tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-772770564718554282024-03-12T19:18:08.794-07:00From The HillWords on the wall
Paint on the floorsherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.comBlogger381125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-33936943843125017102018-08-16T04:25:00.000-07:002018-08-16T04:25:12.170-07:00THE SWEETEST DOG STORY EVER<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The other day I
stopped by to see Ann, an acquaintance of mine, for it had been a year since I
had seen her. Men were outside painting her house and things were quite busy as
well as hectic—outside that is. After
ringing her doorbell, I was first greeted by two dogs and then she appeared
with saying “Come inside!” As I went inside, I couldn’t help but notice that
the larger of the two dogs was not the same one I’d seen last year. Really I
didn’t want to blurt out “What happened to your other dog?” but it just
happened that I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With a sad look on
her face, Ann told me “My larger dog passed away eight months ago.” “I’m so sorry; I know how that hurts” was my
response. “It was terrible but so much worse for my little dog Molly: She
wouldn’t eat and was grieving over losing her best buddy. It went on for
several months.” That part I understood full well for there was more than one
time I had two dogs at the same time and one had died—and grief I saw in my
other dog.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Where did you get
this dog?” I asked. “Lucy?” she asked me. “I love that name for a dog; fits
her” was my reply. “Well this is how it happened: I decided to take Molly with
me to the shelter and see if she would choose a dog that she liked: We went
from cage to cage and then Molly stopped and sat down. Wouldn’t move. She was
nose to nose [through the cage] with the larger dog. I know it sounds strange,
but not only did Molly know that it was the right dog for us but so did I and
that was the day we brought “Lucy” home with us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As my dog came from
the very same shelter, I knew that the dog had not been named “Lucy” by the
workers but then maybe so. “Was that her name at the shelter?” I asked. “No”
she said smilingly “and I changed her name when we got home.” “Do you remember when I got Rufus at the shelter that he had
been named Louie?” Ann just smiled and then said “I remember that well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I looked at Lucy and
she was so pretty: Large, some brown on her face but the rest of her was pure
white. “Somehow she looks like a Jack Russell in her face but then…” and I
stopped. “She’s a mix of who knows what” said Ann. By this time Lucy was right
by my hand wanting to smell dog on me [yes my dog smell was on me,] and then I
petted her on the head. Was Molly nearby? Molly was standing right beside her
best buddy. I should add that Molly is small and a mixture of poodle and who
knows what else?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I thought to myself
how lucky Lucy was to find such a wonderful home with a wonderful owner and a
pal named Molly, and all amid French furniture. <i>“Now it just doesn’t get any better than that, I thought to myself. Not
one iota.”</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All of a sudden Ann
asked me if I’d go outside with her to check to see it the painters missed any
places: I gladly told her I would. Before I knew it Ann was out the back door
with the two dogs and I couldn’t find them. “Ann!” I hollered. I wasn’t greeted
by Ann, but by Lucy—it was as if she was the official in charge for she stopped
and then walked slowly in front of me, so that I would find not only Ann but Molly
as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“She’s one amazing
dog” I said and Ann replied “Yes she is just that.” Both of us checked to see
if the painters had missed any places but the sun was glaring: It was hard for
me to tell if there were any or not as I’d left my sunglasses inside her house.
Ann did find several places that were missed but that was all; on my part, I
was amazed at what a wonderful job the painters were doing. “I wish I had you
both to have painted my house when it was remodeled” I told them. They just
smiled. “I’m serious; you should see how it looks” and I ended it with those
words as well as a smirk on my face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Let’s go inside”
said Ann. I was so glad to be able to sit down after we entered her house.
“Would you like something cold to drink?” “I’d love it” I said. Holding a big
glass of cold iced tea was Nirvana; drinking it was all the better. “You know” I said “it just doesn’t get any
better than this—being with a friend and her two dogs amid all this beautiful
furniture is wonderful. “ “Why thank you” Ann replied “and I feel the very same
way.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When it was time for
me to depart, I went to my car and looked back and thought how miraculous it
was for a friend to take her grieving dog to find a dog for a buddy, and even
better that her dog found the right one by choosing Lucy. In the back of my
mind, I wished I had done that at one time or another but it never entered my
mind—ever. Also I couldn’t help but think that Lucy knew a good owner when she
saw Ann, and a best buddy when she saw Molly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To me, this was the
sweetest dog story ever, and I will make more frequent trips not only to see
Ann, but to see the two dogs that maybe chose each other or it not, Molly had
good taste plain and simple. On my way home I did nothing but smile all the way
about what I’d heard and what I’d seen for love knows no boundaries—all it
takes is a trip and finding it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright </span>© <span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*Pic of dog paw prints from Microsoft Word</span></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-67379286989964354362018-07-04T21:03:00.002-07:002018-07-04T21:03:51.208-07:00“ICE CREAM WITH CAKE?” UH NO!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Everyone’s been to a
gazillion birthday parties, but today’s generation of kids have no idea what it
was like a long time back. A gallon of ice cream used to come in an oblong
cardboard box and yes, it was put in the freezer until someone wanted it. There
were only three choices of ice cream: Vanilla, chocolate and Neapolitan and the
latter, was the choice of moms to serve at their children’s birthday parties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Neapolitan was three
kinds of ice cream together in a rainbow-like pattern of vanilla, strawberry and
chocolate in layers and it all tasted the same regardless of there being three
flavors or so it was said. I never tasted a single flavor but a combo of
something unidentifiable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know all too well
because every single birthday party I attended as a kid or even as a teenager,
that tri-colored ice cream was served smack beside a slice of birthday cake. It
seems that people thought the only way to slice it was to make it about three
inches thick, and then plop it right beside a skinny piece of birthday cake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Worse was that if the
weather were warm, all kids and/or teenagers were sent outside with their paper
plates loaded with that ice cream and the teeny piece of birthday cake—and the
paper plate seemed to cave in from the sheer weight of the ice cream. Oh and
that ice cream melted and ran all over the birthday cake making the cake all
slimy and infiltrated with the three colors. I was lucky if I got one bite of
the edge of the cake as were most kids and that wasn’t a good thing at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And the same continued
for years and years it seemed: One slither of a piece of birthday cake and a
heavy helping of that horrid ice cream—that is until more ice cream flavors
arrived on the scene [they were and had been available at places that
specialized in ice cream but nowhere else,] and yet, as always, the mother of
the person celebrating a birthday, always plopped the ice cream right beside
the cake while never asking “Would you like ice cream with your cake or not?”
That question was never asked. Ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So many past birthday
parties seemed the same and when it came time for mine one year, I asked my mom
if she’d ask my friends if they wanted ice cream beside their cake. She got a shock when she heard too many say
“I don’t want any beside my cake but thanks.” No, they knew that it took over
the cake and also it melted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Forward in time and
at any given time, birthday party or not, I refuse to have ice cream beside my
cake—any kind of ice cream and any kind of cake but the one ice cream I won’t
touch is that horrid Neapolitan —too many past bad memories of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I love cake and love
ice cream but not touching: I am not OCD but remember all too well the past and
so, I’ll take my separately if you should ask me. Smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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© <span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> Copyright 2018<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*Photo from Microsoft Word</span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-22705106081879026562018-03-05T12:14:00.000-08:002018-03-05T12:16:01.710-08:00'DREARY WEATHER MAKES ME SAD."<div>
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I'm not sad in that with my other post, I am happy in that I've written another Amazon Kindle E book which I shared with you--but the weather here has been either rainy or dreary of late. The sun has shown maybe a total of 6 days in over a month. Those gray dreary days seem to sap any "get up and go" that I have and it affects me into days of accomplishing about nothing.</div>
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Do those dreary days affect you as well?</div>
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Granted here right now it's in the 40's temperature-wise but it's another gray day with no sun shining.</div>
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And we've had too much rain--way more than any past February in years and yes, I know it's now March, Daffodils are in bloom as it the forsythia and my yard is full of clumps of "wild onions"--well they're called that or "wild garlic." Of the latter, I always go outside, yank some up and smell that onion-like smell and why? I always have even as a kid and still do plus I like that smell. Aside from that and picking daffodils and forsythia to bring inside, the dreariness continues here.</div>
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I suppose [as I always do,] that things could be far worse: I could be living in a country that has monsoons , one that has constant snow.or one that has months of darkness and perhaps I shouldn't complain. Shouldn't complain that March is also a month with a mind of its own for to me, it's downright fickle.........too windy, sunny, rainy or an off and on snowstorm. In fact , there is snow in our forecast but as to how much we shall receive is uncertain--just like March.</div>
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I got off tangent which is one of my biggest faults, for I was talking about dreary days and the sadness they bring and not the month of March even if it does seem to fall into that category in a way. Hope you're smiling. :)</div>
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On this very day I have accomplished a lot but it's been in the form of making phone calls, appointments ,and the disgusting job of paying the ever monthly utility bills. But have I been outside as of yet? That answer would be a definite "No." But the day isn't over yet so that might change.</div>
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Days like this and those I spoke of are a part of life, and not much can be done about them except cope. Google what Mark Twain said of weather for he said in so many words..."A great deal has been said about the weather but not much has been done about it" and oh, he was so right.</div>
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Maybe today will turn out to be not so dreary: Who knows?</div>
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Meanwhile, my feelings are the same about days like this.</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
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© Copyright 2018</div>
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All Rights Reserved</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-5903334420129866522018-03-05T11:16:00.001-08:002018-03-05T11:17:40.335-08:00<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Greetings from far far away.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>I cannot believe I haven't been on here since before Christmas and yet it does seem a long time. Christmas came and went in a whoosh, and in January we were bombarded with snow. Instead of writing, I switched to painting [both are my greatest loves] and during the dreary days of January and February I painted over 20 paintings--some good and some "so so."</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Ah but I did sneak in a new Amazon Kindle E book, as it was a story that needed told and I was the only one who could write it. And write it I did. Although I had recanted this story to my sons it is now available for anyone to read.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>It's odd but when I write, I think of more stories and then the painting gene kicks in and throws me off kilter--maybe if you do both, you know exactly what I mean. It's a double edged sword of what to choose and I can't do both at the same time.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>This newest Amazon Kindle E book is dear to my heart for many reasons: I can only hope that you experience the joy that the main character, Phoebe,felt the sorrow and the...I won't spoil the ending for you.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Again I apologize for being so lax in blogging. I will be on here more frequently: That 's a promise.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>And should you decide to read my latest book, a sincere thanks to all of you!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>https://www.amazon.com/His-Cigars-SB079NFHJMB/ref=sr_1_1herry-Hill-ebook/dp</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Sherry Hill</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>© 2018 Copyright</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>All Rights Reserved</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>Sherry Hill</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b>*Photo from Microsoft Word</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span>sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-49887343311066625432017-12-07T01:35:00.002-08:002017-12-07T01:35:38.589-08:00HAD TO CHANGE MY AMAZON KINDLE E BOOK TITLE<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Greetings,</div>
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Sometimes the best plans go haywire. I had chosen a title for my latest Amazon Kindle E book and gone through the publishing process only to see that someone else had a similar title; my only choice was to change it.</div>
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The new title is : "TWELVE CHRISTMAS MEMORIES."by Sherry Hill.</div>
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I apologize for any confusion.</div>
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I sincerely hope that you enjoy these true stories some of which are of miracles, some are sad and some are nostalgic..</div>
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Thanks so much for reading my new book if you choose to do so.</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-73799491985427251272017-11-20T14:50:00.001-08:002017-11-21T03:06:32.657-08:00A NEW AMAZON KINDLE E BOOK IS READY<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Greetings!</div>
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Today I uploaded twelve Christmas related stories into one Amazon Kindle E book.</div>
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If you celebrate Christmas wherever you live, I hope my stories all in one format evoke memories for you. Christmas is a feeling but there are many things that stir up our past memories. The title is "<u>MEMORIES OF CHRISTMASES PAST."</u><br />
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Enjoy the E book should you have a Kindle or any other device and thank you!</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
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https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077MJHRXH/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1511261708&sr=1-1&keywords=Memories+of+Christmases+Past+by+sherry+Hill</div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-35291200343426569802017-10-30T18:45:00.000-07:002017-10-30T18:45:05.213-07:00TODAY IS THE DAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<b>Today is October 30, 2107 and here as in maybe your country, tomorrow is Halloween which doesn't seem possible but it will be. As a kid I loved this holiday as it meant dressing up as someone else, being able to go trick or treating in areas that I knew and with friends my own age, Adults with us? Never.</b></div>
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<b>It was a time of being safe, being a free range kid and getting loads of candy--which also was safe, AND it was a time of magic--magic filled the air every single Halloween Day. Granted there were times I didn't like my then-boxed costume and many times I'd change it myself much to my mom's disdain.</b></div>
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<b>About the age of eleven, I quit going out on Halloween to trick or treat because I had gotten tall and felt sort of dumb thinking about wearing a costume.</b></div>
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<b>Looking back at how things were on Halloween or prior, no one decorated their houses with a gazillion lights, fake bats or yard decorations---all anyone had outside was a real pumpkin. Just one pumpkin.</b></div>
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<b>And no one decorated the inside of their houses then: It just wasn't done at all.</b></div>
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<b>And look at how things are in today's world for kids. It isn't safe for them to go out on Halloween to trick or treat at all and if they do,adults are with them. No one can or should trust any unknown houses or area for danger is too prevalent now. The good thing is that many churches, malls or neighborhoods have parties for kids and that's safe if they live in that area.</b></div>
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<b>Decorating? Decorating for Halloween is a multi-million dollar business for too many people feel that they have to illuminate every single thing inside and outside plus add a ton of decorations. And that's fine if people want to do it although it's costly and runs up a giant electric bill --that's the downside. Yes, I have a pumpkin outside and some fall things but this year I stopped at just that for in the past, it was too much trouble taking it all down and putting it up. Age? Maybe but maybe I didn't want to to into overload.</b></div>
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<b>Whatever is your choice is fine. And I'm wishing you a Happy Halloween tomorrow and may it be safe and happy--most of all, enjoy it!</b></div>
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<b>Sherry Hill</b></div>
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<b>© Copyright 2017</b></div>
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<b>All Rights Reserved</b></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-16625293842632020212017-10-29T04:25:00.000-07:002017-10-29T04:26:13.582-07:00AN ACT OF KINDNESS WAS PAID BACK BY ANOTHER<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This past Friday I
stopped by a car wash as I had promised a man that I would give him a
yearbook—not mine but one I bought at a thrift store three years ago. My reason
for buying it in the first place was that it didn’t cost much at all and
second, someone might need it. My stopping came from a prior conversation for I
thought he had been a past student of mine but found out he had grown up in a
different area here –that’s when I told him about the yearbook and said I’d
gladly give it to him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He had done a
fantastic job washing and cleaning my car and I said I’d gladly bring it to him
on Wednesday. Wednesday came and went as did Thursday but Friday, I grabbed the
yearbook on my way out and headed for the car wash; as I approached, he saw my
car and I pulled in and handed him the yearbook.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He was thrilled
beyond words because he had not gotten his own for his senior year, and I was
thrilled for him to have that yearbook. I told him I didn’t want any thanks:
Fate had done its job. Off I went headed for the grocery store smiling at what
had just taken place.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As usual, the store
parking lot was full which meant my driving around and around to find a parking
place which I finally did and walked inside the store. On my mind were three
things to buy but as it happens, I had my grocery cart loaded with this and
that; found a lane open that had one person in front of me and it wasn’t long
before the cashier was checking me out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I asked if there was
anyone bagging groceries and the clerk said that there wasn’t anyone when all
of a sudden a tall man with an orange shirt came up to where the groceries were
ready to be bagged and started bagging them for me. Again I asked another
question and that was “Does he work here?” The clerk replied “I’ve never seen
him in my life and no, he doesn’t.” That man was all business as he put my
groceries carefully into bags and said “There you are; all done!” I looked at
him and not only thanked him but told him he was an angel. “Not really” he
replied but I came back saying “Oh yes you are.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What a wonderful
thing for a stranger to do that for someone and that someone was a grateful me.
On the way to the car, I thought about the two things that had happened that
afternoon: I gave someone a gift because I simply wanted to do it, and in
return, a stranger gave me the ultimate gift of help and kindness. There aren’t
many days like that but when they occur take time to realize how rare and
wonderful they are. Kind human nature
does exist even if the world is haywire—in fact, it happens more than you’d
think and I saw it that day: I was a giver and a receiver and three people were
happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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© <span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright 2017<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*Photo from Microsoft Word</span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-11573904706204288502017-10-26T23:47:00.002-07:002017-10-26T23:47:25.370-07:00MY LATEST AMAZON KINDLE E BOOK<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This is my 15th Amazon Kindle E book "Edna and The Lobsters." </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Should you have time, I would be so appreciative if you decide to read it--it's a true story.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Thanks much.</b></span></div>
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https://www.amazon.com/EDNA-LOBSTERS-Sherry-Hill-ebook/dp/B0727LDWZR/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1509086226&sr=1-1&keywords=Edna+and+the+Lobsters+by+Sherry+Hill</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-14687373887473246942017-10-24T21:58:00.001-07:002017-10-24T22:00:29.075-07:00IT'S FALL HERE BUT REALLY?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>It's fall here and that's my favorite season but does it feel like fall temperature-wise? It's cold here tonight and was quite chilly yesterday but the leaves on the trees have barely changed their colors which is odd for this time of the year. We had an onslaught of warm weather for several weeks and the forsythia decided to bloom again--even the flowers are confused for they are budding.</b><br />
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<b>My yard is full of crunchy brown leaves and yet it looks as if most of the leaves on the silver maple are still green and so where did they come from? I can only guess that the gusty winds we've been having have blown a ton of leaves in my yard for there are many from different trees that are not mine.</b><br />
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<b>I find "sweet gum" leaves constantly in the yard: They're easy to identify for they look like a star shape. There is a ginkgo tree in my backyard but its leaves haven't turned that glorious yellowish-green yet: They're still green. And all of this is odd for this time of October--at least where I live for normally the hills are ablaze with vivid colors. Acorns are in abundance this fall--in fact I have never seen so many since I've lived in my house which has been a long time.</b><br />
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<b>It's impossible to walk out in the street without stepping on acorns: Normally the squirrels hoard them and maybe they are and can't keep up with the overload of them. I thought that was a sign of a bad winter ahead, but last year there were many acorns but not like now. The street is brown from where cars have run over the acorns and I just look at it. Could I sweep them to the side? That's a possibility but I'd rather not sweep forty feet of street or more, and really who would want to do that anyway?</b><br />
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<b>The wonderful smell of fall is in the air and that is a smell that evokes memories of past falls and all of the events that happened long ago. Smells can trigger memories in a heart beat as you well know. But I wonder if I will be looking at bare trees and a gazillion old brown leaves in my yard for it seems that way: The yearly color changing of them has been a long drawn out process.</b><br />
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<b>Oh trust me it's fall here all right, but November is approaching quickly and with that comes snow on the heels of fall and so again I say "It's fall here but really?" No sign of glorious leaf changing color but just slight fading but I will savor fall's smell and its remnants.</b><br />
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<b>Sherry Hill</b><br />
<b>© Copyright 2017</b><br />
<b>All Rights Reserved</b><br />
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<b><br /></b>sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-70562916921682539812017-09-13T23:04:00.003-07:002017-09-13T23:04:48.269-07:00HOW STRANGE IT IS THAT THINGS COME FULL CIRCLE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Eight years ago, I had permission to pick up my granddaughter
Hannah at her middle school after school was out for that day. I remember that
day as if it were yesterday, for it was my son’s birthday [as well as her dad’s.]
and it was warm, sunny and some leaves were swirling around across the street.
I had parked in the faculty parking lot because I had been a teacher but not at
that school. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I sat in my parked car, my eyes took in the familiar
surroundings for I knew them well—in fact I had stared at them for three long
years but that was long ago. Her school was a middle school but it had been a
high school and the one I attended as a student. I could picture the football
players standing near Park Avenue: I was a sophomore and fourteen years old at
that time and I was terrified just walking by them. That was a silly thought
that popped into my head as I stared in that direction from the parking lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s amazing how memories of the past came rushing into my
mind of who was standing where, of the windows of the former classrooms I was
in and the guys I had dated—for I could see them in my mind’s eye. For a
second, I wanted to go back in time and relive just a part of those three years
to undo some choices I had made but then it hit me like a bolt of lightning
–did I ever think then that I would be in the school’s parking lot waiting for
my granddaughter? Never occurred to me at all at that time and why would it in
the first place?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Had I not made that choice to date a man who was older than
me and eventually marry him, then my granddaughter would not have existed” I
thought to myself and it was one of those “George Bailey” moments from the
movie “It’s A Wonderful Life” where Clarence the angel, grants George his wish
that he’d never been born—not that I wished that, but I did consider the
ramifications of the fact that my son wouldn’t have been born, much less her
had I made a different choice in my marriage, and such was the circle that
would be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I pass by that school often but my granddaughter is now in
college, and although she is, I still picture that day I had parked in the
faculty parking lot to wait for her to come rushing to my car. Just seeing her was a moment of pure
happiness. It was the perfect day of fall’s early entrance, past memories and
the joy I felt in being a grandmother. After she got in my car, we were off to
see her dad [and my son,] on his birthday: He too had gone to the very same school when
it was a high school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It really is amazing how life comes around full circle, but
sometimes you need to stop and look at where you were long ago—if it still
exists. Luckily it did for me on that very day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">© Copyright 2017<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-31349646459769245522017-07-09T00:05:00.000-07:002017-07-09T00:13:38.805-07:00“JULY IS NATIONAL ICE CREAM MONTH—BUT WHO STARTED MAKING AND HOW?”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FBH6YRB0X8k/WWHVjgHsCMI/AAAAAAAABEs/ZDIJV5v6K5I0It4yJlGAR3WrkwKuE53JgCLcBGAs/s1600/ICE%2BCREAM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="380" data-original-width="360" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FBH6YRB0X8k/WWHVjgHsCMI/AAAAAAAABEs/ZDIJV5v6K5I0It4yJlGAR3WrkwKuE53JgCLcBGAs/s320/ICE%2BCREAM.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">July is national ice cream month but
personally, I think any month is one for ice cream. You can just have a lot
more this month to celebrate! Whatever your choice of flavor might be, just go
for it. But have you ever wondered who started making it and how? I thought it
was something American made but WRONG! Ice cream making went back as far as 200
BC. Amazing isn’t it and how was it made?<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After reading a lot about ice cream, I discovered
that in the year of 200 BC or thereabouts, ice cream was made by having
servants or peons [to a king or emporer] go up to high mountain tops that were
snow-covered. These men had the horrific task of digging out snow and ice and
carrying in back down steep mountains by pulling a handmade wagon. Once their
destiny was reached, others who served the king or emporer had to take the snow
and ice out of the wagon. After doing that, whatever the royal wanted put into
it was his choice—such as berries or lemons or the like. And the workers had to
stir that by hand into the snow and ice. In China, the emporer liked ice mixed
with milk and rice: And that is what the upper-class ate at that time for ice
cream.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And as soon as that was done, the king or
emporer set out to eat the homemade ice cream [not like today’s ice cream but
similar] along with his chosen family and guests. If the king or emporer lived
in a hot region, you can guess that the ice cream was devoured quickly! The
royals of that time and a little later who lived in cold climates had the
pleasure of eating ice cream at their whim but pity the poor workers or peons
to them—for they had the disgusting duty as described above.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Forward in time to about 400 AD and Arab
countries as well as those in Africa were also making ice cream by using the
same method: Someone had to climb high
mountains, retrieve the ice and snow and cart it back to the palace. And once
again, whatever the choice of flavoring the royal wanted was added to the ice
and snow. If you live in another country other than the United States, google
the history of ice cream in your area—might be surprised at what you find out.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When the United States became a country, people
here wanted ice cream as well for they as well as their forefathers had eaten
it in England. But the United States had no emporer or king in its beginning
and still doesn’t as you know well—we have a president. Read that George
Washington kept cellars under ground [all Americans did at that time—no
electriticy and no refrigeration] as did other prominent and non- prominent
people. The recipes for making ice cream in 1776 and years forward came from
Quaker colonists who brought their own recipes with them when they came here to
settle. Again some had the grueling task
of digging ice and snow [indentured servants] and carrying it down steep hills
to a specific place. This ice and snow was kept in tin containers and put in cellars underground
a house or a building nearby. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Cellars were built underneath as a basement is
today of sorts. Stairs led the way down to them and it was here that the above
was kept till someone wanted ice cream. But a change was made and that was that
when the ice and snow was put into tin containers, rock salt was added as a
first layer, then ice and snow, then more rock salt and so on till the top of
the container was filled. What did rock salt do? It lowered the temperature of
the ice and snow to way below freezing. And this fact allowed the ice cream
makers to be more variable with types of ice cream made. This was really the
first ice cream here in the United States. Some people still do this today!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">An African American man named Augustus Jackson
made many ice cream recipes and is credited with inventing a way to manufacture
ice cream in 1832. Eleven years later, Nancy Johnson of Philadelphia got the
first United States patent for a hand-cranked freezer for ice cream. From then
on, everyone could have ice cream—if they wanted to make it themselves or have
someone do it for them. Imagine after the invention of electricity what
transpired with ice cream! There were ice boxes in houses and unlimited
possibilites.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Fast forward to today’s time and if it’s ice
cream you want, all you have to do is to go to a store to buy it—any flavor and
any way—slow churned, low-fat and/or with fruit, nuts, chocolate or whatever
added is there for the taking. And since
it’s July, go for it! After all, ice cream is wonderful and be so grateful that
no one has to climb high mountains anymore to get ice and snow—who’d want that
job anyway? Long live ice cream! Enjoy!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="color: #7030a0; font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright </span>© <span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*Photo from Microsoft Word</span></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-88693010798322467522017-07-03T02:06:00.001-07:002017-07-03T02:07:34.486-07:00“YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE!”<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After a guy posted something
funny on social media, it reminded me of what happened to my first husband’s
uncle who was his dad’s brother. Both of
these brothers loved to go fishing and hunting together but there was one distinct
difference between the two: Oscar was
the taller one. So tall in fact that he towered over anyone at six feet seven
inches tall. He was handsome, imposing and a heck of a man with a huge sense of
humor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Both of these
brothers would always wear long sleeved army green shirts when they went
fishing or hunting and aside from that, both had a big sewn on patch that said “West
Virginia Hunters” or something like that on their shirts. I remember those
patches were outlined with bright yellow thread.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And so it came to be
that on one specific day when they were hunting in Pocahontas County here in
West Virginia, they literally ran into some man who was encroaching on their
staked out territory. Now if you’re a hunter or a fisherman that is not what
one does: Encroach on someone else’s territory. It’s some unwritten law that
can sometimes lead to much arguing or the like.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Exceedingly tall
Oscar approached that man slowly for he knew if he ran towards him there was no
knowing what the man would do. The encroacher took one look at Oscar’s shirt,
saw the big patch on his shirt and screamed “You’re one of them! You’re a Fed
aren’t you?” Knowing full well that the man was not real smart, Oscar replied “Yes
I am one of those!” And the man fled never to be seen again on that hunting
trip.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Meanwhile, Oscar’s
brother was trying to stifle his laughter but I’m not so sure that it worked. “Well”
said his brother “I guess I’m one of those too—a Fed!” From then on, both never
hunted or fished without wearing those green shirts with the huge sewn on
patches. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I can still laugh at
this short story because Oscar’s brother was my first father-in-law and he
would repeat this over and over again much to everyone’s delight. It happened.
And are you “One of those?” Smile if you are.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">© Copyright 2017<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-25594005903044138972017-07-02T02:17:00.001-07:002017-07-02T02:17:34.956-07:00THE DAY I WENT “SNIPE” HUNTING<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When my parents
bought a house way up on top of South Walnut Street in St. Albans, I was nine
years old. And at the end of the street was a cul de sac but beyond that were
woods—woods that I would love to explore and come to know. Guess I should add
that boys far outnumbered girls on this street, which on my part seemed like a
good thing to me because I was boy crazy. Being boy crazy seemed to be the norm
for most girls my age but on my part, I had to have a girlfriend with me when I
was around boys: It was my safety net of sorts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Aside from the fact
of being head over heels in love with the boy next door, I knew the rest of the
boys—some well and some not so well. It was the ones I knew “not so well” that
got me in trouble one hot summer day. I had walked up to the cul de sac to sort
of get away from my house and thought that there would be a bunch of kids
hanging around that I knew well. Wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Those boys I knew “not
so well” were in mass on that day; heaven only knows what they had been doing
or had done. I decided to turn around and go home when I heard my name being
called; turned around only to be motioned to come nearer to them. A sense of
fear set in me but being inquisitive, I approached them cautiously for some
were a lot older than me and I didn’t know what they wanted. Right there and
then, I should have trusted my gut instinct but decided to throw caution to the
wind and walked up to them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Wanna go into the
woods with this paper bag and get a snipe?” one older boy asked me. “What’s a
snipe?” I asked honestly. “Oh it’s a neat thing; you’ll see.” “What do I have
to do?” I asked. “Just take this bag, open it up and go into the woods and wait”
he told me. “Wait and a snipe will come and get in the bag” he added. “Do I have
to go alone in the woods with that bag?” I asked. “Oh yes; if you don’t, the
snipe won’t come out.” At this point, I wanted female reinforcement but there
was not one girl around except me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Okay. I’m in” was my
reply. I grabbed that paper bag, tramped off into the woods, put the opened bag
on the ground of the woods and waited. Waited more. Waited longer. Nothing came
out and into that bag. Nothing. Waited a lot longer. Looked at trees. Looked
around. And that’s when I heard those boys laughing so loud that it echoed and
that’s when I learned that I had been had. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Feeling totally
stupid, I had that paper bag crushed in my hands and when those boys howled
with laughter, I ran all the way home. I didn’t know whether to tell my parents
what had happened, to cry or laugh but the boy next door came out and asked me
what was wrong. I spilled it all out to him: He told me not to feel so badly
for it had happened to him once too. “Cheer up” he said. “There is no such
thing as a snipe: It doesn’t exist.” “I sort of guessed that” was my reply “but
still I was afraid of what one was or if it got in the bag, what would it do.
But when I heard those boys laughing, I knew I had been tricked” I told him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">His words comforted
me to the nth degree. “Thanks” I said. “Welcome” he replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">At that moment, I
knew I would be wiser the next time—should the next time happen. My parents
were told of what happened to me and both of them said they had been tricked with
the “snipe hunting” too when they were kids. “I’m not alone” I thought to
myself; others have had it happen to them too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But thinking you’ll
be wiser sometimes throws a, curve for I would find that much later on as a
teenager or an adult, I found myself being gullible to “snipe hunters”
disguised in different forms and the object was not a snipe—the object was to
be tricked, fooled or thrown into a situation not wanted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The moral is: If you
think something feels wrong, don’t do it. It’s that little voice inside of you
that tells you “No.” I would be guilty over and over until I finally learned to
be cautious and cautious of everything. Maybe it’s not a good way to be but
considering how things are in today’s world, it’s how it has to be. Just don’t
go “snipe hunting:” Trust me on that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-58414660168471823532017-06-20T00:37:00.001-07:002017-06-20T00:37:52.912-07:00WEST VIRGINIA<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
</span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What is it about the cunning calling of living
in West Virginia? Is it the mountains that surround us here or the past lore or
the people? I think that it is all three of these factors. My roots are here as
well as many of yours; there's something indescribable that makes it home. I've
seen our many rivers and have immersed myself into their beauty; in fact, I've
swum in lot of them or fallen into a lot of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">West Virginia is so diverse from one area to another--Harper's
Ferry is completely different than say Charleston: It is northern in just about
every way. Greenbrier County and Pocahontas County are two of my favorite
places in the state. I feel "at home" there. The beauty of these two
counties is breathtaking. The mountains seem to share their mysteries with me
and make me feel secure. As for the people here, you won't find any better
anywhere: They will open not only their doors for you but their hearts.
Downright southern hospitality at its best is here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was born here, have always lived here and my children and
grandchildren are here. Oh I've been to other states and enjoyed those trips:
In fact, I love the beaches of North Carolina. But to live there? That'd be a
definite no. There are still many places in West Virginia I haven't seen but it
will happen. I can only hope that you feel the way I do about West Virginia.
The country roads call out to be taken. The posh places are here as well.
Diversity describes the state in one word. It truly is "almost heaven."
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Tahoma; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Copyright </span>© <span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Verdana","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">TODAY is West Virginia Day. My state became one on this day in 1863 by a proclamation by President Abraham Lincoln. West Virginia was part of Virginia prior to that date. Today West Virginia is 154 years old.</span></span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-6146673542405739902017-06-19T04:17:00.002-07:002017-06-19T04:17:59.778-07:00"AND A HALF"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xiJNC5N7QDE/WUeyxe0S_MI/AAAAAAAABDo/j-Kop_Wklhc1ipU3Vf79mnvzVUf1gerowCLcBGAs/s1600/clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="216" data-original-width="216" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xiJNC5N7QDE/WUeyxe0S_MI/AAAAAAAABDo/j-Kop_Wklhc1ipU3Vf79mnvzVUf1gerowCLcBGAs/s1600/clock.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Well
I most certainly don’t say “I am such and such an age and a half” but there
were too many times when I did. Thinking back, I must have been five when I was
asked how old I was and my reply was “I’m five and a half years old.” That made
it sound as if I were almost six which in reality I was not but oh it made me
sound older. Why did I want to sound
older? It was the common core of all young kids to want to be older thinking
that it would make it more desirable. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My
adding “and a half” to my age continued until I was sixteen and then it seemed
to come to some screeching halt. Reason? It really sounded ridiculous to say
that to anyone and did anyone care? Very doubtful. And I’m sure they heard it
way too often from other teenagers or those younger. Did these people say the
same thing when they were young? I’m sure that they did although I’ve not done
any research into this saying: I just heard it all of my life. And said it.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another
reason for my screeching halt to saying these three words was what my mom said
to me when I was sixteen—well sixteen and a half to be exact, if you really want
to know for she said to me “Don’t wish your life away. Time goes by too fast.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After
that I never said “and a half” added to my age although I didn’t believe what
my mom said was true. Life seemed to go slowly with a lot of leftover time for
this and that.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But
her point was so right for the older I became, the faster the time seemed to
pass. And now it just doesn’t pass—it zooms for it’s no sooner one month and
then it’s the next. It’s no sooner one year and then it’s the next. And I
remember her saying “Don’t wish your life away” but it was the hope of all
little kids and teenagers to become older: I made a list when I was twelve [and
a half,] of things I wasn’t able to do and that list was long. Did I keep the
list? Of course I didn’t; I never showed it to a single soul for fear of being
embarrassed to the nth degree.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I
won’t write what was on that list but let’s just say that I did everything on
it and then some—just the typical things that girls wanted to do to look cool
and be cool. Nothing bad. Nothing sordid.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To
be twelve and a half again? I wish. To be sixteen and a half again? Again, I wish.
But since neither is possible, I’m trying to put skids on my life and that’s
not working out well at all. The skids don’t seem to work anymore, I say
pathetically, for all they do is make time go faster. Rest assured there is one
thing I will never say ever again and haven’t in a long time, and that’s to say
I am such and such an age “and a half.” That just makes it all the worse.
Believe me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry
Hill<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">©
Copyright 2017<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry
Hill<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All
Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*Photo from Microsoft Word</span></b></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-68640931034999699282017-06-19T03:36:00.000-07:002017-06-19T03:36:19.164-07:00GREETINGS FROM FAR AWAY<div style="text-align: justify;">
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This is so embarrassing in that it's been too long since I've posted on here and I could say that life got in the way but in reality? I've been writing and writing: Two more Amazon Kindle books have been added making it a total of 15 now. And in between I've been on a painting jag. Amazing what you can find online to inspire--at least I did.</div>
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Far away? I haven't been far away at all.</div>
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As I write this, it's still hot outside: Yesterday it was 91 degrees with horrid humidity when combined, it makes it unbearable to be outside. All I can say is thank goodness for air conditioning and floor fans for both help ease the heat an the "stickiness" feeling that I get when I am outside. Maybe it's extremely hot in your area and maybe not but if it is, you know full well what I'm talking about. And yes, I am aware that not all people have air conditioning at all: There was a time when my house didn't have central air and we just dealt with it.</div>
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Please look for more updated posts and again, apologies from here. I have many more stories to post.</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
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© Copyright</div>
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Sherry Hill</div>
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All Rights Reserved</div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-758469716135433862016-12-25T03:46:00.000-08:002016-12-25T03:46:21.519-08:00PEACE AND LOVE CAN COME FROM SMALL GESTURES<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Christmas Eve has
always held its magic for me for my family always celebrated Christmas then
with the opening of gifts and a then we ate sumptuous dinner. The next day on
Christmas was a day spent together and one of reminiscing along with relatives
that would stop by.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But in 1980 a woman
that lived up the street from me named Chris, called me and said she had an
idea and asked if I’d participate. Her idea was for everyone in the
neighborhood to place white bakery bags with sand in them on each side of their
driveways and put a lit candle inside but just on Christmas Eve. She asked if I
would call my nearby neighbors and I gladly said I would; she called the rest
and the rest involved three streets. That phone call came three weeks before
Christmas and gave us all time to purchase bakery bags, sand and candles. None
of it was costly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All of us lived close
to a hardware store, a bakery and many places to buy small candles. Everyone I
called thought it was a great idea and looking back, everyone that Chris called
thought so as well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The day before
Christmas Eve that year, came a cold snap and it was so cold outside that it
made anyone’s teeth shake. The supplies for the luminaries were ready at my house
and the next night it was bone chilling. I will never forget going outside with
my then-husband, my two young sons and the supplies and of course, they wanted
to put sand in each white bakery bag and so it was back in the house to
retrieve two huge spoons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sand was shakily put
in each white bakery bag by small gloved hands, while my then-husband and I
placed a small white lit candle inside each bag. Our driveway was illuminated
on both sides and it was one glorious sight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But even more
glorious was to look up the street about half an hour later and see nothing but
glowing white bags in rows of two as far as you could see. As no one then had
very few outside lights, it made our neighborhood aglow. Chris’ idea had worked
its magic for it made all of us feel connected all the more: The lit bags shone
bright and created a feeling of peace and love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every year
thereafter, we took Chris’ idea and lined our driveways with the sand filled
bakery bags and lit candles. With the advent of some young couples moving away
and new neighbors moving in, the idea slowly faded into near oblivion but Chris
still did it as did other neighbors including me. And then like all good
things, it came to an end sadly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Looking back, her
idea was not costly but the feeling those lit bags gave out was one of oneness
and I miss it. The neighborhood changed and changed, Chris passed away and now
no one does it. Peace and love can come from small gestures and come this
Christmas Eve, rest assured I will line my driveway, as I did in the past, while hoping others do the same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One idea can make
things magical as Chris’ did and it’s time to carry on her tradition all over
again. She gave us much that Christmas Eve and it will never be forgotten and I
owe her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Bookman Old Style, serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 21.4667px;">Published today in my local paper</span></span></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-49538969217940394902016-11-23T00:26:00.001-08:002016-11-23T00:26:09.941-08:00AND HE SAID "I WANT A DRUMSTICK!"<div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Until the age of 11, Thanksgiving dinner was always held at my grandparent's house and the anticipation of it was hard to suppress</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">for the table was beautifully set but it was the food that all of us looked forward to devouring.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Those that sat down at the huge mahogany table with its linen tablecloth were my parents, me, my mom's sister, her husband and their two children [my cousins,] my grandfather [my grandmother was like forever coming and going out of and into the kitchen throughout the entire dinner] and numerous relatives that would just stop by--to eat of course.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">My cousins were a boy and a girl; I was two years older than my male cousin and four years older than my female one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">And so imagine three men sitting around a huge table and one boy when the turkey was placed on the table and the question was asked "Who wants a drumstick?" I kept quiet for I certainly didn't want one and would never but my male cousin whined and whined until my grandfather, the turkey carver, gave in and handed him one. After that it was a toss up between my dad and my uncle as to who would get the other drumstick and believe me, they were civil if the other one didn't get it for there would always be next year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As for my grandfather, he despised dark meat and would never say he wanted a drumstick and my mom, aunt,grandmother, my female cousin and I most certainly didn't want one either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Year after year my male cousin would whine and whine until he got a drumstick disregarding the fact that it would leave his dad no chance of getting one but in reality, my dad and his dad were civil about it all--they took yearly turns.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's funny how such a memory can come back to me for that was so long ago. Of everyone that sat at the table yearly only two are left--my female cousin and me which is in itself sad, but come Thanksgiving, trust me neither of us will say "I want a drumstick" but someone will. It's inevitable.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sherry Hill</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">© Sherry Hill</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">2016</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All Rights Reserved</span></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-50816865041807922532016-09-04T23:00:00.002-07:002016-09-04T23:02:01.162-07:00sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-91244225708918287472016-09-04T23:00:00.001-07:002016-09-04T23:01:52.720-07:00TODAY IS LABOR DAY IN THE UNITES STATES AND CANADA BUT IT MAY BE A DIFFERENT DATE IN YOUR COUNTRY<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Labor Day is a day to
celebrate the workers of our country or perhaps yours. In the US and Canada, it
is celebrated on the first Monday of September. Some people consider Labor Day
to be the unofficial end of summer but ah it’s really not for summer has
several more weeks to go here in the United States.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In the late 1800’s
there was a movement to honor and celebrate workers. This movement was promoted
by the Knights of Labor and the Central Labor Union here in the US and the
first “Labor Day” parade was in New York in the year 1887--organized by both
unions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Oregon was the only
state that officially made it a federal holiday; it wasn’t until President
Glover Cleveland designated it as a federal holiday in 1894 for all of the
United States but there were only thirty states at that time that celebrated it
as a federal holiday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Later on all fifty
states here celebrate Labor Day and it is a federal holiday. In Canada, it is called
“Labour Day” and is celebrated on the same date as it is here in the United
States—the first Monday in September.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Perhaps where you
live it is called “International Workers’ Day” and you celebrate it on May 1.
Other countries have decided upon their own date for a workers’ celebration and
perhaps your country is one of them. For whatever reason, it is a time to
celebrate, lay back and enjoy the day for many but there are those such as
hospital employees or the like that must work on this day despite it all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Enjoy your own Labor
or Labour Day; if you’ve had your International Workers’ Day, you know it was a
day of rest from work. It took a long time for union workers to fight for a
holiday for most everywhere and to them we should be grateful. And so if today
is your Labor Day try to take some rest and enjoy it for at least you have a
day off from work.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">©Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-59073759984148166842016-09-02T06:07:00.001-07:002016-09-02T06:07:19.905-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">SEPTEMBER<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I cannot believe that
it is September at all for just yesterday it was June or so it seems. The older
I become, the faster the months seem to whiz by and it leaves me wondering what
happened to all of them. No sooner do I put my fall things outside does it
become close to December. It wasn’t like that when I was little and onward:
Months seemed to drag by like watching the hands on a school clock which never
seemed to move at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Summer’s last hurrah
is still here with us but it goes by too fast and fall seems to want to hurry
more each year. And in between it, September seems to be fighting for its short
lived life. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Why can’t September
linger just a little longer? It’s a month that has been celebrated in poems,
songs and movies but it isn’t now and does that mean that others feel it
passing by too fast as well? I can’t help but think that they do too. It’s also
a month of the start of football games as well as many other events that so
many look forward to with much excitement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Commercialism in
stores doesn’t help matters much for right now not only do Halloween items
abound but so do Thanksgiving ones. And both mean that within a matter of
weeks, Christmas items will be staring at all of us and it’s just September! I
haven’t put my fall things outside yet but feel the rush to do so for I know
darned good and well that it will be November in a flash.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Not long ago I
thought of combining all months into one big display to put outside and why
not? The months just fly by and no sooner has September left us, when all of a
sudden it’s Easter. But I know if I were to do that someone would take a
picture of it and I’d be a laughing stock and so I nixed that idea really fast.
Still it does linger in my mind because putting seasonal things inside and
outside takes its toll on me and it seems as if that’s all I get done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I remember older
people telling me that time passes by too fast when one gets older and I didn’t
believe them but I sure do now. They were telling the truth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But as for September
might as well enjoy its brief stay for that is what it has become: Brief.
Really I liked it a lot better when I was younger because it was endless and it
wanted summer to stay just a little longer while pushing fall into the
background.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Did commercialism make
it go faster? Partly is the answer and partly is an age thing where everything
goes faster and there’s no stopping either at this point and no going back but
oh I wish it would slow down because September is special. It’s the month that
my now grown younger son was born as well as too many memories of school
starting when I was young and then when I became a teacher for school used to
start in September. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I can only say to
enjoy this quickly paced month while you can: I intend to for what will seem
like within minutes, it will be gone. Dried leaves are appearing on my sidewalk
and in my yard, days are getting shorter and whoosh this month will leave us
and much too quickly. September—couldn’t you stay just a little bit longer? And
if this month could answer, it would say “No because I am rushed.” Well true
words there for it is.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">© Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-12285283895935240562016-08-12T23:30:00.001-07:002016-08-12T23:30:28.131-07:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">THE DAY MY COUSIN GOT
TRENCH MOUTH<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was no way of not
knowing that my uncle liked to drink on the weekends. I’d been around him
enough as young girl to notice that: He was married to my mom’s sister. And I spent a lot of time at their house in
St. Albans for my parents and I lived there as well and our house was pretty
close to theirs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I knew my parents
knew that he drank; they even knew that his brothers did as well. But he never
drank on a work day or evening—he saved drinking for the weekend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My aunt and uncle had
a son and a daughter: I was two years older than their son and four years older
than their daughter. For some reason on
a hot summer Saturday I was in my uncle’s car:
Two of his brothers were in the front seat and my male cousin and I were
in the back. I was nine and he was seven: He kept pinching me and I kept
telling him to stop it but it did no good; even my uncle knew that his son was
doing that and hollered at him to quit. Didn’t work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The day was as hot as
all get out and at that time no car had air conditioning—you just suffered and
prayed that the car windows were rolled down. And they were.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My uncle pulled up in
front of a bar that was near a movie theater that I knew really well: I had
seen that bar but certainly had never been in it that is until that moment. He
parked the car, I watched his brothers get out, my cousin get out and so I
followed them all inside. It was almost pitch dark inside with a few lights
scattered here; the long bar had a lot of lights behind it and bar stools were
in front of it. My uncle and his
brothers sat down on stools as did my cousin so I figured I’d better do the
same.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">They ordered cold
beer and Cokes for my cousin and me. That cold Coke was wonderful to drink and
most of mine was gone; I looked over and he was not drinking his Coke but was
drinking some leftover beer out of a bottle that had been left by someone on
the counter. I heard my uncle scream at him but it didn’t do any good for my cousin
kept drinking out of someone else’s beer bottle. Seemed about an hour or so
that we were in there and luckily it wasn’t far from my aunt and uncle’s house.
Of course my uncle and his brothers had glass beer bottles in the front seat
and were drinking out of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">How was I supposed to
know that was illegal? But it wasn’t illegal to take kids in a bar at that
time: I’m not sure if I ever told my
parents that day what had happened but the next day I would have to tell them
because that was the day that my cousin got trench mouth. My aunt called my mom
and told her that his lips were so big that they were turned inside out! She
went into hysterics, called the local doctor and jerked him into the car so my
mom told me and he was given some kind of medicine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It wasn’t nice to
think but I thought that it served him right for pinching me all the way to
that bar and not minding his dad. I’d never seen anyone with trench mouth until
I saw him that Sunday evening. His mouth was so big that it went up to his nose
and seemed to stretch across his entire face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As he was prone to
do, he had a crying fit and although I’m sure his mouth hurt, I reasoned that
he should never have drunk from someone else’s half empty beer bottle. Both of
my cousins [as well as me] had been taught to never drink from someone else’s
bottle or glass and seeing him made me realize why we had been taught that
lesson. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I had to explain
to my parents how he got it and where we were which did not go over well for
let’s just say that was the first and last time that my uncle ever took me into
a bar with his brothers and with his son. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And trust me, I was
terrified of getting trench mouth for seeing my cousin with it was a horrid
sight but don’t blame me when I didn’t feel sorry for him—he did it to himself
I reasoned as much as a nine year old could. And he didn’t listen to his dad.
Of course my uncle could have gotten off his bar stool and taken that bottle
away from him but he was pretty far gone beer-wise and was more interested in his
own drinking. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maybe my cousin
wanted to be like him and his uncles. Who knows? His mom was furious at my
uncle for taking us there in the first place and even more furious at her son. All I know is that he had a horrid case of
trench mouth and that was the first and last time I ever witnessed it for I
never saw another person get it --other than my cousin.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry Hill<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">©Sherry Hill 2016<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-26980361814589258722016-08-09T20:27:00.002-07:002016-08-09T20:27:41.288-07:00MY LATEST AMAZON KINDLE E BOOK "A MAN NAMED MIKE"<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sometimes a story comes into my mind and I can't let it go which then leads to my having to either write it or make it into a book. Sometimes my E books are lengthy while other times they're not.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This latest book ,of the three I've written in several weeks, is non-fiction: It really happened. It's told in the narrative by me. Perhaps I could have done it a different way and yet regarding Mike, it had to be that way.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>I noticed yesterday that there is now another author with the same name as mine--it's even spelled the same. Hopefully, you will look at my profile and realize which books are mine and not hers.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>This is my latest E book and the title is: "A Man Named Mike"</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>https://www.amazon.com/MAN-NAMED-MIKE-Sherry-Hill-ebook/dp/B01K2E5JS6/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1470788774&sr=1-4&keywords=sherry+hill#navbar</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Thank you for looking and I sincerely hope that you find time to read this short book.</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>Sherry Hill</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77277056471855428.post-54722123627215533912016-08-07T01:31:00.001-07:002016-08-07T01:31:59.066-07:00ART DECO<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<b><span style="font-family: "broadway"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I’ve
always loved Art Deco in architecture, home furnishings and jewelry and knew of
three buildings here in my city, that are of that style. Imagine my surprise to
find eight more and the photos keep piling up!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "broadway"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">By
the way this font is “Broadway” and it may be a little hard to read so I’ll
switch to a more readable font. Art Deco looks great when it’s large or on a
building.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Now
this font is much easier to read for both you and me hopefully. And if the Art Deco
font didn’t show up above, forgive me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Wherever
you may live, Art Deco elements may be there for they were borrowed from many
cultures such as Egyptian, Greek, Aztec and many more. From reading about how
this art wave began to seeing it here in my town is pretty amazing. It started
in 1920 and by the end of the 40’s seemed to dissipate leaving us with Deco
influenced buildings, furniture, light fixtures, jewelry and on and on. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
good thing is that there is a resurgence of Art Deco for although considered “flamboyant
and too decorative,” the lines and shapes are unique and back in style.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">What
do you look for when researching Art Deco? You look for curves on buildings, lines
going upward, stacks of three in layers on a foundation or an item, chevron
shapes and there are many online sources for examples of this art form.
Probably the best known Art Deco building is The Empire State Building in New
York: Google it and you’ll see the fabulous downstairs doors, the shape of the
building and designs.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Just
the other day Turner Classic Movies showed the old movie “King Kong” and in it
at the end, as you may know, is King Kong on top of the Empire State Building
clinging onto the female actress Fay Wray. I didn’t watch this movie as I’ve
seen it time and time again but there are times when I want to see it.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As
a former elementary teacher, every year I taught a Native America unit and
taught the symbols that were used by them for at that time they only had three
way of communicating: Drawing symbols, smoke signals or doing gestures. Yes,
they spoke in their own tribal language but each tribe had a different one
making it hard for other Native Americans to understand words at all. And none
of those languages were written down until much later when someone decided to
challenge it and do just that but it was in his language.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
reason I mentioned Native Americans above is that they used</span></b></div>
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<b><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sIRsUkNNi98/V6bxTCNGn9I/AAAAAAAABCo/ojE2rpgAay0o78ePdgVfg1GyrHWncJ8EgCLcB/s1600/art%2Bdeco%2Bvases.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sIRsUkNNi98/V6bxTCNGn9I/AAAAAAAABCo/ojE2rpgAay0o78ePdgVfg1GyrHWncJ8EgCLcB/s320/art%2Bdeco%2Bvases.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div>
<b> the chevron shape in their symbols—a shape
that is dominant in Art Deco. Although I became very familiar with this shape
as teaching the symbols year after year became ingrained in me, it wasn’t until
I read Dan Brown’s book “The DaVinci Code,” that once again there were those
chevron shapes. Amazing I thought.<o:p></o:p></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A
chevron shape is a V or sometimes an upside down V. Think of the stripes that
an Army serviceman or woman have on their uniforms…and those V’s are in essence
Art Deco or maybe I should say Art Deco influenced them.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As
of today, I have now located over ten Art Deco buildings in my town alone and
know full well that there are more as I seemed to shove this design in the back
of my mind until the other day.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You
may or may not like Art Deco but should you like it, there are many online
resources from the Deco font to architecture to you name it. As I wrote: “Some people play Pokemon Go
while I play Art Deco building search.”
And the latter is a lot easier and more fun—at least it is for me.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">See
what you can find in your own town wherever you live and look for the Art Deco
elements: I’m sure that some if not all will be there in plain sight. And
enjoy.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Sherry
Hill<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">©Sherry
Hill 2016<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">All
Rights Reserved<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , "serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">*I took the photo above: The two Art Deco vases are mine. They're tall, made of wood and each has a top that comes off of them. Notice the shape in the goldish-tan on each, for it is Art Deco as well as the stack of 3 on the bases.</span></b></div>
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sherry hillhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12576285526072908664noreply@blogger.com0