i5IJ34h1rS7c1XoLZ5-1fJ75WbTQiDWj2QnKSvCAQ3Man0TMNShPhOKnp0dWM8HM6M_fTsc/s1600/Snow20121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizD4PxDzeszqZCMXkC0Qg0Wqb67bXu43lfLsCyo1FmR9CVFbCm5x2vSLNA2STvogjcNx94i5IJ34h1rS7c1XoLZ5-1fJ75WbTQiDWj2QnKSvCAQ3Man0TMNShPhOKnp0dWM8HM6M_fTsc/s640/Snow20121.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snow!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJ1pu3YyYAugEVaOtY6K0vWSmEoBXnfOiFrUhrdqdRFKwmLjzHgoy7I2vcp75JryNe96cmjPkAv0qru19kJwToP27Z4GlSaLKJ3W5SqzgfqvRuT0ugs-rO-PT7SemqC97iLrbuejBumQ/s1600/Snow20124.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOJ1pu3YyYAugEVaOtY6K0vWSmEoBXnfOiFrUhrdqdRFKwmLjzHgoy7I2vcp75JryNe96cmjPkAv0qru19kJwToP27Z4GlSaLKJ3W5SqzgfqvRuT0ugs-rO-PT7SemqC97iLrbuejBumQ/s640/Snow20124.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't resist frolicking in the snow this afternoon!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Snow salted the sky today, giving us a little taste of winter. This is the kind of snow I like - pretty and it doesn't stick! I love the cold, and I can stand just about as much as any other Viking out there. Snow, however, makes me tremble. I hate to drive and, thus, slide through snow and the ice that is sure to accompany it. Since I was enjoying an afternoon off and had nowhere to go, I was able to appreciate the innocent flakes. I took the family dogs Maddie and Simon out to play in the first snow of the season with me, and we couldn't have had more fun!</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23jXdMq33ZhvaxdFiMKlqS8yL2ZouorQ8tmz8eKh27qKkY2abrg3QdmIv0m8cAbAru0J2vn3NQVY6L07cIfX2-WvwjLoJQ0KstF8FKPfBUYNqpD_W_YA1piuaBh2JV8uz5KtiONAA2Gc/s1600/MaddieinSnow3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23jXdMq33ZhvaxdFiMKlqS8yL2ZouorQ8tmz8eKh27qKkY2abrg3QdmIv0m8cAbAru0J2vn3NQVY6L07cIfX2-WvwjLoJQ0KstF8FKPfBUYNqpD_W_YA1piuaBh2JV8uz5KtiONAA2Gc/s640/MaddieinSnow3.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at this silly dog! Maddie happily chomps a frisbee as snow gathers on her snout.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt7vgXNl7tHlogW2uV12PiM8Czk2TPeFnqtk3ORgWfBqqkNGZqoZOsHDYP6UQuHG_iK7-VTIzBwU7vuGCfP1pShZc_zGOe9ZHPK1hb-bgb2qQSuJWOS3taDgeVX0id4HIlYL_-Etfc48/s1600/SimoninSnow1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOt7vgXNl7tHlogW2uV12PiM8Czk2TPeFnqtk3ORgWfBqqkNGZqoZOsHDYP6UQuHG_iK7-VTIzBwU7vuGCfP1pShZc_zGOe9ZHPK1hb-bgb2qQSuJWOS3taDgeVX0id4HIlYL_-Etfc48/s640/SimoninSnow1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even Simon, easily chilled, enjoyed roaming around as it snowed.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHHC8LDYZi_xorzhHDydtQFsCvnNVe6bDgxiqp3MIU1DU4LLIN2GWG4TBnlsJENkZ9UrX79ZwcgbCah3g5Vw8OHvn5xKvEj7RUt0dD_b6VkdZi3gu2EZFnrW5ABJGdyHSSsMkgiiiOy4/s1600/DogsinSnow1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHHC8LDYZi_xorzhHDydtQFsCvnNVe6bDgxiqp3MIU1DU4LLIN2GWG4TBnlsJENkZ9UrX79ZwcgbCah3g5Vw8OHvn5xKvEj7RUt0dD_b6VkdZi3gu2EZFnrW5ABJGdyHSSsMkgiiiOy4/s640/DogsinSnow1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dashing through the snow!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The dogs dragged me all over the yard. I was attached to Simon's leash, you see. Maddie is a true cold weather aficionado. She will sit happily in the middle of the yard during the coldest days. It is like pulling a chew toy away from her to get her inside. Simon, who is typically a dog much more prone to shivering than is Maddie, actually enjoyed being outside this afternoon. I was surprised, since he will usually huddle on the porch at any hint of a chill. I think my excitement rubbed off on the dogs, and we tramped around and tasted snowflakes until my hands grew numb and red.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Then, we went inside and curled up in blankets and watched Netflix. It was a beautiful afternoon!</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVIbbNUJO85EBwNPv-dRSEZtLThaj_Lc8usn6tO5WwMjmqEWAzgVgOl1FXfG2BbWqsWn_Or2uU5MjGUhV-nViP11InbjEV_oTYgnnTfNTbHX8sFenfckTFGyvb6k1t5tR3IpWMDNUY07c/s1600/Snow20122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVIbbNUJO85EBwNPv-dRSEZtLThaj_Lc8usn6tO5WwMjmqEWAzgVgOl1FXfG2BbWqsWn_Or2uU5MjGUhV-nViP11InbjEV_oTYgnnTfNTbHX8sFenfckTFGyvb6k1t5tR3IpWMDNUY07c/s640/Snow20122.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not quite a Winter Wonderland, but pretty nonetheless!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcFGoNMBbEoOaHIrVkASOLOoSszaBfDpt7Oe7Jsekfa4f9OUSyxXXzXta-YPo39nPkDrJcWdV8hc2JNhITHu7j29iVwJq7fHWFcNPQumtdYyFDuNvZqrwHrj938Iaw5ga8pFu3IhS_vw/s1600/Snow20123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpcFGoNMBbEoOaHIrVkASOLOoSszaBfDpt7Oe7Jsekfa4f9OUSyxXXzXta-YPo39nPkDrJcWdV8hc2JNhITHu7j29iVwJq7fHWFcNPQumtdYyFDuNvZqrwHrj938Iaw5ga8pFu3IhS_vw/s640/Snow20123.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The sky was overcast and windy, but it made for interesting photographs.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Have you seen snow yet in your locale? I'm not sure if I can really count this since no evidence is even left of the snow... And what are you watching on Netflix? I could use some good recommendations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
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Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-63127798466233804072012-11-23T22:26:00.001-06:002012-11-23T22:27:37.378-06:00Thankful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBadLs_8qSC2B48DmqBXgA9YOgRvp7aKpGNSMbj5vBphlANfWzYktwO-o7xFELENcJSRYWOkJBliTpBtyn2yEuzR5y_1ODuFynZahw7vTpyqM4wjPB_HH4j1hurL5Npow2HqyWuhy8aY/s1600/ThgivingCookies1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQBadLs_8qSC2B48DmqBXgA9YOgRvp7aKpGNSMbj5vBphlANfWzYktwO-o7xFELENcJSRYWOkJBliTpBtyn2yEuzR5y_1ODuFynZahw7vTpyqM4wjPB_HH4j1hurL5Npow2HqyWuhy8aY/s640/ThgivingCookies1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cousin Jennie Byrnes made these amazingly<i> adorable</i> and equally <i>delicious</i> Thanksgiving cookies. But don't be jealous. You can order your own special occasion cookies from her through her facebook page <a href="http://www.facebook.com/customcookiesbyjennie" target="_blank">Custom Cookies by Jennie</a>.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The past couple of years have been rough: my grandma died; I lost my job; my dad had a triple bypass; my Aunt Vickie died unexpectedly and definitely prematurely; and I have been dealing with pain related to a herniated disc in my spine. Despite all this, I usually feel thankful and even blessed. Since Thanksgiving is the traditional time to share one's blessings, I want to share mine with you.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here is an incomplete list of what I am thankful for right now:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. <i>My Family</i> - Where would I be without these guys? My parents, sister and brother provide stability, support and home-cooked meals whenever I need one. My sister hashes out ideas and problems with me and also helps me get organized. My mom listens to me without interruption and is usually right when she gives advice. My dad answers all my financial, political and historical questions. My brother helps me with tech-related problems and with anything regarding the dogs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. <i>The Dogs</i> - My parents' dog Maddie and my sister's dog Simon add so much fun, joy and physical exertion to my existence. They comfort and warm and annoy me like the younger siblings they are.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">3. <i>My (Much) Younger Cousins</i> - Since my aunt died, we have definitely seen a lot more of my very busy cousins Robert, Michael and John. They tie me to my childhood school district, surprise me in so many ways, and make me feel like I'm still just one of the kids (even though I'm 20 years older than the youngest of them!).</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">4. <i>My Job</i> - Although all jobs have their downsides, I am so thankful to be working in an environment where I am supported and valued and get to interact with people on a daily basis.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">5. <i>Artists</i> - Especially ones I know. They inspire me, and sometimes they even want to work with me or get my opinion.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">6. <i>Friends, New and Old</i> - These special people who I choose to have in my life challenge me, enrich my life, support my dreams and goals, and, overall, keep it real. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">7. <i>My Body/Good Health</i> - Goodness, if there is one thing all the pain I have experienced lately has taught me it is that we all take our bodies for granted when they are working well. It is only when they give us trouble that we really appreciate our health. Thank goodness for modern medicine and good doctors. Otherwise, I would probably be in incredible pain and perhaps bedridden right now. This experience has inspired me to treat my body better and really appreciate what it can do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">8. <i>Being Creative</i> - My apartment sometimes - well, oftentimes - looks like a volcano of stuff has erupted all over. Sometimes I wish I could just get rid of it all and lead a pristine existence. Then, I think of how boring my life would be. What would I do all evening if I didn't like to make stuff and wasn't inspired by random junk?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">9. <i>Being Able to Help Others</i> - I am not rich, but I am thankful I was able to select an angel from the Angel Tree and purchase an Easy Bake Oven for a little girl named Ariana, who otherwise might not have a very merry Christmas. I am also grateful I just happened to find a soldier's id on the street last summer. She is stationed overseas, and I send her care packages just because I became aware of her existence. I am glad I can do that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">10. <i>The Generosity of Strangers</i> - For instance, today, a woman helped me pick up the pieces of the candle holder I dropped and broke all over the aisle at Target. I didn't even see her face, but she sure made my day. People make small gestures and engage in large efforts all the time, yet the goodness of strangers still surprises me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">11. <i>Smart & Well-Informed Women* and the Irreverent Ones, too</i> - From Michelle Obama to Chelsea Handler, from Rachel Maddow to Melissa McCarthy, I sure do admire all the brilliant, high-achieving, sass-mouthed women I know and know of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">12. <i>Blogging</i> - Having this space where I can share my thoughts with you and practice writing thrills me beyond words.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">13. <i>Pinterest</i> - I know it sounds goofy, but isn't everyone allowed at least one goofy entry on her list of gratitude? Pinterest has introduced me to new blogs, artists I had never heard of, inspiring imagery, new ideas and recipes, something to bond with people over, etc. It has also given me some room to dream, design and plan. And everyone needs a space to let her imagination roam free.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After re-reading this list, I feel more thankful than I did when I started.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In addition to all that, I am one lucky goose. I attended not one, but two, Thanksgiving dinners this year. Feast your eyes:</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGdN8EUUEyRdSyqb3gcev_owkou-oJFRhslB-b41C8M952nKdQZn1Of4AaWYkvsti1KA-zzVMLVgtSCSiljctgfm6oyIfla501zB1N5PROTKybkkEkAEyykbdo04mPR3iZul6sToR3v8/s1600/RThgivingMeal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDGdN8EUUEyRdSyqb3gcev_owkou-oJFRhslB-b41C8M952nKdQZn1Of4AaWYkvsti1KA-zzVMLVgtSCSiljctgfm6oyIfla501zB1N5PROTKybkkEkAEyykbdo04mPR3iZul6sToR3v8/s640/RThgivingMeal.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simply prepared natural/local foods with a lot of flavor: cranberry sauce, stuffing, boiled beets, candied sweet potatoes, roasted red potatoes, turkey, and a great big dinner roll. So I really like my starches!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_jH2Yu5N9ow2qmWk13pszHqVjJZoptV780MmRGy0PsXnY8q-yuqBrg-jObmUW_gjaYYHwyy_6BNR3ZMIWNLFRsKmzZZoSbr_ulQKQyqZelOtgG00ekvkplASEJGEOECQbL8QHqJ6ZXg/s1600/RBroccoli.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf_jH2Yu5N9ow2qmWk13pszHqVjJZoptV780MmRGy0PsXnY8q-yuqBrg-jObmUW_gjaYYHwyy_6BNR3ZMIWNLFRsKmzZZoSbr_ulQKQyqZelOtgG00ekvkplASEJGEOECQbL8QHqJ6ZXg/s640/RBroccoli.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The broccoli I noshed on while awaiting the "real" meal.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvTZBPq5RbbHVqsLPGE-cT4_rdXwMIAhyz98quIfoqrFV4yzW_1NKL1H1mcABJZskV2Vjxl25Aw7_UIh7az7sArjeQ9H2GCv_jjD_o_3U9e9T2hnIjx2rEi2Tmdl62epKSRRN4ieUQtI/s1600/RStovetop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBvTZBPq5RbbHVqsLPGE-cT4_rdXwMIAhyz98quIfoqrFV4yzW_1NKL1H1mcABJZskV2Vjxl25Aw7_UIh7az7sArjeQ9H2GCv_jjD_o_3U9e9T2hnIjx2rEi2Tmdl62epKSRRN4ieUQtI/s640/RStovetop.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dinner's ready! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On Tuesday, my friend Rebecca prepared and cooked an entire meal
herself, excepting the pumpkin bread I contributed (made by my own two
hands) and the rolls Chalanna and her friend Ingel brought. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Chalanna and Ingel came for the meal and conversation,
while I arrived early to play deejay and entertain the cook. Rebecca
stuffed and cooked a turkey, candied sweet potatoes, boiled beets and
mustard greens, roasted red potatoes with rosemary and thyme, fixed
stuffing, and prepared custard with rice and raisins. All I had to do
was sit there and watch. The meal was magnificent and inspiring in its
simplicity. It made me think that someday I might be able to roast my
own potatoes with good results. I was also impressed with Rebecca's
sense of timing. All the dishes were ready at the same time. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXn1P1tfwsS8q5eSRPo658ykRu4B2UQEQATxzdgmm1TEo8COT4jni_2mTu_0lurw7wt6ZnIRW191qRdo3VbnkfE2JT9ReXO6F23e-gj4bPtMZMqrUpkzc6-P7q1vPrc_5gKBl9bZyFaAc/s1600/RTurkey1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXn1P1tfwsS8q5eSRPo658ykRu4B2UQEQATxzdgmm1TEo8COT4jni_2mTu_0lurw7wt6ZnIRW191qRdo3VbnkfE2JT9ReXO6F23e-gj4bPtMZMqrUpkzc6-P7q1vPrc_5gKBl9bZyFaAc/s640/RTurkey1.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This turkey was prepared to perfection! It was juicy and flavorful. Also, props to people who can take great photographs of Thanksgiving turkeys. It takes skill I obviously do not possess.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcZtBbcOBpfCJlkNB45h0WIRV1dw2JQzyYtFryxcQBM2ULb8p9L-N-6Li17TvpvpsXNzEX5WYP_RQNNqnBvT75lXirsq_8pZCk_AG6uiw1dXbbNS6Jw-OwHtScmGSHH9ikg7djUUpIRI/s1600/RBeets.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOcZtBbcOBpfCJlkNB45h0WIRV1dw2JQzyYtFryxcQBM2ULb8p9L-N-6Li17TvpvpsXNzEX5WYP_RQNNqnBvT75lXirsq_8pZCk_AG6uiw1dXbbNS6Jw-OwHtScmGSHH9ikg7djUUpIRI/s640/RBeets.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boiled beets made better with nothing but butter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And that is exactly when Chalanna and Ingel arrived. Those two were such
a good addition to the party. Chalanna can make any topic of
conversation seem exciting. She puts people at ease and is skilled at
connecting people who may or may not have anything in common. I had a
lovely time breaking bread and celebrating with my friends. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
*** </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMClRZyO8uyKnl01aDFa39_qzNLdSUgfdHsndj6Ep-s5840ZZiyQ6-evOttlgor2TeMUbGBvjAgKVXWIkIE6PJdcpKm31vKapMyS8yrAxfZREXz5FnvF8Jnf82jt8D4iZyN1UgUJmoY8/s1600/FamThgiving2012.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMClRZyO8uyKnl01aDFa39_qzNLdSUgfdHsndj6Ep-s5840ZZiyQ6-evOttlgor2TeMUbGBvjAgKVXWIkIE6PJdcpKm31vKapMyS8yrAxfZREXz5FnvF8Jnf82jt8D4iZyN1UgUJmoY8/s640/FamThgiving2012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My beautiful family. I am standing on the fireplace at the right. The end of the mantel was poking me in the back, and I was afraid I was going to topple off. That might explain the pained expression on my face.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9fTf6pdX5aKoen6V3vWhpu0X29j3_jEB9bo2LBu5KGC7bVRMVmAgVIhJoGXgu6J3otgq-AqvSzlBPjA0LXtHJ9Xgke9BlAuUKDblpKRZG0x94szDXybacCaortyLxI4u864bM2Ki7Uw/s1600/EmilyandLisa.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge9fTf6pdX5aKoen6V3vWhpu0X29j3_jEB9bo2LBu5KGC7bVRMVmAgVIhJoGXgu6J3otgq-AqvSzlBPjA0LXtHJ9Xgke9BlAuUKDblpKRZG0x94szDXybacCaortyLxI4u864bM2Ki7Uw/s640/EmilyandLisa.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My cousin Emily and my sister Lisa are excited to see each other. I was excited, too!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoBh9NCbJs9Z02YRzGmIcPE1wZWLcE8bnVnFhDg02cWfOvgRkHTQc3MI5eBTtGWvoQ4LPR9XIfTPsyZO-ODRTQPypMQ_QZcWzbihwPwltDnnFWZOAVJH7_cvyjD6uX-o4jTXk8iZ6awk/s1600/dad,ray,ucurt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoBh9NCbJs9Z02YRzGmIcPE1wZWLcE8bnVnFhDg02cWfOvgRkHTQc3MI5eBTtGWvoQ4LPR9XIfTPsyZO-ODRTQPypMQ_QZcWzbihwPwltDnnFWZOAVJH7_cvyjD6uX-o4jTXk8iZ6awk/s640/dad,ray,ucurt.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad John, my cousin Raymond, and my Uncle Curt enjoy catching up.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Each year on Thanksgiving Day, my family rotates the hosting duties among the cousins on my Grandma's (mom's mom) side.
I always enjoy hanging out with my extended family members. They are amazing people, not counting the fact we are all related by either blood or marriage. My cousins also give me perspective on the history of my family. Each time we get together, we discover more traits we have in common with one another. Sometimes the resemblances are downright eerie. This year we drove out to the gorgeous home of my cousins Vicki and
Raymond. We had a good turn out and tons of good food, as usual.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQMClRZyO8uyKnl01aDFa39_qzNLdSUgfdHsndj6Ep-s5840ZZiyQ6-evOttlgor2TeMUbGBvjAgKVXWIkIE6PJdcpKm31vKapMyS8yrAxfZREXz5FnvF8Jnf82jt8D4iZyN1UgUJmoY8/s1600/FamThgiving2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnceGwN8QJnoaquxz0_3szKpPP534gD8BNUa82RPZEFuUAju7usspvDUHu68h_Hhx9MN8HIDaE5Dw5OZ-wuBkGso50PSDm4zUsOcv2Iwb2JgxMjd6KqGvARveMKxJO-gI9eIHAyufcG1s/s1600/ShelleyUncleBobCarve1.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnceGwN8QJnoaquxz0_3szKpPP534gD8BNUa82RPZEFuUAju7usspvDUHu68h_Hhx9MN8HIDaE5Dw5OZ-wuBkGso50PSDm4zUsOcv2Iwb2JgxMjd6KqGvARveMKxJO-gI9eIHAyufcG1s/s640/ShelleyUncleBobCarve1.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">While Shelley roasted the turkey on her own, she needed a little coaching from my Uncle Bob to carve it.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xDskqTEBMT9ozOPlGAVyM9ZG47azfxKEHRtin8zg5AIO9TUsoR0raLYsLMz3_TryZf0kx4OhXODKJwvbD-L7Uy59dAljFAFFp1WQmBOAan3zMQZFj595G3sBcFSacya86IvISSea-9Y/s1600/ThgivingDinner2012.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xDskqTEBMT9ozOPlGAVyM9ZG47azfxKEHRtin8zg5AIO9TUsoR0raLYsLMz3_TryZf0kx4OhXODKJwvbD-L7Uy59dAljFAFFp1WQmBOAan3zMQZFj595G3sBcFSacya86IvISSea-9Y/s640/ThgivingDinner2012.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A
smorgasbord of deliciousness: mashed potatoes and gravy, deviled eggs,
ham balls, ham roll, turkey and noodles, cabbage casserole, green beans,
corn, a little ham and turkey, cranberry-apple salad, cranberry salad,
and candied sweet potatoes. Yum!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hZ_R9qZIWvwMe5l-hwHUTCCKN8RYiumZB_7fDViRv-Uqla3UMIg5V4Wy7w5trp7xwdwSpBVV52GFrDJzqmGSbRHNe5U1cSDYdwglR9M54s07umZmWKAKs1i4gFMTBQvDJ9kpdgX_STE/s1600/ThgivingHam.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hZ_R9qZIWvwMe5l-hwHUTCCKN8RYiumZB_7fDViRv-Uqla3UMIg5V4Wy7w5trp7xwdwSpBVV52GFrDJzqmGSbRHNe5U1cSDYdwglR9M54s07umZmWKAKs1i4gFMTBQvDJ9kpdgX_STE/s640/ThgivingHam.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanksgiving ham with a sweet glaze.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My cousin Shelley cooked the turkey. It was her first turkey ever, but you would not have guessed it from the results. The turkey was beautiful and tasty, too. With the turkey, we had ham, green beans, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, candied sweet potatoes, cranberry and cranbery-apple salads, cheesy potatoes, cabbage casserole, dinner rolls, deviled eggs, ham roll-ups, ham balls, turkey and noodles, a seven-layer salad, and I am sure I have forgotten something. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">We also had a counter-top covered with desserts. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pgmNza5cs8BmU-KYwyX3BNrtXswgVDtddSeGu9HhkHsX_gbJJHQJzP2DuoFbWndF2kQF0NGMw9-izCRe93gmI5_bdk6rVfriDNgzjgKJNn-Rx0ltcINFSuYQwg6-bfZxdi2-g-DD9lA/s1600/ThgivingDesserts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9pgmNza5cs8BmU-KYwyX3BNrtXswgVDtddSeGu9HhkHsX_gbJJHQJzP2DuoFbWndF2kQF0NGMw9-izCRe93gmI5_bdk6rVfriDNgzjgKJNn-Rx0ltcINFSuYQwg6-bfZxdi2-g-DD9lA/s640/ThgivingDesserts.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We never lack for desserts: pecan pies, pineapple, pumpkin pies, chocolate pie, iced cookies, fudgy-marshmallowy cake, pumpkin bread, and...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCnhvYt1kUiPfXq9GndCWBixoR00QdtDRda4lHPxn6SV37_aD07DI56uolJVuJMeRfCTfJyEHG3B9-Ggm4kaUxuvkwZHfUFp61rfHOzsyf9sYTELMQuUAouqTis2mrE2AtEU2UTo_pFg/s1600/PumpkinRolls.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKCnhvYt1kUiPfXq9GndCWBixoR00QdtDRda4lHPxn6SV37_aD07DI56uolJVuJMeRfCTfJyEHG3B9-Ggm4kaUxuvkwZHfUFp61rfHOzsyf9sYTELMQuUAouqTis2mrE2AtEU2UTo_pFg/s640/PumpkinRolls.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...Pumpkin
pie croissants, which I thought were incredible - although two
non-pumpkin fans mistook the pumpkin for peanut butter. Oops, that was unfortunate! But wait...</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyvQ9yER2E7_Urdw705sFC3E44w-mzicNnaEqBbZXJFp7UNdAiR4bkkCksSHALQhyypKpvYKCk0k9NsoGPwAjgik2rZFCqT7LsP32gW6rrZMblefJNFHksuPp_b79N_c-M0iVjByiO5-0/s1600/ChocTurkeys.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...There's more! Gobble, gobble! And that's exactly what we did to these Reese's Peanut Butter Cup turkeys!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">And you thought I was the one with a sweet tooth. In reality, we all enjoy a good dessert spread! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After eating, we spent a long afternoon catching up and playing games. I hung out and listened as my elders talked. Then, the younger women powwowed together for awhile. That was definitely my favorite part of the day. Yep, I liked it even better than my mom's pumpkin pie!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">How did you celebrate Thanksgiving? And what are you thankful for at the moment?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">* Remember when John Kerry ran for president and his wife Teresa Heinz Kerry said women were smart and well-informed? I have loved that quote since she said it, and I reference <span style="font-size: x-small;">the line</span> often.</span></span></div>
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Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-45191122882426243122012-11-16T00:13:00.001-06:002012-11-16T00:13:28.061-06:00The Texture of Fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZimPHchOMYMuCAGS57DNxZPkDedUodUvMj6VN5xhXR62sJPI5zHQotZRLoQq3RvcWQXhm1_DqdP1JJuvb6JiqsgM_lVqDl-hm5XSt71rrYC5rhYWg_gjWQT4HulBtBINN9xtB2iXWNjA/s1600/FallGrass2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZimPHchOMYMuCAGS57DNxZPkDedUodUvMj6VN5xhXR62sJPI5zHQotZRLoQq3RvcWQXhm1_DqdP1JJuvb6JiqsgM_lVqDl-hm5XSt71rrYC5rhYWg_gjWQT4HulBtBINN9xtB2iXWNjA/s640/FallGrass2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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I know every blogger writes about their favorite aspect of Fall. And I am going to do it, too! I could talk about pumpkin anything, breathing the crisp air as I hurry to my car in the morning, setting out gourds, carving jack-o-lanterns, making Halloween costumes, screaming 'til I go hoarse at Kansas City's terrifying haunted houses, eating turkey and other yummy treats with my family on Thanksgiving, watching the Thanksgiving Day parade, going to the apple orchard, drinking cider and making s'mores around a campfire, sitting on scratchy bales during a bouncy hayride, watching leaves as they fade from green to gold, orange, crimson, purple and brown, making the first batch of chili or taking the first scalding bath of the season, switching from iced coffee to hot mochas with mint, or wearing well-cut jackets before it grows cold enough for a blankety coat. </div>
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Instead, I am going to focus on the textures of Fall. The world crinkles in the Fall. The grasses crunch. The leaves rustle on trees. Bark grows coarse, as do hands. Acorns and pine cones pebble the earth. Squirrels grow fat and fluffy. Flocks of birds cascade across the sky as they travel south. Geese drown out city noises with their distinctive honks. Ladybugs hide indoors and bring luck with them. Deer roam in droves. Voices grow gravelly with colds and strep throat. Men cultivate beards both shapely and shaggy.</div>
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I enjoy taking walks as the world slows down in preparation for winter. I photograph matted grasses and roots buried by crispy leaves. I collect dry twigs and rough bark that have fallen from trees. I admire ragged remnants of nests and find a feather if I am lucky. I hike through bristly grasses on
the hunt for perfect little bits of nature to bring home with me. </div>
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At home, I break out the small-wale corduroy and my warm nubby sweaters. I rub thick creams into my dry rough heels, elbows and hands, only to repeat my ritual daily until spring comes again. I wear a fuzzy hoodie every night before bed. I curl up beneath heavy handmade quilts when I lie down to sleep. </div>
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These are some of my favorite textures of Fall. What textures of Fall do you like the best? </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-38861747574457508242012-11-14T00:30:00.000-06:002012-11-14T00:51:21.968-06:00In Search Of...<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUFCyxNZ_EV4cbfShXu3euSqYpmz91aT5oxxF_FaDMYQcBKp1EPqyaUM8UGINtHRZtOXl0gn7in9sBrxMseJNHuseRvrpbv-1Qq26NIHhYeMb5COnyG6BvGtOHiNY4F3k_q7dhqroXFP0/s1600/Dustin+Amanda+Rachel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUFCyxNZ_EV4cbfShXu3euSqYpmz91aT5oxxF_FaDMYQcBKp1EPqyaUM8UGINtHRZtOXl0gn7in9sBrxMseJNHuseRvrpbv-1Qq26NIHhYeMb5COnyG6BvGtOHiNY4F3k_q7dhqroXFP0/s640/Dustin+Amanda+Rachel.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lovely and talented Rachel Frank, Dustin Dennis and Amanda Lechner at the opening of <i>In Search Of...</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEMGDehylPzRXnGaOpY3KIVxc9Oz2pGxHXTIvuuSJ9CTqSaTOX7pm3MukeA0ttJkZMKUNUx_mZjVqT_SSzXYcdGyKyBTyuEoqokzkMK8pM_71IvWJBsRuXo0paynL8N0eoWVt4XlzRGo/s1600/Alison%2526Amanda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="540" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZEMGDehylPzRXnGaOpY3KIVxc9Oz2pGxHXTIvuuSJ9CTqSaTOX7pm3MukeA0ttJkZMKUNUx_mZjVqT_SSzXYcdGyKyBTyuEoqokzkMK8pM_71IvWJBsRuXo0paynL8N0eoWVt4XlzRGo/s640/Alison%2526Amanda.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Amanda. I was so EXCITED to see this girl!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Full disclosure: I think my friends are the most talented and wonderful and brilliant and kind and amazing and fascinating and phenomenal and gorgeous people in the whole world. It may come as no surprise, then, that I might display just a tad bit of bias when I share the details of </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In Search Of...</i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">, a traveling exhibition organized by Dustin Dennis, Christopher Ulivo and Amanda Lechner. Dustin and Amanda are longtime friends, who I have known since my days as a student at the Kansas City Art Institute (and before, in the case of Dustin). I will share details about the exhibition without even attempting to give a strict analysis. I was too darn excited to see Dustin and Amanda, who were in town from New York, to wear my critic's hat. And believe me, Dustin and Amanda are just as wonderful and brilliant and
kind and amazing and fascinating and phenomenal and gorgeous as I say they are. </span></div>
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***</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUSpGXX3CUmztt7WqdBCUv2mqy8YS9ctJGWGWdvQs1gxB7PdkNLJl6BdPp-WvBilE6EsKr7CjOBXW4RlsK1TSs9fDwQJ4O1XH9NLq-nwHVQBmMFwtZrUpGoi9JvWJi0-RTTq06UDiH0E/s1600/Mike+Peter+Smith-Untitled+Cyclops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoUSpGXX3CUmztt7WqdBCUv2mqy8YS9ctJGWGWdvQs1gxB7PdkNLJl6BdPp-WvBilE6EsKr7CjOBXW4RlsK1TSs9fDwQJ4O1XH9NLq-nwHVQBmMFwtZrUpGoi9JvWJi0-RTTq06UDiH0E/s640/Mike+Peter+Smith-Untitled+Cyclops.jpg" width="408" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mike Peter Smith, <i>Untitled (Cyclops)</i>, 2012. Cast urethane, epoxy putty, brass, cyanoacrylate and paint. 9 in. x 6 in. x 5in.</td></tr>
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<i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In Search Of...</i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> is a speculative exploration of natural, and unnatural, history. Its take on how we explain and understand that which is beyond explanation or understanding runs the gamut from the frightening and weird to the idealized and fantastical. The world and the answers at which humans arrive are not fixed, or at least they don't have to be. In this exhibition, at least, creative inquiry is not only permitted, but encouraged. According to the curatorial statement, </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In Search Of...</i><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> takes its title from the 1970s speculative documentary TV series of the same name, which was hosted by Leonard Nimoy and covered a wide range of strange phenomena. The statement goes on to say the </span><i style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"artists in this exhibition create images and abstract scenarios that engage transformative moments, look to alternate histories or imagine other realities, creatures and lands. They are not interested in finite possibilities but instead look to the strange, fictional, and unknown to emerge with material that posits new scenarios, alternate conclusions and yet more questions."</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvhhNdU6k5joKqO21FSpmDAShOKMuju69FtCbFOUvnvThIL1yOYnMq2LC5yJ8wigHPgBExDUFUgebhkhc413m5tDBQdS1jOfqZKYgcgLMmcc1B3Ts5VPj7LXb41ZzQ-WpO5zpYPXM2jo/s1600/Dustin&Amanda-Overview7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvhhNdU6k5joKqO21FSpmDAShOKMuju69FtCbFOUvnvThIL1yOYnMq2LC5yJ8wigHPgBExDUFUgebhkhc413m5tDBQdS1jOfqZKYgcgLMmcc1B3Ts5VPj7LXb41ZzQ-WpO5zpYPXM2jo/s640/Dustin&Amanda-Overview7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overview of <i>In Search Of... </i>with work by Betsy Odom in the foreground. Betsy Odom, <i>Bulldog 2 (Spacesuit)</i>, 2009. Mixed media, Gatorade coolers, tube socks, mesh, nylon. 60 in. x 30 in. x 28 in.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GWKyen3yw4CU_h0OnkoBvbs7nr2D-MtnIianYXQpC_OmmnJGlQZn9QX2GdP4SZGhRIiDf8XRnbueR3TRFwsxHHfEDcPTb-bS9MyHJbq6U5pfTEp2BvmTqQgFFPsmgczHIN7l7qr3KLg/s1600/Dustin&Amanda-Overview2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="478" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2GWKyen3yw4CU_h0OnkoBvbs7nr2D-MtnIianYXQpC_OmmnJGlQZn9QX2GdP4SZGhRIiDf8XRnbueR3TRFwsxHHfEDcPTb-bS9MyHJbq6U5pfTEp2BvmTqQgFFPsmgczHIN7l7qr3KLg/s640/Dustin&Amanda-Overview2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Overview of <i>In Search Of...</i> with work by Leah Beeferman in the foreground. Leah Beeferman, <i>1201.2280v1</i>, 2012. Laser etched plexiglas, formica tabletops, speakers and audio. 96 in. x 24 in. x 30 in. Dimensions variable.</td></tr>
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Featured in the exhibition are works by <a href="http://carlbaratta.com/home.html" target="_blank">Carl Baratta</a>, <a href="http://www.mattbollinger.com/" target="_blank">Matt Bollinger</a>, <a href="http://www.dustindennis.com/" target="_blank">Dustin Dennis</a>, <a href="http://leahbeeferman.com/" target="_blank">Leah Beeferman</a>, <a href="http://rachelfrank.com/" target="_blank">Rachel Frank</a>, <a href="http://www.erinharmon.com/" target="_blank">Erin Harmon</a>, Frank Heath, <a href="http://jackiehoving.com/home.html" target="_blank">Jackie Hoving</a>, <a href="http://davidhumphreynyc.com/art/" target="_blank">David Humphrey</a>, <a href="http://amandalechner.net/" target="_blank">Amanda Lechner</a>, <a href="http://www.schemingbehemoth.com/art/index.html" target="_blank">Sean McCarthy</a>, <a href="http://www.ryanmrozowski.com/#Ryan-Mrozowski" target="_blank">Ryan Mrozowski</a>, <a href="http://www.betsyodom.com/betsyodom/Betsy_Odom.html" target="_blank">Betsy Odom</a>, <a href="http://andrewprayzner.com/home.html" target="_blank">Andrew Prayzner</a>, <a href="http://www.rossawyers.com/" target="_blank">Ross Sawyers</a>, Mark Shetabi, Mike Peter Smith, <a href="http://christopherulivo.com/" target="_blank">Christopher Ulivo</a>, <a href="http://www.philwhitman.com/" target="_blank">Phil Whitman</a>, and <a href="http://www.brianzegeer.com/" target="_blank">Brian Zegeer</a>.</div>
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The exhibition opened on the first cold and icy day of the season. That didn't stop a crowd from gathering for the opening reception at the University of Kansas, Art and Design Gallery. I knew many of the visitors, as many old school pals showed up. KCAI is represented in the exhibition by Matt Bollinger, Rachel Frank, Ross Sawyers, and Frank Heath, in addition to Dustin and Amanda.</div>
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Here are few pieces by KCAI alumni: </div>
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Ross Sawyers' piece is a poetic vision of a phenomenological experience; </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Y_qwRWp9XIfnZNZB-5J30ZWUN40udydyJmcsPPD6clMdumBU-U_hDM-2B7eIOSBwb_U8yaMW6Cm3OYHg-d_cND20se9oRgCyClbhILoV0fZv2sOmE7B2mfIn3cnVWjrn_BVotz2I7nE/s1600/Ross+Sawyers-Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Y_qwRWp9XIfnZNZB-5J30ZWUN40udydyJmcsPPD6clMdumBU-U_hDM-2B7eIOSBwb_U8yaMW6Cm3OYHg-d_cND20se9oRgCyClbhILoV0fZv2sOmE7B2mfIn3cnVWjrn_BVotz2I7nE/s640/Ross+Sawyers-Untitled.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ross Sawyers, <i>Untitled</i>, 2011. Archival print. 24 in. x 36 in.</td></tr>
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I have always admired Matt Bollinger's drawing style, and <i>Double</i> is no exception - the texture and tones appeal to me, and the applied movement makes me feel a little queasy; </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQB6JDAwKiAtQcYxeL8MGHqkVRqbsWtxGJ0lPY6wsgQz47w1OUx1zsSlIztxcJEfj1KC3MhIeLGis42gShqoq2zHBRXhfat5z5IzdG0FvjqpCMY7-cPNfJJybE5lMhY13S735P2v8Fu58/s1600/Matt+Bollinger-Double.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQB6JDAwKiAtQcYxeL8MGHqkVRqbsWtxGJ0lPY6wsgQz47w1OUx1zsSlIztxcJEfj1KC3MhIeLGis42gShqoq2zHBRXhfat5z5IzdG0FvjqpCMY7-cPNfJJybE5lMhY13S735P2v8Fu58/s640/Matt+Bollinger-Double.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matt Bollinger, <i>Double</i>, 2012. Graphite on paper. 30 in. x 22 in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
and Frank Heath's framed prints are two versions of the same thing,
separated by nothing but time (and all that goes along with that). </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fThDmnFHO2PhOqBKYahz_EJjzA52Qcj75DvfLno6r0g-WX2ThaXdGmL6zwAxTJjAcfk8O2RlGE-SeYSjSVfAHoY_0XCrnEyCJMcKaKtoQyAMnvEACQ6-et7HeQxRI-JvFd5mF6gKeL4/s1600/Frank+Heath-Rerun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2fThDmnFHO2PhOqBKYahz_EJjzA52Qcj75DvfLno6r0g-WX2ThaXdGmL6zwAxTJjAcfk8O2RlGE-SeYSjSVfAHoY_0XCrnEyCJMcKaKtoQyAMnvEACQ6-et7HeQxRI-JvFd5mF6gKeL4/s640/Frank+Heath-Rerun.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frank Heath, <i>Rerun TELEPHONE OPERATORS (Village Voice, June 2, 1987 / June 2, 2012)</i>, 2012. Classified ad. Pigment 2 prints. 13 3/4 in. x 12 1/2 in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Rachel, who was in the same graduating class as Dustin, Amanda and I, was in town for the opening. Her piece is absolutely beautiful. Her cowhide beaded with a Rorschach test-like pattern makes me want to sit in a field and read stories from the flanks of cows. It also shows just how mindlessly we humans slaughter animals and use their body parts, including skin, for our own pleasure.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VY4JfRtgvg1irUKNvhrXrJg2ZPmTZ6ornFmX4hjaGfHk_blS8JXBTBDm74ukSsLfq11ZVlp51o0faWACa_A6MmNrCBBB7jJWmopqIXDTX1DcPAgarbgROJ-0ml-TAaS4hdNc49dAn2U/s1600/Rachel+w+Hide+Stain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-VY4JfRtgvg1irUKNvhrXrJg2ZPmTZ6ornFmX4hjaGfHk_blS8JXBTBDm74ukSsLfq11ZVlp51o0faWACa_A6MmNrCBBB7jJWmopqIXDTX1DcPAgarbgROJ-0ml-TAaS4hdNc49dAn2U/s640/Rachel+w+Hide+Stain.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel kindly let me photograph her with her piece.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFrIpYS8Rfm7ZP8iel8Eef-fxAAMd0gFSV8er_K6FfCwYuhgWvOxsr9Cj33KO2C39vzA8wfFgQT2SmmRgW_4HTS4jb18DuX6eaEr6OizM7M3MgkRarAqaN3q_8p9ZB5ZnED9biVrMNzE/s1600/RachelFrank-Piece&Detail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbFrIpYS8Rfm7ZP8iel8Eef-fxAAMd0gFSV8er_K6FfCwYuhgWvOxsr9Cj33KO2C39vzA8wfFgQT2SmmRgW_4HTS4jb18DuX6eaEr6OizM7M3MgkRarAqaN3q_8p9ZB5ZnED9biVrMNzE/s640/RachelFrank-Piece&Detail.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rachel Frank, <i>Hide Stain</i>, 2012. Glass beads, thread, cloth, wood and Holstein cowhide. 60 in. x 53 in. With detail.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
Amanda's contributions to <i>In Search Of...</i> are two intimate narrative paintings. Lone figures enact scenes of (pseudo-) scientific research and discovery, seemingly with endless patience. Amanda has a deft hand and paints with skill and precision. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_6LqvI5CTzexCbYAHCLgo2WEBxpZ_3v_XCHq3iiuivC0Dx1ysQEYsStqIEPOGBE1YxP1lK0joUHZZmqR6X5n-5ZdUHvq2wZNuApeSQmtbQpHLSxOmEhL3jqkH4Y1LTFgGZyEloP1wh8/s1600/Amanda+w+Painting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU_6LqvI5CTzexCbYAHCLgo2WEBxpZ_3v_XCHq3iiuivC0Dx1ysQEYsStqIEPOGBE1YxP1lK0joUHZZmqR6X5n-5ZdUHvq2wZNuApeSQmtbQpHLSxOmEhL3jqkH4Y1LTFgGZyEloP1wh8/s640/Amanda+w+Painting.jpg" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amanda with one of her highly detailed scenes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyaEREXh7HzIFrW99FqgKhchXeH4nQhvcp_-EgkHZtUK80-F-gdXGhR7XNiJ-iswtERD-NnD1pbQn5RrAOvIuQwO9KhsfWwbD_vWX476sj1ZspG_HiA9rIugcSrbMZakEekHKWAbboonk/s1600/Amanda+Lechner-Two+Pieces.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyaEREXh7HzIFrW99FqgKhchXeH4nQhvcp_-EgkHZtUK80-F-gdXGhR7XNiJ-iswtERD-NnD1pbQn5RrAOvIuQwO9KhsfWwbD_vWX476sj1ZspG_HiA9rIugcSrbMZakEekHKWAbboonk/s640/Amanda+Lechner-Two+Pieces.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At left: Amanda Lechner, <i>Magnetron Plasma Ball</i>, 2011. Egg tempera painting on panel. 14 in. x 11 in. At right: Amanda Lechner, <i>Gaiter Pratt Delegates</i>, 2011. Egg tempera painting on panel. 14 in. x 11 in.</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dustin presents a mysterious looping video featuring a man, a woman and an over-sized eye. This disturbing science fiction sequence is still on my mind. What is ethical? What are the limitations of human development? To what lengths would you go for scientific discovery?</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbtG9WpXTcFPteg1qGl5ifzsOxHKHh36lJcmHGO4hPLW4YttcYBQ4D5RhAsanEbbRJv6D_pbTjgSKZ4RmRPVdosIuQxhyphenhyphenhAs5zcCKuOrsdhyojJNE1_a5zUAgpKVVRdrRbx0jvCmGTNU/s1600/Dustin-Serious.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbtG9WpXTcFPteg1qGl5ifzsOxHKHh36lJcmHGO4hPLW4YttcYBQ4D5RhAsanEbbRJv6D_pbTjgSKZ4RmRPVdosIuQxhyphenhyphenhAs5zcCKuOrsdhyojJNE1_a5zUAgpKVVRdrRbx0jvCmGTNU/s640/Dustin-Serious.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dustin striking his "serious" pose. Gotta love the beard, besides.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzSTvO21JYMDL9GnHVP1TyOc61p6PtmegV6mWj83qzG5B0vLfPHP4UgW9l3WR22Sz-pqAa_RmbkXlIkWM_erhlmUNT1-M2aZ0bc8vLB-hVBiSMN47fhLjZXafbbvvjWdOzrXGt_kDiJs/s1600/Dustin+Dennis-Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHzSTvO21JYMDL9GnHVP1TyOc61p6PtmegV6mWj83qzG5B0vLfPHP4UgW9l3WR22Sz-pqAa_RmbkXlIkWM_erhlmUNT1-M2aZ0bc8vLB-hVBiSMN47fhLjZXafbbvvjWdOzrXGt_kDiJs/s640/Dustin+Dennis-Untitled.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dustin Dennis, <i>Untitled</i>, 2012. Digital video. 5 minutes (Stills). Do you recognize the actress? That's right, it's Rachel!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
I spent at least two hours at the exhibition, and I could have stayed longer, even if I hadn't been chasing my friends around with my camera. Other pieces I was taken with include the following:</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Jackie Hoving's highly patterned collages of people with what struck me as bionic add-ons;</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2le14pCi34NaSRYEo23TSdfqP_-QxNQ4CMbax55wvuAhZjp_MZfCjIPgYOUQZlDLxU2ZjKOoIZ_1FUzfl0SQ36yHtVlpFVif9rVZgFIW9P3Dzla89O6gFbbL4mCK_V9IYifePN89Yl4Q/s1600/Jackie+Hoving-Vision.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2le14pCi34NaSRYEo23TSdfqP_-QxNQ4CMbax55wvuAhZjp_MZfCjIPgYOUQZlDLxU2ZjKOoIZ_1FUzfl0SQ36yHtVlpFVif9rVZgFIW9P3Dzla89O6gFbbL4mCK_V9IYifePN89Yl4Q/s640/Jackie+Hoving-Vision.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jackie Hoving, <i>Vision</i>, 2010. Mixed media collage. 30 in. x 22 in.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ryan Mrozowski's sleek installation - with his visual punning, he's definitely a man after my own heart; </span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr_PuQjLJ65piw7mCMo3Xive51sCXyWz-E-Tcz4BHIQ-qSGskcOC5M0hPiiexmmTlxZ3yfByAlbDSXU659PT9sBZ7l7MKeNv8rUJ5xiDpNAjgnUOzoF66Zu_eVwASY2Zvb9nNRdpfXcY/s1600/Ryan+Mrozowski-Illuminated+Book+Page.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCr_PuQjLJ65piw7mCMo3Xive51sCXyWz-E-Tcz4BHIQ-qSGskcOC5M0hPiiexmmTlxZ3yfByAlbDSXU659PT9sBZ7l7MKeNv8rUJ5xiDpNAjgnUOzoF66Zu_eVwASY2Zvb9nNRdpfXcY/s640/Ryan+Mrozowski-Illuminated+Book+Page.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ryan Mrozowski, <i>Illuminated Book page (#26)</i>, 2011. Single book page, light bulb, artist's frame. Dimensions variable.</td></tr>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
and Christopher Ulivo's fanciful vision of Pete Seeger as the Robert Johnson of folk music. Do you see hints of Bosch, too? Plus glitter.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNMCDc1xPYd4cOFc9efpTe8Vh8vo7vvRyq9npnTP5usx7yty4eAqjpdXvMQ5NZBSsTbmi0D6nDDsdDqqIk5W-RB0ANkx4X5iUYR0Wog8mZ2mJnlQyOzmaRYzqM6QipqZ78fGHIJR4IVo/s1600/Christopher+Ulivo-The+Last+Thing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHNMCDc1xPYd4cOFc9efpTe8Vh8vo7vvRyq9npnTP5usx7yty4eAqjpdXvMQ5NZBSsTbmi0D6nDDsdDqqIk5W-RB0ANkx4X5iUYR0Wog8mZ2mJnlQyOzmaRYzqM6QipqZ78fGHIJR4IVo/s640/Christopher+Ulivo-The+Last+Thing.jpg" width="489" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christopher Ulivo, <i>The Last Thing They'll Take From You Is Your Banjo</i>, 2012. Egg tempera on panel. 13 in. x 10 in.</td></tr>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
Overall, I found <i>In Search Of...</i> to inspire thought and the desire to make things. That's a powerful combination for any artist who is out viewing art. I highly recommend this exhibition.<i> In Search Of... </i>will be exhibited at the University of Kansas, Art & Design Gallery, until December 7, 2012. Be sure to check it out if you are in town! If you can't make it to Kansas City, some of the work will be on display at North Branch Projects in Chicago, Illinois, in January 2013.<br />
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Congratulations, Dustin, Amanda and Christopher!! </div>
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Check out the exhibition, and tell me know what you think. Have you been to any exhibitions I should see? Let me know.</div>
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Alison :)</div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-47640798345158052922012-11-09T22:49:00.002-06:002012-11-09T23:40:47.170-06:00Hyperkewl: Relics Project<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EVKlJE4aHwFuXUQ-OFRofPZBvV0ziMZDCQuvPPecQuH67rPXkgvWvNQlm4OSbJ6TNQBikqM2vcq4aVwYYWBS6uXFIja4vAdo9tQWyFTIr8Gj_uetX2GaTI0QLGDRSTHx3Wjtgwvw5JE/s1600/Reliquary4-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2EVKlJE4aHwFuXUQ-OFRofPZBvV0ziMZDCQuvPPecQuH67rPXkgvWvNQlm4OSbJ6TNQBikqM2vcq4aVwYYWBS6uXFIja4vAdo9tQWyFTIr8Gj_uetX2GaTI0QLGDRSTHx3Wjtgwvw5JE/s640/Reliquary4-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Placing organic materials, including the dirt and brick pictured here, in my reliquary.</td></tr>
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In addition to working on <a href="http://thejunkrevival.blogspot.com/2012/11/as-calaca-for-day-of-dead-festivities.html" target="_blank"><i>Altar for Women</i></a>, I have also been involved with <a href="http://hyperkewl.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Hyperkewl's</a> Relics Project. According to the project statement written by Rosemary Barria,</div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<i>"A walk will take place in Fall 2012 in various cities, such as
Chicago, Kansas City, and Lima to place reliquaries created by people in
community.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>People were asked through facebook, email and by word of mouth to fill a provided reliquary with relics.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<i>A relic is traditionally important to many religions, including to
Buddhists, Christians and Hindus. They are typically remains of saints,
bones, and pieces of clothing or other objects, placed in a church, a
temple or shrine. Pilgrimages are made to them to give honor or to
receive magic from them.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<i>Hyperkewl re-appropriates the
power of reliquaries beyond traditional religious context and asks the
participating to place their own magic inside and to gift it to a place
of importance to them, regardless of what it is. Each participant leads
their own walk and decides if a ritual or some other delivery is
appropriate.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<i>After the walk, a map will be available
online for the community to revisit these reliquaries. Each reliquary,
becomes a new point on a map from where our special experiences are
acknowledged.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<i>We are re-accessing our environment and imposing our personal relics. This is magic."</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kghG8Fv1I6JFcby1l5vLtMIVHS9OTKiO9kN0wJc668Fzv1ekKHJCcTB7wA2WTnimlFLBzaO04DBzZfZzRtACJ_l3U3DTI6fYo4I553a1iQ32r2JxW35ocSKj5e7drOgI67hw2HlQvO4/s1600/Reliquary1-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0kghG8Fv1I6JFcby1l5vLtMIVHS9OTKiO9kN0wJc668Fzv1ekKHJCcTB7wA2WTnimlFLBzaO04DBzZfZzRtACJ_l3U3DTI6fYo4I553a1iQ32r2JxW35ocSKj5e7drOgI67hw2HlQvO4/s640/Reliquary1-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging my reliquary.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SrY_7K3OYGsCkvGLZgiBSwdCFZ9Q0Wv99bmMAOkBsh3ClESMswRuUS77LzCUTOB9pk9H3AJ5oKXwI6feSNNtrhGTX-TyUmMPEBgmAVt0ZhyphenhyphenMtDzwtCcZbmFLvlc8oUvWOvw8yj4iV3k/s1600/Reliquary2-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0SrY_7K3OYGsCkvGLZgiBSwdCFZ9Q0Wv99bmMAOkBsh3ClESMswRuUS77LzCUTOB9pk9H3AJ5oKXwI6feSNNtrhGTX-TyUmMPEBgmAVt0ZhyphenhyphenMtDzwtCcZbmFLvlc8oUvWOvw8yj4iV3k/s640/Reliquary2-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adjusting my reliquary.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UG0pFo33dktSPDh8y2jMcjk8bO8OnfIlxC1u7Ok26nK9zpuPzamd-3UR-igI3B7_S15fw8aQz6EehYi1Da-cQV2YxRuuwx54eC_RC2KXx96q7SOQTu_Zz5dafsZnkIEnZmfaypgbKXA/s1600/Reliquary3-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1UG0pFo33dktSPDh8y2jMcjk8bO8OnfIlxC1u7Ok26nK9zpuPzamd-3UR-igI3B7_S15fw8aQz6EehYi1Da-cQV2YxRuuwx54eC_RC2KXx96q7SOQTu_Zz5dafsZnkIEnZmfaypgbKXA/s640/Reliquary3-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="462" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My reliquary in place and still unfilled.</td></tr>
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Each participant was either created from scratch or was given a blank form to use as the basis for a reliquary. After the reliquary was completed to the specifications of each artist, then each artist could fill his or her reliquary with relics. I, of course, chose a tedious and time-consuming process, which gave me time to reflect upon family, home, safety, and the importance of having a place to call home.</div>
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I wrapped and wove string around my reliquary to create a safe space to fill with relics from my past. It occurred to me that every place I've lived has its own special blend of materials, so I chose to relocate bits and pieces from my first home to my parents' current house. My <i>Safety Ne(s)t</i> acts as a sieve to sift organic materials from my first home into the stuff of my parents' current home. By doing this, I am hoping to compress the organic materials of the two homes from my childhood into one space. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOgISVEN9IHlgIH3Uj3GGYsPIiPDF0lUyO_B8AlN55VTDsLONkbq_bQ_UorJSHZn-Lc-toqgS6XV57N_52YYYA1xhyIRxVSM2fMyDXHMnKPD667wozvstSaCSAFP7-dF8JwzO6_g3xDw/s1600/Reliquary5-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOgISVEN9IHlgIH3Uj3GGYsPIiPDF0lUyO_B8AlN55VTDsLONkbq_bQ_UorJSHZn-Lc-toqgS6XV57N_52YYYA1xhyIRxVSM2fMyDXHMnKPD667wozvstSaCSAFP7-dF8JwzO6_g3xDw/s640/Reliquary5-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Placing my relics in the reliquary.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjH4Hc_3zKueeG6ARzaV4NhEDZwvDI0N0jZFQ29ze_DLGoUtDlqPRglQIc_98cGmTu2KmaNZbHxl_rWwMCqF8NIPjRO79lDnNH4OWSZ8W4bYf6Zpipz2FE6mbBo1jsRJLtsggeAzCi0U/s1600/Reliquary6-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHjH4Hc_3zKueeG6ARzaV4NhEDZwvDI0N0jZFQ29ze_DLGoUtDlqPRglQIc_98cGmTu2KmaNZbHxl_rWwMCqF8NIPjRO79lDnNH4OWSZ8W4bYf6Zpipz2FE6mbBo1jsRJLtsggeAzCi0U/s640/Reliquary6-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I carried my materials from my old house to my parents' house in a red bowl I recall from my childhood.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh33EYG4drIP9dDM-Wphg1D-mVu3PXy34iYR41B89E8I1PrgTJC4j8lkV9AHXQEy6ou-Yn5JOQOEOzVOEu6TIPzwXk-cLC_DAcvBWkGnJ176FHHfGGPoSon7P0qgGvA3mmasPdLhKJQzc/s1600/Reliquary8-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh33EYG4drIP9dDM-Wphg1D-mVu3PXy34iYR41B89E8I1PrgTJC4j8lkV9AHXQEy6ou-Yn5JOQOEOzVOEu6TIPzwXk-cLC_DAcvBWkGnJ176FHHfGGPoSon7P0qgGvA3mmasPdLhKJQzc/s640/Reliquary8-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green maple leaves from "my tree."</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Here's what I said about my project:</span></div>
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<i>Home
is a powerful symbol. For me, the word evokes comfort and safety. Home
is more than the family that resides there; it is a location, a
geographical and sentimental coordinate that exists outside of linear
time. Although my parents, siblings and I moved from our first home 20
years ago, "the old house", its goings on, and the land on which it was
built still feature often in our conversations, my thoughts, and
certainly in my dreams. </i></div>
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<i>For my reliquary, I relocated organic elements from the site of my
first home to the land where I grew into adulthood. These materials
include the following: brick, grasses, dirt, bark, twigs, leaves from
"my tree," and flowers that still bloom, despite my mother's yearly
inattention. The materials I gathered are now nestled in a netted
nest-like structure, not only for safekeeping, but also to be filtered
through the gaps between the woven strings, picked up and re-utilized by
animals, and to eventually join the site of my family's current home
irreversibly. </i></div>
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<i>I look forward to following the progress of these relics, as they
wear and blow away. I expect them to leave stains on the structure of my
reliquary as time passes, just as home has shaped and molded me over
time.</i></div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">
<i>Alison L. Miller</i></div>
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Below are images of the final piece: </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_OYUU0tHayDndqDrwL2otKrq-DiCnGECf-BBIXeZX9L48BSIn8DrQ2oDwWlq1zsgB1oEx4bdNy_o3y9qHSDVgbp6bvQ3hhepkoOoJ57ngWwAeYd7EPLuxZl2BUziLimGvndj2bMewW4M/s1600/Reliquary10-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_OYUU0tHayDndqDrwL2otKrq-DiCnGECf-BBIXeZX9L48BSIn8DrQ2oDwWlq1zsgB1oEx4bdNy_o3y9qHSDVgbp6bvQ3hhepkoOoJ57ngWwAeYd7EPLuxZl2BUziLimGvndj2bMewW4M/s640/Reliquary10-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjlmQSKdMWjCuOuulkrxwCDoMusesaSDyOnzXLRmPmo-u2Uj2Vp6YcVZINijpA7KQzvWSia2Q_AUuBXMGWt4vIZTXgP2fbMKxWLl_WS4SRokfH6T5Hy5QGSDFs2rdDMvlXnJehNmr1Pc/s1600/Reliquary11-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzjlmQSKdMWjCuOuulkrxwCDoMusesaSDyOnzXLRmPmo-u2Uj2Vp6YcVZINijpA7KQzvWSia2Q_AUuBXMGWt4vIZTXgP2fbMKxWLl_WS4SRokfH6T5Hy5QGSDFs2rdDMvlXnJehNmr1Pc/s640/Reliquary11-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9usFF4c93sT_fFQBTuKsy-0E5dgAL_bKYxl8KgjA3C3FhTkZFm7gIBc9lyl-5kQtiZ8y7DYo1Xqs0VOcyZZ312V1fAZc7Iy6PQgknh62jprVjTL3YQ2JqBqNd32UT0LyoeZAL-US8NhQ/s1600/Reliquary12-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9usFF4c93sT_fFQBTuKsy-0E5dgAL_bKYxl8KgjA3C3FhTkZFm7gIBc9lyl-5kQtiZ8y7DYo1Xqs0VOcyZZ312V1fAZc7Iy6PQgknh62jprVjTL3YQ2JqBqNd32UT0LyoeZAL-US8NhQ/s640/Reliquary12-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The star-shaped opening occurred as a natural result of my weaving technique.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEG0cVSJHALH6G3r1vL6mR9f7BUqXYN6BKgRq6JDc2u1NEOVgGIj9rg_eIgbija-2aPjtaGZrO0G0ETsupNlmcyIm13y6lxR8qPfLu8j1hmlw-V4BLHCfjDHG21_w_Xb36pOAb0BAnQuw/s1600/Reliquary13-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEG0cVSJHALH6G3r1vL6mR9f7BUqXYN6BKgRq6JDc2u1NEOVgGIj9rg_eIgbija-2aPjtaGZrO0G0ETsupNlmcyIm13y6lxR8qPfLu8j1hmlw-V4BLHCfjDHG21_w_Xb36pOAb0BAnQuw/s640/Reliquary13-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WbWaw3Z1GwiqdcaBn2koS5QmdLBbmg7EoTPAYM5VC8bEER3hs8TnHfudbge8mepJjC6vOGckmsDKIODG7-IlsoszEy362nY3o4AW3GbcqPGhvsy-euOq7l4FyzvVTpHJZqCqEFHNYNM/s1600/Reliquary14-AlisonLMiller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3WbWaw3Z1GwiqdcaBn2koS5QmdLBbmg7EoTPAYM5VC8bEER3hs8TnHfudbge8mepJjC6vOGckmsDKIODG7-IlsoszEy362nY3o4AW3GbcqPGhvsy-euOq7l4FyzvVTpHJZqCqEFHNYNM/s640/Reliquary14-AlisonLMiller.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was so excited to find flowers in bloom at "the old house."</td></tr>
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I know this post is photo heavy, so I'll call it a night. In another post, I will highlight some of the other participants' reliquaries. They are all incredibly personal and beautiful.</div>
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What relic would you put in your reliquary? Where would you place it? </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*My awesome mom took the photos of me, and I took the rest. </span></span></div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-70181694652939922702012-11-08T02:32:00.000-06:002012-11-08T02:46:27.853-06:00Day of the Dead Altar<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6-thRiadam1CNHvkYlSrPdt7bzkdWz3fz0Ns20FBvVme6pWUxvi98w3SWDnwcM6T7yDvfghZgvSIRLxQ3mxsr3yjwTSGPUhlp1LPenaSp1nWyoRdyH-IK0fF4_dbyMa5wLxOUko3yR0/s1600/AlisonatMattieRhodes2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX6-thRiadam1CNHvkYlSrPdt7bzkdWz3fz0Ns20FBvVme6pWUxvi98w3SWDnwcM6T7yDvfghZgvSIRLxQ3mxsr3yjwTSGPUhlp1LPenaSp1nWyoRdyH-IK0fF4_dbyMa5wLxOUko3yR0/s640/AlisonatMattieRhodes2.jpg" width="410" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As a calaca for the Day of the Dead festivities at Mattie Rhodes. My eye makeup was a little scarier than intended.</td></tr>
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I can hardly believe it is so close to Thanksgiving. The past couple of months have just shot by. This fall has been filled with back problems (a story for another day), ACED classes, political ads, stressed out and exhausted students, new coworkers, fun family times, art projects, too many mochas, and good times with friends. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEx3AtDK9Rg3cC5U8GPaJFDZF5hJURnUkmMZ7jUj8ARTMwyPpyWv4ZDEa0aQInw6FFUmGUODt8qdJ-kA7p7HM6LLsisWVu6zErJvii3x6edT06v7kh9dQfXR5lMCBUSBGvG-9c2RUh7EE/s1600/AltarforWomen4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEx3AtDK9Rg3cC5U8GPaJFDZF5hJURnUkmMZ7jUj8ARTMwyPpyWv4ZDEa0aQInw6FFUmGUODt8qdJ-kA7p7HM6LLsisWVu6zErJvii3x6edT06v7kh9dQfXR5lMCBUSBGvG-9c2RUh7EE/s640/AltarforWomen4.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Altar for Women</i> by Maureen Baker-Barria, Rosemary Barria, Liz Black, Amy DeSitter, Anna Cathleen DeVore, and Alison L. Miller, 2012. Materials: Cardboard, fabric, sugar, newspaper, paper, paper ephemera, plastic beads, glass drops, dried flowers, and plastic figures.</td></tr>
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One of the best experiences I have had this season was working on <i>Altar for Women</i> with a group of creative ladies for the Dia de los Muertos exhibition at the <a href="http://www.mattierhodes.org/" target="_blank">Mattie Rhodes Center</a>. Mattie Rhodes, which is located on Kansas City's West Side, is an educational center dedicated to Latino arts and culture. I enjoyed working on this project tremendously. My partners and I often seemed to be of one mind, which simplified the decision-making process. I would be delighted to work with any of these women again. Our altar subtly referenced the attack on the rights of women, both in the US and abroad - cue the creepy arm crawling out from under the altar. </div>
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The piece was exhibited under the group name <a href="http://hyperkewl.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Hyperkewl</a>. Hyperkewl Projects was founded by Rosemary Barria while she was living in Chicago. According to the description on Hyperkewl's facebook page, "Initially a sound and video show in Chicago, IL, the heart and mind
of Hyperkewl has become a collective of people interested in community
endeavors and collaborative creation. Hyperkewl exists as an online
information hub, a monthly event, and takes on various projects that we
come up with. The identity and endeavors flux and are open to new ideas
from anyone." Luckily for Kansas City, Rosemary has returned her talents to the area. </div>
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Details of our altar are below:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeU42NZp9xU1AXGPRwrj4u0zP7KcTHdFfimrX5B-h6J0brvD5gjjP88htZHqwRFvWJi-yUUoRqAAvgmYoM0JquIurh6w1hKD61VgENL_4ndVLWqHxBGBDz1n6lY4yd7I_EpCLCTpZEFA/s1600/AltarForWomen-Detail6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJeU42NZp9xU1AXGPRwrj4u0zP7KcTHdFfimrX5B-h6J0brvD5gjjP88htZHqwRFvWJi-yUUoRqAAvgmYoM0JquIurh6w1hKD61VgENL_4ndVLWqHxBGBDz1n6lY4yd7I_EpCLCTpZEFA/s640/AltarForWomen-Detail6.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Glittery doves and paper flowers.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvk2o1UKUroJOhITPKsgD_DJPefORcL-JWAyITBhELfuRbfM6h1ZTU2-CtQvjWgIDnedJ5WJ9TuC01Ao3NXF5fNJcZz9aY8qlMbauzQmUvJsmIAe6O88CKUI45TJB0ttyhw4huHJas-Ec/s1600/AltarforWomen-Arm1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvk2o1UKUroJOhITPKsgD_DJPefORcL-JWAyITBhELfuRbfM6h1ZTU2-CtQvjWgIDnedJ5WJ9TuC01Ao3NXF5fNJcZz9aY8qlMbauzQmUvJsmIAe6O88CKUI45TJB0ttyhw4huHJas-Ec/s640/AltarforWomen-Arm1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Combative arm.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7XDOuJIKOwtoOHoE2PayFxJJ8zeco1TVXXej1sKEXQrfeY9tuTlsRhrZO0w304TdmbDIGBGN1jL27Py55qsfhxh8PGD76hU-DzAP_rxpvXTYpIi-NUQRLNo6RmDNMLpe245d1q-T4Us/s1600/AltarforWomen-Detail1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq7XDOuJIKOwtoOHoE2PayFxJJ8zeco1TVXXej1sKEXQrfeY9tuTlsRhrZO0w304TdmbDIGBGN1jL27Py55qsfhxh8PGD76hU-DzAP_rxpvXTYpIi-NUQRLNo6RmDNMLpe245d1q-T4Us/s640/AltarforWomen-Detail1.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blind Justice as Mary, or Mary as Blind Justice? You decide.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YIcMGypyOZuP1clqkOfY-0y3aaBTowaIKL6Aax0Vu9MRssoyTaVilY2dfVO0m7doyKOpekB6BHso2KMjvU6aLgsbzUYLCYGLLLqDUevui6BQG-BoS7wuW0zQ57hNsVa6HG32ERg-Dpk/s1600/AltarforWomen-Detail2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3YIcMGypyOZuP1clqkOfY-0y3aaBTowaIKL6Aax0Vu9MRssoyTaVilY2dfVO0m7doyKOpekB6BHso2KMjvU6aLgsbzUYLCYGLLLqDUevui6BQG-BoS7wuW0zQ57hNsVa6HG32ERg-Dpk/s640/AltarforWomen-Detail2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vaginal references, paper flowers, candles and sugar skulls.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSZ5h9L796u5yrLqEysQA0xQEGBznNFNnNsAqpgrASvcimttjV_HpqmRsigZegV23lLSwfwJ1IDrb51YDY1L13lZcKEQH6FsuL-wNMy-lKFN2jqFj3rc_uePnYJO9NKU4nhNufB_u4Bo/s1600/SugarSkulls1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqSZ5h9L796u5yrLqEysQA0xQEGBznNFNnNsAqpgrASvcimttjV_HpqmRsigZegV23lLSwfwJ1IDrb51YDY1L13lZcKEQH6FsuL-wNMy-lKFN2jqFj3rc_uePnYJO9NKU4nhNufB_u4Bo/s640/SugarSkulls1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More sugar skulls. </td></tr>
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Most of the altars were dedicated to family members. Because the altars referenced the daily lives of people who are now gone, they struck me as bittersweet reminders of both life and death. They were funny and moving at the same time, which put the viewers in a predicament. We were happy to celebrate the lives of those who had died, but we mourned the fact they were no longer here with us. </div>
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Here are a few of my favorite altars:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFLQLOWgoVueVC6ETXxkNYfx_hMs4drkyWsN_NKS9vwueoCk3vB08_YF4dxmRk6l6GQHNni4L1lHxT4mNAuGPiOaa1IWZ80HLnzHjKXjwRmY52LsiiFilEEwjuCbOEaXRKRqfimXh16o/s1600/FamilyAltar-Ceramic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPFLQLOWgoVueVC6ETXxkNYfx_hMs4drkyWsN_NKS9vwueoCk3vB08_YF4dxmRk6l6GQHNni4L1lHxT4mNAuGPiOaa1IWZ80HLnzHjKXjwRmY52LsiiFilEEwjuCbOEaXRKRqfimXh16o/s640/FamilyAltar-Ceramic.jpg" width="576" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This altar is gorgeous. Apparently, it's a permanent installation.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrK99gOwaI-NPenjevox2CDhFleO4Jz9ZjR2lDVZqA7xAQ0KQcdwN7aFIVD8diwVRuXMGPxmNlx9ukX8TzR5YOYjApOabbnsFns6RJ1nBROQqzhDaaIXvYflOOUQawG6IdIpGx-dm2Lec/s1600/FamilyAltar-JacobWeller-Combo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrK99gOwaI-NPenjevox2CDhFleO4Jz9ZjR2lDVZqA7xAQ0KQcdwN7aFIVD8diwVRuXMGPxmNlx9ukX8TzR5YOYjApOabbnsFns6RJ1nBROQqzhDaaIXvYflOOUQawG6IdIpGx-dm2Lec/s640/FamilyAltar-JacobWeller-Combo.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How beautiful is this altar!?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhljJs-XpGotBpA3udgHq8s5Zdr8SyleLfTWWh_9M6XlClXe0FrflEmeffXsIInrbfiYrxmidnIWBrgLTL58WNY2YDZrbZVwDF-DEAkQYxm8qWg0e4X9QihDnEln-geg2TyxrKM9GR08/s1600/FamilyAltar3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirhljJs-XpGotBpA3udgHq8s5Zdr8SyleLfTWWh_9M6XlClXe0FrflEmeffXsIInrbfiYrxmidnIWBrgLTL58WNY2YDZrbZVwDF-DEAkQYxm8qWg0e4X9QihDnEln-geg2TyxrKM9GR08/s640/FamilyAltar3.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found this to be an inspiring altar (detail).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUV7G9yuxBo45IcPyyK2NJPq8PaXndruVHbqL_CnfO74JhLIQ_aiXG89kKbuQFNgemRDE9tsxagr_GDdTk3d0v7Y88qD8tgrDcuoNzmXvK3es7Q0VDGPZatMZOMRVoZIIh5PUlgdgGfo/s1600/Altar4and5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEUV7G9yuxBo45IcPyyK2NJPq8PaXndruVHbqL_CnfO74JhLIQ_aiXG89kKbuQFNgemRDE9tsxagr_GDdTk3d0v7Y88qD8tgrDcuoNzmXvK3es7Q0VDGPZatMZOMRVoZIIh5PUlgdgGfo/s640/Altar4and5.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The skeleton possesses so much personality! Plus, you could blow the horns attached to this altar.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZBria6Dam-H-nn7gVwI8UrJAY-KzM2hauNmHxpPsSmQedUECGQUCR1LV8DCrwoa2Uvu_dnHSUNB3NNlSZtNNutoue3bzX97K7ZoPzmsulRbeSJGjIgfaWfffuGKkKbrrMdKxHbFGyYI/s1600/FamilyAltar6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzZBria6Dam-H-nn7gVwI8UrJAY-KzM2hauNmHxpPsSmQedUECGQUCR1LV8DCrwoa2Uvu_dnHSUNB3NNlSZtNNutoue3bzX97K7ZoPzmsulRbeSJGjIgfaWfffuGKkKbrrMdKxHbFGyYI/s640/FamilyAltar6.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I loved this quiet and delicate altar. </td></tr>
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The altar below moved me to tears:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2G0VgKbnhnJE7sH5wsWslU8cdPVAd0aVvN8ldyMJeh12KY2egdAyqQYEtxx2HO_sYfOyNFFulJ0xFqKCPkpdlIs9xpUo0qnA-XYMV5jv2O6cDziNZZ2QSxlH2iAbUZHXE2HbT3eV_X4/s1600/CelebratingMemoriesShrine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2G0VgKbnhnJE7sH5wsWslU8cdPVAd0aVvN8ldyMJeh12KY2egdAyqQYEtxx2HO_sYfOyNFFulJ0xFqKCPkpdlIs9xpUo0qnA-XYMV5jv2O6cDziNZZ2QSxlH2iAbUZHXE2HbT3eV_X4/s640/CelebratingMemoriesShrine.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adding a note to a loved one.</td></tr>
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The instructions atop this altar encouraged each viewer to write a note to a loved one who had died. I wrote to my Aunt Vickie, of course. The simple process of hand writing a note to Aunt Vickie and then "delivering" the note into its cubby brought out so many emotions.</div>
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Did you do anything to celebrate Day of the Dead? Have you participated in any group efforts lately? I would love hear about them.</div>
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Alison :)</div>
<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-38706477090204610992012-11-04T20:13:00.000-06:002012-11-04T20:13:55.053-06:00Quote of the Moment #9 - On Finding Someone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCYkXSfyZlS1wDWV1-v8VoDMiqMWrTmkLTwOJZXaQfH4fCBpiAgc-2pafOpb2_xupoBr2qXUym5Ljj-cx4Q1q5IaC0EEDSzL0jEf32l6U6MQhdCgqgsde9vgcPbSCLqyc3-534XrZqUQ/s1600/Quote-FallinLove,CatchYou.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCYkXSfyZlS1wDWV1-v8VoDMiqMWrTmkLTwOJZXaQfH4fCBpiAgc-2pafOpb2_xupoBr2qXUym5Ljj-cx4Q1q5IaC0EEDSzL0jEf32l6U6MQhdCgqgsde9vgcPbSCLqyc3-534XrZqUQ/s640/Quote-FallinLove,CatchYou.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My friend Margo* and I, being two single ladies who are none too fond of the the whole bar scene, decided to up our man-meeting odds by attending a Speed Dating event. Pro: knowing all the gentlemen would be single and looking. Con: not knowing anything else about the guys. </div>
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Margo had called the Event Organizer in advance to make sure this event would be appropriate for women in their early thirties. The Event Organizer confirmed it was so and told us to come, with $10.00 apiece for food and entertainment. We had no idea how entertained we would be.</div>
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When we arrived at the event space, we were not sure if we were at a clubhouse or someone's private residence. Since quite a few (rather nice) cars were parked out front, we assumed we were in the right place. We sucked in our tummies, puffed out our chests, worked up our nerves, and headed to the front door. We were ready to mingle.</div>
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What we found was a roomful of primarily older singles (the nice cars now made sense). We de-sucked and de-puffed and started breathing again. Since we had approached the event with adventurous spirits and no to low expectations, we joined the throng. Margo and I were blossoms amongst full blooms, which made us a bit conspicuous. </div>
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After a dinner of hot dogs, veggies and truly delicious brownies, we played a mixer game. Each lady had to put her shoe in a basket, while the guys huddled outside on the front porch. The shoes were passed to the men, and the women dispersed into the cold sans one shoe. Then, the men searched the premises, each seeking his "solemate." Thank heavens my socks didn't have holes in them! That is probably as rare as meeting someone.</div>
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My match was a much older gentleman who very quickly rejected my kind attentions. I had the best seat in the whole place. I had snagged the porch swing early on in the game and had invited him to sit with me. He declined, without actually saying no. The whole game was rather awkward, as there were more women than men. Plus, it was too cold to wander far from the clubhouse. One-on-one conversations became group conversations, and some women never met a "solemate" at all. A game like that would have been much more effective with an evenly mixed group on a pretty spring or summer evening.</div>
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Eventually, we were all rounded up, and the Speed Dating began. Surprisingly, most men are not the hounds we are told they are. It seemed like most of the guys really were looking for women closer to their own ages and life experience. I could tell most of them were not actually looking at me as a potential match. I am sure they knew I felt the same. Despite that, I was open to meeting everyone. I figure you can talk to anyone for eight minutes, and you can really get a sense of what's important to people in that amount of time. I focused on asking the guys questions for the most part, and I actually ended up having several really good conversations. I especially enjoyed speaking with the man who originally rejected my hospitality. It turns out he is a longtime professional musician and college instructor, a lover of the fine arts, and a big reader. Even though it was not a love match, it felt really good to connect with someone new. And I experienced that over and over again last night.</div>
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It turns out that I got to spend my evening with a bunch of good people. All anyone wants to do is connect with someone special, and they are willing to put themselves in socially awkward situations to do so. And by "they," I definitely mean myself and Margo. I didn't come home with a potential boyfriend or even the butterflies. However, Margo and I laughed a lot, and now we have yet another good story to tell.</div>
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I would definitely go to a Speed Dating event again. Next time, I would like to go to an event with people who are specifically in their 20s and 30s, though... What do you think? Is there is any way to make Speed Dating relevant to younger people? Surely there are younger guys and gals who aren't so good at or comfortable with hitting on people who would might benefit from a "safe" place to mix and mingle?</div>
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What is the most unusual thing you have done to meet someone? Did it work? If so, give me some tips! I'm single and loving it, but I might love being in a great relationship even more...</div>
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Alison :)</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">*Name has been changed to protect the guilty.</span></div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-8923885806776123692012-10-27T00:26:00.002-05:002012-10-27T00:28:10.332-05:00Home, Sweet Home<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eudfDWidY4yNnMs6mXHLal9aDDhv1yZlTiA_FIdXDg4_yNKEi79JOFRHdybvZijw-P-Ekj3y4T4_u2foWqNLNoyMY9U9ur7b4krs6xcbpitpPSVlqdSG7SmafRI7Jgcsf0I7ARaGtzI/s1600/House1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-eudfDWidY4yNnMs6mXHLal9aDDhv1yZlTiA_FIdXDg4_yNKEi79JOFRHdybvZijw-P-Ekj3y4T4_u2foWqNLNoyMY9U9ur7b4krs6xcbpitpPSVlqdSG7SmafRI7Jgcsf0I7ARaGtzI/s640/House1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A little peek at my Friday night hangout (at least for this Friday).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SO0Ves3ZV782JRUhBZtHueNHagyTdfFTK4TTc3sXs_7uhZuerHDvTX5okV-dnO4jvhjA4apevvMlRyoCW6exCi02Hp1g2GUpMou8i-ihGU9GnDN_o_kid8-0uAo5kwNjKw_Bw0fJgSw/s1600/House2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-SO0Ves3ZV782JRUhBZtHueNHagyTdfFTK4TTc3sXs_7uhZuerHDvTX5okV-dnO4jvhjA4apevvMlRyoCW6exCi02Hp1g2GUpMou8i-ihGU9GnDN_o_kid8-0uAo5kwNjKw_Bw0fJgSw/s640/House2.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My computer is just about as vintage as the rest of my stuff.</td></tr>
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Sometimes, I just don't feel up to going out on Friday night. I'd rather organize papers, play on Pinterest, and catch up on my favorite blogs. Sometimes, I'd rather hang out with my computer than round up my friends, 'though I love them dearly. Most of the time, I would much rather read a good book than put effort into dating. And, yet, I wonder at my singleness... </div>
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Tonight is one of those nights when I just feel like spending time with me. Maybe next Friday I'll head out on an adventure, but for tonight, this ultra-cold and gloomy night, it's enough that I worked on an art project. I re-learned an old fiber technique, while half-listening to fictional cop shows on tv. </div>
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My sister and her friend are going to spend the night tomorrow night. That, of course, led to some serious binge cleaning earlier this evening. Now, the bathroom, kitchen and living living room are acceptable. I am particularly proud of the state of my pantry. I still have to deal with my bedroom, but it's grown late quickly. That mess will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, it's time for hard licorice, tea and me.</div>
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It amazes me; now that I'm an adult, having Friday night all to myself is such a luxury. </div>
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How do you like to spend your Friday nights when you have no plans whatsoever?</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-14263886364979420452012-10-24T13:49:00.000-05:002012-10-24T13:49:36.752-05:00Livin' La Vida Local, no. 3: L.C.'s Hamburgers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s1600/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s640/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Known for its many fountains, a ridiculous number of barbecue
restaurants, stellar live jazz and blues, and a well-established art
scene, Kansas City, Missouri, provides plenty to experience. I
thoroughly enjoy livin' la vida local in the Flyover Zone. Join me as I
explore new finds and old faves in this big small town I call home. </i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlRY701lgzgn6oARxDPXhjLFPGeUSKUMoMGJa2gjWhKMRdcJUtaeZdntyRnKSLAlDfWIQoE1p4S5J8VIs-hp6cI1KhSB2df6H2Qc0H7AgX51vc7KwKRhoAaFp1VzuVIkVZg2N2gaBxGk/s1600/LCs7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHlRY701lgzgn6oARxDPXhjLFPGeUSKUMoMGJa2gjWhKMRdcJUtaeZdntyRnKSLAlDfWIQoE1p4S5J8VIs-hp6cI1KhSB2df6H2Qc0H7AgX51vc7KwKRhoAaFp1VzuVIkVZg2N2gaBxGk/s640/LCs7.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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L.C.'s Hamburgers isn't just a Kansas City tradition; it's also a family tradition. My parents met in high school, and L.C.'s was one of their hot date spots. My mom usually ordered "The Big Deal," which included a quarter-pound cheeseburger, french fries and a regular drink, while my dad was more likely to request the Italian Steak. The menu today is very much as it was in the early 1970s, as is the interior. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0RwBtokp_ZWt8glbbZbaJQaiZr12ef2GprMjs_c9SZW5eo8zFhw5_Rx-jBLwFIhk3Aa-Hvh08S2lpL5H_5iPlJ0DLQi_c9Ugu-EMnMi_xNLk0Fssf6fz40nAzYUCwL8oT6vN3iCKAJU/s1600/LCs4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc0RwBtokp_ZWt8glbbZbaJQaiZr12ef2GprMjs_c9SZW5eo8zFhw5_Rx-jBLwFIhk3Aa-Hvh08S2lpL5H_5iPlJ0DLQi_c9Ugu-EMnMi_xNLk0Fssf6fz40nAzYUCwL8oT6vN3iCKAJU/s640/LCs4.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Many thanks to mi madre for modeling.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A collection of round- and square-topped tables, surrounded by little round stools, inhabits the small interior. Upon walking in, you actually feel as if you have stepped back in time. Then, you step up to the window and order your greasy fare. You cannot be worried about your diet if you're eating here, although, to L.C.'s credit, salads do appear on the menu.</span> But, really, if you're going to L.C.'s, you are not going for a salad.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRb-UicRnj8m9a4HgegMdl5vf1uElXhN6lvzL_Yj6IVBRAFkX5BEWPU276hvPCQPA1tDIkxpghB-nGuKNOONgYHjKID99ekl3u8AJFbesFnYLx9BrdDU2xHkjliFAN65X9fiH1w7Mc3O8/s1600/LCs6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRb-UicRnj8m9a4HgegMdl5vf1uElXhN6lvzL_Yj6IVBRAFkX5BEWPU276hvPCQPA1tDIkxpghB-nGuKNOONgYHjKID99ekl3u8AJFbesFnYLx9BrdDU2xHkjliFAN65X9fiH1w7Mc3O8/s640/LCs6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After a recent appointment near Platte Woods, where L.C.'s is located, my mom and I had the urge for some old school burgers and fries, so, of course, L.C.'s was at the top of our list. Don't let a drive to the Northland scare you. This place is good, and it can definitely compete with burger joints like Hayes' Hamburgers and Town Topic.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1_JBIK2tiknH-BKvcJpSWpMyGyu6z4ce2bAweRAIEwrypt39oJueaFZqL-Ve8Otgd4WJ63QnS8yAweiwBuTLrUxiKdKEkGLdhtqjKwHoQOZZcw66t1tLo-2TlEZDJG0pHXTJb-fBGdY/s1600/LCs1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju1_JBIK2tiknH-BKvcJpSWpMyGyu6z4ce2bAweRAIEwrypt39oJueaFZqL-Ve8Otgd4WJ63QnS8yAweiwBuTLrUxiKdKEkGLdhtqjKwHoQOZZcw66t1tLo-2TlEZDJG0pHXTJb-fBGdY/s640/LCs1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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My mom and I both ordered the "Big Deal," but I think next time around, I will order a smaller burger. Mine came with grilled onions and all the fixings. My mom ordered hers plain. The onions were grilled to perfection, and Mom and I are both huge fans of thin, well-cooked burgers. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8ovBWKqshdiKoA-FuSs6qF-imJT2s0WKq129o6IPURC-htAyNbY4-bAbZbJNgjQwf61-eCrAcXOXZruguYmGJ2N1pKknKe9aQEiKLSu1sI04Z0rQEdzx38ZbttasZOJG3NoIhhR861g/s1600/LCs2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8ovBWKqshdiKoA-FuSs6qF-imJT2s0WKq129o6IPURC-htAyNbY4-bAbZbJNgjQwf61-eCrAcXOXZruguYmGJ2N1pKknKe9aQEiKLSu1sI04Z0rQEdzx38ZbttasZOJG3NoIhhR861g/s640/LCs2.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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And, of course, the fries were divine. Served hot and greasy with just enough salt, it was impossible not to devour the entire serving. The only thing that would have made my meal better is if I had finished it off with a chocolate shake. However, I was trying to exercise a little (very little) restraint.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">What's your favorite greasy spoon or family hot spot?</span></div>
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Alison :)</div>
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Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-1916662237262863882012-10-24T12:37:00.000-05:002012-10-24T12:38:15.919-05:00Old As Mold<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjedaz0Qdq1iXz3XzH16uLOX1YmIv4NTxQDS_gMcaCuziUuudjqhAoak2gBobGuWkQHOJm8fNqMBqK-3pZKpWMdORteD7Sf7jfpRm_JpkdCJHtD_hNiI7o5-HRPAQlA0CyWX-AH9zKJzjs/s1600/OldFar-Cake2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="456" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjedaz0Qdq1iXz3XzH16uLOX1YmIv4NTxQDS_gMcaCuziUuudjqhAoak2gBobGuWkQHOJm8fNqMBqK-3pZKpWMdORteD7Sf7jfpRm_JpkdCJHtD_hNiI7o5-HRPAQlA0CyWX-AH9zKJzjs/s640/OldFar-Cake2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom said my grandma always labeled birthday cakes with candy letters. That's why my mom included them on my uncle's 50th birthday cake - to remind him of his now officially ended youth.</td></tr>
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Can you believe 1962 was 50 years ago? Yeah, neither can my Uncle Bob. We celebrated his 50th birthday with a chocolate cake blanketed by a nice white, fluffy marshmallowy icing, <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/314199/marshmallow-frosting" target="_blank">courtesy of Ms. Stewart</a>. My grandma used to make a similar icing, but my mom, who can whip up just about anything else, has never been able to make a good batch. This similar recipe saved the day. It turned out perfectly, and, while not exactly like grandma's, it tasted delicious! Uncle Bob was pleased.</div>
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Have you discovered any recipes that are similar to old family favorites?</div>
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Alison :)</div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-76042209164182295702012-10-23T00:48:00.003-05:002012-10-23T00:52:19.356-05:00Old Enough to Fight, Old Enough to Vote<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GkE8e-H0ZFjzfMJ-KM_mFDRFilqZaanF9wq-OxPdNDlGtdNxhyphenhyphen466eLf7zV6F9saWicgeR15YEDvK5ZQda-bgC9vnQdlC0-W_WjMbn4-FG6ylzIQvQNAatqjF8_H1X8bwEVMex1AZew/s1600/vote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="500" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1GkE8e-H0ZFjzfMJ-KM_mFDRFilqZaanF9wq-OxPdNDlGtdNxhyphenhyphen466eLf7zV6F9saWicgeR15YEDvK5ZQda-bgC9vnQdlC0-W_WjMbn4-FG6ylzIQvQNAatqjF8_H1X8bwEVMex1AZew/s640/vote.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm not sure of this cartoon's original source, but I really like the sentiment.</td></tr>
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Today I heard George McGovern died. Hearing his name reminded me that my parents voted for him in the 1972 presidential election. Apparently, they were on the wrong side of the landslide. That's not the important thing, though. What's worth remembering is that my parents were among the first group of 18-year-olds who, by Constitutional Amendment, had the right to vote during a presidential election. The 26th Amendment to the US Constitution, ratified in 1971, lowered the voting age to 18 in <i>all</i> states for <i>all</i> elections - local, state and federal. </div>
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If you don't know much about the 26th Amendment, I recommend you study up. Like the 14th, 15th and 19th Amendments, the 26th Amendment expanded voting rights and, thus, civil rights. While murmurs of protest over the minimum voting age had been heard since World War II, it wasn't until the Vietnam War, when people too young to vote faced being drafted into military service to fight an unpopular war, that things really heated up. More and more people publicly condemned a policy that required young people to risk their lives, yet have no say in who made the rules. The "youth of America"* and their supporters held protests. Many politicians voiced support of lowering the voting age to 18. Once written and passed by the Senate and the House of Representatives, the amendment was quickly ratified.</div>
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Here is the sad thing, though. Approximately <i>half</i> the 18- to 24-year-olds** in the country voted during the last presidential election - and that was an election young people were really excited about. I know in a time when the Citizens United ruling seems to give those with more money a bigger, louder voice, it can be hard to believe voting and speaking out make a difference. I, however, believe that when many little voices combine, they can grow into a roar. </div>
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History is something we live. It's not separate from our own lives, and it isn't something that happened in the past. We have the power to influence our government and its policies. We just have to use all the means provided, and all the means we can create, to be heard.</div>
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When was the last time you exercised your right to vote? I hope the next time will be November 6, no matter who will be getting your vote.</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">* So Richard Nixon named them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">** Um, I'm not in that demographic now, nor was I during the last election. But the rest of us didn't do too well, either. Despite that, I've always felt like it was important to vote and be politically active. I do what I can to make myself heard. In my family, politics are definitely a sport, a hobby, a favorite subject. :)</span></div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-22197696308307650842012-10-18T23:23:00.001-05:002012-10-18T23:34:44.260-05:00My Mom is So Talented<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRqlg-RAKW6_oWeqM2hki800u2UAD_KnlBZoRUEI4Y39Xr0FNx-xT7XbEWYkyrjdllbsLKxc2SEY7UBRrQ7VEm8Oh_3umOf6QVAVIVe4DJcnS2m8CPL7lpAvvTGubpMexDGOfeqWSI0c/s1600/Mom-PrettyPaperFlower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="366" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRqlg-RAKW6_oWeqM2hki800u2UAD_KnlBZoRUEI4Y39Xr0FNx-xT7XbEWYkyrjdllbsLKxc2SEY7UBRrQ7VEm8Oh_3umOf6QVAVIVe4DJcnS2m8CPL7lpAvvTGubpMexDGOfeqWSI0c/s640/Mom-PrettyPaperFlower.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrapping paper flower made by my very own and highly talented mom.</td></tr>
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My mom was recently inspired by all the pretty eye candy on Pinterest - because, really, who isn't these days? She concocted a darling paper flower to add a little flourish to one of my sister's birthday presents. Isn't it just dandy? If I were the proud owner of said flower, I would hang it on my wall, or possibly set it in a coordinating dish. Some ephemera is just too cute to trash. That, of course, explains the state of my apartment... Hmm.</div>
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Check out some of my mom's pins via my <a href="http://pinterest.com/alisonlmiller/" target="_blank">Pinterest profile</a>, on the board entitled "<a href="http://pinterest.com/alisonlmiller/mom/" target="_blank">mom</a>." Is your mom on Pinterest? Are you? I am an addict and a half, and my mom and sister are big fans, too.</div>
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Find my mom and me. We'd love to see your pins and share ours with you.That's it for tonight. I've gotta get back to pinning.</div>
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Alison :)</div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-31909657275021172432012-10-16T02:10:00.000-05:002012-10-16T02:10:44.469-05:00ACED, Fall 2012, Round 1<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgafPRu3KU3yB84fTuwGMBhGvMkvULir_DO5FR34T5C0SAXh8k8K8930eTU_08WNpSZpOUU3u5pesIu-PjdxyhM-wxM2zL0xBiQxO3wcX8fWJlrqLVYEA8wEh27iQ6ZSKIICfVP2Xx0F8I/s1600/ACED-AlisonScrapped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgafPRu3KU3yB84fTuwGMBhGvMkvULir_DO5FR34T5C0SAXh8k8K8930eTU_08WNpSZpOUU3u5pesIu-PjdxyhM-wxM2zL0xBiQxO3wcX8fWJlrqLVYEA8wEh27iQ6ZSKIICfVP2Xx0F8I/s640/ACED-AlisonScrapped.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, yeah, I'm making the duck face in these photos. The student whose smashbook is on the left depicted me as a chocolate fiend. How ever did she know!?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Fall 2012 session of <a href="http://www.ihd.umkc.edu/aced/" target="_blank">ACED</a> at Longview just ended, and the session at UMKC will begin in less than a week. ACED is an incredible enrichment program for adults with intellectual disabilities who live in Jackson County, Missouri. I have been teaching classes (mostly art) for ACED for the past seven years. ACED is of tremendous importance to me. I am so happy and proud to be a part of this valuable program. This time around, I taught the following classes: <i>To Be or Not To Be</i>, a poetry class; <i>Super Smashbooks</i>, a scrapbooking class; and <i>Light Up Your Life</i>, a class focusing on various types of lighting.</span> Here I am showcasing work from the scrapbooking and lighting classes.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5wRj-PtFWkWEtH3s_24BdEDUgN2eqZR2H1-8LsKN-bhcbomv4r4uYIB-ujmohlrDsIlV-kkEYsPppaU9a2_oRdWhhLGWGqmSie1SK-rZ6PONa-gC_xl2dOFNOLciQPTi_bva7-0WBu_0/s1600/ACED-Smashbooks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5wRj-PtFWkWEtH3s_24BdEDUgN2eqZR2H1-8LsKN-bhcbomv4r4uYIB-ujmohlrDsIlV-kkEYsPppaU9a2_oRdWhhLGWGqmSie1SK-rZ6PONa-gC_xl2dOFNOLciQPTi_bva7-0WBu_0/s640/ACED-Smashbooks.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Examples of the scrapbook pages my students made in Super Smashbooks.</td></tr>
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Smashbooking is a casual form of scrapbooking, which most closely resembles the memory books of days of yore. Think comments from friends, yellowing tape, and a log of four leaf clovers, for example. Smashbooks are meant for doodling, dreaming, jotting and journaling. </div>
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To simplify the project for my students, we used binders to collect our pages. Binders are sturdy, easy to find, and relatively inexpensive. The students can also continue to add or switch out pages at home. The pages were created on yellow sheet dividers. That way, we did not have to use complicated binding methods or punch holes in our pages. We kept "Me, Myself and I" in mind as we worked, as these scrapbooks were intended to contain deeply personal expressions of the students' experiences. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">On the first week of class, I asked students to fill out a questionnaire about themselves and collect ephemera from home to add to their scrapbooks. In class, we initially worked on covering each page with a piece of scrapbook paper. The goal was to work loosely and allow some of the yellow base paper to show. As the class progressed, we took photographs for our scrapbooks, brought papers and cards from home to adhere to pages, and chopped up our questionnaires to add to pages randomly. Each week we employed new techniques, and our goal was to work in a nonlinear fashion through the book. In all, I was so impressed by the creativity of my students. In the photos above, you can see examples of how students collaged their pages with a variety of materials.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMKMNbI-FsuNx98B3OWJ92utlWM5lCiSYhyfLpgy1_Vrt_TbGDCBoayTB5HdQ0_-eE-WoE-ZlcgoOJe37yQEV0w0xu51EAqkEa3gIvnxcdgn9297AzmzGWDVw2_mgr4p_tOAGcMqSYr0/s1600/ACEDLamps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzMKMNbI-FsuNx98B3OWJ92utlWM5lCiSYhyfLpgy1_Vrt_TbGDCBoayTB5HdQ0_-eE-WoE-ZlcgoOJe37yQEV0w0xu51EAqkEa3gIvnxcdgn9297AzmzGWDVw2_mgr4p_tOAGcMqSYr0/s640/ACEDLamps.jpg" width="486" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are the lamps, candles, candle holders and luminaries my students made in Light Up Your Life. Here's a super awesome tip for your own lampshade project: when you draw with markers on a cloth lampshade, the ink resembles watercolor paints!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">In <i>Light Up Your Life</i>, we explored the history of lighting, from torches to compact fluorescent light bulbs. We made luminaries from both glass jars and colorful paper sacks, candlesticks from pipe fittings, candles from beeswax sheets, lampshades for Christmas tree lights from cupcake liners, and we decorated lampshades. Each student was challenged to design a lampshade on paper, and the next week the students translated their designs. My students were very industrious each week and accomplished so much. I am very pleased with how well the projects turned out!</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi314hIs0d-lHgTjgam8FCUqMpzbFapbV_s3Ayi5v6RiEGauWA-GRmBu-BOOnG6HmcsDxIDj2b-U_M_jshqVljMa30mQO1Dn7kNByEDrqqC9NmQL9W8215bRNYnw6b64zaZFOMMo-k9vek/s1600/ACED-JarLuminary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi314hIs0d-lHgTjgam8FCUqMpzbFapbV_s3Ayi5v6RiEGauWA-GRmBu-BOOnG6HmcsDxIDj2b-U_M_jshqVljMa30mQO1Dn7kNByEDrqqC9NmQL9W8215bRNYnw6b64zaZFOMMo-k9vek/s640/ACED-JarLuminary.jpg" width="430" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A glass jar luminary covered with lace doilies. These looked so pretty when lit!</td></tr>
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Have you ever made a smashbook or lamps/candles/other lighting? I would love to hear about your projects! I am ALWAYS looking for new ideas for my classes - um, and even myself!<br />
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Alison :)<br />
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-40696758491003033142012-10-01T22:56:00.002-05:002012-10-01T22:58:16.453-05:00Holy Moly<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeoRXU-pRCge50VNl9FC3ldsCjZDiaHMluntXL2YaGNqt3yEJp81W1hCbpLyqLJgBf-23m2A4k8ySmiNs1p_GucoACJlTKtORxIeTFvBrlZRnstDR9XDcUQOpd4Ayjvc-LW6Cu_OfXZU/s1600/Cadbury-Screme-Eggs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="560" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJeoRXU-pRCge50VNl9FC3ldsCjZDiaHMluntXL2YaGNqt3yEJp81W1hCbpLyqLJgBf-23m2A4k8ySmiNs1p_GucoACJlTKtORxIeTFvBrlZRnstDR9XDcUQOpd4Ayjvc-LW6Cu_OfXZU/s640/Cadbury-Screme-Eggs.png" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.cadburygiftsdirect.co.uk/products/765-cadbury-screme-eggs-x-48.aspx" target="_blank">Cadbury Screme Eggs</a></td></tr>
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I just discovered Cadbury Screme Eggs, the Halloween version of Cadbury's oh, so sweet and delicious Creme Egg. I resisted them today, but I'm sure my willpower won't last long. It comforts me to know I can now access Cadbury Creme Eggs twice a year. Twice the availability will lead to less hoarding and more living, er, devouring, in the moment.</div>
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Have you tried Cadbury Screme Eggs yet? Are you excited about any other Halloween candy? I'm also rather fond of Mellowcremes, especially the banana-flavored ears of corn! </div>
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Screme your tastebuds off,</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :)</span></div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-56609061502059521402012-09-13T22:15:00.001-05:002012-09-13T22:15:46.416-05:00Mustache You a Question<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGYU8XpQ1WHJo3phTrDHZLI7ZVqOXP2TjLxv1rDb96b4GJCqNI82bYyc1_XKuDL4bqP-b1az8vnJH3nxmAoKn_n2ysS7dfY-cLOagDQ_g9ePHpuKsE_w07jfD-S4OnMvOxmEi18CL0Gc/s1600/MustacheClips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaGYU8XpQ1WHJo3phTrDHZLI7ZVqOXP2TjLxv1rDb96b4GJCqNI82bYyc1_XKuDL4bqP-b1az8vnJH3nxmAoKn_n2ysS7dfY-cLOagDQ_g9ePHpuKsE_w07jfD-S4OnMvOxmEi18CL0Gc/s640/MustacheClips.jpg" width="492" /></a></div>
Keep me out of big box stores. Otherwise, I'll walk out with something like this ↑. But, I ask you, who DOESN'T need paperclips shaped like mustaches?<br />
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Alison <br />
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-90657206381019498472012-09-11T18:27:00.001-05:002012-09-11T18:28:47.021-05:00Shell-shocked (again)<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>While I originally posted this last year, I think it still sums up my experience of 9/11. What was your experience of September 11, 2001, and what changes have you noticed in yourself and in the world as each anniversary has passed?</i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPHmhrUgpsNECahyphenhyphenKlq-auGYWDxbsPJph5APMnamrxFjegwL4CXmkGc6KqYrUAi_10qHJrUBoq7ejpUHMnd7eC84GnIxshFHXK1ph8Ou4v5wsaORE_euDw1vGKyMtNVBQZvOfB6-pkt8/s1600/WTC_seq_reuters.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPHmhrUgpsNECahyphenhyphenKlq-auGYWDxbsPJph5APMnamrxFjegwL4CXmkGc6KqYrUAi_10qHJrUBoq7ejpUHMnd7eC84GnIxshFHXK1ph8Ou4v5wsaORE_euDw1vGKyMtNVBQZvOfB6-pkt8/s400/WTC_seq_reuters.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The World Trade Center, September 11, 2001.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium;"><span id="internal-source-marker_0.7089538694634965" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shell-shocked
is the best way to describe how I felt by the end of the day on
Tuesday, September 11, 2001. The day started out ordinarily enough. I
was a junior at the Kansas City Art Institute, and, as an upperclassman,
I finally had tons of creative freedom and the opportunity to get into
the classes I was really excited to take. Like every non-studio day
that semester, I had gotten up early to attend my Performance Art
elective. It wasn’t always easy to wake up after late nights in studio,
but I really loved everything I was learning. Our class was tiny, with
no more than five or seven students. We were all sitting in a circle
on the floor of Epperson Auditorium, the school’s main lecture hall,
discussing the day’s chosen topic. A student who was not in our class
came in the side door and told us the US had come under attack by
terrorists. He also said the Media Center was playing the footage on
TV. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Our
teacher was permissive, so we all headed from our building across the
sidewalk to the building next door, where the Media Center was located.
We all felt a sense of excitement, as if we were going on a field
trip. It was fun to have our normal schedule shaken up. None of us had
any reason to suspect or expect the worst. As we entered the building,
one of the long-time Art History professors came running down the
stairs looking bewildered and more disheveled than usual. As he passed
by, he said, “This is what the US gets for its defiance.” (You have to
remember, the 9/11 attack took place less than a year after the United
States had pulled out of the Kyoto Protocol. It was not a leap to think
American attitudes on international issues and the environment might
have had something to do with the attack.) That was the first signal
that something was clearly very wrong. Whatever had happened was severe
enough to scare the heck out of an old hippie who seemed to have
witnessed it all.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When
we got upstairs, the room was full of people. I sat on an empty stool
in the back row. A TV on a cart had been pulled front and center. I saw
the New York skyline covered with billowing smoke. I turned to the guy
sitting beside me and asked, “What’s going on?” He said one of the
towers of the World Trade Center had fallen down. I said, “What do you
mean, it fell down?” Then, as I watched, I saw the second tower follow
the first to the ground floor by floor by floor. I still don’t think I
understood what was happening. I don’t think any of us did.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
don’t remember if I went to any other classes that day or if they were
canceled. All I remember is sitting on my best friend’s couch, where
we watched hours and hours of news footage. I don’t think we could
watch the Twin Towers fall enough times. We listened to eyewitness
accounts and stories of survival. We watched firefighters, police
officers and EMTs canvass the area. We flipped the channels for new
footage and information. We never tired of hearing the same details
repeated, clarified, and then reworded again. I don’t think I even
blinked that day - except when I was crying. We just couldn’t
understand how or why the Twin Towers and all those lives were simply <i>gone</i>.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Either
a day or a week later, the campus gathered together for a candlelight
ceremony. Afterward, we painted banners to send to New York. As I
recall, none of the work was particularly good. I don’t know if the
paintings ever actually made it to New York. I don’t know if it even
matters. The action of painting felt good; it was a cathartic group
event. We were stuck in the Midwest and unable to see or help anyone in
New York. There was such a strong desire and a need to DO SOMETHING.
Like a lot of people, I think what I was feeling for the first time was a
joint patriotic goal in the PRESENT to work toward. This was nothing
read in a history book. I was INVOLVED. I wanted New York to heal, but I
had no idea how to make that happen. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
didn’t know where the actions of that early morning would lead, but I
knew whatever happened, it would be bloody and more innocent lives
would certainly be lost. Already, I heard people calling for payback
and Saddam Hussein’s head. I am not sure if I learned the word Taliban
that day or not, but it and the name Osama bin Laden entered my
vocabulary soon enough. Overall, I felt fearful and worried for the
lives of Americans and non-Americans alike. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fear
became a steady state of being in the United States. For the first
time in my life, I felt like the United States was vulnerable to
outside forces. It seemed like the main political goal was for America
to secure itself from THE OTHER, no matter what the cost. I remember
hearing the words “Terror Alert” so often, they became meaningless. It
was just the status quo. I think about the kids I work with in my new
job in higher education. The majority of them are no older than 22.
Most of them developed their political consciousness in a United States
changed by 9/11, its aftershocks, and the rhetoric that has developed
as a result. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My
sister, an 8th grade English and Social Studies teacher, has students
who have NO memories whatsoever of a pre-9/11 world. What do we tell
them? How do we explain this event to people who haven’t yet been born?
All I know is the last ten years have passed quickly, and they have
wrought many changes, some I agree with and some I don’t. At the same
time, daily life remains, in many ways, unchanged. I wish I knew where
we would be on the 20th anniversary of 9/11, but I can’t predict it. I
hope we are recovered and more hopeful as a nation. I hope the people
who lost loved ones or experienced horrors that day find peace. I hope
all the societies we have affected since then will be on their way to
recovery, too. I hope I can have something personal and true to tell my
(future) children about that day and about these past ten (and
forthcoming) years. </span></span></div>
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</span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">What were your experiences of the original 9/11? How have they influenced you and how you think today?</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Alison </span></span></div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-22594649474721072512012-09-07T23:46:00.002-05:002012-09-07T23:46:57.889-05:00Black & White All Over: Aubrey Beardsley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4Wkk_qGoVhCXY-rwTya9BQGzJT4LHMVdD07sLGN7jym1Bk830WHjOi24eD_mtK2F5E322aCprvINSRx8xV9Qva9BAQLu0oe3C7MbfT_Wp-XFXUW9LBrA0Iv8_D3M5b2X921brXuziSg/s1600/ABeardsley1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW4Wkk_qGoVhCXY-rwTya9BQGzJT4LHMVdD07sLGN7jym1Bk830WHjOi24eD_mtK2F5E322aCprvINSRx8xV9Qva9BAQLu0oe3C7MbfT_Wp-XFXUW9LBrA0Iv8_D3M5b2X921brXuziSg/s640/ABeardsley1.jpg" width="524" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYewji4iAnvO7xx4OeE1rGKsRXRi9tBjuedwsbys0BJLJv2EGW4Cew04pT00ku_U3CBxKUd2oZfBpwrhNGswzvux6BwU_MsgZ6p-hovzkeW8ls7dzBxrIAkxk0rulb7Ww-9QOPCzYSXA/s1600/ABeardsley3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="548" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikYewji4iAnvO7xx4OeE1rGKsRXRi9tBjuedwsbys0BJLJv2EGW4Cew04pT00ku_U3CBxKUd2oZfBpwrhNGswzvux6BwU_MsgZ6p-hovzkeW8ls7dzBxrIAkxk0rulb7Ww-9QOPCzYSXA/s640/ABeardsley3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMKjlFG_R6sSaaqtAfXKla7JvukzzB8dUEEdwCv6HxgxjE3WCZ3McQWf44sMFnTOSsTL1S9AQ2qTQiZaE_ut6pBVca6qb8RNVJxTe0mRutA2xAoBfxW_bspXyOxYnx-EUurGAZCxFA5k/s1600/ABeardsley4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMKjlFG_R6sSaaqtAfXKla7JvukzzB8dUEEdwCv6HxgxjE3WCZ3McQWf44sMFnTOSsTL1S9AQ2qTQiZaE_ut6pBVca6qb8RNVJxTe0mRutA2xAoBfxW_bspXyOxYnx-EUurGAZCxFA5k/s640/ABeardsley4.jpg" width="444" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIXYQRBpMP9x5mreA1-rX8z4znAwJWAe5gb3FQLjgNgaxcTH1IzoY8r05jJq2yABGO3Cf22fOXe9EENGIWLsu2FiMWHzuZfRW1PIM59E0GS7eUhq59x-2yaM8bU1MHYTM7uHU8Ylkg2U/s1600/ABeardsley5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIXYQRBpMP9x5mreA1-rX8z4znAwJWAe5gb3FQLjgNgaxcTH1IzoY8r05jJq2yABGO3Cf22fOXe9EENGIWLsu2FiMWHzuZfRW1PIM59E0GS7eUhq59x-2yaM8bU1MHYTM7uHU8Ylkg2U/s640/ABeardsley5.jpg" width="582" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrphUghd2lK5Kt8Xj5mkZCMtSSD6aOeMxYNrvQZRq4ypEC6PCcRSGp4roaofo6qBz-t9yduHGBkr3_zozcJeFaaNmqXjHsEehvzyd0h5Z37FDlizu01EcMT6NxgDXLRrv9CkZzifuZ5M/s1600/ABeardsley6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvrphUghd2lK5Kt8Xj5mkZCMtSSD6aOeMxYNrvQZRq4ypEC6PCcRSGp4roaofo6qBz-t9yduHGBkr3_zozcJeFaaNmqXjHsEehvzyd0h5Z37FDlizu01EcMT6NxgDXLRrv9CkZzifuZ5M/s640/ABeardsley6.jpg" width="460" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPj3-GIsuhrDF28qozjmlTbEzgdbPQpRrai-X6LvYDh7AHSpo-gzZ0gm4u3bQ7b_0R3eQy6d0aLi2_anY-9fI2P01og8afnzzfN8vNNYWCIKwLN95AzwwKFwje3uJyPfQzC3btVxZ_Kfo/s1600/ABeardsley7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="518" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPj3-GIsuhrDF28qozjmlTbEzgdbPQpRrai-X6LvYDh7AHSpo-gzZ0gm4u3bQ7b_0R3eQy6d0aLi2_anY-9fI2P01og8afnzzfN8vNNYWCIKwLN95AzwwKFwje3uJyPfQzC3btVxZ_Kfo/s640/ABeardsley7.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A forgery (at left) accompanying the real deal.</td></tr>
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I happened upon the book <i>The Collected Drawings of Aubrey Beardsley</i>
while thrift store shopping. I adore Beardsley's deft hand. I cannot get
over the line quality employed in each illustration and throughout his entire body of work! Sometimes beautiful and
sometimes grotesque, Beardsley's stylized drawings appeal to me.</div>
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According to the editor Bruce S. Harris, while Beardsley died when he was just 26, he had reached such
fame beforehand that work in his style was often produced. I have
included a piece here that was included in an exhibition of forged
pieces attributed to Beardsley. Can you tell the
difference?</div>
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Have you found anything great during a recent thrift store visit? I would love to hear about it.</div>
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Alison :) </div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-13566685683716797632012-09-06T02:38:00.001-05:002012-09-06T02:40:59.429-05:00Livin' La Vida Local, no. 2: Drepung Gomang Tour<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s1600/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s640/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Known for its many fountains, a ridiculous number of barbecue
restaurants, stellar live jazz and blues, and a well-established art
scene, Kansas City, Missouri, provides plenty to experience. I
thoroughly enjoy livin' la vida local in the Flyover Zone. Join me as I
explore new finds and old faves in this big small town I call home. </i></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9CK4qdB4wXuy-On1SNOQ0ARAsRmS4XH4p4XhXjBTLN2u7N1NDtkGyXdRG1HvaHNy4XgXgTO3JJdRs225o6jo-vRkJb_4bny8I1vSsb5u68I4GHxbNrop5Kp3FlV6xhNIww5eFAf-ws4/s1600/Monks+After+Ceremony.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid9CK4qdB4wXuy-On1SNOQ0ARAsRmS4XH4p4XhXjBTLN2u7N1NDtkGyXdRG1HvaHNy4XgXgTO3JJdRs225o6jo-vRkJb_4bny8I1vSsb5u68I4GHxbNrop5Kp3FlV6xhNIww5eFAf-ws4/s640/Monks+After+Ceremony.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The monks visiting Kansas City from the Drepung Gomang Monastery stand together in saffron and maroon.</td></tr>
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<span id="internal-source-marker_0.13388689198057635" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span id="internal-source-marker_0.13388689198057635" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span id="internal-source-marker_0.13388689198057635" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
Temple Buddhist Center/Unity Temple on the Plaza, University of Kansas,
the Vietnamese Buddhist Association, and the Rime Buddhist Center are
currently hosting the Drepung Gomang Tour 2012. The Tibetan Buddhist
monks from the Drepung Gomang Monastery in Mundgod, South India, are in
town to spread their message of interfaith peace and raise funds to
support the 2,000 monks in residence at the monastery and to provide
food, lodging and education for the refugees who have fled to the
monastery from Chinese-occupied Tibet.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8MoG7GBZo6-17sxPZy7EGteEwtaDxxDGA5IFLtpcccW302S5mcabMCxLTiWgkTlxTSPIy-ZGI-seEomY8YtUL0vZ6Pt37kI_fJIcZVT-Kzv2uSug1G5Mba1joYnlkqLexvCsb0ZOp64/s1600/Sand+Mandala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR8MoG7GBZo6-17sxPZy7EGteEwtaDxxDGA5IFLtpcccW302S5mcabMCxLTiWgkTlxTSPIy-ZGI-seEomY8YtUL0vZ6Pt37kI_fJIcZVT-Kzv2uSug1G5Mba1joYnlkqLexvCsb0ZOp64/s640/Sand+Mandala.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This highly detailed sand mandala contains a wide variety of imagery, including common symbols of the major world religions, a lotus and other flowers, ducks, a river valley, and decorative patterns.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk6lxzaQmlekJfoY7e0udzZ0Vje2bCoxS-LgfMJr4ylq8HG8RoBWXDMUQd7MINJsLQDd1JtnZddx93BQoi-CazLQcxizsIoDHGnuXw-SfWk0Ref66d_2g2fEs9ViDUfSE0yRlg9WkWpTQ/s1600/Monks+at+Work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk6lxzaQmlekJfoY7e0udzZ0Vje2bCoxS-LgfMJr4ylq8HG8RoBWXDMUQd7MINJsLQDd1JtnZddx93BQoi-CazLQcxizsIoDHGnuXw-SfWk0Ref66d_2g2fEs9ViDUfSE0yRlg9WkWpTQ/s640/Monks+at+Work.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monks at work on the mandala at Unity Temple use special tools called chakpur to guide the sand into place.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
witnessed the construction and destruction of the the interfaith peace
sand mandala the monks created at Unity Temple this past week. The
painting was beautiful, but like many beautiful things, it is no longer
in existence. Don’t fret, though; the monks are currently constructing a
mandala at the Spencer Museum of Art on the KU campus, and they will
build yet another one at the Vietnamese Buddhist Association next week.
You can see the mandala at KU on Thursday, September 6 from 11:30 am -
7:00 pm and on Friday, September 7 from 10:30 am - 2:00 pm. The Closing
Ceremony will begin at 2:00 pm. The mandala construction at the
Vietnamese Buddhist Association will be open to the public on Friday,
September 14 and Saturday, September 15 from 10:00 am - 5:00 pm and on
Sunday, September 16 from 10:00 - 11:00 am. The Closing Ceremony will
begin at 11:00 am.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxPgsRU1jfdxVwLIFVxPIWmxWTa1LgadNu3IAZ00SghZuNf_YjZwToPdgNoo_b9enL15h4MKad3Szwr00F1TURWSe32iEcpfT82fAhyphenhyphenmMovnbc8-nCV7kKnr-Y4QTzULlO-1SDVaYHLyU/s1600/Final+Mandala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxPgsRU1jfdxVwLIFVxPIWmxWTa1LgadNu3IAZ00SghZuNf_YjZwToPdgNoo_b9enL15h4MKad3Szwr00F1TURWSe32iEcpfT82fAhyphenhyphenmMovnbc8-nCV7kKnr-Y4QTzULlO-1SDVaYHLyU/s640/Final+Mandala.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finished mandala with the monks' altar behind it.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
highly recommend watching Buddhist monks construct a sand mandala. You
definitely do not have to be a Buddhist to appreciate this cultural
experience. The time-consuming process becomes a meditation for the
viewer. The sound of sand draining from chakpur and the sight of sand slowly marking a path over the mandala
is completely enthralling. That does not even begin to cover the
artistic abilities and patience of the monks. One of the monks told me
it took five years to learn the sand painting techniques.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ohc1XTDwyUevXPpYFIEU0s8C5GVt8qk8sfAMvx1lVFIO4yFy2GhHJcroucK-xar9aMb5S8JgIKQpkA5sKMe7MeHKnDPggECBnl_iAoCEQGYuDG7AAbc7WBfGs5907AjDpGgdW9RI4WI/s1600/Ceremony+Begins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ohc1XTDwyUevXPpYFIEU0s8C5GVt8qk8sfAMvx1lVFIO4yFy2GhHJcroucK-xar9aMb5S8JgIKQpkA5sKMe7MeHKnDPggECBnl_iAoCEQGYuDG7AAbc7WBfGs5907AjDpGgdW9RI4WI/s640/Ceremony+Begins.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The monks chanted mantras during the Completion ceremony; the chant leader had a very low voice.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAddT3pBAbE5Nxj8zFwZhz8Y5EYbAH4X07TR3sPBjNYrezgAkc94X0geQDvwuGbwrQ_1rWSEtL0lAJHABsi7tmRAo4FAqLpQUo9h9u4i4JB_Ny_sozdPSM1b_90gNpqyQn9KHtZ5RT6JQ/s1600/Chanting+%2526+Destruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="568" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAddT3pBAbE5Nxj8zFwZhz8Y5EYbAH4X07TR3sPBjNYrezgAkc94X0geQDvwuGbwrQ_1rWSEtL0lAJHABsi7tmRAo4FAqLpQUo9h9u4i4JB_Ny_sozdPSM1b_90gNpqyQn9KHtZ5RT6JQ/s640/Chanting+%2526+Destruction.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The monks sliced through and swept away the sand, only to replace it with flowers and oranges from their altar.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Once
the sand mandala was completed, the monks performed a ceremony to
disperse their hard work into the world. They chanted sacred mantras and
sliced through the painting with a knife. Then, they brushed the mixed
and muddied sand into an urn (after reserving small packets of sand for those of us
who attended the ceremony). Afterward, we followed the monks to
Brush Creek to allow the sand to flow out into the world. The ceremony struck a friend of mine as a funeral for the art the monks had
made. I told him I thought of it as a way to allow the sand to become
what it will become next. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTUp3KiYPUpIBMAckOj3L_6SBN0G0dI4rClWgOerzJmUeZiBTVVsUq-IyxAOnutpC7RFYFBYGdgDBhafM8AAgoo34dP2CNsUJf9t4-0D9nhmLQsA1_Qeg5QmPuUViFp69Ql9EFrjhNfBk/s640/Monks+at+Brush+Creek1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="310" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After sweeping the sand into an urn, the monks led the group to the nearby Brush Creek to disperse the sand.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kS5rJZClqx6D0Wj13G74tCRQWtFVyf1cIdp4-Xj-rbBoVfAmckTjJpG0Ep_GRh1UZsISl-SDoBSN-S9tYdwciArJCyQPj_8vvKVJFaSLvr9Vo2NPh7_Qdm4gcx01LNGQBcWVJ4hGpSk/s1600/Monks+at+Brush+Creek2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="392" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8kS5rJZClqx6D0Wj13G74tCRQWtFVyf1cIdp4-Xj-rbBoVfAmckTjJpG0Ep_GRh1UZsISl-SDoBSN-S9tYdwciArJCyQPj_8vvKVJFaSLvr9Vo2NPh7_Qdm4gcx01LNGQBcWVJ4hGpSk/s640/Monks+at+Brush+Creek2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dispersing the sand on a rainy day in Kansas City.</td></tr>
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overheard many people comment on the beauty of the mandala and how they
couldn’t believe it was going to be destroyed. However, the
construction and subsequent destruction of the mandala strikes me as a
great analogy for a basic tenet of Buddhism - impermanence. Everything
changes. Nothing stays the same. Being able to make something of such
beauty and then release it from its form emphasizes this idea and makes one contemplate the meaning of change. Life goes on even after such
beauty is washed away. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finished!</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">If you want to learn more about the Drepung Gomang Tour, please go to facebook to find more information (</span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/DrepungGomangKC" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.facebook.com/DrepungGomangKC</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">), or contact kcmonktour@gmail.com with specific questions.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;" />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Following the sand mandala from its beginning to its end was such a meaningful
experience for me. What sacred ceremonies or experiences have moved you recently?</span></div>
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Alison :)</div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-14563252287697729952012-08-29T10:00:00.000-05:002012-08-29T12:04:54.432-05:00Livin' La Vida Local, no. 1: Little Freshie<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s1600/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifGjWLOKXRvSmv00f6UgKGRDx2nMDTrvRHQypRhJhZzr8J763ifm_s_VUSf7zuV6qCb12m75RlI6Ifgt55ImiOc9LgfJ2k-3LE8FJxAGxm2W7Uznl3lzt9niU2k6xZ22PAWYD71W9ik_4/s640/LivinLaVidaLocal1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Known for its many fountains, a ridiculous number of barbecue restaurants, stellar live jazz and blues, and a well-established art scene, Kansas City, Missouri, provides plenty to experience. I thoroughly enjoy livin' la vida local in the Flyover Zone. Join me as I explore new finds and old faves in this big small town I call home. </i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left: Outside Little Freshie. Right: Don't you just love those striped straws!?</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">My friend Kate suggested we go to Little Freshie last Saturday night, and I am so glad she did. Before we left, I knew it was the perfect place to feature in the debut of my new blog series, <i>Livin' La Vida Local</i>. Nestled beside Füd on West 17th St., this li'l sweetheart of a soda fountain offers handcrafted sodas and snow cones, as well as locally sourced coffees, cookies, macorons (not to be confused with macaroons), and a few well-made gift items. Little Freshie has been located at its storefront on the Westside since May of 2012. If you haven't been there yet, I recommend a visit ASAP. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lindsay Laricks, creator of Little Freshie, was kind enough to let me photograph her as she crafted a soda. </td></tr>
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A couple years ago, Lindsay Laricks, owner of Little Freshie and mastermind behind her establishment's sophisticated soda syrups, began serving snow cones from a Shasta trailer on a whim. Her business Fresher Than Fresh Snow Cones gained a loyal following, and she decided to devote herself full time to her new craft. Kate and I admire Laricks' gumption; she said she was just crazy enough to quit her day job and go for it. Laricks admitted leaving her longtime career in graphic design was the most frightening part of growing her business. </div>
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The pay-off that resulted from confronting her fear was clear in the smile on Laricks' face Saturday night as she talked about her brand new brick-and-mortar shop and shared her ideas for upcoming products. She mixed innovative flavors into seltzer water and ice with confidence and chatted up the clientele with ease. Her new vocation clearly suits her, and Little Freshie fits snugly into its neighborhood.</div>
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Not only that, but Little Freshie also had a steady stream of customers on Saturday night, including us. Kate tried a grape and orange blossom soda, and blackberry lavender was my soda of choice. My drink was delicate, fragrant and just a tad bitter, and I enjoyed every last slurp. Speaking of slurps, the striped paper straws offered an unfamiliar sensory experience. But look at how cute they are!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect pairing: handcrafted slippers and sodas, from Fervere and Little Freshie, respectively.*</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Adding to our delight, the nearby bakery Fervere had a Saturday night special going on. It was selling individual-sized bread "slippers" slathered with a variety of toppings. Because Fervere doesn't have seating, several area restaurants welcomed those eating slippers into their establishments for seats and drinks. Fancy sodas and refined yeasty goodness suited us perfectly. Kate's slipper was spread with onions, mushrooms, gorgonzola and provolone, and she said it might be the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. I agreed with a sigh, as I bit into my cheese and egg topped slipper. Mmm, paradise chased by a swig of heaven.</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A closeup of my egg and cheese slipper. ::sigh::</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thanks again, Lindsay, for your generosity! And expect to hear more about Fervere at some point... What local establishments, events, movers and/or shakers are you keen on these days?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Alison :) </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>*Thanks, Kate, for capturing our food from this angle.</i></span>Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com2Kansas City, MO, USA39.0997265 -94.578566738.705418 -95.2102807 39.494035000000004 -93.9468527tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-56627860341373748142012-08-29T01:14:00.002-05:002012-08-29T14:18:53.496-05:00A Load Off My Shoulders (Cart?)<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIZpsHLSU8lFtSVPB-cBU8X-UUcwPytnza-3RHKPUGgKZqC2NlXIiWkInK0PxWj-1f-o6BmrDHbaYCKDa8KTF5T1aKu_0M4mLy8f3QG1VP-CA_vouZFqoPIHvsgxfADRIb8N8iC9Cl3o/s1600/Plums2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIZpsHLSU8lFtSVPB-cBU8X-UUcwPytnza-3RHKPUGgKZqC2NlXIiWkInK0PxWj-1f-o6BmrDHbaYCKDa8KTF5T1aKu_0M4mLy8f3QG1VP-CA_vouZFqoPIHvsgxfADRIb8N8iC9Cl3o/s400/Plums2.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I'm going to feel so much better once I admit this: I shop for groceries like a mother of three. Now, this could be because I actually am the daughter of a mother of three, and she was my primary grocery shopping role model when I was growing up. Then again, it could be because I have poor meal planning skills. Either way, could you guys help a girl out!? What can I do to keep from going to the store far too rarely, buying far too much food at once, and then wiping out all my fresh food only to subsist on cereal and granola bars for the weeks - yes, weeks - in between my grocery store runs, er, staggerings (under a million pounds to my car and then up three flights of stairs)??</span></div>
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With sincerest thanks,</div>
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Alison :)</div>
Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6227422319476470632.post-31593300433783154102012-08-20T00:51:00.001-05:002012-08-20T01:16:42.712-05:00Around the World in Two Hours<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-wChoCAuFYN4pQsHFH5wQKuqKgOaW2KAgdQirjW5_js2BcSGFn5LNJSXrM7QeScs3uD7ZoCTCV34ZSUZne116jFUg_MG3_VdQ7ES1wKqk0PQE9d1tvdvnoMewPf2BJS3-38eF2xREkw/s1600/Japanese+Doll.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-wChoCAuFYN4pQsHFH5wQKuqKgOaW2KAgdQirjW5_js2BcSGFn5LNJSXrM7QeScs3uD7ZoCTCV34ZSUZne116jFUg_MG3_VdQ7ES1wKqk0PQE9d1tvdvnoMewPf2BJS3-38eF2xREkw/s640/Japanese+Doll.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A cute little Japanese kokeshi doll with a blonde bob.</td></tr>
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My friends Conor, Kate, Alex and I traveled around the world this weekend via Kansas City's 33rd annual <a href="http://eeckc.org/" target="_blank">Ethnic Enrichment Festival</a>. The Ethnic Enrichment Festival presents food tents, hand-crafted objects, heritage groups, and performances derived from many different cultures. My main goals were to eat a plantain and purchase a kokeshi doll. As you can see, I brought home a sweet li'l kokeshi doll with a blonde bob and a red kimono. In addition to eating an Ecuadoran fried plantain, we also tried the following: empanadas from Ecuador; Brazilian beef skewers served with a corn-based dipping powder and a really yummy tomato and onion relish; a Lithuanian (I think!?) bacon bun; Israeli falafel platters of generous proportions sold by a gentleman so gregarious, we just couldn't say no; and delicious Kenyan beef sambusas.</div>
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My boss is on the <a href="http://eeckc.org/?page_id=6" target="_blank">Ethnic Enrichment Commission</a> and was working the Kenyan booth, as her husband is from Kenya. I am not just saying this to win brownie (sambusa?) points, but my friends and I agreed the sambusas were the best treat we tried. Conor also gave the plantains a rave review, based on facial expression alone. Kate, Conor and I also decided we had a far better time this year as compared to last year, not only because Alex was there, but also because we tried many different foods, instead of complaining about our bodies while denying ourselves the taste-testing in which we actually desired to participate. </div>
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After touring the world, Kate, Alex and I took Conor home, at his request, and then met our friend Tashina at The Recordbar for some live music. Tashina knew the members of one of the bands, and I feel appreciative that she wanted us to hear them. I see Tashina too rarely but always enjoy her company when we do get together. </div>
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I also enjoy seeing live music. It makes me feel engaged and connected with other fans. I LOVE The Recordbar as a music venue (plus, they serve the BEST bbq chicken pizza), but here's a story that seems to sum up the majority of my experiences there. I went to The Recordbar to see a show with my friend Brooke a few years ago. We were waiting in line for the restroom, and Brooke asked the girl ahead of us what the next band up sounded like and that she had heard some guy say he thought they kind of sounded like The Who. The girl hemmed and hawed and finally said, "Um, I don't really like to label things." Um, that's an obnoxious response. We all label things. Otherwise, the girl wouldn't have been dressed like a hipster, trying to fit in with the typical weekend Recordbar crowd. Anyway, on a semi-regular basis I use that poor girl as an example of how humans like to fit in with each other (and exclude outsiders) and thus label themselves through actions or visual signals, even if they can't admit/don't know that's what they are doing. Nor am I immune. It's not a diss on the Recordbar at all. I love the place. I just never seem to fit in while wearing my boot cut jeans and semi-professional tops (cuz, you know, I don't like to buy shirts I can't wear to work). The lovely thing is that I usually have a fun time and end up running into cool people, and oftentimes friends or acquaintances, no matter how I dress. And thank goodness I bought some skinny jeans this weekend. It was about dang time.</div>
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Kansas City hosts tons of festivals throughout the year. I think Irish Fest is next up, but there could be something else in between EEF and IF... If you are a Kansas Citian, what's your favorite festival of the year? If you're not from here, what festival should I visit in your hometown?</div>
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Alison :)</div>
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<br />Alison http://www.blogger.com/profile/10015551829418418147noreply@blogger.com0