<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462</id><updated>2011-08-24T12:01:54.669-07:00</updated><category term='Clint Ritchie'/><category term='baseball'/><category term='technology'/><category term='techno'/><category term='arts'/><category term='ice cream'/><category term='author'/><category term='God'/><category term='prayers'/><category term='Actors'/><category term='cell phone'/><category term='cubs'/><category term='relationships'/><category term='theater'/><category term='actress'/><category term='auditions'/><category term='employment'/><category term='pop'/><category term='hollywood'/><category term='adventure'/><category term='blackberry'/><category term='chocolate'/><category term='memories'/><category term='sports'/><category term='remember'/><category term='writing'/><category term='James Whitmore'/><category term='love'/><category term='work'/><category term='Phil Carey'/><title type='text'>A Writer's Home</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-2202159694091635463</id><published>2010-11-26T12:59:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-26T13:02:31.643-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Gift Of Gratitude</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/TPAgUX7fYrI/AAAAAAAAAB8/YYCil7OWosI/s1600/gratitude1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 260px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/TPAgUX7fYrI/AAAAAAAAAB8/YYCil7OWosI/s320/gratitude1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543966675686089394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is known as Black Friday what it should be known as is the Debt Black Hole Friday. It is the day when normally sane people go crazy. I mean what do you call people who line up days in advance just so they can buy the latest gadget. When did Christmas become fighting to get something that will be forgotten soon after the package is opened? Gratitude is no longer a part of the holiday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Christmas used to be know as Christ’s birthday now it is known for Santa Claus and who can out shop everyone. I remember when I was a kid getting one big gift that my brother and I would share and then a couple of small gifts. I was happy with what I got. It was called gratitude. Whatever happened to that? Now, if a kid doesn’t get all he or she wants, they are ready to call authorities to complain of being abused and neglected. The sad part, some parents would rather go into debt than explaining to their kids that Christmas will be lighter this year. On a local news show they were interviewing people who were having financial problems. One couple said they didn’t know how they were going to keep their home but they were going to give their kids a big Christmas. To me, their priorities are way off. Keeping the home  is more important than the latest Wii game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you honestly think about it, what do you remember most about Christmas? Do you remember the gifts or the people you celebrated them with? If you asked me what I got three years ago I couldn’t remember for life or money. What I remember is the fun I had with the people I love. My best Christmas memory is when I knitted a throw for my best friend’s mom who was dying of brain tumors. She loved Christmas and we all prayed that she would be around for it. When she opened my gift the look on her eyes will always stay with me. She acted like I had given her the most expensive gift in the world. Anyone who came into the house would be called over to look at it. This wonderful woman was so grateful for something I had made. When I was working on it , I had people tell me why was I being so cheap.Why didn’t I just go and buy her a gift? To me, a handmade gift is something from the heart. It isn’t because the person is cheap. Back in the old days, Christmas gifts used to be homemade. The difference between now and then is gratitude. People were grateful for what they were given but now some people complain because the gift wasn’t expensive enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With all the problems in the world now, maybe we should take a step back and go back to being grateful for what we have. Gratitude isn’t something elusive. It is within all of our reach. We just have to want to have it. Make these holiday about more than how much you spent or how many gifts you got. Do something for someone else. It can be something you made for someone or helping an elderly neighbor by shoveling the snow off their sidewalk and driveway. Help in a food bank and you will forget about whatever problems you have. That is when gratitude comes knocking. Answer the door and let it in. If you have a job even if you don’t like it, a roof over your head with food on the table, you have nothing to complain about. Gratitude should start at Christmas and go year round. Wake up everyday and ask yourself what you can do for someone else. Gratitude is the best gift we can receive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-2202159694091635463?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/2202159694091635463/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/11/gift-of-gratitude.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/2202159694091635463'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/2202159694091635463'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/11/gift-of-gratitude.html' title='The Gift Of Gratitude'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/TPAgUX7fYrI/AAAAAAAAAB8/YYCil7OWosI/s72-c/gratitude1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-4581504187551264357</id><published>2010-11-11T13:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T13:30:27.601-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Celebrities Are Human After All!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/TNxgWmjDPXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SzYLN1AMKfc/s1600/tabloid-6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/TNxgWmjDPXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SzYLN1AMKfc/s320/tabloid-6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538407583179816306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am watching Oprah today and she is interviewing Marie Osmond. She is talking about her son killing himself. This really touched my heart and got me thinking. People think celebrities traded in being a human being for fame and fortune. That comments hurled at them don’t hurt them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine going shopping and seeing some event in your life splashed all over the tabloids. How would you feel? I bet you wouldn’t be happy about it. I wish someone would explain to me what is so entertaining about the pain of another human being. Yes, they are human beings. Just because they are famous or make more money than most of us will ever see doesn’t change it. I have seen news reporters put microphones in the faces of celebrities who are grieving over the loss of  someone they love. The usual question is how do you feel? What kind of question is that? Just looking at them tells you they are in pain. But, the goal of the reporter is to get the exclusive interview no matter what. What happened to decency and letting people grieve? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have said well they should just deal with the intrusion since they have fame and fortune. Again, what event in your life would humiliate you if it were splashed all over the place? I always wanted to be an actress but am glad it didn’t work out for me. People going through trash to find any tidbit of scandal. Having family and friends betray confidences. To always be worried about someone close to you who might sell you out to the tabloids Does fame and fortune make the hurt less painful? No! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While the internet is wonderful it can also be horrible. Just google a celebs name and you will get all kinds of stuff. Some nice comments but some so disgusting it is beyond belief.  What has happened to all of us that we would think it is ok to write such junk. It diminishes all of us when we condone it. The next time you are standing in line at the grocery store checkout, skip buying or even looking at the tabloids. Just imagine if you or someone you loved was splashed all over the tabloids. Would you be willing to read them? Would you want you co-workers to read a story about some pain you or your family member is going through? Put yourself in their shoes. If people didn’t buy those papers they would cease to exist. If people didn’t watch the trash tabloid shows they wouldn’t exist. But they do. We are all to blame. I have turned on the shows from time to time but they left me feeling bad. Why? The main reason, I wasn’t raised to find any joy in someone’s pain. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just food for thought: The next time you feel like reading about some misfortune of a celeb, put yourself in their place. How would you feel about your pain being discussed by people you don’t know. Hasn’t this society progressed to where we don’t need that as a form of entertainment? You will only attract negative things if that is all you dwell with. Be positive look for the good in people. Celebs are human beings like the rest of us. The fame and fortune is just a blessing they were given.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-4581504187551264357?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/4581504187551264357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/11/celebrities-are-human-after-all.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/4581504187551264357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/4581504187551264357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/11/celebrities-are-human-after-all.html' title='Celebrities Are Human After All!'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/TNxgWmjDPXI/AAAAAAAAAB0/SzYLN1AMKfc/s72-c/tabloid-6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-6218514302043932948</id><published>2010-05-08T08:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-08T08:31:45.995-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is A Mother</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S-WD0b-iX_I/AAAAAAAAABk/spxyOCCgQkA/s1600/holding_hands_10806.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 294px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S-WD0b-iX_I/AAAAAAAAABk/spxyOCCgQkA/s320/holding_hands_10806.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468922259397828594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Mother’s Day around the corner, I have been thinking of what  defines a mother. Back in the day, June Cleaver stayed home and was there when the Beaver and Wally came home from school.  Then in the 1970’s with the help of Alice the housekeeper, Carol Brady held down the fort. In this modern world the term mother has expanded beyond the typical old tv stereotypes. It has even crossed the gender border at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, I know what you are thinking, how can a man be a mom? Well, in my life experience I have known men who for unforeseen circumstances have found themselves both mom and dad to their kids. These are the same men who years earlier would rather have a root canal than be seen sewing a Halloween costume for their kids but they are doing it now. They stepped up to the plate and have taken on both roles. They have rearranged their lives in order to be there for their kids. I remember a friend of mine who was raised by her dad told me how this guy who would make Arnold Schwartzenegger look like Barney Fife actually came to her tea party on Saturday afternoon. She even got him towear one of her mom’s old hats.  He didn’t care how he looked. He did it out of love for his daughter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, a mom can even be a woman who has never given birth. Recently, Sandra Bullock adopted a sweet baby boy. She didn’t give birth to him but it doesn’t make her any less a mother. Even if a woman doesn’t adopt she can still be a mom by mentoring to kids. Sitting and reading to a child will open the whole world to them. Spending any time with a child will create memories they will never forget. Even the simple thing as baking cookies will not only teach a child a skill but they will feel wanted and useful. And with how crazy this world has gotten lately that might be just what they need.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, a mother can also be someone who loves and cares for a four legged, feathered, or gilled creatures. Sometimes in people’s lives they find the love of a pet. I recently found that out when I adopted an abandoned kitten who I named Mojo. Mojo means magic and she is magic because she made my life better. I know people roll their eyes when someone calls their pets their children but in a way they are. The person isn’t  a loon. Sometimes in people’s lives a creature comes to them that they can give love to and get love in return.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is a mother? A mother is simply love. Love is the one thing a child or any of us needs but sometimes doesn’t get enough of. Love crosses all gender lines. It doesn’t acknowledge age, wealth, or anything else that we think should matter.Love is all that matters.  Love is the only thing that can bring light to darkness. Love is the only gift that keeps on giving. So on this Mother’s Day, give love to people who have helped you along the way for in some way they have been a mother to you. Happy Mother’s Day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-6218514302043932948?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/6218514302043932948/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-is-mother.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/6218514302043932948'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/6218514302043932948'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-is-mother.html' title='What Is A Mother'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S-WD0b-iX_I/AAAAAAAAABk/spxyOCCgQkA/s72-c/holding_hands_10806.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-5230374489933514101</id><published>2010-02-20T10:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-20T10:13:27.889-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Living Motivated by Dr Walter Sims (A Book Review)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S4AmPjjV18I/AAAAAAAAABc/lmgwB41lU5A/s1600-h/sunrise.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S4AmPjjV18I/AAAAAAAAABc/lmgwB41lU5A/s320/sunrise.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440390398546925506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Your situation is not your destination, but it should be your motivation” Dr Sims. We all wonder how some people are achieving their dreams while ours aren’t even getting off the ground. Are we in our own way of achieving what we are meant to be? Sometimes we are. How can we get motivated and change our lives? Simple. I read the wonderful book  “Living Motivated” by Dr Walter Sims.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have read my fair share of self help books that fall short of being helpful. What makes this book different? The big difference is that Dr Sims works on ALL aspects of a person and not just one. Faith, health, happiness etc are all intertwined. To motivate yourself you must work on all or it will be like a three legged table. It won’t stand. Using the techniques that Dr Sims gives you than you will be able to motivate yourself to change your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For those of you who know Dr Sims, you know what a man of God he is. He shows in the first chapter that Faith is needed in order to make changes. His example of St Peter taking his eyes of Jesus and sinking in the sea shows what happens when you get scared and look away. The saying with God all things are possible is so true. Dr Sims shows with an example from his own life how his faith in God led him to the do what he was meant to do with his life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Along with faith, you need other tools to motivate yourself to change our life. Simple things like making a list of positive thoughts can work on changing the negative thoughts in your head. We all have what I call the tape recording in your head that plays over and over. Thoughts of your not good enough, your stupid etc play over and over. Dr Sims shows how these thoughts can prevent you from even trying to make a change in your life. He gives you the tools you need to reprogram those thoughts from negative to positive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The book is laid out like a pattern, follow each chapter and by the end you will have the tools to motivate yourself into the life you are destined to have. No magic bullets here. You must do the work. I know from my own life that the techniques do work. Dr Sims uses motivating quotes and examples from Tony Robbins, Wayne Dryer the wonderful people from Twitter as well as many others. His best tool is his own life examples. In Chapter 5, he shows how he had to do the dreaded D word. Diet!  We all know how hard it is to diet and exercise but it is achievable.With a strong, healthy body and mind nothing is out of your reach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr Sims truly wants you to achieve greatness. When you are fully motivated and on the ground running please contact Dr Sims at drwaltersims@gmail.com and let him know. He is also on Twitter @MofMotivation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-5230374489933514101?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/5230374489933514101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/02/living-motivated-by-dr-walter-sims-book.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/5230374489933514101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/5230374489933514101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/02/living-motivated-by-dr-walter-sims-book.html' title='Living Motivated by Dr Walter Sims (A Book Review)'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S4AmPjjV18I/AAAAAAAAABc/lmgwB41lU5A/s72-c/sunrise.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-6348609850391644167</id><published>2010-02-09T10:31:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-09T10:39:22.021-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ships That Pass In The Night!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S3GqmVldFYI/AAAAAAAAABM/QWGfLz4hoIQ/s1600-h/Ships_that_pass_in_the_night,_Atlantic_City,_New_Jersey.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 204px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S3GqmVldFYI/AAAAAAAAABM/QWGfLz4hoIQ/s320/Ships_that_pass_in_the_night,_Atlantic_City,_New_Jersey.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436313800818890114" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There are those who pass like ships in the night, who meet for a moment, then sail out of sight with never a backward glance of regret; folks we know briefly then quickly forget. Then there are friends who sail together, through quiet waters and stormy weather, helping each other though joy and through strife. And they are the kind who give meaning to life.” Author Unknown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first read this quote it touched something in me. It made me realize how we all are ships on the sea of life. In real life,Twitter or Face Book, we all come and go out of each others lives. Some leave us with good memories, others not so much. But, however brief, or good or bad, we all leave our mark on each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It used to hurt when people I thought were friends turn out not to be. In real life it’s calls unreturned or invitations not given. On Twitter it can be dms or tweets unanswered or being unfollowed or blocked. It took a while for me to realize it had nothing to do with me. It had to do with the other person. They made the choice. So all I can do is pick up and move on. This is what I tell my friends when they come to me upset because of how someone just dropped them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It does us no good to dwell on why they did it or what did I do. We will never know the answer. Like ships passing in the night, soon that person will no longer be in our sight. The best thing to do is look toward your horizon. For on the other side are new friends just waiting to meet you. New people who will leave their mark on you. Good and bad experiences that will add to the growth of your being. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While you will have people go out of your life and it can be painful. Sometimes, if you are really blessed you will find that person or persons who can be called a #BFF. They are there when you are happy and will never leave you when you are sad. They have seen you when you look like a million bucks and when you look like something the cat dragged in. To have people who love you for who you are and not what you can give them or what you look like is worth more than anything money can buy. I can say I have been blessed with wonderful #BFFs. If I were given a choice of a very successful writing career and a fabulous life or having my #BFFs. I would choose my #BFFs. To not have people in your life who know you so well that they know when you need a laugh or a shoulder to cry on is  very sad to me. I would be so very lost without my #BFFs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to all the people in real life and in the cyber world who have sailed out of my life. I wish you all the best. I learned from you and it was time to part. Does this mean I wasn’t hurt or angry. No! I am human after all, but I don’t like dwelling on the negative. I choose to be positive&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-6348609850391644167?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/6348609850391644167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/02/there-are-those-who-pass-like-ships-in.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/6348609850391644167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/6348609850391644167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2010/02/there-are-those-who-pass-like-ships-in.html' title='Ships That Pass In The Night!'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/S3GqmVldFYI/AAAAAAAAABM/QWGfLz4hoIQ/s72-c/Ships_that_pass_in_the_night,_Atlantic_City,_New_Jersey.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-8676461406050498085</id><published>2009-11-22T13:34:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T20:36:01.315-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Healing Time Came To Me!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/Swm4a1YKHoI/AAAAAAAAABE/2eqBqQt2DwY/s1600/pplphoenix1qq4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/Swm4a1YKHoI/AAAAAAAAABE/2eqBqQt2DwY/s320/pplphoenix1qq4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407055598779506306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Healing time can occur right after a life changing event or it can take years. For me, it seemed to take a lifetime. To tell a story you must start at the beginning not the end.I know exactly when my pain started, it seemed like it was just yesterday!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was September 25, 1972. I had just started 10th grade, excited about the new school year.In one moment in time, my life changed forever. I was walking home from school when my brother pulled over and told me to get in the car. We didn't speak on the drive home but I knew something was wrong. When we got near our house, I saw the ambulance and the men taking my moms' body out of the house. At that moment, I went from a carefree teenager to a shattered soul.The days that followed are a blur. The only memories I have are my dad telling me to quit crying like a baby. I wasn't allowed to grieve her loss, so my pain got buried deep and covered so the healing had no chance to begin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The years went by and I was living in LA.Having never had a chance to heal the wound and pain festered and the poison swept into many aspects of my life. Relationships didn't last because I picked men who were wrong for me. I pushed my friends away. I was miserable but had no idea of the cause. Denial was a useful tool of mine. As in all things, God has a plan. He had one for me that would enable me to heal. It all began very simply by my best friend, Georgia asking me if I would like to take my vacation and go to Florida with her. This was the beginning of my healing time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had been to Florida before to visit relatives but this part of Florida was very different than Southern Florida. There was farmland all over with housing developments in between. It was very nice and peaceful. The person responsible for helping me lived here. Her name was Maggie. She was the mom of my best friend. The two weeks we were there were filled with fun and laughter. Soon it was time to go back home, I didn't want to leave but I did. Back to LA that was filled with pain and bad memories but even that would change. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dreams of an acting career were not coming true and I was disillusioned with life in LA. I wanted a change and as if on cue, God arranged it all. I had a chance to move back to Florida and I grabbed it. I had no job or an apartment but I didn't care. Like salmon swimming upstream, I knew I had to be in Florida. I packed up and I was on the next flight out. Good bye LA and my dreams that never came true. Hello Florida with a future I knew would be better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maggie was the type of woman who never met a stranger. She and Pop welcomed me as one of their own. I didn't realize it until after she was gone what a gift I was given.God let me see what it was like to have a mom as an adult. Over the years, very slowly, the pain that was buried made its' way to the surface. The poison that had ruined many aspects of my life was released. The healing time had finally arrived for me. By the time Maggie was gone, I had recovered completely from the pain done to me when I was 15. The memories I had of my mom weren't of her death but of her joyous life! That is when I knew it was done. I felt as if I was reborn. My life is so much different than it was. Healing time comes in God's time not ours. But once it does come, it is life changing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-8676461406050498085?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/8676461406050498085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/11/when-healing-time-came-to-me.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/8676461406050498085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/8676461406050498085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/11/when-healing-time-came-to-me.html' title='When The Healing Time Came To Me!'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/Swm4a1YKHoI/AAAAAAAAABE/2eqBqQt2DwY/s72-c/pplphoenix1qq4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-1271857902120215719</id><published>2009-09-26T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-26T15:06:46.046-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Gift From God</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/Sr6ARquVJII/AAAAAAAAAA8/WNwLAFg1WUA/s1600-h/quilt01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 317px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/Sr6ARquVJII/AAAAAAAAAA8/WNwLAFg1WUA/s320/quilt01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385883245396436098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maggie or Ma as I knew her was a combo of old fashioned Southern gentility with enough childlike qualities to make her fun. She was the heart of the family and made everyone who came to their home feel very welcome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every woman looks for her soul mate and Ma was no different. She found hers in Pop. I used to see them walking together hand in hand after decades of marriage. When most couples drift apart they never did. Pop loved her like the treasure that she was. Money was always tight because being a grove caretaker he only got paid once a year when the crop came in. But, that didn't stop him from surprising her with wildflowers he picked on the side of the road or a small piece jewelry that he had used his lunch money for. When they were together no one else was in the room with them. We all should wish for this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next to Pop, her kids were her pride and joy. They raised 6 kids on a big piece of land. My best friend, Georgia was their 5th child. She used to tell me how Ma would always manage to sew she and her sister school clothes. Their brother was the only one who got store bought. Even then her creativity in sewing was outstanding. She made each dress from one pattern but made it unique for each daughter. Ma was also the bookkeeper for the business and they always managed to make it on what Pop earned each year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I met Ma, she was beginning her love for crafts. From her I learned to knit, cross stitch, needlepoint, and quilt. If you wanted to talk to her you would have to go to her sewing room to see her. Quilting became her passion. She started out on big quilts for everyone but as time went by they became smaller and smaller. Her miniature quilts were something to behold.  She took such pride in them that she loved to show them off to people. I am lucky in that she gave me some of them and I now treasure them in my home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During her crafting period is when I really began to love big band music. She always had music or an old radio show on. We would sit there and talk and listen to Glen Miller, Benny Goodman or the Andrew Sisters. One day she said I had to listen to this radio program. She started it up and it was Orson Welles doing War of the Worlds. I now understood why people panicked so much. This also lead to the rebirth of my love of older movies. I grew with a mother who loved the classic movies but I stopped watching them until I met Ma. She was crazy over them. We all would scour the video stores to see what we could find for her. My favorite to watch with her was Pride and Prejudice with Laurence Olivier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her talents weren't just restricted to crafts they extended to her cooking and baking. I grew up in the Midwest, and Southern food to me consisted of fried chicken and corn bread. Was I ever wrong. Ma taught me how to make greens. chicken and dumplings from scratch,  real cornbread, etc. I will admit this woman who wasn't Italian at all made a very good lasagna. I learned so much from her especially that you could have fun while cooking. She would put music on and dance around the kitchen. We all laughed and to this day I really miss those moments. Sometimes I put on Glenn Miller while I cook and just imagine her dancing around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ma had grown up in an era that didn't know about skin cancer. She loved the sun. One day she noticed a growth on her upper lip and had it checked. It was skin cancer. She had it removed an we all thought she was safe. She warned me to be careful in the sun. I always thought I was safe since I had dark hair and olive skin. She became a mother hen making sure I wore a hat and put on sun screen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The years went by and like everything the fear of cancer went away. Ma was an active woman and one day she started having problems with her lower back. She ended up having to use a walker. Her doctor just told her it was age and to not worry about it. Pop wouldn't let it go. He found another doctor who immediately did tests. He told them they need her to go to the hospital for an exploratory surgery. It was during this surgery they discovered not only huge gall stones, a cyst on her ovary but cancer in the bowel. The doctor operated on her while we all waited to hear. He told Pop and Ma that the cancer was related to her bout with skin cancer. They would do treatments to make sure they got it all. Like Pop, Ma never complained, she accepted and went on. It amazed me how she never ever moaned about what was happening to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She went through  the treatments and we thought she was in the clear. She was still quilting but was having trouble seeing also she was getting bad headaches. When they became more frequent, Pop insisted she go back to the doctor. The doctor checked her and said he wanted to run more tests. It was then he discovered the cancer had gone to her brain and there were two brain tumors. The doctor said he wanted to perform surgery to see if they could be removed. They agreed and the date was set. We all felt like we were on a roller coaster and couldn't get off. Again, Ma kept her spirits up by saying God would take care of her and we were not to worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took the day off from work so I could be there. The family was gathered at the hospital to give support to Pop. We all went to see her before she went in. She was smiling and joking with us. If she was worried we never saw it. She went in and all of us went to the waiting room to wait. It seemed like forever before the doctor came out. He didn't look happy and took Pop to the side. He told him that they were inoperable and she had only months left. Like her Pop held it together for our sake and Ma's. They told us she was back in her room and we went in. Pop asked how she was feeling and she said like Hell. After she said Hell, she apologized for cussing. You see, this woman never cussed in her life. She felt ladies should never use foul language.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The doctor didn't know how strong she was. She could no longer see well enough to sew her quilts but she could still read her books with the help of a magnifying glass. Soon that was at an end when her eyesight dimmed more. Pop solved that issue by getting her books on tape. I would still come over and sit and talk to her. Christmas was coming and that was her favorite holiday.We all decorated the house so she could enjoy it. She hated being in bedroom so hospice arranged for her to have a hospital bed in the living room. I remember the last Christmas well because I stayed up all night finishing an afghan I was knitting for her. It touched my heart  when she was so excited to see it. She used it everyday and now that she is gone it is on my couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She made it past New Years and we thought the doctor was wrong. But, we were the one's who were wrong. Georgia was helping Pop get Ma's breakfast ready on Easter Sunday. They had gone to wake her up when she drew her last breath. Pop was naturally distraught and Georgia took the hard task of driving to find her siblings who were at church and tell them what happened. She stopped by to tell me and I felt like my heart had been ripped out. The heart of the family was gone. But, what a beautiful day to pick to go back home, Easter Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People often wonder if they were loved. Ma knew she was loved by family but she would have been surprised by the outpouring of people at her funeral. People talked about how she did little things for them over the years that they never forgot. We all said our good byes and then everyone went home. Pop had people with him so I knew he would be all right. It seems like yesterday instead of the 11 years that has passed. Pop is gone now too and a day doesn't go by that I don't miss them both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting on my couch trying to think of a title for this post, when it hit me. She was a gift from God. You see, I lost my mom when I was 15. God through Ma let me see what it would have been like to have a mom as a grown woman. I will aways and forever be grateful for that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-1271857902120215719?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/1271857902120215719/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/09/gift-from-god.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1271857902120215719'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1271857902120215719'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/09/gift-from-god.html' title='A Gift From God'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/Sr6ARquVJII/AAAAAAAAAA8/WNwLAFg1WUA/s72-c/quilt01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-3866989101960206901</id><published>2009-08-22T18:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T21:53:27.012-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pop'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='sports'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='remember'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='memories'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cubs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='baseball'/><title type='text'>The Greatest Man I Ever Knew</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/SpD2zK1KCeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/HarU_Hk5rTg/s1600-h/ballglove.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/SpD2zK1KCeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/HarU_Hk5rTg/s320/ballglove.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373065714394073570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                          &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     When people say they don't make men like that anymore it is true. The one I knew was a sports fan, storyteller, gardening expert, fixer of the unfixable, and an adventurer in his own way rolled up into the form of a man that I called Pop. Pop was a simple man who came from a humble background. He worked from the time he was 16 helping his father in the grove care business here in Florida. He worked hard, rarely took a vacation but it didn't matter he loved his life. I met him long after he retired but loved hearing his stories of life in Florida when he was young.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One afternoon, he asked if he had ever told me about how he met Al Capone. I didn't know what to say. How could a man who rarely left Florida, have met Al Capone? He told me when he was in college, he and a friend hitchhiked back home because they didn't have train fare. The were a few miles from home when a big car pulled over to give them a ride. They readily climbed in only to discover the sole passenger in the back was none other than Al Capone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should say, Pop recognized Al Capone but his friend didn't. He found the man was from Chicago and proceeded to ask him if he knew Al Capone. When the man said very well, the young man told him he didn't think Al was that tough. Pop said he kept hitting his friend in the leg to get him to shut up. He finally was able to tell his friend who the man really was when the car pulled into a parking lot of a diner. They went into the diner, leaving Pop and his friend in the car. He finally told his friend that the man he said Al isn't so tough too was the real Al Capone. Pop said his friend turned and almost fainted. They were finally dropped off and ran the rest of the way home. When he told his parents who gave him a ride home, his parents were livid. From that day on they made sure Pop had train fare to come home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like most Americans of his generation, when the country called to go to war; they went. He thought he would go to Europe or Asia but instead was placed on an island in Alaska.&lt;br /&gt;There were events he wouldn't go into detail about because they were horrific and I never pushed. He would get quite and then return back to his normal self a few minutes. He did tell me about how his unit captured some Japanese and the first thing they had to do was burn their lice infested uniforms. During down time, they did the usual things like making their version of moonshine called torpedo juice. He said it was very lethal to drink but there wasn't anything else. The food wasn't that great and it was where he learned to hate carrots and peas because that was the only vegetable they sent them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Besides his family, his greatest pride and joy were his camellia bushes. He even had one, that his parents' planted when he was born in 1919. When visitors would come over they would be asked to take a tour of his garden. With pride, he would point out ever bush and tell them when the camellia was planted and the name of it. He had a memory for plant names and how to care for them. Plants were his passion but not the only one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His other passion was baseball, the Cubs to be exact. I love the team too so we would sit and watch Harry Carey announce the games. The Cubs rarely won but that didn't matter. My best friend and I would sit with him watching the game and during commercials we all would talk. It was during a commercial that he told me to call him Pop. I have never been able to call a friends' parent by their first name and he said Mr was to formal. So Pop it was and Pop it would always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As with all things, time flies by and we get older. In 1998 my best friend lost her mom to cancer &amp;amp; brain tumors. The light sort of went out on him because Maggie was the love of his life. For people who think love does not continue with age are so wrong. I loved watching them walk together holding hands. They had hospice come in to help but he was her main caregiver and never complained about it. After she died, he started to look older. He was tall but now walked a bit stooped over.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't remember the year, but he started having trouble breathing. He used an inhaler but still continued working in his garden and yard. His doctor finally had to put him on oxygen because the inhalers no longer worked. He had emphysema. Yet, he still went outside and did as much work as he could. What he couldn't do his daughters and I would help. We were all worried about him but the worst was yet to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When he went outside he tripped and fell and broke his hip. While in the hospital recovering from that, they discovered not only did he have emphysema but he had advanced lung cancer. He had quit smoking 10 years earlier but it was too late. He had smoked since he was 16 and now it took its toll. After running tests they discovered his cancer wasn't treatable. He came home and tried to keep his garden and yard up but it got harder and harder. During this whole time he never complained, never did why me God. He just went about his life. He came from the generation of people who lived during the depression and just accepted things without complaint. I would go over to see him as often as possible. He got weaker and weaker but he still retained his sense of humor. It broke my heart to see this man who was so strong and now had lost so much weight he was shadow of his former self.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually, he was placed in a home that cared for terminal patients run by hospice. They loved him and took great care of him. His family and I were with him everyday. We were told not to cry and just hold it in until we left. The last time I talked to him was when he called me at my job. My best friend was with him and said he wanted to talk to me. His voice was very weak but I could hear him. He told me that he never thought of me as just his daughters' best friend but as one of his own daughters. As someone who had a horrible father this was the best gift I could have ever been given. I held it together until I hung up the phone and then I lost it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;July,3, 2005 is a date I will always remember. That is the day this wonderful man left this world for the next. I knew he was in heaven with his beloved wife and God would take care of these two wonderful people, but it didn't make it hurt any less. I thank God everyday that this man came into my life so I could see what it was like to have a good Dad instead of the one I had. I would give everything to be able to sit with him and watch a Cubs game again. He would give his last dollar if you asked for it without knowing why or when you would pay him back. He was the greatest man I ever knew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-3866989101960206901?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/3866989101960206901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/greatest-man-i-ever-knew.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/3866989101960206901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/3866989101960206901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/greatest-man-i-ever-knew.html' title='The Greatest Man I Ever Knew'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/SpD2zK1KCeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/HarU_Hk5rTg/s72-c/ballglove.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-5271885629931075154</id><published>2009-08-20T18:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T17:53:29.703-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='ice cream'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><title type='text'>Sometimes Ice Cream Is Better Than A Relationship</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/SpHkgzDvNqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ts_dkVToUzA/s1600-h/icecream.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 230px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/SpHkgzDvNqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ts_dkVToUzA/s320/icecream.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373327082542544546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;                                          &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_356256678" class="blogContent"&gt;Here are  the reasons that ice cream is sometimes better than a relationship or should I say wrong relationship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You will never hear a carton beg you to wear an outfit that even a $2 hooker would say no way.&lt;br /&gt;2. You won't have to shave your legs for a carton and then wonder why you did it.&lt;br /&gt;3. You won't have to hear the I'll call you and never hear from the carton again.&lt;br /&gt;4. You won't have to go on a blind date with a carton only to discover the carton was stuck back in the 70's. You know the whole polyester shirt unbuttoned to the navel with the gold chains and enough cologne on to cause a world wide shortage.&lt;br /&gt;5. You won't have to answer the question from the carton that has been asked since the beginning of time. "Was it good for you?"&lt;br /&gt;6. You will never ever find out on a cold winter night that the carton forgot to put the toilet seat down.&lt;br /&gt;7. You will never find out the real reason the carton was nicknamed Sasquatch&lt;br /&gt;8. You won't find out that the carton has been on Jerry Springer 12 times.&lt;br /&gt;9. You won't go to meet the cartons' family and discover their family tree doesn't fork.&lt;br /&gt;10. Lastly, a carton will never tell you I'm just not into you. And if they did who cares there is always other cartons out there waiting to be picked.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-5271885629931075154?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/5271885629931075154/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/sometimes-ice-cream-is-better-than.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/5271885629931075154'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/5271885629931075154'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/sometimes-ice-cream-is-better-than.html' title='Sometimes Ice Cream Is Better Than A Relationship'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PlLfvXQcAPw/SpHkgzDvNqI/AAAAAAAAAAk/Ts_dkVToUzA/s72-c/icecream.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-1302473236346019743</id><published>2009-08-19T22:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T16:01:33.217-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='relationships'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='love'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='chocolate'/><title type='text'>Why Chocolate Is Also Better Than Some Relationships</title><content type='html'>&lt;img alt="" src="http://x.myspace.com/images/spacer.gif" border="0" width="30" height="1" /&gt;                 &lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;                                          &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_356456871" class="blogContent"&gt;I had a request to do a blog about chocolate and relationships so here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Chocolate won't ever stand you up for poker night with the guys.&lt;br /&gt;2. Chocolate won't ever wake you up at 3 am and ask you "How about it?"&lt;br /&gt;3. A Chocolate Kiss  unlike some regular kisses will never leave you feeling like the dam just burst.&lt;br /&gt;4. Chocolate leaves you feeling euphoric instead of WTF was I thinking.&lt;br /&gt;5. Chocolate helps you get over bad cramps instead of telling you "Oh how bad can they be just suck it up."&lt;br /&gt;6. A box of chocolates will always be a fun surprise unlike the surprise of finding out your guy is on Maury Povich having a DNA test because 3 women claim he has fathered their 8 kids.&lt;br /&gt;7. Chocolate can come with nuts unlike your man who may just be plain nuts.&lt;br /&gt;8. When you are done with chocolate it is over unlike the guy who thinks you are just joking with him.&lt;br /&gt;9.Chocolate doesn't care if parts of you aren't in the same place as they were when you were 20.&lt;br /&gt;10. And lastly, Chocolate will never ever tell you that you have gotten fat even though they haven't seen their feet in years.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-1302473236346019743?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/1302473236346019743/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-chocolate-is-also-better-than-some.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1302473236346019743'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1302473236346019743'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/why-chocolate-is-also-better-than-some.html' title='Why Chocolate Is Also Better Than Some Relationships'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-2761408166256629932</id><published>2009-08-15T22:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T16:02:22.790-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='theater'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hollywood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='actress'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='adventure'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='arts'/><title type='text'>My Life As A Wannabe Actress In Hollywood</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;                                &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;        All adventures begin somewhere, and mine began in Akron Ohio. Acting was something that I wanted to do as long as I could remember. I couldn't wait till I grew up and moved to Hollywood. Little did I know that a dream and reality were two different things. It would be a decade or more before I would realize that. But for now, I was a little girl who used her mom's makeup to try to look like Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;College was where I felt most like a racehorse waiting for the race to start. I studied theater arts. They taught me how to move, how to do a character etc but they failed to tell me the reality of the acting business. They need to offer courses in the reality. I was unprepared for what I was to encounter. So on June 1977, a month after I turned 20 off I went into the unknown that was Hollywood. My friends from school were surprised that I would do it but I wasn't. I was the one who would climb a tree just to see how high I could get. Now I was off to climb the Hollywood tree wondering would I reach the heights or would I fall off the first limb?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I remember most about the trip was when the plane was landing in LA. I saw the brown sky as we got closer. What the heck was that? Smog is what it was. Smog wasn't something I had ever seen before. The skies in Akron were always blue never brown. Well, I was in LA and off I went, straight to Buena Park Ca. Yep, the friend I was staying with didn't live in LA but in Orange County. Her apartment was right next to Knott's Berry Farm. She told me it would be no problem because I could get on the freeway and drive to LA. Freeway? I have never been on a freeway in my life. But hey, I was in California so after I got a car, I got on the nearest freeway heading to LA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the first things I had to do was not only find a job but an apartment. The thought of driving on the freeway everyday was out. People called it bumper to bumper traffic, I called it a long parking lot. As my luck would have it I found a job and apartment at the same time. All right a day or two apart. The job was as a sales clerk at the Broadway Dept Store and my apartment was a studio near Universal studios where I paid $190 a month. How can I remember the rental price after all these years, you may ask? Easy, it was the last time in my life that I paid that little for an apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life at the Broadway was interesting. Along with seeing celebrities shopping, I encountered a group of people that I discovered I belonged in. The wannabes. At the Broadway, you would find wannabe actors, writers, director etc. Basically, if there is a job in show business there would be a wannabe at the Broadway. We all wanted to grab the brass ring of fame but most rarely did. I was told by other wannabe actresses who to avoid at auditions. What man was a grabber or just a plain old perv. Never heard about this in my Acting 101 class in college. I made notes and prayed I would never meet these guys. They told me I need pictures and a resume. Resume? All I had to put on it was my high school and college experience. But that was a beginning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A co-worker who was a photographer on the side took my pictures. They came out fine and another friend helped me with my resume. My resume barely filled a page but I was told don't worry after a while you will have stuff to add. Armed with my photos and my resume off I went to start my career. That was when I hit the wall. The wall known as the Hollywood Catch 22. In order to get a job you have to have an agent and in order to get an agent you have to have a job. No one in acting class told me about this. Another wannabe actress told me to try open casting calls they would have listed in Dramalogue. Open casting calls for those who don't know are a more polite term for cattle calls. Cattle is right, you signed in given a number and waited your turn. Did I get a job that would give me the brass ring from one of these. Nope. I did learn patience when waiting for my number to be called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing I discovered was that courses in college weren't enough on a resume. I had to find an acting coach to help me. So armed with the latest copy of Dramalogue I went looking for a coach. That is when I discovered another reality, the acting business can also be very, very expensive. I remember being shocked at how much they charged for classes that lasted just a few weeks. I wasn't a trust fund baby nor was I married to a 100 year old millionaire so I was stuck. Or so I thought,another friend from work told me that several people got together to work on scenes and I was welcome to join them. It was where I discovered there was a second level in wannabe land.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to the first session, I met people who had come to LA decades ago to try their hand at acting. One was a man, whose name is now long forgotten, but the sadness in his eyes won't ever be. He had come to LA as a young man several decades earlier to be an actor. His biggest role as I remember was as a background actor, no lines. He showed me his portfolio that had pictures that were taken when he was a young man. In the picture, his eyes were eyes of hope and excitement. When I looked at his newest pictures the glow in the eyes were gone and had been replaced by the look of sadness. He had been through the mill of Hollywood and the only thing he ended up with were a few memories. I am a talker so I ended up during breaks talking to him. He told me to not count on anything as far as Hollywood went and to never take anyone's word for anything. It seems in Hollywood a man's word meant nothing unless it was written into a contract that was signed and sealed. The first crack in my dream had started. This wasn't what I had thought it would be like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did encounter some famous actors and actresses at events and would ask them for advice. They all said the same thing. It was luck over talent. What!!!! I wasted all that time in college when it was just a matter of me being in the right place at the right time. The crack in my dream just got even bigger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While I was trying to figure how to turn things around in my acting career my living situation took a turn that should have been on a soap opera. The apartment complex got a new manager. He turned out to be an Elvis wannabe long side burns and all. Anyway, there was an empty apartment between mine and a woman with 2 kids. He moved his mistress into this apartment and his wife had no clue. I can never listen to Elvis music because of that guy. To make a long story short, Elvis Jr decided the woman and her kids &amp;amp; I might tell wifey about the girlfriend so he told the owner we were nuisances. How could I be a nuisance since I was rarely home? Along with a struggling acting career I now had to find a new home. Entering from stage left is my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I found out I was being evicted and the owner wouldn't listen to my side, I was depressed. I had only a few bucks in the bank and it wasn't enough to find a place. My best friend from my job came to the rescue. She had room in her apartment and my part of the rent would be less than what I was paying now. The only problem was that the place was in Hawthorne and my car had gone to that great scrap heap in the sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No problem I thought, how hard is it to take the bus? Or I should say how hard is it to take a bus where people smoked marijuana in the back and the driver didn't care? But I did it and that is when I encountered the person who would shatter my dream of acting. I never knew her name I just recall her being in her 50's but dressing like a woman in her 20's. She said she was an actress too, who was waiting for her big break which was coming. She showed me her pictures and they were of a older woman dressed up like Ellie Mae Clampett etc. She also had the same sad look in her eyes as the man from the Broadway. Encountering this woman made me think but talking to my best friend changed the course of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The name of the movie is long forgotten but a bunch of us had gone out to see a movie. Later, we always went to a nearby restaurant to talk about what we had just seen. I mentioned something like if I had written the movie I would have changed this scene and done the ending differently. That is when my best friend asked me if I ever considered being a writer. Writer? No, acting is what I loved or so I thought. She is a writer and said when talking about movies, actresses will talk about the parts they want to play but I always talked about how I would rewrite scenes. This put the seed in my mind that maybe I was going the wrong way. While I love acting, I hate the business. The bottom feeders who would feed on the naive made my skin crawl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you expected to read about the darker side of my Hollywood life, there isn't any. I was lucky. While I did encounter a bottom feeder at a club who swore to me he could get me a huge acting career if I would come to his apartment to discuss it. I may be naive about some things back then but I wasn't stupid. I don't remember what I said to him but the encounter left me wanting to go take a shower to get the scum off of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew it was time to leave because if I didn't I would end up like that woman on the bus. So I packed my bags and stuff and moved back East. Do I regret, not sticking around and trying once more. Nope. As soon as I was settled in Florida, I bought paper and started writing. I sent in stories but so far haven't sold anything. That's ok though. As a writer, I don't have to be a certain size, or have work done on my body to fit what Hollywood dictates as suitable for an actress. I feel freer as a writer and am enjoying my life. Do I regret my time in Hollywood? No, I think I needed to go there and experience what I did in order to be prepared for life as a writer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This blog wasn't done to dissuade anyone who wants a career in acting. It was done, so people wouldn't go with their rose colored glasses on. See it for what it is warts and all. I did get a brass ring but it was one that led me to a wonderful life that wasn't acting. I always was told that I would take the long way around things instead of the easy way. It just took me 10 years to discover that my real dream was that of a writer. To not go after a dream even if that dream leads you to another life is a waste. Just take the leap you never know where you may land.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-2761408166256629932?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/2761408166256629932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-life-as-wannabe-actress-in-hollywood.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/2761408166256629932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/2761408166256629932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-life-as-wannabe-actress-in-hollywood.html' title='My Life As A Wannabe Actress In Hollywood'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-1301607388737804325</id><published>2009-08-12T19:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T16:06:44.061-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='techno'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='blackberry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='technology'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='cell phone'/><title type='text'>Being NonTechno In A Techno World</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;         &lt;div class="blogSubject"&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                 &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_354388674" class="blogContent"&gt;I am probably the only person left in the world without a cell phone. I lived in my happy little cell phoneless world until recently. My new pay the bills so I can pursue and acting and writing career job is an hour away from where i live. And I work at night so I will need a cell phone for emergencies. I have looked at cell phones and they look so foreign and strange to me like a lighter would to a cave man.&lt;br /&gt;So off I went to check out cell phones. The IPhone has all the bells and whistles that any techno geek would love. But for me it is too much. The price alone is too much on my budget. I just want a plain phone that is simple enough for this library nerd to handle. And a friend came up with the solution. She suggested I get a prepaid phone. Hooray!!!! Finally a phone I can handle. So that matter is settled. A prepaid phone for me.&lt;br /&gt;The next techno thing my friends want me to learn is text messaging. I almost flunked shorthand in high school because I couldn't remember what all the marks meant. There is no chance i can learn to type without vowels etc. To help me, a friend sent me an email that was done like a text message so I could get used to it. I will admit I finally caught on but for a while it was like I was deciphering a code from WWII. Now they are after me to get a Blackberry. The only Blackberry I am familiar with is the berry which I might add makes a fantastic pie. But that isn't the one they mean. They meant the Holy Grail of text messaging. THE Blackberry used by the likes of Paris Hilton, and every celeb who wants to be cool. Do I want to be cool like Paris and others or do I want to retain the feeling in my thumbs and not end up with carpal tunnel thumbs? Hard choice there but I would rather retain use of my thumbs. So will I get one or will I be Blackberry free. I must go ponder that and decide how far into technoland I want to go.......&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-1301607388737804325?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/1301607388737804325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/being-nontechno-in-techno-world.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1301607388737804325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1301607388737804325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/08/being-nontechno-in-techno-world.html' title='Being NonTechno In A Techno World'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-7973219640560003851</id><published>2009-07-28T19:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T16:08:26.098-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='auditions'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='employment'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='author'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='work'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='God'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='writing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prayers'/><title type='text'>Sometimes God Says Yes!</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;         &lt;div class="blogSubject"&gt;         &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                 &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_349758702" class="blogContent"&gt;I was taught that no matter how much I prayed for something; God sometimes said no. But there was always a reason for everything. This proved to be true for me this past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Picking a career as an actress or writer means you usually have to work at what they call a normal job to pay the bills. For the past year, I have been trying to find a job. I guess i should watch tv more because I would have known how bad the job market is. I mean when you can't even get an offer from McDonald's there is something wrong. But I kept my faith even when it was faltering. My best friend would tell me "God didn't bring you this far to let you down." So I trudged on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let me tell you, after awhile you got all your job history, education, etc, memorized, dates and all. I went to interviews and answered the questions asked. I was told my skills were impressive and they liked me but they had others to interview and would let me know. Then I would start over again. When you are unemployed, you can't sit by the phone waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did I get some responses, you might ask? Yes I did. Not the answer I wanted but they did call or send a letter. I would get the response:"We really were impressed with your skills, you have a great personality and we really liked you." Then if done by the phone, there was a pause. And then they would say, "But we decided to go with someone else. What the heck was that! They loved me, they were impressed with my skills, but they went with someone else. The rejections by mail were something else. One from a major department store just stated that they didn't have a job to match my skills. Wait a minute, I have over 11 years of retail experience and there wasn't a job to match my skills. Sorry but working retail isn't rocket science.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But as I said in the subject of this blog, God sometimes says yes. And he did last week. i finally got a job that will pay enough, so I can pursue my dreams. it is everything I ever wanted in a job. The hours are right, the pay is good and it leaves me enough time for auditions, and writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have written short stories that were easier to write than this blog. But I can cross this off my list of things to do. I have now written my first blog.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-7973219640560003851?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/7973219640560003851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/02/sometimes-god-says-yes.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/7973219640560003851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/7973219640560003851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/02/sometimes-god-says-yes.html' title='Sometimes God Says Yes!'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-9129897410028520558</id><published>2009-07-22T22:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T16:15:35.682-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='James Whitmore'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clint Ritchie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='hollywood'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Actors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Phil Carey'/><title type='text'>The Loss Of Three Wonderful Actors</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;                                &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                &lt;br /&gt;In the past week, we have lost 3 very wonderful actors, Clint Ritchie, Phil Carey, and James Whitmore. Clint and Phil were on the soap opera One Life To Live as well as tv and movies and James Whitmore was in many great movies, tv shows and the Miracle Gro commercial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What really has bothered me is the lack of notice from the media for these men who gave wondeful performances. Let Brittany or Paris forget their panties and it is splashed all over the news. They all deserved more from the media than just a small paragraph on AOL. I applaud the friends and co-workers of Clint Ritchie and Phil Carey who did memorials to them on the internet. They didn't let them fade into oblivion without the recognition they deserved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember each of them in the many different roles they played. If you ever watched the mini series Centennial, you would see Clint Ritches as Messmore Garrett. He also played Clint Buchanan in One Life To Live for 20 years. Phil He also did many other movies and tv shows. From the little bit on the internet that was written by people who knew him, he was a wonderful man who loved his horses and other animals on his ranch. Phil Carey started when Hollywood still had the studio system. His roles covered all across the board. I am a Kolchak Night Stalker fan and he did a role in an episode. He was well known for his role as Asa Buchanan. James Whitmore was another actor who was around forever. He did lead roles as well as supporting. Another favorite movie of mine called Them had him in the role of a police officer. He made acting look so easy. These men contributed a lot to the world of entertainment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why it bothers me so much, these wonderful men left this world without much notice. Hollywood is more concerned with youth and the cookie cutter actors and actresses that they are producing that they forget the wonderful performers who actually had talent and could be called actors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would rather watch an old movie where there was a story, before nudity and foul language was the norm. Most people don't remember the actors' names and that is a shame. So the next time, you are looking for a movie, try an older one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God Bless, to these three wonderful men who left this world with wonderful memories of their performances. They will be missed by family, friends and their fans worldwide.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-9129897410028520558?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/9129897410028520558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/07/loss-of-three-wonderful-actors.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/9129897410028520558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/9129897410028520558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/07/loss-of-three-wonderful-actors.html' title='The Loss Of Three Wonderful Actors'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-1573409466457103676</id><published>2009-07-14T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T22:42:21.455-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes You Have To Take A Leap Of Faith</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;&lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;       &lt;div id="pBlogBody_486828635" class="blogContent"&gt; April 15, 2009 could be called the day I was reborn. It was the day when I realized in one split second my life could have ended. The accident caused because the other driver did a left turn when I was already in the middle of the intersection. But that isn't why I am writing this. I am writing this because that incident has changed my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was one of those people who put off life. There is always tomorrow to go after my dreams. That accident made me realize that tomorrow might not come and only today matters. I have a job I hate but hey I have a job. There are other things I want to do but I didn't have the courage to go after them. Now I do. It is like God opened my eyes and showed me that my time here isn't infinite that it can be taken away in a split second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will my friends agree with what I am going to do? Some will and others will pull the age card. You know the "You're (fill in the blank) and you need to think about retirement. Do you know how many people planned for their retirement but died a few days after they retired? They didn't get to enjoy any of the money they worked hard for or get to do the things they planned. Life is to be lived not saved for later on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is to my new beginning and the giant leap of faith I am about to take.&lt;br /&gt;                 &lt;/div&gt;              &lt;!--- blogger's current book/movie/music/games ---&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-1573409466457103676?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/1573409466457103676/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/07/sometimes-you-have-to-take-leap-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1573409466457103676'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/1573409466457103676'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/07/sometimes-you-have-to-take-leap-of.html' title='Sometimes You Have To Take A Leap Of Faith'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-759581820371353462.post-6492907054811173756</id><published>2009-01-30T19:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-08-22T19:16:08.325-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pet Peeves For 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;!--- blog subject ---&gt;         &lt;div class="blogSubject"&gt;        &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;                                 &lt;!--- blog body ---&gt;                     &lt;div id="pBlogBody_352115458" class="blogContent"&gt;1. People who drive while talking on a cell phone. (unless you are the FBI going to capture a serial killer than get off the frickin phone. I was almost hit by some moron who couldn't put down the adult version of a pacifier.&lt;br /&gt;2. That every woman must be a size 2 or under the age of 30 to be consider worthy of anything.&lt;br /&gt;3. Ageism. Just because you remember when the Beatles were the new band out of the UK doesn't mean you are too old to have an opinion or be useful.&lt;br /&gt;4. Intolerance. If we all were the same wouldn't this be a very boring world. Diversity is the spice of life.&lt;br /&gt;5. Celebrity Adoration. I don't understand how people can take simple admiration and become psychotic about it. I used to belong to a fan site of an actors' where some members actually believed if they met this actor in person they would fall in love and marry him. In fact, if you pointed out to them how crazy this sounded they would say you were just jealous because said actor would want them but not you. Trust me, I gave up thinking I was going to marry someone famous when I was around 11 years old and I knew I was going to marry David Cassidy. I even sent him a letter. It never happened. i was heart broken but I got over it. Now don't get me wrong, there are actors who I think are great for various reason. Gerard Butler for his accent, Nathan Fillion for the fact he reads books and he has an intelligience you rarely find in Hollywood actors and he is one handsome geek,Brad Pitt because he walks the walk and talks the talk and he is hot because he is a good dad.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/759581820371353462-6492907054811173756?l=awritershome.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/feeds/6492907054811173756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/07/pet-peeves-for-2008.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/6492907054811173756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/759581820371353462/posts/default/6492907054811173756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://awritershome.blogspot.com/2009/07/pet-peeves-for-2008.html' title='Pet Peeves For 2008'/><author><name>Marianne Baird</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01255792982310910283</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
