tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46350182547479681442024-03-13T08:00:11.318-07:00The Fabulous Ms. M.The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.comBlogger2218125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-29669500931661216792023-03-29T23:35:00.036-07:002023-08-03T21:46:28.037-07:00Adapt <p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVU-mZeMtF5NF8O8kJFe7SU9gZQ0cldULSNBN0LTuX-UM2wHmObS3jD1LHHMYS1QUYyTKtjgg9Co0yoqeX8SpOGqKy5zT4wtXrhybnUSX4u2bA6BCj3sO7d35-snG34UL-bAaFxWKk7fdnwW-BxYOWOPb8wCRpVVQkqXV9DuDEDrQIU1bRpFEn-XG/s509/IMG_2790.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="339" data-original-width="509" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzVU-mZeMtF5NF8O8kJFe7SU9gZQ0cldULSNBN0LTuX-UM2wHmObS3jD1LHHMYS1QUYyTKtjgg9Co0yoqeX8SpOGqKy5zT4wtXrhybnUSX4u2bA6BCj3sO7d35-snG34UL-bAaFxWKk7fdnwW-BxYOWOPb8wCRpVVQkqXV9DuDEDrQIU1bRpFEn-XG/s16000/IMG_2790.JPG" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span>It’s been more than a year. About ten or eleven months longer. Give or take a few weeks. I thought about posting a year to the date last year, but why should I? It’s not going to make a difference. Time passes whether you are having fun or not. I suggest you choose how to pass the time in a way that works out best for you. I took a year off before & that was harder to do back then. Right now, it wasn’t so hard to take time off and I’m still enjoying my freedom which is hard to explain… you definitely won’t understand what I mean as long as you’re tethered to any daily habit. No judgments. I think everyone has an obsessive habit. <br /></span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia;">Habits are tricky things. Good ones are hard to maintain and bad ones are hard to give up. Learning to adapt to change is how you survive. I’ve been though a lot of change, most everyone has, and adapting to the change was rewarding. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span><span>Anyhoo... I’ve written new things and I've edited then rewritten things that I swore were finished. The creative process often leaves me nostalgic, which has presented the thought of sharing something from the vault. This piece is a bit of a continuation of an older short story titled, Reveal. You can read it in a post </span><a href="https://www.fabulousmsm.com/2014/04/conversations-with-my-muse.html" target="_blank">here</a><span>. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span><span>Do you take time off from anything? Was it difficult to quit? How did you feel when returned to it? </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span><span>Enjoy! <br /></span><span>kisses, m.</span><span> </span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div><span style="font-family: times;"><font size="5"><b>Unveiled</b></font><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Let your mind wander,” he tells me with a whisper as he leans over my shoulder.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s ok,” I gently rub his arm and look up into his eyes with a smile, “I don’t need her, I have you.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">It’s been several years since I said goodbye to emma. We didn’t part on bad terms. We just parted. I know how he feels about her because of what she did for me creatively. Yet he can’t help but encourage me to write. He knows that part of me is empty and lost floundering without the words even though they remind me of her. It’s funny but since we met, I haven’t lacked for inspiration. He’s everything emma wasn’t, supportive, trustworthy, gentle and kind. He brings balance to the darkness within me and I’ve never taken or used him for inspiration the way I needed her. I don’t need to. He gives to me so freely that I could never betray that trust.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s taking shape well. Has the madman given up on him?”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“No. But, I am finishing the chapter tonight. And as a matter of fact the mad…”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Don’t tell me!”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Spoilers!” I nudge him with my arm.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Quiet, I’ll be ready to read this chapter as soon as you’re done for tonight. Don’t worry about the rough draft and don’t keep me waiting.” He kisses my neck and quietly walks back across the room. It’s 3am but he’s still awake. I don’t mind him waiting while I work. In fact, I think I’ve come to enjoy it. Sometimes he works, sometimes he watches me while pretending to read and sometimes like tonight, he goes through old letters that accumulated at the PO Box.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Anything good?” I giggle.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Get back to work,” He playfully tosses an envelope at me. “Holy f---! Christine’s getting married!”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“No way! I thought they weren’t serious a few weeks ago. You told me…”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“I know but things change. They want you to shoot their Save the Date photo based on a old snapshot of yours. Is your camera still…” he trails off while reading the letter.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“What’s wrong?”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Nothing, it’s just something about the notes she included. I didn’t think they were even that sentimental. Do you recall I mentioned that they didn’t believe in mementos or ephemera last fall when they met at the carnival?”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Their second date! Yes! Let me see the note and the photo of this mystery man stealing your sister away,” I stop and wait for him to respond. He doesn’t so I resume with the madman’s confession.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">After what seems like a half hour, he returns setting a photo next to my right arm along with a magnifying glass.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Take a look.” He insists and looks like he’s seen a ghost. When he hands me the single photo reminiscent of one you’d see in strip of photos from a booth. I can see a couple kissing without using the magnifier. It’s emma. And me.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“What is this? She’s gone! This can't be recent.” I tell him.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“I thought there were no secrets. No silent things between us. I’ve never minded your former muses and welcomed the past openly in our lives, but if you’re hiding something from me…”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Why would Christine send this?" I demand not understanding, "This is the photo she wants to copy. I don’t understand. Are you teasing me? I thought you wouldn’t joke about her. Why didn’t you just tell me there was a photo in the mail?!”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s not a joke. This wasn’t from Christine. I don’t know what it is about. But the photo came from the mail and…. You need to look at it again.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“I know what it is. It’s an old photo of me with emma. But I haven’t seen her in… years.” I am telling the truth but it feels like I’m lying. My ears are on fire, and I’m crying. I miss her and it’s been far too long.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Yes. That’s what your saying, but I don’t believe you. I thought we were past this” he stares into my eyes with disappointment. “You know, you don’t need her.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“I know. She’s in the past.” I try to get the words out but I do miss her.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s hard to believe that. Take a look at the date on the back. Use the magnifier.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s from last month. This can’t be right. I don’t understand.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“You don’t understand or you don’t want to tell me the truth?”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">I stop and wonder if I’ve become the madman and this is my chance to confess my sins. Only I don’t know what to confess. The picture he has looks just like an old one that I distinctly remember we had taken in a photo booth. As I consider that she edited the photo to add the date, I start to realize, the significance of it.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s our anniversary.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“No it’s not.” He snaps at me and slams the stack of mail down on the table. </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Not ours.” I say quietly, “It’s mine and emma’s anniversary. We took that photo years ago; the date on the back is our anniversary this year.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“You’re older in the picture, it's not the same. I have seen the original. You have it in your scrapbook, in the bedroom. This is not a duplicate of that photo. It is another photo taken later in a different place.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Please stop! I don’t need to examine a picture to know my own mind. I haven’t seen her… or been with her. I love you. I’m here with you.” I reach to comfort him but he pushes me away.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">I’m alone. A feeling I know all too well from my time with emma. Except now, I am desperately begging with the man I love just to believe me.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Have you seen her while you’ve been with me? Where? Here? Was she in our bed?” He walks into the kitchen and pours himself a neat whiskey while interrogating me.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">I start to say no, but something in me stops the words, because it’s a lie. I realize that I know I’ve seen her since he and I have been together. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want it to be true, but it is. So I tell him what I know is true, “she hasn’t been here.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">Like the wonderful muse that she is, emma always creates chaos then disappears.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">His anger continues to seethe. “You need to tell me. Whatever this is between you or I’m leaving.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">A flood of nostalgia passes through my mind as I think back to when I saw her last. It was years ago when we’d recreated the photo in my apartment and made it look like a photo booth. I’d only been with him for a few months, long before we lived here. That last night I saw her, she snuck in to my place. I’d never taken her key, and she took it as an invitation to visit. I wrote and she tried to seduce me, but there was no fight or passion that night. She was gone in the morning, slipping out as quietly as she slipped in. I finished my short story and he thought it was because of him. I have never lacked for inspiration with him, but I could never tell him about that last time with her.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">Knowing I can’t tell him this, because of the fight that will ensue, I remind him of my lack of work, “I haven’t written in several months.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“But you started last week, and haven’t stopped. It’s because of her.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“It’s because of you. I didn’t even know that photo would be in the mail. What else came with the photo? A letter?”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“A notecard, saying she wants to see you. But does she mean again? You’re hiding. Always hiding how you are.” He pours out the whiskey, slamming the glass down in the sink. He stares at me, like he’s giving me one last chance to confess before going to the bedroom to pack a bag. I don’t want him to go, but I don’t want him to feel like his accusations are acceptable.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">Although it seems like it is just a card, in the back of my mind, I know emma has let herself back into my life, disrupted my happiness, and this is a declaration of her intent to stay. Even as I listen to him in the other room slamming drawers and throwing his things around, I know that I have to finish writing. At least complete enough work to get the madman out of my mind so all my rational thoughts will return. I can’t think clearly enough to keep reassuring him or even fight with him to stay while my mind is full. So I set back down to let the madman in, and let my love walk out.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">After several glasses of wine, sunrise is nearly upon the horizon, and the madman has confessed then killed again. Coming out of my creative trance, I realize I’m not alone. I hear footsteps crossing the threshold of the living room, “Are you back to apologize?” I speak into the stillness.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Not unless you make me,” says a voice I haven’t heard in quite some time. “I hope you don’t mind I let myself in yesterday when he picked up the mail.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“Your note wasn’t in the mail, was it?” I stand and turn around to see my former muse, looking far better than she should.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“No, I dropped it in when he set the letters on the console. He was very trusting to leave the door unlocked when he went to relieve himself.” She says walking toward me until she’s close enough to touch me, then stops. “You know your guest room is far more inviting than it seems.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“You knew that photo would upset him.” I hiss into her face even though I know better than to provoke her.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">Instead of reacting with words, she pulls me against her and whispers in my ear, “I’m not trying to do anything to him. I thought you'd see it before him.</font></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large;">”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">“</span><span style="font-family: times;">Why are you here?” I try to object and pull away, but she pulls tighter. </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: times;">“</span><span style="font-family: times;">I'm just here to help you. I missed you…. and you know how you get. But he’s wrong, you aren’t hiding anything, anymore.”</span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">I want to give in, because I miss this. I miss her. So I let my hands slide around hers and she leans in to kiss my neck.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“What if he comes back?” I interrupt her slowly moving lips with a twist of my head.</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“He won’t.” She says and looks into my eyes. “At least not right now. Always worrying instead of giving into the rhythm of living. You aren’t disappointed he left, or you would have stopped writing.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"> </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">I know she’s right, I didn’t stop him from going, just like I don’t really want to stop her from coming back into my life. </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">Slowly stepping backwards, she slinks away from me with my glass of wine. “Come, forget your mind, let your heart wander. Let’s talk.”</font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4"><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><font face="times" size="4">“But I need to finish…” I try to make an excuse. </font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: times; font-size: large;"><font><br /></font></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-family: times;"><font>“You’re already finished.</font></span><span style="font-family: times;">” She sits down on the sofa and taps the seat next to her with a smile. </span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“Playing the game?" I ask walking slowly towards her, mostly because I think she’s provoking me.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“No, I just like you this way. You’re unveiled and unguarded without your mask. It’s been a long time. We have a lot to talk about.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Unmasking myself for her was always the fun part of our game. It was ours and no one else's. Removing the mask is unnecessary now because she knows me all too well. There's nothing hidden between us. But she still wants to play.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">“Shhh,” I say as I sit down next to her. “Let the feelings and words fall into place. Enjoy the rhythm. They will come when we are ready.”</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Just as easily as I let her wander out my heart and my mind, I let emma back in.</span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-size-adjust: auto;"><br /></p></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-88907330784598350822021-05-12T22:29:00.000-07:002021-05-13T06:31:58.624-07:00Living Free<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnPpX5HhXfMiK36F34BDMGeh-n9Nd2x0r6JsnlCEGsKzpumipia7bLp3KzjEwHlyPJoUBKZphp7WffKaFpFJ8JmiCj047ugboVJ9lyV_xtKxx-fdtj5uMUIiApCVM09jSDiDn2TkCpXk/s976/_117448250_banksy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCnPpX5HhXfMiK36F34BDMGeh-n9Nd2x0r6JsnlCEGsKzpumipia7bLp3KzjEwHlyPJoUBKZphp7WffKaFpFJ8JmiCj047ugboVJ9lyV_xtKxx-fdtj5uMUIiApCVM09jSDiDn2TkCpXk/w640-h360/_117448250_banksy.jpg" width="640" id="id_b40c_689d_8e81_1f41" style="width: 640px; height: auto;"></a></div><p><br></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">You can make excuses for how to live or you can live.</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">I choose to live. It's often people disagree with my choice and quite often I remind them that it's not theirs to make. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">I wanted to be angry, last month or the month before that, when an old friend tells me that I'm imprisoned and literally the only way out is to write. It's amusing because I do write, but it's not freedom according to him, because it's everything I don't want to write. Yet I am writing so I must be free. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">We claim to be free but are we? </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">I know my friend thinks he is right and I'm not free. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">"So, it's easy... just write a way out." he says. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is out. This is freedom. Why doesn't it feel liberating to do as he demands?</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Nothing you force yourself to do is freedom. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Freedom is an illusion. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Yet everyone loves an illusion. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">It’s an illusion that my friend has in their mind thinking about how or why I am doing or rather not doing. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">It’s not silence or guilt... it is living, just simply living, that has created this impasse between writing what it is necessary as opposed to what I want. It isn’t a prison but I am not free in the way that his illusion needs me to be. </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Use your mind not your reaction and you’ll see there is nothing more than your imagination that you’ve let run wild.</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">This is something I wrote about pointing fingers...</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Do you live your life or focus on how others live theirs? </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Enjoy! </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;">Kisses, m.</span></i></p><p><br></p><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: large;">You </span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><i>(9-28-2011)</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">“You” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">He says this word pointing his finger telling me where and when it needs to change without using any other words. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">I like when he uses words. But he’s not using them this time. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">No explanation. No request made. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">This time I’m supposed to know what’s happening with the shift of his wrist. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">One finger pointed at me. Three pointed back at him. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">All three fingers are telling him what he wants to tell me. <br>I wish he would simply tell me. Ask me. Treat me like a person who he said he once cared for. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">I don’t like this. This is like walking in the dark where these actions we make aren’t any clearer. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">“Clearer?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;"> He says when I tell him I can’t see any clearer than before.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">Before all this when I said something to him and no one else. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">No one that mattered when I said those words for only him. They still won’t matter if I tell him again. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">Because he won’t hear my words and everyone who isn’t him can still hear them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">They’ll listen. They’ll hear all the things he’ll never take in because he’s afraid.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">And he'll use my words for him against me because he’s afraid and wants to hurt me.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">Hurt and facing those who think my words are without logic.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">It isn’t about them. It isn’t clearer. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">“Listen…”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">He says softly before lowering his hand.<br>I listen and wait for his words that have yet to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">Knowing full well if there’s a chance, I continue to listen.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">I listen and hope that they don’t mistake their words for his and my words for them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">Words aren’t as powerful as his actions. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">Actions that calmly tell me all I need to know before he says it once more quietly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;"><br></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: georgia;">“You” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-21511239570753255882020-09-12T12:00:00.006-07:002020-09-12T20:02:22.987-07:00Say Something<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8Gcd3i3xJuyB81I-Ta46tFmVwrUyYlHKlZ_SazFkZGnS3D019jAIo125Y14sD8Wq1xpFSHL-6O7dA0U3bV9P9FXm-STEmHFRtO3Gl8Gaa4bS2KPTlU7QrM1idZ3OfZdX8yctNWv488k/s811/240_F_348462384_XYligZCBiJZ9TmQjVnpmMUHIAqlYYtrv.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="811" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS8Gcd3i3xJuyB81I-Ta46tFmVwrUyYlHKlZ_SazFkZGnS3D019jAIo125Y14sD8Wq1xpFSHL-6O7dA0U3bV9P9FXm-STEmHFRtO3Gl8Gaa4bS2KPTlU7QrM1idZ3OfZdX8yctNWv488k/w640-h189/240_F_348462384_XYligZCBiJZ9TmQjVnpmMUHIAqlYYtrv.jpg" width="640" id="id_8388_e9b4_1fb2_9af1" style="width: 640px; height: auto;"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div></div><i><div><i><br></i></div>You say it best when you say nothing at all... Actions are quite often the best way to make a statement. Sometimes our actions aren't saying anything at all though. Sometimes I don't charge my phone or reply to that text before falling asleep. It’s careless but not intended to mean anything. Other times I'm really overbooked and have to cancel plans or forget to cancel plans. It’s not saying anything other than I’m probably not planning my day better when it happens. How about you? </i><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>It's been a while for design and writing although it was not meant to be. I'd never put much energy into the timing of sharing stories or worrying about the mental health of anyone that read or interpreted my work but this year definitely had me pause before posting. Even the thought of Dream Homes or interior design this year seemed quite insensitive when so many are struggling to make their rent or mortgage. Being aware of other people and the world changes one's perspective.. So while I wanted to share some writing, I felt the timing was not right. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Anyhoo... this is for those people that feel I needed to say something. It's not what I wanted to share with you but it is new...</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Do every one of your actions say something?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Enjoy!</i></div><div><i>Kisses, m. </i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.693333625793457px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><a name="OLE_LINK1"></a><a name="OLE_LINK2"><b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 19.97333335876465px;"> </span></b></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.693333625793457px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14pt;">Say Something</span></b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.693333625793457px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></b><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Why is that people always want creatives to be saying something? Or their work must instantly be controversial?” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">When I say it, I know it was the wrong thing to say, because the young reporter instantly looks like she wants to jump back inside of her skin to hide. Her face turns sour followed by a long pause of silence that gets awkward about fifteen seconds in. Folding my hands, I offer her a lifeline. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Suzy, let’s move on, I’m working on a story about a…”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to strike a chord with the great D. Randall … but let’s stay with this. Is it okay if I call you D. or do you prefer Darlin?" </span><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"Darlin is fine but you'll still call me D." I say with a laugh as she nods but continues on scribbling shorthand notes as if she wasn't really asking so much as telling. With bit of snark I continue, “All acquaintances, fans and journalists call me D., even after I tell them to call me Darlin.”</span><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"Uh-huh,” she’s mostly ignored what I’ve said and puts her pen down, “Now let's continue," she smiles, adjusts her recorder and pauses before starting in again, "Isn’t the juxtaposition of your characters in <i>Leaf + Tree </i>saying something about…?” </span><span face="-webkit-standard, serif" style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Look, it’s just a story. It’s lightness. I’m a writer and… I’m trying to keep my work light. I’ve moved away from…” I can feel myself getting nervous and starting to be defensive. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“The darkness.” She finishes my sentence. “I read the transcript of the unreleased podcast piece for <i>Marigolds and Make Believe with Shosh</i> you did a few months ago before you released <i>Leaf + Tree.”</i></span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“How did you…?” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Get it? Shosh is a friend from school. I chatted with him and he wouldn’t let me hear it, but… anyway this is how I started the piece on you. I was intrigued about your departure from the darker elements in your writing and the <i>Great Pause</i>.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I exhale a deep breath to keep from laughing because she’s half lying about Shosh. He has a decade plus on her and she was his former student. I only took the interview because she’s his current sidepiece and I owe him a favor. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Actually, I was going to say: How did you like it?” I’m more concerned that she’s about to start questioning my absence than her lying. Since the release of <i>Leaf + Tree</i>, every journalist segues into asking about my hiatus from writing. This so-called <i>Great </i>Pause as the fans labeled it, as if it was a performative piece making a silent statement about the current state of the world. When it’s nothing like that it all. I didn’t even pause; I just didn’t give myself to the world. I still wrote and there was still darkness. However, the fans, they took it as a great sign that I was symbolically protesting civil unrest in the world and used it as a platform for their movement. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Can you comment on the social impact of your <i>Great Pause</i> or… let me guess, you weren’t saying anything at all?” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I truly am moved by it, but I can’t speak to the impact of my absence. <i>Leaf + Tree</i> has been out for a few months now so I’m no longer on pause. What do you make of the consequences of my hiatus?” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Are you really going to treat me the same as every other journalist? How can you say something significant in your work and backpedal your actions? Your last work, <i>Days//Ages </i>was about the power of stillness in the connection of society. What is the explanation for the parallels and timing of your hiatus?”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Do you think you are special because you know Shosh? Did he tell you what happened? Let me guess… he didn’t. What do you think this so-called <i>Great Pause</i> really symbolizes?”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I can only guess its significance is explained through the controversial nature of the sub-plot that binds your characters in <i>Leaf +Tree</i>. It further builds upon the theme in your last book and speaks to the very nature of humanity, our collective identity and how people relate to each other.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Hahaha,” I can’t stop myself from laughing at her. “Shosh redacted parts of the transcript, didn’t he? You thought you’d uncover this great truth by coming here for an interview.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“You’re just going to blow smoke and try to pretend you aren’t saying something. It’s pure spinelessness to pretend you… I’m proud to read your work because it stands for something.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Fuck <i>Days//Ages</i>. Fuck <i>Leaf + Tree.</i> Take them off the table for a moment.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">"Is <i>FUCK</i> off the record or on the record?” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“You decide what you want to say when we’re done. Now get Shosh on the phone. On speaker.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">I get up, walk to the window, and open it. Next to the window seat, Shosh left me a package of CBD gummies. I sit and eat one. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;"> “Shosh is on the line,” she waves her phone from across the room. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Shosh, can you hear me?” I raise my voice but not enough to yell.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Yes, Darlin! Go ahead.” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Tell her about the <i>Great Pause</i> the same way I told you.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Are you sure?” I can hear the anxiousness in his voice. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Go ahead; you can even play her the podcast when she gets back to your place.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Suzy, I love you and we can talk about this when you come by later.” He hesitates but continues gently, “Suzy, there was no pause or silence. She has work but it’s been released under a pseudonym.” <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">After he says it, she’s quiet. Slowly her face pales and twists in thought, but she remains still. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Thanks, Shosh!” I say to break the silence. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I’ll catch up with you later Darlin!” Shosh hollers and then laughs as he hangs up. </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“But I stopped recording!” she wails and pauses. After a few moments, she composes herself and quietly continues, “D., I just wanted the truth.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I get that. Oh, but now, you have the truth. All creatives create your so-called controversy.” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I don’t understand. You’re a phony! A fraud!” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Actually, you see, fans like you, perpetuated this legend of silence, this make-believe performative piece and iconic debate because you needed something to stand on to support your reason for pursuing social action. I didn’t create it, I just went along with it, instead of working under my name. You have to understand, being a reclusive voice of great social impact happens to sell a lot of books.”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“You don’t care.” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“I do care. I think I cared too much. Or I would have ended this sooner.” I scold her. As I watch her eyes fill with tears, I calm my voice. “I am glad my work speaks to so many, affects and inspires people to live louder and stronger but I’m just a writer. Sometimes I’m not saying anything at all. Sometimes I am.” </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Now what do I do? What’s the plan?” She bawls and looks like the fragile late 20-something woman that she is, rather than the confident journalist trying to be Woodward and Bernstein, like she saw Dustin Hoffman and Robert Redford playing on the silver screen.</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;">“Well, you can go ahead, publish the truth destroying this mass delusion and ruin the social movement built around my hiatus or, like my friend Shosh, refrain from saying something. Now, do you want to say something?”</span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 11.75pt; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><span style="font-family: Times;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 15.693333625793457px; margin: 0in 0in 8pt;"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-77446687436369241782020-05-25T18:30:00.001-07:002020-05-25T18:30:50.609-07:00Aele House by Nameless Architecture Barbie would love to know that everyone is exactly on the path they are meant to be, however she also knows this isn’t the case for many. She also knows that they will learn this lesson in time on their own or continue to cycle through familiar mistakes until they do. Nonetheless it is wonderful when a dreamhouse is quite different from others and on its own.<div><br></div><div><b>Aele House by Nameless Architecture </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_1f6d_db10_25a7_403a" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/4EfWxwgQyvqBDW4JMWi00Yjxo3WQxxKGO1AFO_ATPpMoQ94r3Jxvz7-Ws0ga0fc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Located in South Korea, <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">the architecture and design of this home was determined by its location in the landscape. Three of the plot edges are surrounded by forest, evocative of a primitive, native land. To reflect this aesthetic the building elements were made with in-situ concrete to capture the essence, this included leaving mars in the construction, as commentary of the nature and the evolution of a space.The interior space connects organically, without a corridor. Each of the rooms is sized at 3.6 meters by 3.6 meters; excluding the bathroom and kitchen, all rooms can be used flexibly — adaptable to the needs of the inhabitants.</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_96a2_2ea7_f0f0_423e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/kxv7w20j9lPKKvTz4jJ1IbaiZimVyie9njHHysSXguplDJdBsys3T1m6YLLX6gc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_2021_e071_76c6_a834" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Llfjg0nkmmEdxj2qa4hHY0n7iELAayoAppyZi_5fL5dstYmwN9KdKELbUaZ5YJE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4522_efa4_1edf_3778" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/cAlkambsT_nf6154pwGtixgFmw-VOc9tWdhz468fiEhH8jKmj8wJ4qLFVl-zxGI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_3ef_e828_e0f6_2d6" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/OGNmLUH1wTXKyHRaGtga-YP3xPxI9NT4WeGqTrBJxt3fHC2CILtiH0JM3ME-jhk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_a4e1_6a75_da7c_3710" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/lCl7lALXhQ5zAMMePR8z737jYNb9Oxsd0M4eB4lKk4ngq3OHxrJIKTjk8dhmyvM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Would you want to find your path in this dreamhouse? </span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Barbie would!</span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Kisses, m. </span></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-39823788379283135422020-03-02T16:17:00.001-08:002020-03-02T16:17:22.136-08:00Hiatus House by Tongue & GrooveBarbie loves to get away from it all but rarely does she get a real hiatus. She loves that her favorite Ken and Dolls can keep themselves occupied while she’s preoccupied. Here’s a dream house made for going on hiatus... <div><br></div><div><b>The Hiatus House by Tongue & Groove</b></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_ffc1_390e_820d_f7b1" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/OG7qIHbllKYlBUuugM7QD_ED0NIy8nERRbBXzfr3UjRMBnPE7GMD3VIlFKLs4Lo" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>This minimalist gem design by Tongue & Groove boats an open floor plan that utilizes space and is aesthetic beautiful. The space can easily accommodate up to four people for entertaining and is fully furnished with a living room that converts for sleeping, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_5d0a_2a58_5a1_d2d5" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/sPCzN5zjWGj0EwZbXUAgUBoPcq3J63inghIbF1KKFYPTUJ9DNO2S9eEjvSwSRNw" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div><img id="id_8cb8_6010_22a3_fd85" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/f11o6sGYKQU0gbS-csl3Bpe6LCVNW8zHosCMFN0liCqtr6nRJqB9l_2prFHIcDQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div><img id="id_25a1_45fa_12a9_1820" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/slSwy6PljNcUzvY92JqrmZ2kN1KFBYi7mRE6tLek0pXcALL_4Zqtudiezg1rG7Y" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_b9fc_9bd6_d534_2457" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/3fptoBZijZwVpHy8kC_mEd5uKOgFtbKZDg1sEteM9OH66X669c8oYmaHgncJLwQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_41f8_afc5_9900_a075" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/XR6KW5NjUAGkprNBPdNg-010UhM-jPhMrLMtSo_ZpYlojedmJ4N0pNVR2azBhzQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_6f65_cd1d_a855_53f9" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/GibQIbw0ENMbpezSjHAouZprKVQUyNpT5KI2eRA7FL9vINEZo2CgT9ZnWeUG7T0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div>Would you go on hiatus in this home?</div><div>Barbie would!</div><div>Enjoy!</div><div>Kisses, m. </div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-48448753303649012762020-02-26T15:21:00.001-08:002020-02-26T17:35:33.122-08:00Pause<div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><img id="id_24cd_996a_d1ac_ee8d" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/phRC8s6o6Ppkz-GhqKid0K3EPBqwfYRcyZSxG90XMhZepir9sH_E9NAwHiSAQrs" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); word-spacing: 1px;">Hiatus. Taking a break or pressing pause on one part of your life means you are on hiatus. Once I forced myself to take a year off from blogging but did not stop writing, photographing or drawing. There is probably still more unpublished work in that year than anything I had written prior.</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>Currently, I am still creative but I have put blogging on pause and intermittently been using social media. It has been a long unplanned pause. It definitely was unplanned. Let us get this in the open: I did not take a break, hit pause or go on hiatus for mental or physical health issues. I am all right and did not step back intentionally. However, my life required that I prioritize my daily responsibilities differently to deal with circumstances beyond my control.<u></u><u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>This has kept me away from friends, sometimes checking in with friends and oh, so many things I was accustomed to being a part of my routine. I take many blessings for granted that I am involved with and there are many people that I miss seeing. Sometimes you have to accept that the universe has other plans and let it all happen… so I let go and paused. There was no force, it was just quiet and felt completely natural to focus on other things.<u></u><u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>This has all been weird because it is hard to be restrictive with my life. Typically, I am transparent with myself; I reach out, pester and cannot help myself when it comes to people in my life.<u></u><u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>Tbh, I cannot say I will or will not be posting regularly again, but I am not on a hiatus and the plan is just to go with the flow. It has been very Zen. Highly recommend taking breaks from all the unnecessary things you think you need to do. <u></u><u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>Do you ever take social media breaks? On purpose? Here is an old story that is a bit dark from the D Men about a person that wanted to get away from his life and someone gave him exactly what he wanted. <u></u><u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><i><u></u> <u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>Enjoy<u></u><u></u></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><span data-removefontsize="true" data-originalcomputedfontsize="16" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 1rem;"><i>Kisses, m</i>.<u></u><u></u></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(49, 49, 49); color: rgb(49, 49, 49); font-family: -apple-system, HelveticaNeue; word-spacing: 1px;"><u></u> </p><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21px;"><br></font></b></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21px;">Departure<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></b></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="line-height: 21px;" size="2">(3-17-11)</font></b></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">“<b>J</b>ackson Slater you’re an irrelevant bastard. You are going straight to hell. And no one will notice you’re gone.” says Haller Thomson.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></i></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">T</font></b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">hose are the final words Haller has chosen before we leave the shore. I keep telling myself this isn’t happening but that doesn’t change the circumstances at all. I can’t quite place the location of the boat with my eyes blindfolded. But north of the docks is as good as any guess.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">What you have to understand is that I pretty much deserve to be in this position. A position that I created for myself. Although I wouldn’t have admitted it before now. Which is about 15 minutes after I should have admitted it.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">I wasn’t particularly a great man or a man of character. On the whole I was a terribly shallow man with a talent for avoiding the obvious. Avoiding was a brilliant art that I mastered; especially when it came to people. People can be so incredibly co-dependent that you might say avoiding them helps them. One might say I wrote the chapter on avoidance and I would have corrected them by handing them an autographed copy of the book.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">My own sense of vanity ran deeper than any river. The great Jackson Slater renowned for his looks. And I was. My personal routine involved several hours a day before many mirrors in a grooming ritual that would make a cat’s look amateur. For the most part I had lived my entire life pretending that nothing was happening around me. I hadn’t worried about such things.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">And I couldn’t be more wrong. There was plenty happening all around me, I just didn’t care about it. Besides everything went away if you threw enough money at the problem. And if it didn’t, ignoring it often worked for me.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">“<b>J</b>ackson, I want you to know this isn’t about the money. It’s a matter of my word. My integrity. I promised to come through on my end of things.” Haller tells me softly as the boat shimmies a little faster.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></i></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">U</font></b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">nlike most people I was hardly the kind of fellow to be drawn in. As a matter of my own personal character I felt it was my duty to be exactly the opposite. I’m the type of man who would fervently deny that a building was on fire to save myself the trouble of becoming involved. It meant caring and that would not do. People want a piece of you and then that is one less piece you have for yourself.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">And lack of involvement is exactly where I find myself this windy April evening. Somewhere in the bay I’m free of the mask and looking at the man…<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Haller Thomson came into my life exactly the same way a freight train mows down your car when the engine stalls on the tracks. With the fury of an uncontainable beast, Haller came forth. And it wasn’t something I could have seen coming before it happened. It wasn’t money that he was after when he came. It was so much more.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">A man with an offer only a shallow man wouldn’t refuse…<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">If you help me, I will help you. Give a little of this for a little of that. And I went along for it. Including the part where I had planned to double-cross the man. Because I only thought of what he could offer me. <data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Except it never works out the way we plan.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">“<b>P</b>lan? I bet the great Jackson Slater wants to know. Don’t you? Well, Jack I don’t have a plan. Except for tying you up and gagging you. That. That’s a plan. Don’t struggle. We’re almost there.”<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></i></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">H</font></b><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">aller wanted someone to help with a situation. It was a matter of vanity; as any man can attest to his own level of vanity. Haller was a bit different. He was concerned and wanted no more than a bit of help becoming more involved with others despite his own shortcomings.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">You see, Haller wasn’t a good looking man. In fact, you might call him unattractive after he’s left the room. And for what it’s worth, I thought I did him a favor after I pocketed most of his money. At the time I thought there was nothing I could have done to draw flies to that level of hideous. But I did what I thought worked best… for me.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Haller took a new name, a new lifestyle, and a new set of bills thanks to me. He lived and breathed my routine of shallow and I gladly introduced him to the right people at the right places. And with a little less than luck he fell right into it. Haller took to it like a fish takes to toxic waste waters and grows a third eye. It wasn’t a gradual mutation either. Overnight there was a new fresh uninvolved man and it wasn’t me.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Haller began to see me, the great Jackson Slater as direct competition to his new persona. A person with an agenda that no longer matched his own. You have to wonder where the struggle began. Exactly right after he decided that he could do it without me. And for a lot cheaper. Once he realized I was taking him for a pretty penny, Haller Thomson decided that it was time to fulfill his end of things.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">An eye for an eye.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">And what was my request? I was tired of all that was happening around me. I wanted to escape from all of it; being Jackson Slater with the people, their nonsense, and their involvement. I simply asked this man to help to put me in a place where I would never have to deal with these kinds of situations ever again. And now much to my dismay, Haller is holding up his end of the arrangement.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">“<b>J</b>ackson, it’s been fun. Now… get off my boat.” With the bottom of his boot, Haller shoves me out into the dark water. Despite what I expect, I don’t sink. As his tiny boat moves away from me, I watch without control as the cold water splashes against me.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></i></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">This isn’t exactly the escape I’d hope for but I didn’t specify when I asked. I only wanted out.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Now I am.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Completely out. Out to sea. Adrift. Letting the waves wash over me.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;" face=""georgia" , serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 14px;">Careful what you ask for. Even now as I sink slowly and my eyes watch the emergency buoy float further away from me I know that pretending that nothing else exists will be the thing that seals my fate. Because not one person will notice. I was so busy avoiding it all that it wouldn’t make any difference.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal" data-blogger-escaped-style="margin-bottom: 0in;" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p></p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div> The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-76415683263104633002019-12-09T16:15:00.001-08:002019-12-09T16:15:07.646-08:00Barbie’s Malibu Dream House by AirbnbBarbie loves all things Barbie and her favorite is her Malibu dreamhouse... someone brought the magical doll’s dreamhouse to life. <span style="font-family: Times;">This Fall the people at Airbnb created a fashionable IRL version of Barbie’s quintessential Malibu dream home and invited everyone to see... </span><div><span style="font-family: Times;"><br></span></div><div><b>Barbie’s Malibu Dream House by Airbnb</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_e089_6438_a3ee_7581" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/fCffupH8iCRMrOBxmxDv2h2iswkdxO59Pk-JmBZ77EIDPJrPsTdPa1aDq2I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div><div><font face="Times">The Barbie Malibu Dreamhouse was available for a two-night-stay to commemorate the 60th anniversary of the doll, which was created by Mattel in 1959. </font><font face="Times">The listing was written as if Barbie herself wrote and included features of the hillside property such as outdoor terraces, infinity pool and cinema room. The interior decor matches perfectly with Barbie’s aesthetic of pink and kitsch.</font></div></div><div><font face="Times"><br></font></div><div><font face="Times"><br></font></div><div><img id="id_6b51_e17a_2d93_15de" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/W0bG3NNoIQ01c9gxf2NEd0Qz6wTJfOGVLNX8E-9iboQ9LdkP8vR9v3VDa3I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><font face="Times"><br></font></div><div><font face="Times"><br></font></div><div><img id="id_49c3_fb80_bc07_b049" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/kdoIWF5WlcI7NSZK9qkfxdavKAKNwOSBwGhTUgodNdOs94XQmPitY56tspc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4ec7_b665_9e5f_ca47" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/oFIrXzzSWStDZ8l2NHvgBvyEiu9TMsIIz9Co8AGw7P24rgwVmgBS-TsjLFM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_3e34_5c57_d3ed_65d7" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/9pkD03t8W0QRWWjJbJKHDQHkMUedXP1fLqEwFffLj4BPYaZhD7DHLyFM37k" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_462a_a38a_4284_ddad" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/z9Y9U2U2zMIOsrbteHNYqyKhA9gYGXll-X9WEYroP6XuTM61bNTOsNai66w" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Would you love to stay in Barbie’s Malibu Dream House by Airbnb?</div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div>Barbie would!</div><div>Enjoy!</div><div>Kisses, m. </div><div><br></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-88557702577689977712019-11-09T17:45:00.001-08:002019-11-09T17:45:27.823-08:00Passion House M5 by Arhitect 11<i>People trying to convince you that something has passion are usually the ones that are faking it. Have a great passion for living and all that you do will be authentic including your love affairs. Here’s a passionate dreamhouse...</i><div><br></div><div><h1 class="afd-title-big afd-title-big--full afd-title-big--bmargin-big afd-relativeposition " style="box-sizing: border-box; -webkit-font-smoothing: inherit; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); border: 0px; font-stretch: inherit; line-height: normal; vertical-align: baseline; margin: 0px 0px 25px; padding: 0px; position: relative; width: 382px; caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); color: rgb(48, 48, 48); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><font face="Times" size="3">Passion House M5 by Arhitekt 11</font></h1></div><div><img id="id_d18c_ea63_8428_8fa3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/g8mlM9vNn0t67qGHBAx_h2-xzGwnhAzMmEs7IoHgI7wD25IEvU-cKHqoYRE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><span style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); color: rgb(48, 48, 48); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times">Part of a series this sustainable home was designed as an independent home like a summer cottage with sauna.</font></span></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_6d8_2841_65a5_5982" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/THZN8RypPabAVKXBDuLBK6K9LgPVq_oVhqTJSEpOJ8zyBSwDM1hzdNRvN7o" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_54b4_f05b_444d_6111" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/ujmLoJWI3qxSatC3mwpxROo3q5l_3V9Qw_0-koLH9L-NdFqmMARmhYU9svo" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_da4e_1ce5_1d21_feae" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Z0k2daB9NqArtVN2OXOgJVQMGzsNuqjAsNRU4TjkWCVlo-TEibyb13jfUbI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><img id="id_db15_75a1_3c1c_5293" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/wYxEOCEneUiukKRgVZyCey1CtkX-yxuuzfC-G5_i5-NYtHsF1Jn6tYHvL3k" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><font face="Times" size="3"><i>Do you fancy this passion project?</i></font></div><div><font face="Times" size="3"><i>Barbie does!</i></font></div><div><font face="Times" size="3"><i>Enjoy!</i></font></div><div><font face="Times" size="3"><i>Kisses, m.</i></font></div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-50727192904169255012019-11-07T21:49:00.001-08:002019-11-07T21:49:19.896-08:00Winchester Mystery HouseEvery good mystery involves less words, more examination & experience. The more someone says the less, they are really telling you. You learn more about someone through their actions, not their words. Here’s a dreamhouse that leaves a great deal of mystery for all who experience it, with very little explanation...<div><br></div><div><b>The Winchester Mystery House </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_673_acd0_d7b1_6267" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/vMRT1aa61-Xv0EPCrRI5X0caTPxDVPKzNPZSbN8NJGBD9diSQ_S7yUSWrdw" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><b><br></b></div><div><br></div><div><span style="caret-color: rgb(43, 43, 43); color: rgb(43, 43, 43); font-family: crimsontext-roman, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">The labyrinthine home was constructed over a period of 38 years by Sarah Winchester, the wealthy widow of William Wirt Winchester, of Winchester rifle fame. After the premature deaths of her daughter and husband, a shaken Mrs. Winchester reportedly consulted a medium, who informed her that the spirits of those killed by Winchester rifles were haunting her family. The medium instructed her to head west and build a house for the spirits, who would no longer bother her as long as construction never stopped. Thus the massive Winchester Mystery House was born; in its final iteration, the home—which is listed on the National Register of Historic Places—contains 2,000 doors, 47 stairways,</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(43, 43, 43); color: rgb(43, 43, 43); font-family: crimsontext-roman, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">, 47 fireplaces</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(43, 43, 43); color: rgb(43, 43, 43); font-family: crimsontext-roman, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">, six kitchens</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(43, 43, 43); color: rgb(43, 43, 43); font-family: crimsontext-roman, Times, "Times New Roman", serif; letter-spacing: 0.20000000298023224px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">, and 10,000 windows.</span></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_65d6_3cb1_2677_839c" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-ZDtree2txK5ajWtA6j_G0EPzjvhn7f2sdhX4QbdtrTYfmQG_4n0EX1fLOA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_b2a5_99e3_32bb_77e3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/mPOJzvtoJsoo6hiCYfG-7hHRYmKH-7H6NfNlA590s_rDzUN7tnEDZS0SQ3Y" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_5e5f_5cd9_9e78_8a13" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/VE0uADAB1hsc5SWPrkSMH4iXl2Y2OE2QS5IwCwQcS0qFvkl5H5CTkXHQLoI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4df2_8307_4a11_6826" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/HXjVv6Mj0qRidinxypZEZPPaMOL_dx6H2puuHKysdDAk867BXxZsyhGe_RE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Would you love to experience the mystery of this dreamhouse?</div><div><br></div><div>Barbie thinks you might...</div><div>Enjoy!</div><div>Kisses, m.<br><br><br><br></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-74179280322863927312019-11-04T18:38:00.001-08:002019-11-04T18:38:17.387-08:00Band-Aid <div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><img id="id_c2b2_3ea6_3b41_f10d" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/QDs1AtYeSWHuFZ2TIuyGAaiDTcU5zFNjsBdwxoL29Elwvn89eOOPi80wU84" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><br></i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i>You<b> </b>are the only one responsible for your healing because you are the only one who can heal you. People can help but ultimately you are the band-aid for your feelings & capable of healing your body, soul and mind. Much like bandages giving support and protecting your wound to keep out things to harm it is your job to keep yourself safe so your emotional state can heal. Take care of yourself dolls and kens. Here’s a old story...</i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><br></i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i>Do you place healing in your own self? </i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i>Enjoy!</i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i>Kisses, m.</i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><br></i></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><br></b></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><b>Healer</b></p><p style="margin: 0px;"><i><font size="2">(9-26-2017)</font></i></p></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><br></b></p></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font color="#000000" data-blogger-escaped-style="color: black; font-family: "-webkit-standard" , "serif"; font-size: 13.5pt;" face=""-webkit-standard" , "serif""><font size="4">“</font>Trust your heart.” He tells me. “Your eyes won’t always see the truth.” <data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></font></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;">There are times when people may seem friendly but they threaten all you hold dear. But he wasn’t one of them. From the moment we met he has been the best teacher I’ve known. His heart was open to mine without expectations or worry of what I should be. <data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;">Tonight as he inists that I do not owe him my heart, the rain pounds outside the windows and winds shake the trees reminding me of how we met…<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;">A dark rainy evening brought me into his company.<font data-blogger-escaped-style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </font>Escaping the pain of another, I was making my way through a rainstorm. His bookstore had a light on, so I entered without hesitation. The rain masked my tears as I collected myself in the entry. He was in the back of the shop with another customer watching me shake the rain from my stockings and pull back my hair. I could see his pale blue eyes from where I stood and they were watching me. His stare wasn’t unpleasant or harsh. It was greeted with a smile before turning back to his business.<font data-blogger-escaped-style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </font>I could hear him give his pleasantries and turn back toward me. As he moved, it was as if time stopped as he walked toward me. My heart knew then before I did that I was in love with this man.<font data-blogger-escaped-style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </font><data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;">Several special book orders later, he became my teacher giving me fiction I’d never heard of. Voraciously my appetite for knowledge was eager for more. Often I worried my hunger for more was too much for him but always he obliged my requests without question. Eventually he curiously asked to know of the hole in my heart that left me hungry.<font data-blogger-escaped-style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </font>When I told him of my wounded heart, the man that lied and left me empty, he shared his wisdom and past. Months grew to years as these things do and his words led to his hands that slowly did their work to mend my mind and soon enough my heart. <data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><br></p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;">Times are hardest when you don’t know what to trust. My heart nearly whole by his healing hands and soul wants to belong to him, but there’s hesitation. It’s when I find myself doubtful that he tells me… “Trust your heart, my love” and I know with certainty that he already has mine.<data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></p></div><p style="margin: 0px;"></p><div class="MsoNormal"><p style="margin: 0px;"><font data-blogger-escaped-style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </font><data-blogger-escaped-o:p></data-blogger-escaped-o:p></p></div></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p style="margin: 0px;"><b><br></b></p></div><div style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><p></p><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"></div> The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-3200559463527533772019-11-01T13:54:00.001-07:002019-11-01T13:54:28.190-07:00House of Silence by FORM/Kouichi Kimura Architects<div><i>Barbie realizes that some people are just incapable of saying or doing kind things without getting attention for them and also too lazy to work on themselves but live to criticize others... so it’s probably best that they just work hard and stay silent. Here’s a quiet dreamhouse. </i></div><div><br></div><div><b>House of Silence by FORM/Kouichi Kimura Architects</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_3a87_6e7a_6e24_c748" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/_JT1IiASy8XQBd8DTyxp3mJzVtkdvYqrqxzvTLNjTBH0eUEBmrKcDE_T3TY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><br></div><div>The quiet giant is constructed from concrete with the intention of remaining foreign to the neighboring homes to give the homeowner the feeling of not being influenced aesthetically by the outside. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times">Primarily composed of concrete the architecture, does not have many windows and closed by walls. The interior has a great deal of space which is not imaginable from the exterior view. </font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times"><br></font></span></div><div><img id="id_b28a_4cb3_a36b_1899" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/ZnwK-438s-rrhzeKH3Q9FCTdN-oH23p4-60r-axFAftu9IMtTOQu9SwIjwY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_816c_fa33_4f7_b125" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/s5HyRe8fz-ewOkTD-8Ggg6vWpR3-UGKj3wId1xDabqwW7-HGrHDBfsexDaE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_8005_119a_7e70_ff38" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/z3p39OoB-pKjWXeDEk69imYxJZwDCJdxLazaI3HW-2QxjoyTizrBZI-ZuU0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_a8c4_b13b_4705_1a3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/aexFkQNrMxwW6RaZ5gd4XpC0LFgJth1gsvW2JGzFfwrdNGnq4WBzHwLRA70" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><img id="id_432b_3d3b_5846_a39e" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-cpKJTscdDwP_G2XGATPyx0eLQTGnU5qwyO81xzM2WZHekY4hko0IMJdc94" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4b5c_929_c919_63a" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/haBut_3drEU_ZJWYwIsGiUMm_Z_pN5JfWj2G-KHPbA3YE1e77EnNybPur8Y" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_77f3_6cf8_9382_851a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/o--th0DWjRSGD6yOlvwQq18gu-kQZ3KRpmLmqtWWWqVSdFKqs2SbD4DaYdI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_3812_193a_f1bf_eb87" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/z-T4-1Se7hd71CwvSTWGW_N6pLqEiZDeLNEbdkelmcvJstYUideIQUNysUc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c740_d40b_3b96_96e8" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/52i1YerhE5c0cv3QIcez8JXWlIxAEI9tcjAxv-zhrtR0YAzSL8oeOmnfP_c" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times"><i>Would you like this silence space?</i></font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times"><i>Barbie would!</i></font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times"><i>Enjoy!</i></font></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times"><i>Kisses, m.</i></font></span></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-11003996748797264082019-10-31T13:28:00.001-07:002019-10-31T13:28:53.194-07:00Big & Small House by Anonymous Architects Barbie thinks everyone is capable of doing the right thing, no matter if it’s big or small. No kind gesture is truly wasted or anonymous in thus world. You don’t have to brag on kindness. It spreads itself.. However, if you go around criticizing others for their own good, you are not doing a kindness. You are doing them and yourself a disservice, by carrying yourself in a position where you think you are above others and criticizing, you are no better than they are. Expect what you give to others in return. People will match your criticizing with hostility and meanness because you are essentially giving that to them when it’s unsolicited criticism. Try kindness with others and you’ll always go farther. Here’s a dreamhouse that is dressed up as a small thing but is actually a big thing...<div><br></div><div><b>Big & Small House by Anonymous Architects </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><br><img id="id_7cbc_b55_e059_d1eb" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/EonNSkgltf3sE8E-V9GdqxjS_3UsXxIAs-8e22QM3ShNO_QyC03IRY4dkS4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.600000381469727px; text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">At first glance, the </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.600000381469727px; text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">home</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.600000381469727px; text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> looks to be no larger than a garage; however the interior of the home </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(68, 68, 68); color: rgb(68, 68, 68); font-family: Helvetica, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15.600000381469727px; text-align: justify; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">reveals itself to be quite large, which is where its quirky name come from.</span><br><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_2097_1fe9_d83_c7e9" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/36I5BMfE1BM4rnRtVlaVuAwJa5tb64KhlvmlTEf0SITvYlCMMj2EQCCEkUI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_bca3_ac76_4546_b73c" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/Rat6idPVQzyFdjvf1L4IsUPaeIF1s9YAnYkcu7yzlOZe3dtlUgJqBCjzUVI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_fe6e_5430_72f0_e05a" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/ILxAV17fQ99J9kY3v14gXl1v98KOjDTB851E29lG5mdvr2JTy5XcvXsTlbY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_1ff7_b969_ac4d_f1e1" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/BxekNNOKb54f0ZVjaVE4oQQY2-HgAl_BWu-mgLEkwZdxXfbvoa56vM48Qy0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c0c6_afb5_69ef_7305" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/5w1sJHakujiRbtfO--tFKPetH4Uc8NKAY5VF926dXkOXclehwbvfKjMwHvE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_2586_22af_b46d_cf73" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/P_tkACbr1XSq9vTS8rtQGUlqayXPd7VF2uVXvdrGxuSF-3e46jEeBxBt-jI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br>Would you love this Big & Small space?</div><div><br></div><div>Barbie would</div><div>Enjoy!</div><div>Kisses, m.</div><div><br><b><br></b></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-34446760330949983442019-10-30T13:19:00.001-07:002019-10-30T13:29:04.091-07:00Sign House by APOLLO Architects & Associates <div><i>The future won’t be much unless people pay attention to the important signs of change. Greed, material wealth and wasting millions on unnecessary luxury items will only contribute to the bigger issues of poverty, climate change and a lack of sustainable resources. Barbie loves dream houses & design that plans with the future of humanity and those occupying homes in mind...</i></div><div><br></div><div><b>Sign House by APOLLO Architects & Associates</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_e334_6b8d_b188_b56e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/UBLbD9L8DM-ZAYZuMR77uLRcQpfbvJO6iuRSrcfHAAz-qEJv7BSDygToqOs" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><b><br></b></div><div><br></div><div>An earthquake resistant home of the future... Sign is a minimalist home in Tokyo created with zoning restrictions in mind and desire to utilize natural lighting for the interior while still maintaining privacy from those passing by. The result is a dreamhouse with main spaces upstairs and small windows near the ceilings to allow light in. Upper levels include a balcony with a view among the living spaces. </div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_f2d2_7609_4db0_c8d6" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/dr3a5Vya9WPAWMlnmuH-dLI30S8-rBpnx-6y11tx9p9LcbAeAEecwKCGZUY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c5bc_bd4e_8044_235d" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/hn7BVDvsGxZJXNQje03QWB15dHvFmcuNf0WaDfOvLPBBvvtJtAeICgo8l-I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><img id="id_1592_3ef3_3da3_e26a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/iuvtvqLLI4ClcQ4A1DMNY90LTl9cw6k0wvgAZw8430AaCwegQWVCQ5yzdwI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_70ca_1804_3753_4094" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/55lzSmPI7hizYG1oKD2BPCD7-N1jeI80QnnzlBaJnXLriyC2F2TZsHRKlbU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_75f5_11cd_390e_dfe8" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/PV8mWiFx8EvExxzB-SVSro8YrkMdmq66URsM2RSV-d3UD_MzGxKpXeKyzk0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></div><div><br></div><div><i>Would you love to live in this house of the future?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Barbie would!</i></div><div><i>Enjoy!</i></div><div><i>Kisses, m.</i></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-37746623118677435772019-10-23T22:53:00.001-07:002019-10-23T22:53:27.759-07:00The Cape Fear House by CPlusC Architectural Workshop <i>Fear doesn’t make you hesitate. Fear is a natural response. Hesitating is a choice. You can fear doing something and still decide to follow through. Sometimes being afraid is the best motivator to do anything. It’s the best time of year for scares and here’s a dreamhouse that inspires fear...</i><div><br></div><div><b>The Cape Fear House by CPlusC Architectural Workshop </b></div><div><br></div><div>Located in Kensing<span style="caret-color: rgb(8, 15, 38); color: rgb(8, 15, 38); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 16px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">ton, Sydney, this project includes an existing 1980’s first floor addition to a 1920s Californian style bungalow.</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(8, 15, 38); color: rgb(8, 15, 38); font-family: Merriweather, serif; font-size: 16px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> </span></div><div><br><img id="id_8166_ea5d_8595_88dd" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/6_dKVp4Aqh39-BHRoQ1zb1XNo6Z1PsxG8UlJZj-vZ4FB43W26izjJQsZ6T8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_73f6_3102_ec1f_1887" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/04rj8vjMMu1GUAMhk9OIa0bQx4xfS3aWehXLsOIQe33WFtC29doLRKBy23U" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_dd4_eeed_7805_ecf5" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/7jbEu7pvmN_XBXfRcv-MYe4dQgNqCpavYAfh6axpRPRdMcsP6Su4jvSjUTI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_7f60_70_8c00_8d5b" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/SF9EY19tcw9uymJ8y5XAt7LNe7SJqVg4VaV_CgAObyLOX1zZd4ACnn9U5jM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_3e17_748e_40db_1249" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/h6QtIOhiKVeefE0RGW0kr25X_oRPNasT-5KTZ-M5vwexYCRiT0WIpLps4H4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_9d35_7151_3fce_a661" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/BKqMeM8YQwN92yHAvf7UmaGEPS9-OOjqciMuSE8VZIOy_p4MVg8JpIIuR3Q" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><i>Would you love to be frightfully delighted by this home? </i></div><div><i>Barbie would!</i></div><div><i>Enjoy!</i></div><div><i>Kisses, m.</i></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-59827164740196002562019-10-17T11:25:00.001-07:002019-10-17T11:25:28.991-07:00The Eye Of The Storm House by X Dilling & George Paul<i>Don’t get carried away by the storm... Be the storm and make life how you envision it. Everyone survives when those stronger help those that are weaker. Survival is meaningless if you are strong and don’t help others. Here’s a house meant to last through the strongest storm. </i><div><br></div><div><b>The Eye Of The Storm House by X Dilling & George Paul</b><br><div><br></div><div><img id="id_9b7d_57b1_49e9_af92" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/G9lbgtviFfYyi3Tjha0qAV-v4bWjosJiJj-E2uqA-XTquwynD9w3FaB-jz8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">The home's unique architecture was a collaboration between architect X Dilling and builder George Paul, and its distinctive shape makes it stand out in its Sullivan Beach neighborhood. It’s design makes it impenetrable to storms.</span></div></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_e6e9_a085_126f_1708" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/t6RF6SSKdot7h-zyq2ck4yFFs9aw8S3BG4XqqSp4jvnWfDhGixb_ssed3LQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_7088_dada_5e43_6f2a" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/rh599njWdq2vK2zXXeC9iJcVxfcIfTGCdgwizwT5tMDkmwwZ4_Ujw_fuW48" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_d6c5_77b5_a21a_e2f5" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/1Kyh6Ti259KhyDGTiZbgsVAPrdHG3Xp_uK3u0HWqe_HAZsPT0fRvADm_s1I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_85f0_e7c2_1fce_c2e3" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/quXgfbX8XrFKdQS4dVpk1p_BLwKuWTmfWuRrYGQeR30sRsmT0XpRk4ez_p0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_56b9_909b_30e9_799c" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/wWyenKMAFJXVFsu4xzq-kFnQL9qFUclwNXFo09a45-tfGNLZdbAg4qXeepQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_d68_b374_30d2_de6d" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/SiKDkQU3G5moUeSpVi_e1h_FSRmjoKSndoFc5qkzexbmeeNstkR42ctzPjI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Would you live in this force of nature?</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Barbie would!</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Enjoy!</i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 16px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; caret-color: rgb(14, 67, 97); font-family: "Playfair Display"; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Kisses, m.</i></span></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-73960127651419300752019-10-16T23:33:00.001-07:002019-10-16T23:33:38.247-07:00The Easy House by TRU Architects<i>The only illusions people have are in their mind. Life is easy when you focus on what you want, put in the effort and go after it. Never let anyone to compare their struggle to yours & belittle what you have experienced or accomplished. What may seem hard to one person is easy to another and what one person thinks is easy isn’t what another person lives through. Focus on your own path and you’ll see results. Here’s an easy dream house....</i><div><br></div><div><b>The Easy House by TRU Architects</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_d24e_c402_d896_cb24" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/g4iG0KqZ3QyOtA1o7JiZ_pNRvXGPfGnX-VBZW6SZvcChNLc5Ptm0IQJcp5U" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16px; caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); color: rgb(48, 48, 48); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">The architects designed</span><span style="caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); color: rgb(48, 48, 48); font-size: 16px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"> a simple high ceiling space for the clients because they wanted to have family gathering and simple bedrooms. Located in a new residential district surrounded by the mountains the home utilizes the natural light and mountain view to provide an aesthetic balance.</span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); color: rgb(48, 48, 48); font-size: 16px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></font></div><div><img id="id_3775_68a1_13f8_8c84" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/S4_Vcw3u50VZ6TLZ3GkBw5oDb4nl6_RLt3hVKFnqSRBXVQe2CoifYgJfs7g" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_9cb8_3fbd_28af_1abb" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/EcwHjDWFU7wlIa4HWJhPMY6nGZKkGE5Lt7zuY3m-HLKVEAj2o9hTSU7fSgo" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_86ec_7d55_a7e9_dea8" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/fUIGFgC865DrqAOcePz9a1b9JVmEM7mJCYpNDSTAkSm-hvhMiuA12rn9SR0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"></div><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><img id="id_603a_55b7_90d5_6210" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/tGEQw4kLf03iPhpb360Ojb7SQ32msU6TNhoYiFh7PWcFDAK5jIDufY0ZORo" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4008_2910_5bd_6e59" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/XzrIKjvOCCOrJuYMRF10MBapEzOrriJTX656CKtc7lroFbgOeY62LEFiwm8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_e587_5b06_f4f_4f59" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/3G1dmMX2Vtr5X_WEEGxgw359lCcTCpTbi9e_6JHE3CR6utD7ixFL6irmPkc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 392px; height: auto;"><br><br><i>Would you find ease in the simplicity of this home? </i></div><div><i><font color="#303030" face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">Barbie would!</span></font><br></i></div><div><font color="#303030" face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Enjoy!</i></span></font></div><div><font color="#303030" face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(48, 48, 48); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Kisses, m.</i></span></font></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-6822115066588348792019-10-16T16:30:00.001-07:002019-10-16T17:25:28.259-07:00The House of the Crying Widow by E. Brandtmann<i>Barbie knows it’s healthy to cry when you’re disappointed or upset when it doesn’t go your way or you experience a loss. It’s ok to feel bad when things go badly but it’s not ok to dwell in it. Strong people cry and are comforting when they see others cry. Weak people mock people for crying and tell them to tough it out. Sometimes you have to accept things as they are or that’s your plans will not going to work one way so you can learn to move on and sometimes that does mean there’s tears to work through the feelings of frustration. Creating your own path isn’t always an option or the best option for everyone so realize that the best part of life not working out is learning that there’s another way. </i><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Thomas Edison once said, “<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">I have not failed 1,000 times. I have </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">successfully discovered 1,000 ways to NOT make a light bulb.” You’ve not failed by a setback or disappointment or a loss, you’ve learned acceptance from the experience of grief or discovered what doesn’t work. Crying</span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"> or getting upset by the process of living is a valid emotional release. Here’s dreamhouse worth the tears that suits the season of macabre. </span></i></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b>The House of the Crying Widow by E. Brandtmann</b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div><div><br><img id="id_4485_9146_1db9_fca3" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/vo890OBWEbEwZSXV9lx15eV06aL5hc6DkknUP_auBoa83qQpapscOevTBU4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br></div><div><span style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 15.300000190734863px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times"><br></font></span></div><div><span style="caret-color: rgb(51, 51, 51); color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 15.300000190734863px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><font face="Times">The Art Nouveau mansion was built in 1907 by the architect E. Bradtmann, commissioned by the Poltava merchant of the 2nd guild of S. Arshavsky. In 1918 the building was nationalized, to this day government structures are located in it. Its facade is decorated with a sad woman's face, which rain drips down the face, and it seems that the woman is crying. Which is where the mansion gets its popular name.</font></span></div><div><br></div><div><img id="id_91fc_d4d5_e11d_be3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/xQQI3-_MGoDgg-Y03OAw5L8cHplFlaNIeLjnWrTR4unxYZpelJUKO2dmWNY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_6d93_8a2f_26f6_27dc" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/vyBAiraUrRSKQLyhZbGYuaNYY_0oROtyzG0Z5SZTOsIVNxu6J3XdDCSAcTA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_1783_b6e7_e76b_de30" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/jRZJS6RneyIu66J978G5Z1IERCibpunIrecwx3LgtlL0d8Ytz7F6flJCkvA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_1a11_f849_b46a_581b" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/WL-uIgpAo_IW9zsBvu2zwYKcowg_M0wL4-yDdjG-Kw7dXPYr_tFH4fu8cw4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_79bd_cdae_56f0_1f9d" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/WiIgUcSEGxuUGtwO_lSVnL4M-4uLENP_8haHBM1I9iX4I0A6EJiqKeZgOb8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_ec89_949c_7a34_a9ea" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/nZUDNl2ngIrycrZZLbwAG-fdbHA2CBI1alInIyh9q9cNvNBFa5MHa4uRVXE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><i>Would you love the tears shed by this dreamhouse?</i></div><div><i>Barbie would!</i></div><div><i>Enjoy!</i></div><div><i>Kisses, m.<br><br><br></i><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></span></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-18925506723150879182019-10-11T14:21:00.001-07:002019-10-11T14:21:57.872-07:00The Focus House by Bere Architects <i>When you focus on your needs first then help others, your life flourishes. Try working on improving yourself before focusing to help or dictate to others what they ought to be doing or changing. You can’t help someone else that is failing, if you’re failing too. Chances are, your need to fix others & project what you feel onto them is a means to distract yourself from negative issues within yourself that you wish to avoid focusing. Having material wealth, love and etc. doesn’t equal that you do not have issues... you will have negative issues until you focus within to resolve them. Love yourself. Here’s a dream house to focus on... </i><div><br></div><div><b>The Focus House by Bere Architects </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><img id="id_655f_dd9f_d51a_da07" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/z8RwjUQgscsPcUC8Os0sIiL33alkBEN_4fHqq1zQ3lu5gHiIBNMCpKbPCZM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><div><p style="font-size: 16px; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px; caret-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><font face="Times">The Focus House is quite unique house in that it is sandwiched between a couple of Victorian houses. The view of the home makes it appear too thin for comfort, but in reality, it’s a wedge shaped design that widens toward the back. The house design further contrasts with the surrounding homes with grey zinc cladding vs the typical brick exteriors. </font></p><div><font face="Times"><br></font></div><p style="font-size: 16px; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px; caret-color: rgb(64, 64, 64); color: rgb(64, 64, 64); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><font face="Roboto, sans-serif"><span style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><img id="id_4851_5599_9857_be45" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/StQyWmIUc5uvSdzyiJDP8NIVJKMXCeqdNfYODGoNmWRO3WJM0VxTsHqEOFs" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></span></font><br><br><font face="Roboto, sans-serif"><span style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><img id="id_6284_53d3_e9f8_8cea" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/vfoT9FBnU7kHmWxloNnGctSxcAl_51Q04y0nIe3zQ9rYUBknN8bX2cWmnw8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></span></font><br><br><font face="Roboto, sans-serif"><span style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><img id="id_5eed_c4c4_6c02_fa75" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/X8T90ohSZdtJvSpAIQ27DL1MkG4LO-W03xNHITovTd46xxSU1MAjJwGXRQs" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></span></font><br><br><font face="Roboto, sans-serif"><span style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><img id="id_320d_a142_c5df_4c9c" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/XQtVXO6EBNa26f-xeMB4yIE2A2F4u8wDgGBXV5aoEVLP2Q7ZD3-0eai32tM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></span></font><br><br><font face="Roboto, sans-serif"><span style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><img id="id_722_a625_e157_9ef7" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/kfyX-nQtFCVKFxbhzcBt7BzdFVcROQBxI42KejQqCaNrBpztvt5-WWGxvVc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></span></font><br><br><font face="Roboto, sans-serif"><span style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><img id="id_8a4d_684_a5c3_942f" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/8Icddq6tQCWHfdoIMqJQzvVZaDMOtyiSJ4l-aSe_tk25NRZNwyu_n1x_1Js" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></span></font><br><br><div><font face="Times">Would you focus on this dreamhouse?<br>Barbie would!<br>Enjoy!<br>Kisses, m.</font></div></p></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-66493951745945714602019-10-07T13:32:00.001-07:002019-10-07T13:32:46.262-07:00The Fighting House by studio_suspicion<i>You learn nothing from creating conflict and fighting with others but learn everything from facing up to problems and resolving them without it coming to a fight. Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is stand strong in your position and walk away rather than provoke a fight. Truly only a coward & weak person solves their problems with fighting. A brave person only fights to defend themselves, stands firm and looks for a common ground to reach a resolution with others. Here’s a dreamhouse that only fights to create a space for those who inhabit it. </i><div><i><br></i></div><div><b>The Fighting House by studio_suspicion</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_c7a4_2bd1_e2e9_47b3" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/UZKm3p-K69VLcnxHEEt22IA1pIQNWvqhsuP_qhFvXVZ1FSYyVihQ53msPhM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">In an area that has many design restrictions, the</span><b> </b><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">architects created a space that would a maximize the floor area ratio that would in the structure that would ensure the convenience and function. </span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><br></span></font></div><div><img id="id_85f5_200b_9c0a_62ca" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/Rpuu4uZp9gviFSg8wo5-prrIYd-7x9JpD2NLbVlJoKMMVHZH989nJK-2FdI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_7c65_3149_818d_7125" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/QuBsZy8pU1jo04R0jz1Z8nOQXOHZ-4t6_G_GqBQK3m6z_GlnItODDb1QWFI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c602_e8d5_5b81_19bb" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/8n1lghVx7hSrgTHJdROt3qjcf3zhtuKFGBSsWl9pL54LFRUjzbnp-Y9WuQM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_47d_29f2_4c21_14c8" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/H52xJg5EHY9BDECoRSWn_XGHhH5qalc3ThhK8svO_3jx9YD33TAZUsobTFg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_528d_c2d3_9889_e228" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/vGguN8ZOuPIzE-CwnWj6VZGVtbcTgWcg7TLi3Ei7P79UY-yM1ZGbN5jVJig" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_ccb2_dc4c_2c1d_4cf0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/O-c35Rc0YpTKyStwCSUAGi_oGlvTdywdCJeS4QnAy-nYmEAEf8MbP_EDzGI" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_1565_f19b_3d4a_1425" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/K4CGzEsKAbWVydKAgZ8P0C5PYVoG2Uu3fC4LVjPS45IsRYXsvWh2lK7x-C0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Would you let the dreamhouse fight for attention?</i></span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Barbie would!</i></span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Enjoy!</i></span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="caret-color: rgb(102, 102, 102); font-size: 15px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%; background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><i>Kisses, m.</i></span></font></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-91227978325334748772019-10-04T09:05:00.001-07:002019-10-04T09:28:18.058-07:00 The Do House by Architecture W<i>Barbie thinks that the only thing you have to Do is listen to yourself and what you want in order to live your life. It does help not to listen to anyone that tells you Don’t aspire for things. Especially if a person telling you has success, love, cars and homes because it is even more pathetic for that kind of trash person to shut down your desires and dreams for your life. So go DO: Live, love, desire and dream... aspire for things that make you plan a future. Just ultimately listen to your heart, gut or instincts instead of anyone telling you what you want. You know what you want, go get it. Here’s a dreamhouse that says Do!</i><div><br></div><div><b>The Do House by Architecture W </b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_67d6_7296_1137_4068" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/3W6WGW_GPuBCXhC-W4q_kxzvtcmCKgZ1w83S9v2Ccw4mG7oIoHKvcJpIZ9I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1">The architects goal was to design a home that aesthetically compliments the location naturally and uniquely. </span>Located in the Pacific Northwest the home is an unassuming box wrapped in Portland lap siding. The interior plan is centered around a staircase core that is accented with continuous railing. One side of the home provides the entrance - the other interlocking side the home boasts an impressive view the Cascade Mountains. A modern color pallet of white paired with the walnut continues throughout the home to play up the the house’s interaction between the interior design and exterior landscape.</p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_8a7_e5ba_9969_a" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/mq95Ii9_4ZKv36mQrI8HD9r4woZMtFkEs1ajSJp5ouCU3LZTAJfczgDOBns" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_297f_b321_3ca6_64de" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Qh0QnIxaFK-CMiWpxhcpuyInWgcH_qRRyf7WtQzILBcEEFZnD5YicAdlhpg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_12e0_de99_1f5c_f838" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/2xfhFSbDUbq8iye4Jpu8J4Kt3PqKUkHMivnZnQBL04W13aF8K3ywESwJfw0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_54cc_9327_9876_faec" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/s9xRwVUqC7gH4wSebBiaYAjdSZ5FJKfaavjd5OKJcoU8HScz8PIC9LxO3fY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_cb61_3adb_5b3d_4cbe" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/9In8XlvJMgQ1KZBNa_W0DmKq9L3r_uMLdmcYYff663_41pu6faxe9A_ubLk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_568c_c183_9d7d_7be5" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/NoBRSwKBSlnWpTba_fJ7Ks7wj5WPD6WgmwaytBMoTzj_fmkOmS8KfIFQjeU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"></span><br></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1">Do you think you would live in this dreamhouse? </span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1">Barbie would!</span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1">Enjoy!</span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1">Kisses, m.</span></p><b><br></b><div><br></div><div><br></div></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-5578332293444397152019-10-02T14:54:00.001-07:002019-10-02T14:54:16.395-07:00The Flexible House by Amin Taha + Groupwork<p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><i>Some people are flexible with their ideas and some people aren’t... with the latter wasting their time on games, which are just manipulations, to impose their will on others. Anyhoo, Barbie figures if you’re gonna be flexible then Barbie thinks why not flex in a dreamhouse? </i></span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"></span><br></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold;"><font size="4">The Flexible House <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>by Amin Taha + Groupwork</font></span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="s1" style="font-weight: normal;"><br></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="s1" style="font-weight: normal;">The home is designed with the clie</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">nts use and the possibilities of use in mind. This resulted in the planning of a three dimensional space that is crafted to display a love of materials.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="margin: 0px 0px 4px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 23px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s2" style="font-weight: bold;"><img id="id_5003_f7af_9ccc_8026" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/mm6NMJKcvuEvQEs3ayjozefD46gU4uAvh7G09j3KzxhymPMUgxqWrJYLbvc" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br></span></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">The design incorporates a flexible home in a unassuming shell. Throughout the home one is delighted with the experience of living in a carved out space that’s adorned with hinged cabinetry and walk through bathrooms.</p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 19px; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><img id="id_2aae_a56c_913e_96ea" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/eX4c1FONOAJw8rr1uXVUpZXVNoLdPxeZ2goyCkQBHBeETO4LrCIsqIypdH8" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_74f3_30c0_ad53_607e" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/vmr6jMl3AGsvIK_RIReI9ISmwxIidN3zKUm_MWtNHER6rmRpGEofbD0QHks" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_7b83_ecf9_e215_f770" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/WuipyGP4kU2gZ9iNqlph5ZsZSazv83DT6-yV4mzMR5_arnBXDGxGEXTK_QY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_2946_f366_6b13_ba8c" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/DQFlqSS1yroxk77g_dCPm47Mk-3f73e4GnZkFYvUjBl4GZOUGi7n1LAqzsE" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_22a2_bc8e_9c3c_fbaa" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/6FIceligrJejX5JauHJcSfeccYPhVb66NPz11ByvtN4CRoiMusSi9lA0v50" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_c790_195a_5cd9_2432" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/NyGRdi6uGbRPnhFdUYmZyvzRdUd3XHgh5pzZFA6p8VNI_ar5J6fHSEwxH3w" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br></p><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;">Overall, home is much more than it appears to be.<span class="s1"></span></p><div><br></div><p class="p2" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); min-height: 22.7px; -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><br><i>Would you flex in this dreamhouse?</i></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><i>Barbie would and she’s quite alright if you wouldn’t!</i></span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><i>Enjoy!</i></span></p><p class="p1" style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; color: rgb(69, 69, 69); -webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><span class="s1"><i>Kisses, m.</i></span></p>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-2237584986409664622019-10-01T23:20:00.001-07:002019-10-01T23:20:44.998-07:00The Time and Space House by Kohki Hiranuma Architect & AssociatesTime and space are not ideas... they are social constructs that people impose their illusions of past, present and future situations and events upon. Barbie knows that sometimes illusions are the things people hold on to tightest so why not enjoy a little time and space in a dreamhouse...<div><br></div><div><b>The Time and Space House by Kohki Hiranuma Architect & Associates</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div><img id="id_14de_c6dc_bc57_f8a4" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/FkgpZD5HWAmbjRw2YgiZ-oRUJZ8rzCNkLDsKmbHl2GCHPrCnPdffhai1zPM" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><b><br></b></div><div><br></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">The time & space house’ is a two-level dwelling in osaka, japan.</span><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"> Approximately 2 meters below the street level, the home ensures privacy while remaining flexible and timeless. High ceilings create a sense of larger than life space. Gaining most of its daylight illumination from a courtyard space & catwalk, the home, constructed from reinforced concrete, remains a flexible and transparent space. </span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br></span></font></div><div><img id="id_81e8_2b8a_92e9_e8bd" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/FXDjmpI8MfZPlgUNEuByHWgw5KkWmD_8HQpyzgALlew80l4_OD2DiFmCtuk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_9807_5c67_732e_a982" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/oimtrpv767ri7dZshji-rLwPXIc6-f9NuJvGUSBOmFu8g369WTXAITROpgY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_d860_5494_3f6_a00f" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/Hz4JAAkgxUmwdkCBh5D33Kd7vCzvXK-Av_tYEX-4C7F5dWHNPrtQlC_bgZQ" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_21a9_b581_c576_3c1e" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/AZLu8P5HknC_fymTyX4jpHSdpHnn97hZ-bE0-rAhw7lMmTB5JsHombEzpJk" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_2cf3_63e3_35f4_5950" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ud_jWBAcplhUE-aZmw3Zwg7oSkvRWpKOXRSy6N6PgrOyfEU4v1U8HdZ6VEU" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_6201_f684_72e1_8c08" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/0bK1H1WSrwYcuHAvT3o_yhKFTe6xykdvhrmJP10CW0WVqaEvJ2ABPiylS7Q" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Would you lose track of time and space in this dreamhouse? </span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;"><br></span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Barbie would. </span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Enjoy!</span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">Kisses!</span></font></div><div><font face="Times"><span style="font-size: 16.15999984741211px; letter-spacing: -0.009999999776482582px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-size-adjust: 100%;">m.</span></font></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-47634337445615731272019-08-28T14:05:00.001-07:002019-08-28T14:08:30.826-07:00Style Icon: Dia De Los Muertos Barbie Barbie loves to be versatile and sometimes you honor the past with a bit of your cultural heritage. This style icon version of the doll honors the Mexican holiday Dia De Los Muertos.<div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><b>Style Icon: Dia De Los Muertos Barbie </b></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><br></b></span></div><div><img id="id_e024_d1aa_39fe_a412" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/K6rHfCsBmqVrQUnzb_sIhtFlg7LVxGtWA_E-1Gcaq53dCVo688CTFeqoq-0" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;"><b><br></b></span><div><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Barbie is made up to look like La Catrina, who is considered one of the most emblematic and iconic figures. She is adorned in a long dress with bordados. Styled with la flor de cempasúchil her hair completements the look. This Barbie be available starting </span><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">September 12.</span></div></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><img id="id_e677_c8a0_1f93_ae9d" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/l3PXJ3xsDiRSIAPjoubAguRs-EijovDVF2WnuHSUZ9qLDjxv7GL_81QmpKY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br></div><div><img id="id_5517_35ea_cabe_eea5" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/wtw7nq1wSp_h4D9zOTgGo3J3TBy3OgjOElaa09fyZ8Q02ZlF_M_hitfg7LA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></div><img id="id_ceb5_5798_435d_ac9a" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2qVkW2VJUCCRvo2p8lMiPszwkwKFIbr6dHyDme22-pYFK5n0oA9zCseyCsg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><div><span style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0);"><br></span><img id="id_76ae_70fb_3066_96b9" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/eOaGOfepWHWTN39hMEhCZK7y_0aEV2SSbyDCB5GyuernvFLqV9Uzn2Hpf9M" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_9737_be41_97bc_7bc0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/x4X6Ao4l-r0KHixml3WtjjhoWOpG_ZVv3RG3-rs74asz_opWCxxGIROpRLA" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_5f6c_be18_db19_3229" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/fcu5iPLUgZOhpjuNGi5IHnKpyyJwcLenjCd141S1gLgE7UFTOIRlWOxSSiY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><br><br></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></div><div><br></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-46600917619512690852019-08-19T15:05:00.001-07:002019-08-19T15:05:28.663-07:00The Emoji House <i>Often Barbie thinks people make more of nothing than is there, rather than just enjoy things as they are. Now a dreamhouse is beautiful or fun in the eye of the homeowner... here’s a home for those that dare to mix fun with the dream of owning a home.</i><div><br></div><div><b>The Emoji House</b></div><div><b><br></b></div><div>Dreamed up by a graphic/street artist, Z the Art, at the request of the homeowner to reinvent the drab colored home into a “happy house,” this one of a kind vacation home lends its charming sense of humor to all who inhabit it.</div><div><i><br></i></div><div><img id="id_385d_866e_73e7_4382" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Jewd10vxovrAEWVB4cXDEyP6iPvFwUlBUa1T07kRuNiuWC60np6LlJavmqs" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_5169_b27d_a4da_b542" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/leoy7HCJS2kxKLgHQKJoX4Qq94d8sdL7kxhhYlYxLOf52c-cut6Pi4KcYfo" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_dba0_a58d_2df_2767" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/8YlwT4KJmUmm96UBGajUEnbEnoel_EfhM3QSYmclivcf8QQGRysAQwuYNoY" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_398a_bf85_f4ba_efc0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/sHORLOk3zej36jANGbPnXWnDmJodU5vTogiTfAhi4t8Qq2Nsx_D5Al3ayCo" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br><i><br></i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Would you find this home silly?</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><i>Barbie would!</i></div><div><i>Enjoy!</i></div><div><i>Kisses, m.</i></div><div><i><br></i></div><div><br></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4635018254747968144.post-38457913912827698292019-08-06T23:09:00.001-07:002019-08-06T23:09:51.516-07:00Treewow O - A Tree House of Curved Round Roof by MONOARCHI<i>Barbie knows that things aren’t always as they seem and that goes for dreamhouses too. Here’s a dreamhouse that captures the spirit of a treehouse while remaining quite different in form.</i><div><br></div><div><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b>Treewow O - A Tree House of Curved Round Roof by MONOARCHI</b></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br></b></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><img id="id_9692_4a6a_f7b2_b982" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/C9XTZLo-fmev6GD_yaMSPhs3xUSlfpmeRsNim00bT0bic5gg8aODvts2L0U" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><br></b></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Located at the foot of the Siming Mountain in Yuyao, China. The tree house is located on the west bank of the lower stream of the river near a village. The mountain peaks provide a pleasant and calming atmosphere. The structure is comprised of three non-concentric circles that rest atop each other and form a irregular fibonacci spiral. Steel trusses support the roof and walls of the curved eave. The inside opens up for the inhabitants to take in the view of the mountain.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br></span></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><img id="id_8805_4c5d_35c3_9a4f" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/_1EFp81_9jDLKk7e6nxXMOxRWxq9PhspSLY68tZ6HlYU26L8vy0zba0iJwg" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><img id="id_6b5f_990e_e0f7_f0ec" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/fwB2LDcuDmSWE0KZKCsivgPTU7497aaGb0wc8wOP7ABWrOx9GDPDyFG_Ub4" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><br><img id="id_cfc_214a_33eb_7b0f" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/kveUl5WijjRUw278Vrx2ElIDvYG1q3SCtahI_YZyRFtEzCdFpXmq8ISmKus" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><img id="id_4832_95b3_e4_cca6" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/qqah1pKEVl2JTct18GD7NZCTBrJ-pDv1SoF33LQpfKrpPoD3oYoToGwIE7I" alt="" title="" tooltip="" style="width: 353px; height: auto;"><br><br><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><i>Would you love to stay in this dream house?</i></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><i><br></i></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><i>Barbie would.</i></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><i>Enjoy!</i></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal;"><i>Kisses, m.</i></p></div>The Fabulous Ms M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08158515112440244988noreply@blogger.com0