tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13286105773050908802024-03-12T23:27:18.115-07:00Sherry L. White/treehuggerAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-79395503905040063502018-06-12T07:23:00.000-07:002018-06-12T13:09:13.973-07:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: red; font-size: large;">CANDY!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">CANDY!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span> <span style="color: red; font-size: large;">CANDY!!!</span><br />
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<br />
Not only is June the month we honor our dad's, attend weddings, and go on vacations, June has the privilege of being the official candy month.<br />
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<b>Bits of candy history:</b> The origin of candy can be traced to the ancient Egyptians who combine nuts with honey. Greeks used honey to make candied fruits and flowers. The first modern candies were made in the 16th century and soon developed into an industry during the early 19th century.<br />
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<b>Candy Bar History:</b> The First chocolate bar was made in 1847 by Joseph Fry in England. Named: Fry's Chocolate Cream Bar.<br />
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<b>Candy Cane History: </b>Stems back to Germany around 1670. Later, Bob McCormick began making candy canes as special Christmas treats.<br />
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<b>Cotton Candy History: </b>A Nashville team of Wharton and Morris patented the first modern candy machine in 1897.<br />
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As you can see, candy has been with the human race for quite a long time. Below, is one of my candy recipes for Peanut Butter Fudge. I make this recipe throughout the year and it has never failed. The fudge calls for only seven ingredients, you probably have most in stock. If you're like me, I like easy and proven recipes from people I trust. This candy recipe was my mom's. Well trusted and proven.<br />
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So, celebrate the month of June with your dad, attend a wedding or have a great vacation, but remember your sweet tooth and give this proven recipe of peanut butter fudge of try. You'll be glad you did.<br />
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<u><b>Ingredients:</b></u><br />
No-Stick Cooking Spray<br />
3 Cups sugar<br />
1/2 Cup butter<br />
2/3 Cup Pet Evaporated Milk<br />
1 2/3 Cups Jiffy Creamy Peanut Butter<br />
1 (7oz.) jar marshmallow cream<br />
1 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />
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<b>Directions:</b><br />
Line 13 x 9-inch pan with aluminum foil. Spay with cooking spray.<br />
Combine sugar, butter, and milk in large saucepan, stirring constantly on medium heat, until mixture comes to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat.<br />
Add peanut butter. Stir until well blended. Add marshmallow cream and vanilla. Beat until well blended. Spread in prepared pan. Cool. Cut into candy-size pieces.<br />
<span style="color: red;"><i>(Note:)You may add walnuts or pecans, if you like. I add them just before I spread the fudge into the pan. I also let the fudge cool overnight in the refrigerator. This gives the fudge time to blend and settle. It also slices into cubes better.) Enjoy!</i></span><br />
<span style="color: red;"><i><br /></i></span> <i>Make the world a better place</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Best,</i><br />
<i>Sherry</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-67603837071237398512018-05-07T10:32:00.000-07:002018-05-07T10:32:11.538-07:00LITTLE SEEDS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hey all. It's that time of year again when we start thinking about planting those little seeds. It's a good thing, I don't get manicures this time of year, because it would be a waste of my money. I love planting and watching my seeds grow.<br />
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Below is a photo of my lily and mum garden from last season.<br />
<b><i>"Happy Growing Season to you!"</i></b><br />
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Poems:<br />
How does it know, this little seed,<br />
if it is to grow to a flower or weed,<br />
if it is to be a vine or shoot or<br />
grow to a tree with a long deep root?<br />
A seed is so small, where do you<br />
suppose it stores up all of the things it knows?<br />
<b>(uua.org/tapestry)</b><br />
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The love is spreading to me and to you.<br />
Hearts are opening wide.<br />
Sun warms the earth, we all are flowers.<br />
The love starts deep inside.<b> (uu.org/tapestry)</b><br />
<br />
"Mary, Mary, quite contrary,<br />
how does your garden grow?<br />
With silver bells and cockleshells,<br />
and pretty maids all in a row<br />
<b>(Mother Goose)</b><br />
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In my garden there is a large<br />
place for sentiment. My garden<br />
of flowers is also my garden of<br />
thoughts and dreams. The thoughts<br />
grow freely as the flowers and the<br />
dreams are as beautiful<br />
<b>(Abram L. Urban)</b><br />
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Who loves a garden, finds<br />
within his soul life's whole<br />
He hears the anthem of the soil<br />
while ingrates toil and see<br />
beyond his little sphere the<br />
waving fronds of heaven, clear<br />
<b>(Louise S. Jones)</b><br />
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<i>Make the world a better place.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Best,</i><br />
<i>Sherry</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-20659679482668036162018-04-04T07:44:00.000-07:002018-04-04T07:55:47.539-07:00Sacred Trees/ Poem by: Joyce Kilmer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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April celebrates Earth Day and Arbor Day.<br />
<br />
Tree Astrology:<br />
What's Your Sign?<br />
<br />
April babies represent <i><b>The Willow. </b></i>You are highly creative, intuitive, and you understand that life teaches a lesson.<br />
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<b>A personal tree story:</b><br />
One sunny afternoon, my eighth grade teacher took our class outside to sit under a tree. She passed out bags of popcorn and told us to eat in silence."Study the tree as a whole tree first," she told us, "then separate the tree into leaves, branches, and its trunk. Remember as much as you can about this tree." We all giggled thinking our teacher had lost her mind. But, we knew our teacher, she was serious. I guess we sat under that old tree for about twenty minutes. Probably, the quietest we'd been all day. Back in the classroom, our teacher instructed us to compose a short poem about the tree. We all moaned of course. As we engaged in our writing, she quietly wrote this poem on the blackboard.<br />
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<i style="background-color: white;"><b>I think that I shall never see</b></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>a poem lovely as a tree</b></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i>
<i>A tree whose hungry mouth</i></b></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>is prest against the earth's</b></span></i><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>sweet flowing breast</b></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i>
<i>A tree that looks at God all day</i></b></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>and lifts her leafy arms to pray</b></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i>
<i>A tree that may in Summer wear</i></b></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>a nest of robins in her hair</b></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i>
<i>Upon whose bosom snow had lain</i></b></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>who intimately lives with rain</b></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i>
<i>Poems are made by fools like me</i></b></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>but only God can make a tree</b></span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><b><i><br /></i>
<i>Joyce Kilmer</i></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: blue;"><i>(Note:The tree poem I wrote that day ended up in the trash.</i><i> Today, I honor '</i><b><i>all'</i></b><i> teachers who make a difference in their class.)</i></span><br />
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<i>Make the world a better place</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Best,</i><br />
<i>Sherry</i><br />
<i><br /></i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-88736809068963200122018-03-06T07:38:00.000-08:002018-03-06T07:38:31.353-08:00St. Patrick's Day Cupcakes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: red;">Cupcakes! Cupcakes! Cupcakes!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHsXYDizBsMRLhoO3sCGmSOuAbba87A6htXaKcK2Hrd67y_1E-aKdVml3G_BevFV5PiAiNrVci66Lcb_zYH_LhEWYgetsqzErxzNH-BWPCvStjFdVW9fghKI5yV1uYf_wcDSsoinlLe37/s1600/20180128_114238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHsXYDizBsMRLhoO3sCGmSOuAbba87A6htXaKcK2Hrd67y_1E-aKdVml3G_BevFV5PiAiNrVci66Lcb_zYH_LhEWYgetsqzErxzNH-BWPCvStjFdVW9fghKI5yV1uYf_wcDSsoinlLe37/s200/20180128_114238.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<span style="color: red; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Nothing like a cute cupcake to make you smile"</i></span></h4>
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Want something different for dessert this St. Patrick's Day? How about cupcakes. They are fun and easy. My mom baked cupcakes almost every Sunday when I was little. I thought they were the greatest. They fit just right in my small hand as I raced out the backdoor to play. She let me pick the color wrappers. I always picked the purple and pink ones. A girl thing for sure. The cupcake smell floated through our house and drove my dad crazy. He would make several trips to the kitchen and ask, "how much longer on those cupcakes, Dorothy?" Cupcakes, pot roast and potatoes was a big deal on Sunday. Homemade bread or cornbread topped with butter made the meal, <i>perfect.</i> Sitting around the table and sharing good food made for warm family time.<br />
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Below is a delicious and super quick cupcake recipe. The pistachio pudding flavor is awesome.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNldrBrBWd_q6Pm84KiJaGI9uklTWtRf63tK284SWx74d51Gitty7cVGUdkc3STdxAK1cbjgngeCsZRVn-zLeAuTzfqOhAFW_sANvY2sAT9AVXAgnDSHAEeErbPRJSH34KO2iLvkfr2FOe/s1600/20180128_112345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNldrBrBWd_q6Pm84KiJaGI9uklTWtRf63tK284SWx74d51Gitty7cVGUdkc3STdxAK1cbjgngeCsZRVn-zLeAuTzfqOhAFW_sANvY2sAT9AVXAgnDSHAEeErbPRJSH34KO2iLvkfr2FOe/s200/20180128_112345.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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1-3/4 cups all purpose flour<br />
2/3 cup sugar<br />
1 package (3.4 ounces) instant pistachio pudding mix<br />
2 teaspoons baking powder<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
2 eggs<br />
1-1/4 cups 2% milk<br />
1/2 cup canola oil<br />
1 teaspoon vanilla extract<br />
Green food coloring, optional<br />
Cream Cheese frosting<br />
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In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, pudding mix, baking powder and salt. In a small bowl, beat the eggs, milk, oil and vanilla; add to dry ingredients and mix until blended.<br />
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Fill paper-lined muffin cups three-fourths full. Bake at 375 for 18-22 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes before removing from pan to wire rack to cool completely. Add food coloring to frosting, if desired; frost your beautiful St. Patrick's cupcakes. Enjoy.<br />
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If you have a tasty cupcake recipe, I would love to hear from you.<br />
<br />
<i>Make the world a better place.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Best,</i><br />
<i>Sherry</i><br />
<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-57828666615815230332018-02-13T12:36:00.000-08:002018-02-22T12:38:21.845-08:00Coloring <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi guys,<br />
<br />
Coloring isn't just for kids anymore. Last year, I received crayons and two adult coloring books for Christmas. I have to say, I have a new respect for coloring. Coloring can be relaxing and a stress reliever. It also can stimulate your brain in the areas of motor skills and creativity. Personally, sitting quietly with my coloring allows me to focus on (it) and not my worry for the day. That's a good thing. Right? So, if your looking for a new hobby for the winter, pick up an adult coloring book at your local Wal-Mart, Target or Michael's.<br />
<br />
Here are three of my coloring projects. As a personal touch, I framed them and gave as gifts.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<i>Make the world a better place</i>
<i>Best,</i><br />
<i>Sherry</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0Unorganized Thunder Bay District, ON P0T, Canada48.9024294 -90.02756879999998323.623226400000004 -131.33616279999998 74.1816324 -48.718974799999984tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-85167969279007911122018-01-09T10:11:00.000-08:002018-01-10T06:33:18.290-08:00New Year, Discipline & Sequel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
HAPPY NEW YEAR READERS AND WRITERS<br />
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Hope your holiday season was happy and productive. My family shared delicious food, gift giving and games. Winter has arrived in my area of the country with single digit numbers. Burrrrrrr!!!!!!<br />
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With the new year in front of us, I've been thinking about my writing and what I want to accomplish. Last year, I finished my YA novel <i>Hybrid: The Egg Harvest.</i> A long three years, I might say. But, those three years taught me a lot on how to write. Spending time with my critique group, reading books on how to write, and laboring at the keyboard has lodged the word <b>'discipline'</b> deep inside my brain. Most days are a joy to write, others complete drudgery. I've learned a daily writing schedule is a must for productivity. As we all know, life gets in the way of our writing, but with discipline we must make up the time the next day. It matters little whether our schedule is word count or hours, making up the time is crucial to the success of finishing our story's. My word count for each day is 500. So, if I miss a scheduled writing time, my make up count for the next day rolls over to 1,000 words. If it's a low energy day for me and the words aren't flowing that's the drudgery day I hate.<br />
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For the new year, I've decided to try a sequel to Hybrid. My working title is <i>Interweave.</i> I'm five chapters in, and the plot and characters are coming together without much headache. The joy of writing is flowing.<br />
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I hope your reading and writing is off to a great start for the upcoming year. My new read this week is Cassandra Clare and Holly Black's, <i>The Iron Trial. </i><br />
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Best,<br />
Sherry<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-7455907162948859462017-11-16T12:19:00.001-08:002017-11-16T12:21:10.401-08:00Never To Late <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Hello, again, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If your reading this, THANK YOU. However, it's crazy to think it's been three years since I posted on my blog. I've let this blog slide for one reason only, FINISHING MY NOVEL. YAY FOR ME!!!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">By far, I think this was harder than giving birth. At least with labor it's over in a few hours. This story literally took over my life. As I pounded away at my keyboard the days seemed sluggish at times, yet too fast with family and friends. Writing is vigorous work. It takes effort, planning, and ass in chair. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">For me, discipline to write each day finally paid off when I wrote the last paragraph of <i>HYBRID-</i>THE <i>EGG HARVEST.</i> Happy to report, hard at work on the sequel, <i>HYBRID-INTERWEAVE.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'm looking forward to the holiday season to celebrate good health, good food, and spending quality time with the people I love. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, that's it for now. I don't think it will be three years before you here from me again. I wish each and all a wonderful holiday season and that the new year will bring you joy and happiness.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Best,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Sherry </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>(P.S.) HYBRID- THE EGG HARVEST is in its third editing.</i></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-56691444122716332052014-12-19T08:21:00.000-08:002014-12-19T08:32:28.164-08:00A Charming Christmas Story/Phoenix Flower Shop<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A charming legend of how the poinsettia was born. Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas.</span></div>
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A charming story is told of P<img align="left" alt="" src="http://www.phoenixflowershops.com//images/pageMakerImages/TF8402Web111210101434.jpg" style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 20px 20px 20px 0px; vertical-align: text-top;" />epita, a poor Mexican girl who had no gift to present the Christ Child at Christmas Eve Services. As Pepita walked slowly to the chapel with her cousin Pedro, her heart was filled with sadness rather than joy. I am sure, Pepita, that even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes," said Pedro consolingly.</div>
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Not knowing what else to do, Pepita knelt by the roadside and gathered a handful of common weeds, fashioning them into a small bouquet. Looking at the scraggly bunch of weeds, she felt more saddened and embarrassed than ever by the humbleness of her offering. She fought back a tear as she entered the small village chapel.</div>
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As she approached the altar, she remembered Pedro's kind words: "Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes." She felt her spirit lift as she knelt to lay the bouquet at the foot of the nativity scene. Suddenly, the bouquet of weeds burst into blooms of brilliant red, and all who saw them were certain that they had witnessed a Christmas miracle right before their eyes.</div>
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From that day on, the bright red flowers were known as the Flores de Noche Buena, or Flowers of the Holy Night, for they bloomed each year during the Christmas season and thus, the legend of the poinsettia was born.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-5356846118385182552014-10-03T13:30:00.000-07:002014-10-02T10:45:57.517-07:00Eat chocolate daily . . .<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>"Sand between my toes"</b></i></span><br />
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<i><br /></i><i><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-size: large;">What I think about when I walk in the sand.</span></i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HGlQoStEmLtk65u9mXn1whFMurR_XgrjdMLWRp7Bjw5WL73n6jusi0S_F2Ah3YZI8q2dU71CftL4VXHZm5gcIPTnhyRQLW-SyVJYae8V-UkddgSZ_Ax-71ZGGGZ5Dr_2tuJCc5ZQj7vT/s1600/SketchGuru_20141001155603.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7HGlQoStEmLtk65u9mXn1whFMurR_XgrjdMLWRp7Bjw5WL73n6jusi0S_F2Ah3YZI8q2dU71CftL4VXHZm5gcIPTnhyRQLW-SyVJYae8V-UkddgSZ_Ax-71ZGGGZ5Dr_2tuJCc5ZQj7vT/s1600/SketchGuru_20141001155603.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i><b>Appreciation of my life, family, and friends.</b></i></span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">
<br />I also think about how long, we'll be able to walk safely along the sea shore and feel the sand between our toes. How blessed we are to live on such a beautiful planet as <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Earth.</span> We must do better as caretakers to keep our oceans clean, safe, and enjoyable. </span></div>
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<span style="color: blue;"><br /></span><span style="color: blue;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: white;"> "If we can shift are thinking, we can change the world"</span></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"If we can change our thinking, we can improve our world."</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Have a great day,</span><br />
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<span style="color: blue;">Sherry</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-39632539913347936982014-09-19T07:35:00.000-07:002014-09-18T12:53:30.967-07:00Eat chocolate daily . . .<b><i>Work in progress</i></b><br />
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Cosmologists tell us that our world began as some sort of big bang. There was a moment, they say, just the barest instant of time, when from that bang there arose enough energy to create everything in our universe. From this stupendous beginning, billions and billions of galaxies spread across the universe. The cosmos is a work in progress and so is your writing.<br />
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Rainbow Rowell's wrote:<br />
<i>Remember that you're not writing for everyone. You're writing for the reader who connects with your style and perspective. Lots of people won't like your book; that doesn't mean you shouldn't write it. So keep those fingers on the keyboard and spin a great tale.</i><br />
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Have a great day.<br />
Sherry/treehugger-peninhand.blogspot.comAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-70475758171811702372014-08-21T15:00:00.000-07:002014-08-21T15:00:01.952-07:00"Feelings"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7dF5jrjzxDO8aobvkYr7npRwZCZKT_Dc6UgHvg1XkZZnKRk69b_vgR39erpepy915YcWexnI017EZ9nyKVXpro0B9RgxmYeFkVGYz_sBFTy3SOGqHqeyEwQJa7miZRpbNC0f-EMHJ3Sw/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7dF5jrjzxDO8aobvkYr7npRwZCZKT_Dc6UgHvg1XkZZnKRk69b_vgR39erpepy915YcWexnI017EZ9nyKVXpro0B9RgxmYeFkVGYz_sBFTy3SOGqHqeyEwQJa7miZRpbNC0f-EMHJ3Sw/s320/015.JPG" height="320" width="293" /></a></div>
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<b>"Steps for Writing Feelings"</b><br />
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<b>You decide what's good and what's bad</b><br />
<b>You give your reader a character for a compass</b><br />
<b>You create a story world</b><br />
<b>You inject an element of change</b><br />
<b>You draw motive power from cause and effect</b><br />
<b>You pin down development to motivation and reaction</b><br />
<b>You make motivation-reaction units shape emotion</b><br />
<b>You measure copy length with tension <i>(D. V. Swain)</i></b><br />
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<b>So, my question today is how do we decide whether a thing is good or bad? Everything is good and bad, in varying degrees. Is a rainstorm bad or good? How about a bombing raid? A strike? A divorce? A marriage? A cigarette? A chocolate bar? A job? A baby? A weed?</b><br />
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<b>Because we're human, we measure each instance with cause and effect, pushed together with our feelings of the world we live in. </b><br />
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<b>You, the writer, decides how significant a rainstorm, a marriage, a chocolate bar or a divorce is to your fiction world. Whether we have a hand full of facts or three barrels full, we humans judge and respond with our feelings.</b><br />
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<b><i>Happy Writing,</i></b><br />
<b><i>Sherry L White </i></b><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-91568114753191890562014-08-01T12:43:00.000-07:002014-08-01T12:43:03.478-07:00Eat chocolate daily . . .<b><i>Whose Stories?</i></b><br />
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Once upon a time, we sat around the campfire and told our stories. It united our clan and our culture inside the safety of our cave. Today's stories are instant, demanding, and in our face. The venues are numerous. Many stories encourage that we have value and a voice, others deflate our confidence in the human race. The question is: whose stories and what media can you believe? The world today is an ongoing story, and somehow, we have to sort it all out to a story that makes sense to us.<br />
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What's your view on story?<br />
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Sherry<br />
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<span style="color: magenta;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-47738026004038223042014-07-13T12:32:00.001-07:002014-07-13T12:32:59.017-07:00Eat chocolate daily . . .Time: "What does it mean to you?"<br />
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Time: is constant<br />
Time: it waits not for nobility<br />
Time: plays heavy on wrinkles<br />
Time: gives way to change<br />
Time: multiplies flies<br />
Time: fosters forgiveness<br />
Time: nurtures children<br />
Time: swallows up our sorrows<br />
Time: creates smiles<br />
Time: is equal to all<br />
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Have a great Sunday watching the world cup.<br />
<br />
Sherry<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-24373150706821535162014-05-17T12:31:00.000-07:002014-05-17T12:31:08.592-07:00Eat chocolate daily . . .<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcu57eeYeXBmQHrocdFFG4IkEeXEXzLIQB6qtmR9BRsob7KRv38D2ZEUX3V1fd_uiMgGbr7_DjLrgmETNZKElOdE12HA5VfPrOcePy5a3xBwmqwgPg64bPC2_Ygm8BV6feJ6nGMneiP41a/s1600/Hybrid_web1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcu57eeYeXBmQHrocdFFG4IkEeXEXzLIQB6qtmR9BRsob7KRv38D2ZEUX3V1fd_uiMgGbr7_DjLrgmETNZKElOdE12HA5VfPrOcePy5a3xBwmqwgPg64bPC2_Ygm8BV6feJ6nGMneiP41a/s1600/Hybrid_web1.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A scene from Hybrid. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Pages 155-158 </div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Captain
Elswick grabbed his orders and closed the door behind him. His visit with Major Reni had shaken
him. What she’d ask was a serious breach of Alfiniaian law. They both could be
court-martialed. He glanced down at his watch. He was ten minutes late for his
briefing with his crew. This would be their last meeting before departure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> The
chatter stopped as Captain Elswick entered the briefing room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Good
evening,” he said, half smiling. He made no apologies why he was late. He hoped
no one had seen Major Reni leave his quarters. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “We
have exactly four hours before lift off. Let’s run through the schedule. Dr.
Romas, let’s start with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Dr.
Romas, a short, robust man, stood up. He was a twenty-five-year veteran as an
embryologist. Once the eggs were harvested his primary responsibility were the
freezer tanks. Dr. Romas spread opened his briefcase, placed his report
in front of him, and cleared his throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “All
calculation, accurate, Captain. I’ve double-checked the liquid nitrogen. Full
capacity, Sir. The embryology lab, sterile and ready.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Excellent,”
the Captain answered. “Good work.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> The
Captain leaned forward and pushed a red button. A six by six hologram screen
burst to life, illuminating the entire room.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “This
mission to Earth will be more of a challenge,” he said, pointing to the lower
half of the screen. “We’ve been monitoring E/421 for several months. Its
drifting path is dead center of our exit point, which could be a real problem
for us.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> From
the back of the room, Navigator Blaine raised his hand and cleared his throat.
“Sir, I checked E/421 less than an hour ago. It's closer than originally
recorded. We may have to delay our lift off time.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Lt.
Warnock’s jaw muscle knotted up. He was the crew’s rebel. He didn’t get along
with anyone, but as a trained physicist he knew his stuff when it came to
traversable wormholes. He interrupted Lt. Blaine. “Sir, the portal’s opening
has its own time clock. There’s no variance with its window of 24 hours.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Why
not use our new LD prototype, Captain?” asked Lt. Skyler. “Its beam could shift
the E/421 asteroid to either side of the exit point. We only need a five mile
clearance to exit safely.” Skyler was twenty-four, the youngest of Captain
Elswick’s crew. He’d just graduated from Alfinia’s Royal Officers Academy with
a degree in Quantum Mechanics.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Good
point, Lt. Skyler,” the Captain answered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Captain
Elswick had received a report on the new LD prototype, but it wasn’t scheduled
for release for six months. “Lt. Blaine, get with Lt. Skyler after the
briefing. Run the numbers. I’ll contact General Dalmar to request an earlier
release.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Lt.
Blaine nodded. “Consider it done, Sir.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> During
the last few minutes of the briefing, Captain Elswick eyes shifted to the
darkened balcony. The door stood half opened with an outlined of body. He
quickly recognized the female frame. Major Reni had joined their briefing. He
hesitated, unsure of what to say or do. He braced himself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Major
Reni,” his voice finally spit out. “Please, want you join our briefing.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Major
Reni stepped into the light. Her auburn hair fell in loose curls, framing her
ivory face. She was stunning. Any male would have to be blind not to recognize
her beauty. She maneuvered her body down the stairs with care, replicating
the grace of her mother, the Queen. Major Reni no doubt was one confident and
resourceful woman. She had carved out a superior career for herself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> The
Captain’s crew stood and bowed. After all, not only was Major Reni a major in
the Elite Army, she was a Princess.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Thank
you, Captain,” she answered. She sat down in the chair next to Skyler and
motioned for the crew to return to their seats. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Skyler
eased down into his seat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d never been
that close to a Princess before. He closed his eyes, breathing in her lavender
scent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Major
Reni’s slender fingers brushed her curls from her eyes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “If
I may, Captain,” she said, pointing to the screen. “This E/421 is the same
asteroid my crew and I confronted six weeks ago. It’s big and it’s tough. Our
systems calculated that something caused Jupiter’s gravitational pull to kick
this particular </span><span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT; line-height: 200%;">asteroid
out of the belt. It’s running wild. It’s been hard to monitor or even get a
handled on where its heading. We’d installed the new LD prototype in my ship,
but had never had the call to use it until then. We shot the beam into its lower south
side. Luckily, our calculations were right. It nudged it just enough for us to
accelerate our thrusters into jump drive, and we cleared an impact. It’s an
extraordinary tool to have aboard you ship. I just wished we’d had it eight
centuries ago. Get clearance for its installation, Captain. You’ll need it.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> For
a moment, a frozen expression spread across the Captain’s face. He wasn’t aware
that the new probe had been approved, installed or even tested. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Thank
you, Major Reni,” the Captain replied. “We appreciate your info.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Major
Reni stood and strolled across the room. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Captain
Elswick eyes followed her. He swallowed hard. He’d never had his own
female partner. His alliance to Alfinia ranked first priority. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Leaving
a trail of lavender scent behind her, the crew jumped to attention like
frighten rabbits as Major Reni passed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Captain
Elswick coughed, grabbing back his crew’s mental attention.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Remember,
no wine before the launch. If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> “Sir,
there’s just one more thing,” Navigator Blaine said, standing up. “Do our
orders still include Major Reni’s daughter?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: TimesNewRomanPSMT;"> Captain
Elswick’s composure wilted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-32421242514523887882014-01-03T13:29:00.000-08:002014-01-03T13:38:36.848-08:00Eat chocolate daily . . ."Talent: Who decides?"<br />
<br />
The making or breaking of a writer. If you're a writer, I thought you might like to read this parallel story about a violin player from author, Lawrence Block.<br />
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A man once wanted to become a famous violinist. He loved the violin. He worried though about whether or not he had talent. He said, "Someday, I will play for Mr. Heifetz, the greatest violinist of all. If he says I have talent, I will pursue a career in music. If not, I'll get a job in a bank."<br />
Time went by and eventually he got his wish, he played for the master. Afterwards, he waited breathlessly for the response. His whole future hinged on the master's reply.<br />
"Tell me," he said anxiously. "Do I have talent? Do I have the makings of a successful violinist?"<br />
The master shook his head. "You don't have the fire," he told him.<br />
The would-be violinist was a broken man. But he had heard it from the master. He would give up his career in music and go into another field of work. He became a very successful businessman, and many years later, after a concert he went backstage to thank Mr. Heifetz for the words that changed his life. As he shook the master's hand, he said, "It was because of you that I gave up violin and went into business."<br />
"What did I tell you?" asked the master, frowning.<br />
"You said I did not have the fire."<br />
"Oh," answered the master, waving the comment away.<br />
"I tell everyone that. Anyone who would come and ask me doesn't have enough belief in himself to succeed."<br />
<br />
Man, what a rocking and powerful little story. I thought about these words all afternoon. My passion is writing the next best seller. (Ha Ha) Well, why not? If you're going to dream, don't waste your energy. Dream big. Right?<br />
However, I do think having writing talent is important, but I had to really think about the fire the master was talking about. Do I have the fire in my gut to stay with my novel. To write each day? To make deadlines for myself? To get my ass to my critique group each week? And most of all to finish the damn thing? My conclusion: Yes, I do. I'm not the type of writer or person who needs to shop around for others to tell me how much talent I have. If I need others to inflate my ego, then I most certainly don't have the fire or self-confidence for the long haul of writing. <br />
<br />
Lawrence also says: "He cannot tell his students they are not talented, only that their talent is not visible. And that writing can be learned but it cannot be taught."<br />
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What's your thoughts on having talent?<br />
<br />
<i>Happy Writing,</i><br />
<i>Sherry L. White</i><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-65010969505928667872013-12-17T13:37:00.000-08:002013-12-17T13:37:25.383-08:00Eat chocolate daily . . .<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Time at Christmas:<br />
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Have you ever reflected back on a moment that you wished you'd given someone your time?<br />
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I think we all could answer that question with a big, YES.<br />
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In the rush of the holiday season, do stop for a moment and give your child, hubby, neighbor, grandchild or someone in a nursing home a moment of your time. <br />
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A gift of 'your' time could be the most memorable Christmas gift of all.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-6030581783521723742013-12-06T11:08:00.000-08:002013-12-06T11:13:21.028-08:00Eat chocolate daily . . .Question of the day. How many books have you stopped reading and why?<br />
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If you're like me, your book shelves are bursting with books. Most of my books, I love, dust often, and treasure. However, there are several who take up valuable space and haven't seen the light of day for years. So, I ask myself, Why do I keep these books? What turned me off? Why didn't they keep me reading? I pulled four from the shelf and started to re-read. In one hour, I had my answer. All the authors started with <b><i>BACKSTORY and SCENERY.</i></b> I had no idea what was going on. No main character showed-up. No question of trouble brewing. How on earth could I get emotional involved? I had nothing to connect, too. A good beginning for me has to grab me emotionally with people doing something. I have to care. I want to know the story-worthy problem. Oak trees, lakes, birds flying, sun in the sky, doesn't do the job. <i><b>Boring as hell!!!!!!! </b></i> Please, write me an opening scene with action. Stories are about one thing and one thing only, <b><i>Trouble. The story simply doesn't exist before this point.</i></b><br />
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<i><b>Remember: A good beginning could possibly buy you another page or two with your reader. A poor beginning can doom you story on the first page. </b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i>
Happy Writing, and I wish all my friends a very happy holiday season.<br />
<i>Sherry L. White</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-945749620853220902013-11-14T11:07:00.000-08:002013-11-14T11:11:31.866-08:00Eat chocolate daily . . .<b><i>Question of the day. Are you growing as a writer?</i></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This question can mean many things to many people. I've asked myself this question for several months. So here's the deal for me. I decided if I wanted to grow as a writer, I'd have to change and so would my daily grind. No doubt, there's not enough hours in the day. With families, deadlines, sports, clubs, church, meetings, etc. The shit list is endless and can drive one to say dirty words. OOPS. Did I just say a dirty word. Anyway, I made a commitment to change a few things to help me grow as a writer and stop cleaning the damn house so much. OOPS. Sorry. Another dirty. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to connect with writers who are smarter than me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to connect with beta-readers who can cut my words to the bare bones</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to connect with positive people who encourage my dream of writing</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to scale back on TV shows that waste my precious writing time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to read books that challenge my brain and stimulate my creative juices</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to to make appointments with myself to sit and daydream</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to learn to say, "No" to others who aren't considerate of my time</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I need to post this list above my laptop and read it daily </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wish me luck, guys. How about you? What would you change to spend more time on your writing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Happy Writing,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>Sherry L. White</i></span><br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-28001082088252671322013-10-30T13:34:00.000-07:002013-10-30T14:29:01.204-07:00"Not Impressed"<br />
<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>The reason a dog has so many friends is that he wags his tail instead of his tongue.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Dogs aren't impressed by pedigrees. When a mutt meets a pure-bred with the name "Amber Britches from the Royal House of Winslow," he's not impressed. He's not intimidated nor does he behave differently. It just doesn't matter. It's no big deal. How unlike us. We get hung up on titles, prestige, power, position, status, and money. We're uncomfortable around some people because of all those so-called, qualities. But not a dog. A dog simply doesn't have the hangups we humans have. Maybe it's good that he doesn't know how much he doesn't know. And even if he did know, it wouldn't matter if he knew. He accepts us for who we are regardless of our pedigree. What would it be like if we did the same?-N. Wright</i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSS1BDKRU5zFYGSQJw9YH1z3TtqHSM0Ni-JXJKu4NdxkfybwMZvetE1ln6dU5wLu7YI2lWdHT5UpCQsd8gNi5TBd_X0XpanjKsW5QT6inRbq1J5vOH1TGDqVzsc9XZo_0yNggrCm1FcFu/s1600/Dogs+in+buggy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqSS1BDKRU5zFYGSQJw9YH1z3TtqHSM0Ni-JXJKu4NdxkfybwMZvetE1ln6dU5wLu7YI2lWdHT5UpCQsd8gNi5TBd_X0XpanjKsW5QT6inRbq1J5vOH1TGDqVzsc9XZo_0yNggrCm1FcFu/s200/Dogs+in+buggy.jpg" width="200" /></a><i><br /></i>
<i>I would agree, the above writing is true. I would also like to say as a dog person, dogs are nicer than the average joe.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Tell your furry friend today that you love them.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Sherry</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-47748220734635675162013-10-27T15:10:00.000-07:002013-10-27T12:44:33.749-07:00"Kentucky Bourbon Sauce'<span style="color: #333399;">1 cup brown sugar,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333399;">1 cup white sugar</span>,<br />
<span style="color: #333399;">1 cup water</span>,<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #333399;">1 lemon, juiced & zested</span></div>
<span style="color: #333399;">1 orange, zested</span>,<br />
<span style="color: #333399;">1 cup strawberry jam</span>,<br />
<span style="color: #333399;">1 cup pecans,</span><br />
<span style="color: #333399;">1/2 to 1 cup KY. bourbon</span>,<br />
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<span style="color: #333399;">Cook the first three ingredients in a saucepan until sugars are dissolved. Remove from heat. Grate the rind of the orange and lemon and add to mixture. Add strawberry jam, lemon juice, pecans and bourbon. The sauce is even better when refrigerated and allowed to blend. Warm before serving over pound cake. ENJOY!!!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-48598312836497593992013-10-12T08:51:00.000-07:002013-10-27T08:08:39.421-07:00Environmental Picture Books<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRQLEBZZK0ELgzPsYzoPVu8oZqDlTb3GV76c9l_1DS7kjKFziNAmXoav0Ohz-mv-c_TL5YroxgHYbdC2qu4FO06bH19qSBatjxAJqIvp_N4O9TFKVhMWrxrMJYvgIVHOml8LuxXnZVsPT/s1600/Wini2.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706813909230139634" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRQLEBZZK0ELgzPsYzoPVu8oZqDlTb3GV76c9l_1DS7kjKFziNAmXoav0Ohz-mv-c_TL5YroxgHYbdC2qu4FO06bH19qSBatjxAJqIvp_N4O9TFKVhMWrxrMJYvgIVHOml8LuxXnZVsPT/s200/Wini2.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 125px;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDexQUt-BQTbQd-iRpxfoBf_CqaD9fRGFG-a065aUOcYNsq3X-1oaPyI9RQuXEgCrEvHulYB5z7eDw8ipAXbMgeENmchCcAeMzjqXD0tgpEIe090ohfwUnDe0PLQDHB3_1aqvUQqPZkBU/s1600/Hopper1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706813335843845714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBDexQUt-BQTbQd-iRpxfoBf_CqaD9fRGFG-a065aUOcYNsq3X-1oaPyI9RQuXEgCrEvHulYB5z7eDw8ipAXbMgeENmchCcAeMzjqXD0tgpEIe090ohfwUnDe0PLQDHB3_1aqvUQqPZkBU/s200/Hopper1.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 125px;" /></a><br />
Hey, guys. Just five days left to read Hopper and Where are Wini's Feeler's "FREE" at <a href="http://www.smashwords.com/">www.smashwords.com</a> Check them out.<br />
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Sherry/www.treehugger-peninhand.blogspot.comAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-88241782645668380552013-09-06T08:46:00.000-07:002013-09-06T10:27:40.305-07:00"Why Tell Stories?"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBe_S7d8JeMqrk_EsLVAkGtqvKnReL9RQwh39btV1ztgEEqp9mUuVlS5fRN41AAV60Ptt8HI9vQnot702kmTjxsmnVJA3-UWbjHTfkuq2_VRsNskig8KBIbbnvpABlhMqU0I1D3CQmD1OM/s1600/IMG_1456.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5658551012846802770" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBe_S7d8JeMqrk_EsLVAkGtqvKnReL9RQwh39btV1ztgEEqp9mUuVlS5fRN41AAV60Ptt8HI9vQnot702kmTjxsmnVJA3-UWbjHTfkuq2_VRsNskig8KBIbbnvpABlhMqU0I1D3CQmD1OM/s200/IMG_1456.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
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Storytellers are the direct medium between the story and the audience, able to change pace, alter or explain a difficult point, dramatize or play down an event, according to the needs of those listening.</div>
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span">Why tell stories?</span></b></i></div>
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To help children learn to listen</div>
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To enlarge the listener's vocabulary</div>
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To extend a child's knowledge of the worlds of fact and fantasy</div>
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To stimulate the listener's imagination</div>
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To create an appetite for words</div>
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To introduce the shared activity of storytelling from author or teller to audience.</div>
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Storytelling has always been a means of passing on traditions and codes of behavior and of maintaining social harmony. Through his or her skill, the storyteller can convey the mysteries of the natural world, reinforce the codes of behavior of a particular community, or transport the listener into an inner world of fantasy. (Children's Books)</div>
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Sharing a story with a child gives great rewards for the heart.</div>
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Happy Storytelling,</div>
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Sherry/treehugger-peninhand.blogspot.com</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-22207970406473288442013-08-21T12:26:00.000-07:002013-08-21T12:26:09.856-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzZIICEw5s70lS0rP6W9ktEWw0iAsiHG0g4cYg1o9FJkzU-Z6yd2ipeqP1cgy46Uegj9ahE-omd-rjzpKXCSHsQd9o_FIJHyer4hCnCk84c0gW1dZNeacRU4hfB5v0VUI5eDxhq3R8izu/s1600/20130805_125720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigzZIICEw5s70lS0rP6W9ktEWw0iAsiHG0g4cYg1o9FJkzU-Z6yd2ipeqP1cgy46Uegj9ahE-omd-rjzpKXCSHsQd9o_FIJHyer4hCnCk84c0gW1dZNeacRU4hfB5v0VUI5eDxhq3R8izu/s200/20130805_125720.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
My Smudge. Thirteen and still my baby boy.<br />
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As I read, write, blog, tweet or knit, he sits by my side.<br />
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Today, I'm reading, Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein. The man from Mars (Michael Smith) is truly a masterpiece for all to read who love science-fiction.<br />
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Smith is an intelligent creature with the ancestry of a man, but he is more Martian than man. Until we came along he had never laid eyes on a man. He thinks like a Marian, and feels like a Martian. He's been brought up by a race which has nothing in common with us. They don't even have sex. He's a man by ancestry. A Martian by environment.<br />
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Have a great day!<br />
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Best,<br />
SherryAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-72482551772903282822012-03-09T11:31:00.008-08:002012-03-09T11:51:44.759-08:00"Writing Thoughts"<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXekr8KYP3DG0CdDxiByqc18gKNO8-MdfidwyNY-7GOGWw6owqad-IexZlm_DlqZKtj8CB-ukSjSGMniL1cp0HKWLZ_zEQPMB0gfLJoumoj_e1RZnWrbWI_lQN1cFRJYVnoWwIvzQ8l7BL/s1600/015_clear+%25281%2529.gif"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXekr8KYP3DG0CdDxiByqc18gKNO8-MdfidwyNY-7GOGWw6owqad-IexZlm_DlqZKtj8CB-ukSjSGMniL1cp0HKWLZ_zEQPMB0gfLJoumoj_e1RZnWrbWI_lQN1cFRJYVnoWwIvzQ8l7BL/s200/015_clear+%25281%2529.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717984830127926210" /></a><br />"The function of the writer is to comment upon life as he/she sees it." (F. Norris)<br /><br />A successful creative endeavor, shouldn't be measured by a product, but by the change it stirs in the creator. The creative process is not just putting pen to paper or brush to canvas, often it's during the downtime that the best ideas float to the surface. (Barringer)<br /><br /><br />Relax, take a walk, or just be.<br /><br />SherryAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1328610577305090880.post-30634340443245743272012-01-11T15:06:00.000-08:002012-01-11T15:17:51.129-08:00Rejection TriviaWhen your down and blue over all those rejection letters remember some of the more famous books that were passed up many times by otherwise savvy agents and editors. Keep in mind that this is a very short list of authors and their books.<br /><br />Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert M. Pirsig, was rejected 121 time. The book went on to sell over three million copies.<br /><br />A Time to Kill, by John Grisham's first book.<br /><br />Clan of the Cave Bear, by Jean M. Auel's first book.<br /><br />The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, by John Le Carre'<br /><br />The First Wives Club, by Olivia Goldsmith<br /><br />Keep writing. Never give up. Keep your spirits high.<br /><br />Sherry/treehugger-peninhand.blogspot.comAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09966319657598279273noreply@blogger.com0