<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007</id><updated>2011-11-27T16:15:37.104-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The First Year Project</title><subtitle type='html'>Inspiration for Rediscovering Yourself</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-1808326727346263266</id><published>2009-11-11T13:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-11T14:23:34.763-08:00</updated><title type='text'>40. Comfort Food</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvszSpn9YFI/AAAAAAAAAUI/A-X6L7rfx0U/s1600-h/Cinco_Enchiladas_lg.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvszSpn9YFI/AAAAAAAAAUI/A-X6L7rfx0U/s400/Cinco_Enchiladas_lg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402968573465157714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Today was cold and wet and blustery. Everyone I know is sick including myself. Christmas decorations are up in the stores and I even heard...yes...Christmas music on the radio today. It seems like just yesterday that it was summer...but, alas, the cold is upon us. And when it starts to get colder, I like to hibernate. There's nothing better than cooking up something yummy that makes the house smell great and warms you up. Add in a great movie, a glass of wine and either good friends or a comfy pair of pajamas and you've got the ideal evening. Tonight's pick is chicken enchiladas--one of my all-time favorite comfort foods. A good mix of cheeses, chicken, Mexican spices and toppings like sour cream and fresh cilantro make for the perfect meal. Give it a try. It's easy and really satisfying. I took out the chiles that Tyler included in his recipe because I don't like it too spicy but you can always add them back in (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  line-height: 15px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="  line-height: 21px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;5 canned whole green chiles, seeded and coarsely chopped and 4 canned chipotle chiles, seeded and minced. When you add in the corn, add in the chiles). Also to make the recipe even easier, buy a pre-roasted chicken at the grocery store and just use the meat rather than cooking the chicken yourself. Makes it really quick.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Cheesy Chicken Enchiladas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Adapted from a recipe by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/tyler-florence/chicken-enchiladas-recipe/index.html"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Tyler Florence&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  line-height: 15px; font-family:arial;font-size:13px;"&gt;&lt;h2  style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 14px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color:initial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Ingredients&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;ul color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- line-height: 169%; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 7px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 7px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 7px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 7px; "&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;3 tablespoons vegetable oil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 1/2 pounds skinless boneless chicken breast&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Salt and pepper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2 teaspoons cumin powder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2 teaspoons garlic powder&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 teaspoon Mexican Spice Blend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 red onion, chopped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;2 cloves garlic, minced&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 cup frozen corn, thawed&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 (28-ounce) can stewed tomatoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1/2 teaspoon all-purpose flour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;16 corn tortillas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 1/2 cups enchilada sauce, canned&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;1 cup shredded Cheddar and Jack cheeses&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="ingredient" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; list-style-type: disc; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Garnish: chopped cilantro leaves, chopped scallions, sour cream, chopped tomatoes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;h2  style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; margin-top: 14px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; color:initial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Directions&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/h2&gt;&lt;p class="instructions" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 169%; margin-bottom: 7px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Coat large saute pan with oil. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Brown chicken over medium heat, allow 7 minutes each side or until no longer pink. Sprinkle chicken with cumin, garlic powder and Mexican spices before turning. Remove chicken to a platter, allow to cool.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="instructions" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 169%; margin-bottom: 7px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Saute onion and garlic in chicken drippings until tender. Add corn. Stir well to combine. Add canned tomatoes, saute 1 minute.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="instructions" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 169%; margin-bottom: 7px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Pull chicken breasts apart by hand into shredded strips. Add shredded chicken to saute pan, combine with vegetables. Dust the mixture with flour to help set.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="instructions" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 169%; margin-bottom: 7px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Microwave tortillas on high for 30 seconds. This softens them and makes them more pliable. Coat the bottom of 2 (13 by 9-inch) pans with a ladle of enchilada sauce. Using a large shallow bowl, dip each tortilla in enchilada sauce to lightly coat. Spoon 1/4 cup chicken mixture in each tortilla. Fold over filling, place 8 enchiladas in each pan with seam side down. Top with remaining enchilada sauce and cheese.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="instructions" color="initial" style="outline-style: none; outline-width: initial; outline- margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; line-height: 169%; margin-bottom: 7px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Bake for 15 minutes in a preheated 350 degree F oven until cheese melts. Garnish with cilantro, scallion, sour cream and chopped tomatoes before serving. Serve with Spanish rice and beans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-1808326727346263266?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/1808326727346263266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/40-comfort-food.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/1808326727346263266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/1808326727346263266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/40-comfort-food.html' title='40. Comfort Food'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvszSpn9YFI/AAAAAAAAAUI/A-X6L7rfx0U/s72-c/Cinco_Enchiladas_lg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-5078929558320249175</id><published>2009-11-07T19:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-07T19:18:53.474-08:00</updated><title type='text'>39. A Simple Gift</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvY3YmEiqHI/AAAAAAAAAUA/sei_vUZWe8M/s1600-h/651967086_97ZEk-XL.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvY3YmEiqHI/AAAAAAAAAUA/sei_vUZWe8M/s400/651967086_97ZEk-XL.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401565698753472626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bought myself flowers yesterday and arranged them in a pretty crystal bowl on my dining table. They're making me smile today. A simple gift to yourself can bring you a lot of happiness. Whether it's a box of your favorite chocolates, a pair of new shoes or a spa appointment, do something nice for yourself this week. You won't regret it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-5078929558320249175?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/5078929558320249175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/39-simple-gift.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5078929558320249175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5078929558320249175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/39-simple-gift.html' title='39. A Simple Gift'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvY3YmEiqHI/AAAAAAAAAUA/sei_vUZWe8M/s72-c/651967086_97ZEk-XL.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-354354845744907163</id><published>2009-11-05T17:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-05T18:35:06.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'>38. Alter Ego</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvODjk9B3iI/AAAAAAAAAT4/lI9fSCFAlNE/s1600-h/10_23_08_beyonce_front.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 289px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvODjk9B3iI/AAAAAAAAAT4/lI9fSCFAlNE/s400/10_23_08_beyonce_front.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5400805025385668130" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Beyonce Knowles has said that, in her real life, she is extremely private, reserved and sometimes even shy. But something happens to her when she gets on stage. It's as if she has another personality--one that is sexy, fearless, athletic, and powerful. This is what she has said of her alter ego, Sasha Fierce:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;“I have someone else that takes over when it’s time for me to work…When I’m on stage, this alter ego that I’ve created kind of protects me and who I really am. Sasha Fierce is the fun, more sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side that comes out when I’m working and when I’m on the stage...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:medium;"&gt;I have out-of-body experiences. If I cut my leg, if I fall, I don’t even feel it. I’m so fearless, I’m not aware of my face or my body.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;Check out this clip from the MTV Video Music Awards this year. Beyonce's performance was my favorite of the whole night. "Single Ladies" is a great song but what made it so entertaining was that Sasha made an appearance. From the first note to the last, she is powerful, sexy, strong and alluring. And frankly, there are dance moves in this performance that might put me into traction. She definitely lets you know who's boss.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 17px;"&gt;Wouldn't it be great to have an alter ego that picks up for you in the areas where you think you might be lacking? A side of your personality that comes out when you need her most and helps you steal the show? What would you name your alter ego? Picture yourself at your most confident, most beautiful, most self-assured, and most comfortable. How would she dress, speak, act, walk? Try to channel &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;your&lt;/span&gt; own Sasha Fierce the next time you're feeling like you need a boost--job interview, Friday night date, meeting new people, making eye contact in the grocery store. Wherever it is and with whomever it might be, call on your alter ego to fill in the blanks. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/QV4_5RKduFU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/QV4_5RKduFU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-354354845744907163?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/354354845744907163/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/38-alter-ego.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/354354845744907163'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/354354845744907163'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/38-alter-ego.html' title='38. Alter Ego'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SvODjk9B3iI/AAAAAAAAAT4/lI9fSCFAlNE/s72-c/10_23_08_beyonce_front.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-8756621991327492643</id><published>2009-11-01T17:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-01T17:23:37.310-08:00</updated><title type='text'>37. Magic Closet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDs75gAGI/AAAAAAAAASA/Flmsk0Jh-jY/s1600-h/wardrobe_mariahcarey.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDs75gAGI/AAAAAAAAASA/Flmsk0Jh-jY/s400/wardrobe_mariahcarey.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398834861326729314" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Mariah Carey's CRAZY NYC closet&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;What is it about women and their closets? There's some kind of love affair that goes on between a woman and that sacred space where she keeps her shoes, clothes and accessories. Whether it's a tiny little closet or a spacious walk-in monster, a good plan can come in handy to organize all of your stuff. Lately, I've been dreaming about my closet. As you know, I've recently moved into a new apartment and, for the first time, I have my own walk-in closet. Mind you, it's not huge. I can walk in, take three steps and turn around but it still provides ample room for creativity. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDo0XdyQI/AAAAAAAAAR4/VnWFwXyy1UU/s1600-h/eva_longoria_closet_2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 301px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDo0XdyQI/AAAAAAAAAR4/VnWFwXyy1UU/s400/eva_longoria_closet_2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398834790585452802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Eva Longoria and her jeans collection&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;So I've been trying to get inspired by some examples of other people's closets. Even though it's WAY OVER THE TOP, you can't help staring with your mouth wide open when you look at photos of Mariah Carey's closet. I'm not sure "closet" is even the right word. Maybe "clothing airport?" It's gorgeous and spacious and so well organized. We can all dream, can't we? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And then there's the cute photo of Eva Longoria's closet. I love the way she's organized her many pairs of jeans. I think I might actually borrow that idea. Instead of folding my jeans into drawers, I'm thinking of hanging them in the closet according to wash color. Where do you keep your jeans? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDkg9iQtI/AAAAAAAAARw/_HbElO7T5YU/s1600-h/Closet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 295px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDkg9iQtI/AAAAAAAAARw/_HbElO7T5YU/s400/Closet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398834716656943826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;This space is pretty cool&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I love the idea of decorating on the inside of your closet. Whether it's using beautiful boxes to keep your scarves, belts or swimsuits together, or creating a clean line with all matching velvet hangers, adding some design elements inside your closet can make you smile every time you open the door. I like how the closet above seems like just another comfy room in the house with a rug, a chandelier and those cool geometric doors.   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDcfVlNEI/AAAAAAAAARo/XTqyWIp5TeU/s1600-h/closet_SFD.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 358px; height: 379px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDcfVlNEI/AAAAAAAAARo/XTqyWIp5TeU/s400/closet_SFD.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398834578781975618" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I like the color organization in this one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Taking inventory of all of your things first can help you in organizing your space. What will take up the most room? Do you have a wild amount of shoes but not so many sweaters? Do you really need a place for jewelry or a tall space for boots? Do you keep all of your shoes in their boxes or will shoe racks work? What things will go in your dressers and what things need to be in the closet? Separate areas of the closet for shoes, pants, skirts, dresses, sweaters, shirts, accessories like handbags, scarves, hosiery, belts and hats. Place the items you use the most in the most convenient area of the closet. Once you know where everything will go, then you can decide what storage items you'll need to buy--decorative boxes, organizational dividers, lucite containers, shoe shelves, back of the door organizers, etc.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDYANp-tI/AAAAAAAAARg/wH84cOSSmLs/s1600-h/carrie_closet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDYANp-tI/AAAAAAAAARg/wH84cOSSmLs/s400/carrie_closet.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398834501707758290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Recognize this famous closet from Sex and the City? Carrie Bradshaw and her vintage&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Take inspiration from magazines, websites and catalogues. There are some great organizational sites to get ideas and to purchase the things you'll need to help you plan out your dream closet. Even the smallest space can be well-organized, efficient and make you feel great. When all of your things are placed in their optimum location, you'll be able to find them at the start of your day and you'll know immediately where they go at the end of your day. It saves you time and makes putting outfits together so simple.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDSNOnZpI/AAAAAAAAARY/bRX1hesmIyc/s1600-h/aerinlauderclosetbazaar.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDSNOnZpI/AAAAAAAAARY/bRX1hesmIyc/s400/aerinlauderclosetbazaar.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398834402122229394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Aerin Lauder and her beautiful dressing room&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;And lastly, remember to have fun with it. Make it your own...use your signature color or a favorite print on the wall. If you have a small space, get the most out of it with a good organizational plan and if have a bit more to play around with, get creative by decorating and filling the space with both beautiful and functional things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujx9JLvCbI/AAAAAAAAAQg/3ePxkdnvRpU/s1600-h/picture2+copy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujx9JLvCbI/AAAAAAAAAQg/3ePxkdnvRpU/s400/picture2+copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397830186142992818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I thought I would leave you today with a really creative closet idea. This is what I envision as "thinking outside the box." I love fashion designer Anna Sui's closet (above)--inspired by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;The Lion, the Witch &amp;amp; the Wardrobe&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;, Sui had the back of a large armoire taken off and then she placed it in front of her closet doorway. Instant magic. When you open the armoire, you step into another world. An amazingly creative idea. Take inspiration from these beautiful closets and create your ideal space this week. It takes some time, but it's well worth it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-8756621991327492643?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/8756621991327492643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/37-magic-closet.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/8756621991327492643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/8756621991327492643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/11/37-magic-closet.html' title='37. Magic Closet'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuyDs75gAGI/AAAAAAAAASA/Flmsk0Jh-jY/s72-c/wardrobe_mariahcarey.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4247741699494133281</id><published>2009-10-28T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-31T11:23:45.177-07:00</updated><title type='text'>36. Portrait of a Lady</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujzryob9zI/AAAAAAAAARA/z2NedxiT2uQ/s1600-h/mario-testino-0906-pp02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujzryob9zI/AAAAAAAAARA/z2NedxiT2uQ/s400/mario-testino-0906-pp02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397832087054841650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across a &lt;a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/style/features/2009/06/mario-testino-portfolio200906#slide=1"&gt;slide show&lt;/a&gt; of Mario Testino's most beautiful celebrity photos on Vanity Fair's website. I love his work because he manages to take photographs that are gorgeous but also real. You get a sense of who each individual actually is. Whether it was Diana, Princess of Wales looking right out at us with those beautiful blue eyes, Jennifer Connelly in high fashion or Jennifer Aniston in barely anything, Testino managed to capture each woman's essence. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujz0-gr4YI/AAAAAAAAARI/e0FViCy1Xco/s1600-h/mario-testino-0906-pp14.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujz0-gr4YI/AAAAAAAAARI/e0FViCy1Xco/s400/mario-testino-0906-pp14.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397832244862378370" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;All these great shots got me thinking about my own photos. Because I recently moved, I've been going through a lot of old photo albums and boxes. And what I noticed is that there aren't any shots in which I think I look like my true self. Don't get me wrong. I have plenty of photos from my school days, with friends and family and random travel pics. But none of them jumps out at me as being a really good photo that truly embodies my spirit. I think I've decided what my birthday gift to myself is going to be--a photography session to get a really good portrait taken.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujzkGjaw6I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Fq7GLP_7eLg/s1600-h/mario-testino-0906-pp10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujzkGjaw6I/AAAAAAAAAQw/Fq7GLP_7eLg/s400/mario-testino-0906-pp10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397831954963547042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do you think? Do u have any photos that really look like "you"? Any photos that you're really proud of? Any shots where u look happy, energized, healthy or sexy? What's ur favorite shot?? Do u have one? What does it make you think of when you look at it? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujzgcdlTUI/AAAAAAAAAQo/xQjmOiVyRzg/s1600-h/mario-testino-0906-pp12.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujzgcdlTUI/AAAAAAAAAQo/xQjmOiVyRzg/s400/mario-testino-0906-pp12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397831892125175106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;If u don't have a favorite photo, dress up, glam up, get your hair done and have someone take a really nice photo of you that you can frame and be proud of. Passing by a great photo of yourself on the mantle or side table can remind you every day of your optimum, amazing self. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujzoqpqdyI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/KUrdtEMzHsA/s1600-h/mario-testino-0906-pp04.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujzoqpqdyI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/KUrdtEMzHsA/s400/mario-testino-0906-pp04.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397832033372895010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;All photographs by Mario Testino for Vanity Fair&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4247741699494133281?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4247741699494133281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/37-portrait-of-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4247741699494133281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4247741699494133281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/37-portrait-of-lady.html' title='36. Portrait of a Lady'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sujzryob9zI/AAAAAAAAARA/z2NedxiT2uQ/s72-c/mario-testino-0906-pp02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-7614689365262326181</id><published>2009-10-28T16:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T18:18:02.363-07:00</updated><title type='text'>35. Advice from the First Lady</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujaoQyBmCI/AAAAAAAAAQY/wHr6NmzjXlQ/s1600-h/1026-glamour-cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 293px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujaoQyBmCI/AAAAAAAAAQY/wHr6NmzjXlQ/s400/1026-glamour-cover.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397804538637948962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Next month, Michelle Obama will become the first First Lady to grace the cover of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.glamour.com/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Glamour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;magazine in recognition of her work mentoring young women. I've admired the First lady's style, intellect and cool demeanor since she first hit the campaign trail with her husband. And so I was really interested to hear her advice to women in the sneak peek excerpt of her interview with Katie Couric for the magazine. Thought you might want to check it out too. Here are the highlights:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Bold;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Don't put yourself last in line&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;: In answer to a reader question about how she keeps her sanity, the First Lady told Katie, "I have always tried to put my kids first, and then...put myself a really close second, as opposed to fifth or seventh. One thing that I've learned from male role models is that they don't hesitate to invest in themselves."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Bold;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;When it comes to looks and style, set your own standards:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; “People are always going to have opinions, and people have a right to their opinions, particularly when you’re the First Lady; you’re representing the nation. So I can’t be surprised that people are interested. But I’ve tried to be at peace with the choices that I make first, and then be open to everyone else’s reflection.”  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom:16.0pt;mso-pagination:none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Bold;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;With men, don’t be swayed by “cute”:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; “Cute’s good. But cute only lasts for so long, and then it’s, Who are you as a person? Don’t look at the bankbook or the title. Look at the heart. Look at the soul...When you’re dating a man, you should always feel good...You shouldn’t be in a relationship with somebody who doesn’t make you completely happy and make you feel whole.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia-Bold;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Don’t wait to be “discovered” by a mentor:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=" ;font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt; “I was blessed throughout my entire career. I had people rooting for me. It started with my parents, but it extended to almost every teacher that I had. When I was a young lawyer, there were other women and men in the firm who took me under their wing. Look for those mentors, because sometimes mentors don’t find you--sometimes you seek them out. Oftentimes, they’re flattered and glad to lend a hand.”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Georgia;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;!--StartFragment--&gt;    &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;     &lt;!--EndFragment--&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-7614689365262326181?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/7614689365262326181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/35-advice-from-first-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/7614689365262326181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/7614689365262326181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/35-advice-from-first-lady.html' title='35. Advice from the First Lady'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SujaoQyBmCI/AAAAAAAAAQY/wHr6NmzjXlQ/s72-c/1026-glamour-cover.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4188482337673760541</id><published>2009-10-27T18:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T19:12:22.986-07:00</updated><title type='text'>34. Alone Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuemJBktzFI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/CE3hYEqHTbk/s1600-h/french-toast.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuemJBktzFI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/CE3hYEqHTbk/s400/french-toast.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397465352398294098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://simplyrecipes.com/"&gt;Simply Recipes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The plans that I had for tonight fell through at the last minute and, I have to admit, I sat here in a bit of a stupor for a good 20 minutes thinking about what else I could do. I ran through the contacts list in my phone wondering who might be available to have dinner without any notice. I called my brother but he had plans. My parents always love me to stop by but did I really want to resort to that? I even thought of running to Barnes and Noble just so that I wouldn't be the dreaded ALONE. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But then I looked around at this new little space by the beach that I'm renting and I thought, "Would it be the worst thing in the world to get in my pajamas, make myself a nice dinner, pour a glass of wine and watch a movie...&lt;br /&gt;by myself?" And the answer was resoundingly, "Doesn't sound that bad actually." So that's what I did. I also lined all of my kitchen and bathroom cabinets, did a load of laundry, organized my books on my new shelves and read a chapter of the book I'm working on finishing by the end of this week. And none of that would have gotten done had I phoned a friend to rescue me. Instead I rescued myself. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now, I'm sitting here on my new couch listening to the raindrops tapping against my living room windows and I'm thankful for relaxing, cozy, rainy nights with just me, myself and I.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And just in case you're wondering what yummy thing I made for dinner...the perfect meal for staying in by yourself...&lt;a href="http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/french_toast/"&gt;here's the recipe&lt;/a&gt;. And yes, I did have a glass of wine after eating french toast...it's my party and I'll do what I want to :)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4188482337673760541?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4188482337673760541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/34-alone-time.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4188482337673760541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4188482337673760541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/34-alone-time.html' title='34. Alone Time'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SuemJBktzFI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/CE3hYEqHTbk/s72-c/french-toast.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4799496163778114793</id><published>2009-10-18T14:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-18T15:07:13.294-07:00</updated><title type='text'>33. Reading is Fundamental</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StuQl6OoCkI/AAAAAAAAAQI/vBQWJGNB0vU/s1600-h/1240056572_f56ff1c29c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 252px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StuQl6OoCkI/AAAAAAAAAQI/vBQWJGNB0vU/s400/1240056572_f56ff1c29c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394063959666461250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ruminatrix/1240056572/"&gt;ruminatrix&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love reading. When I was a little girl, I would beg my mother to take me to the local public library. And there I would load up on all kinds of delicious books--classics like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Anne of Green Gables &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Little Women&lt;/span&gt; and virtually every book in the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;N&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ancy Drew &lt;/span&gt;series. I would stack the books up high in my arms and try to get them to the front desk to check out. Sometimes my mother would say, "How are you going to get through all of those books." But in the end, she knew that I would. When I got home, I would cloister myself away in my bedroom or laze around outside reading in the yard. It was my greatest pleasure. And it was the perfect time and space travel enabler. But sadly, those days of leisurely reading with no care for time are gone. Work and friends and family and obligations and sleep have overtaken my reading time. For years, "read more" has been on my New Year's resolution list. And even though it was a hope, I'm not quite sure I believed it was possible to read all of the books on my to-read list. That is until I read about Nina Sankovitch in the New York Times. She committed to reading a book a day for 365 days and then posting a short review about each one on her blog, &lt;a href="http://readallday.org/"&gt;readallday.org&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was so inspired by her quest, that I thought I would share the &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/12/nyregion/12towns.html?_r=1&amp;amp;scp=2&amp;amp;sq=365%20books&amp;amp;st=cse"&gt;article link with you here&lt;/a&gt;. Although time is precious and limited, it's important to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;create the time&lt;/span&gt; for the things that bring you joy. I may not be able to read a book a day--Nina is retired and has admitted that she cut out almost all other activities to work on this project--but she does talk about some interesting ways to get the reading done. On the bus, waiting in line, sitting in the doctor's office. There are a lot of pockets of wasted time that, if we added them up, equal precious reading time. Check out the article and get started on that book that you've been meaning to read but haven't gotten around to. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4799496163778114793?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4799496163778114793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/33-reading-is-fundamental.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4799496163778114793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4799496163778114793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/33-reading-is-fundamental.html' title='33. Reading is Fundamental'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StuQl6OoCkI/AAAAAAAAAQI/vBQWJGNB0vU/s72-c/1240056572_f56ff1c29c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-5679256299650606624</id><published>2009-10-17T08:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-17T09:13:00.481-07:00</updated><title type='text'>32. Fall Favorites</title><content type='html'>Here are some things that are making me happy now that the air has gotten chillier, the rain has started falling and the leaves are swirling. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Caramel Apple Spice at Starbuck's&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StnfYQC3lXI/AAAAAAAAAPY/fteBFp03XsY/s1600-h/caramel_cider.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 162px; height: 162px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StnfYQC3lXI/AAAAAAAAAPY/fteBFp03XsY/s400/caramel_cider.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393587636469732722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This drink is the perfect fall pick-me-up, especially if you're not a coffee drinker. Apple juice with cinnamon syrup, whipped cream, and a secret butter, caramel sauce. Absolutely de-lish!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.shoes.com/Shopping/productdetails.aspx?catalog_name=web&amp;amp;pg=5104005&amp;amp;p=EC1173503&amp;amp;CMP=OTC-GoogleBase&amp;amp;partnerid=GoogleBase&amp;amp;cpc=GoogleBase&amp;amp;=campaign=Bandolino&amp;amp;category=W&amp;amp;cpckw=Bandolino+Womens+Castalina+Boot+(Cognac+Leather)&amp;amp;CAWELAID=411597024"&gt;Bandolino Castalino Riding Boots&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StngfxYBuTI/AAAAAAAAAPg/8cykpYGv74E/s1600-h/shoes_ibec1173503.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 350px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StngfxYBuTI/AAAAAAAAAPg/8cykpYGv74E/s400/shoes_ibec1173503.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393588865187559730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I recently bought these boots and wore them for the first time today. With skinny jeans and a nice brown sweater, I feel like an equestrian. And I love the chocolate brown leather and the gold metal accent.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.moma.org/visit/calendar/exhibitions/963"&gt;Monet's Water Lilies at the MoMA&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Stni-g_DS0I/AAAAAAAAAPw/AHlb-FBOaT8/s1600-h/water_lilies.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 399px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Stni-g_DS0I/AAAAAAAAAPw/AHlb-FBOaT8/s400/water_lilies.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393591592387038018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Monet has always fascinated me--of course, for his color and beautiful subjects. But also for his persistence in painting the same subject, whether it be hay stacks or cathedrals or water lilies, over and over and over again in different seasons, varying degrees of light, or various types of weather conditions. He was interested in recording how the same subject was changed by these conditions and the results are stunning. This exhibit showcases the work he did on his property in Giverny, painting the lily ponds and the Japanese footbridge he constructed there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nanowrimo.org/"&gt;NaNoWriMo&lt;/a&gt; (National Novel Writing Month) November 1st-November 30th&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StnlbPVCseI/AAAAAAAAAP4/ybymCMYZ6dI/s1600-h/nano_09_blk_participant_100x100_1.png.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 100px; height: 100px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StnlbPVCseI/AAAAAAAAAP4/ybymCMYZ6dI/s400/nano_09_blk_participant_100x100_1.png.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393594284886897122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;How many people do you know who have said that they might like to try their hand at writing a book? Maybe even the great American novel? And how many of those people do you know who have actually completed and then published their work? Probably not many. Well, that's where the National Novel Writing Month comes in. From November 1st to the 30th, participants are challenged to write to their heart's content and complete a full-length novel. The website offers writing support and nation-wide writing events are planned to help keep you plugging along. After one month, it might not be the great American novel but it very well might be the first draft of an eventual masterpiece.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Roasted-Tomato-Soup-with-Parmesan-Wafers-354491"&gt;Roasted Tomato Soup with Parmesan Wafers&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Stnr8mn4WJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/DfCkhrs09v8/s1600-h/354491-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 330px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Stnr8mn4WJI/AAAAAAAAAQA/DfCkhrs09v8/s400/354491-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393601455145375890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's not much that needs to be said about this one. Piping hot tomato soup is one of the most comforting and delicious things you can eat during the fall season. Roasting the tomatoes brings out all of the summery deliciousness in them and then blending them and adding the cream...well...it's perfection.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-5679256299650606624?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/5679256299650606624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/32-fall-favorites.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5679256299650606624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5679256299650606624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/32-fall-favorites.html' title='32. Fall Favorites'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StnfYQC3lXI/AAAAAAAAAPY/fteBFp03XsY/s72-c/caramel_cider.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-6219278103946365920</id><published>2009-10-12T17:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T19:42:21.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>31. Settling In</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StPjcnc2F7I/AAAAAAAAAPI/xTVpwUVlw_4/s1600-h/3561099457_f42e71ecdb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 382px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StPjcnc2F7I/AAAAAAAAAPI/xTVpwUVlw_4/s400/3561099457_f42e71ecdb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391903259658426290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/moonjazz/3561099457/"&gt;moonjazz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So it's been a little while since I last posted. No excuse really except that a lot has been going on in the last few weeks. Divorce is final. Moved to my new apartment. Classes in full swing. Crying full throttle and with wild abandon. Oh, did I really just say that? There's something about saying goodbye to your old life and starting fresh that puts you a bit over the edge. In fact, I've been unravelling a bit lately. Last week, in the grocery store, I ran into an old acquaintance who I haven't seen in a few years. He asked me what I was doing in the area. Had I moved? How was my husband? And I just stared back at him. And then, horror of horrors...I started to cry! In the middle of aisle 6. Yes. I babbled a bit. Sputtered. Pulled it together and explained to this guy (and the two blue-haired senior citizens who had stopped to eavesdrop)-that no, I didn't need medical attention. I had just gone through a divorce. He was apologetic, of course. But I didn't care so much about him. I was more worried about myself. What had happened to me? Me- the usually stoic, can handle anything, never fazed, let it roll off your back, happy-go-lucky girl who DOES NOT CRY IN THE FROZEN FOODS AISLE. Why was I so sad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the weekend thinking more about all of this. And I came to the very obvious conclusion that I'm sad because I need to be. I'm sad because it's ok to mourn the loss of something that was once so precious and such a source of joy for me. Something that seemed like the happy ending but was just a beautiful illusion. It's ok to say that you need time alone, time to reflect on who you were then, who you are now, who you want to be. This is a very critical time. It's time to make sense of the mess that was left in the aftermath of all that pain. Time to decide which direction to travel. Time to navigate my new space. It's an exciting time and a very scary one. It's the first time I'm living on my own. I had roommates in college but I never lived solely by myself. And so the first few days were scary and lonely and confusing. Eventually, though, I came to the conclusion that this is simply the settling in period. A time of reflection and self-work, and discovery. It's an opportunity to learn and grow and make myself happy. I've created an initial list of some of the things I've been doing and plan on doing around here in the next few weeks. Maybe you also just moved or maybe you've been in the same place for years but have never actually "settled in." Make yourself at home. Enjoy what's right in front of you. Be content to just be. There's no rush. Take your time. Live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Make a pot of tea in my new teapot.&lt;br /&gt;2. Shop for a beachy painting for above my couch.&lt;br /&gt;3. Make it a habit to go running on the boardwalk at least 3 times a week.&lt;br /&gt;4. Try the Thai, Japanese, Italian and Mexican restaurants down the street.&lt;br /&gt;5. Find the nearest grocery store.&lt;br /&gt;6. Meet more of my neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;7. Set up a writing space.&lt;br /&gt;8. Have my first dinner party.&lt;br /&gt;9. Decorate for the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;10. Create a totally organized closet system.&lt;br /&gt;11. Make a pot of homemade soup.&lt;br /&gt;12. Find a place for all of my books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StPmmpTCXmI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/KiYqRDM2-Iw/s1600-h/3427374474_bb565de7d7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 366px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StPmmpTCXmI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/KiYqRDM2-Iw/s400/3427374474_bb565de7d7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391906730487733858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/boopsiedaisy/3427374474/"&gt;boopsie.daisy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13. Host a movie night.&lt;br /&gt;14. Have the girls over for a slumber party weekend.&lt;br /&gt;15. Become a regular at the yummy Italian bakery around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;16. Read more.&lt;br /&gt;17. Take great naps.&lt;br /&gt;18. Post more regularly to this blog.&lt;br /&gt;19. Explore some of the antique shops in the area.&lt;br /&gt;20. Meditate.&lt;br /&gt;21. Read the Sunday New York Times every week.&lt;div&gt;22. Listen to loud music and dance around my apartment.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. Let the ocean breeze float in through the back balcony and out through the front windows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. Subscribe to Coastal Living&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. Take time to enjoy everything that is around me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-6219278103946365920?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/6219278103946365920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/31-settling-in.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6219278103946365920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6219278103946365920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/10/31-settling-in.html' title='31. Settling In'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/StPjcnc2F7I/AAAAAAAAAPI/xTVpwUVlw_4/s72-c/3561099457_f42e71ecdb.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-3122097189225980276</id><published>2009-09-10T16:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T18:09:06.931-07:00</updated><title type='text'>30. The Bucket List</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2Ob-H48QI/AAAAAAAAAOY/LFA_0-vnVp0/s1600-h/135115501_dc0e8026fc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2Ob-H48QI/AAAAAAAAAOY/LFA_0-vnVp0/s400/135115501_dc0e8026fc.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381113740961313026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/wallyg/135115501/"&gt;wallyg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was really inspired today by Maggie Mason's &lt;a href="http://www.mightygirl.net/mighty-life-list/"&gt;Mighty Life List&lt;/a&gt;. I was also amazed by the fact that she was somehow able to get Intel to sponsor her to actually do all of the 100 things on her life list! That includes swimming with bioluminescent plankton in Puerto Rico, watching the sunrise over the Aegean and standing inside the Taj Mahal. When you really sit down to write the things you'd like to accomplish before you kick it, it really makes you think--time's flying by and every minute is an opportunity. So I decided to write my own bucket list. Here's what I came up with. What's on yours?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" ;font-family:Times;"&gt;&lt;div style="border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 3px; padding-right: 3px; padding-bottom: 3px; padding-left: 3px; width: auto; font: normal normal normal 100%/normal Georgia, serif; text-align: left; "&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Visit all 50 states&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Visit all 7 continents&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Eat at El Bulli&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Eat at The French Laundry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Fly in a hot air balloon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. See the Pyramids at Giza&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Take horseback riding lessons&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Have my book published&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Write a screenplay&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Take cooking lessons with Patricia Wells in Paris&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Stay in a cliffside hotel on Santorini&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Be in the audience at the Oprah show&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Go on an African safari&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Climb Kilimanjaro&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Run a marathon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Have a job where I can work from anywhere in the world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Start a foundation&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Visit the Louvre, the Prado, the Musee D'Orsay, and the Uffizi&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. Have a one woman art show&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. See Georgia O'Keeffe's house&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. Be on television&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. Have a drink at an Irish pub&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. Learn to speak Italian fluently&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. Have lunch at Cafe de Flore&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. Go to the U.S. Open finals&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;26. Go to the World Series&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;27. Stay at a villa in Tuscany&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;28. Get a letter back from J.D. Salinger&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;29. Visit Peru and Machu Picchu&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;30. Ride in a gondola in Venice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2T96gA-vI/AAAAAAAAAOg/PiDuo3Tp7PM/s1600-h/92592617_348d3071ca.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2T96gA-vI/AAAAAAAAAOg/PiDuo3Tp7PM/s400/92592617_348d3071ca.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381119821662452466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/derpunk/92592617/"&gt;derpunk&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;31. Bike through Provence&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;32. Stay in a cottage in Scotland&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;33. Buy fresh flowers every week&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;34. Write for the New York Times &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;35. Go to the Savannah St. Patrick's Parade&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;36. Attend Mardi Gras&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;37. See Monet's garden at Giverny&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;38. Visit my cousins in New Zealand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;39. Eat sushi in Japan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;40. Start a Sunday supper club&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;41. Lead a book group&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;42. See Frank Lloyd Wright's Fallingwater&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;43. Visit Buckingham Palace&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;44. Live on the beach&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;45. Have my professional portrait taken&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;46. Live overseas for a year&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;47. Win the lottery&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;48. Cook all of Ina Garten's recipes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;49. Make a successful souffle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;50. Grow beautiful roses&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;51. Take a cruise around the world&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;52. Complete a NYTimes Sunday crossword puzzle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;53. Complete a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;54. Grow my own vegetables&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;55. Learn to play tennis well&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;56. Learn to sail&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;57. Learn to play golf&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;58. Learn to play the violin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;59. Learn to play piano&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;60. Go white water rafting&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;61. Swim with dolphins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;62. Go on a helicopter ride&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;63. Visit the Grand Canyon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;64. Go to the Galapagos Islands&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2VoyOlxyI/AAAAAAAAAOo/OwDw9hdc9g0/s1600-h/2316993370_f8d5f6ed10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2VoyOlxyI/AAAAAAAAAOo/OwDw9hdc9g0/s400/2316993370_f8d5f6ed10.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381121657687885602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/adelmann/2316993370/"&gt;anadelmann&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;65. See the cherry blossoms in Washington D.C.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;66. Be in Times Square for New Year's Eve&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;67. Celebrate Oktoberfest in Germany&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;68. Visit the Vatican&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;69. See Gaudi's La Sagrada Familia in Barcelona&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;70. See the Acropolis in Athens&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;71. Visit the Kremlin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;72. Go to the Super Bowl&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;73. See my book turned into a film&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;74. Visit the caves at Lascaux&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;75. See the Colisseum in Rome&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;76. Visit Petra, Jordan&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;77. Shop at Pike Place market in Seattle&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;78. Read all the books on my classics list&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;79. Learn to play chess&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;80. Take a painting class&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;81. Win a literary award&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2XdwpRsDI/AAAAAAAAAOw/yzhmn1RdzI4/s1600-h/IMG_0277.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2XdwpRsDI/AAAAAAAAAOw/yzhmn1RdzI4/s400/IMG_0277.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381123667307638834" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;82. Build a Habitat for Humanity home&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;83. Pay for a student to go to college&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;84. Check off every item on the &lt;a href="http://abundance-blog.marelisa-online.com/2008/05/15/75-skills-every-woman-should-master-the-first-25/"&gt;75 Skills Every Woman Should Master&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;85. Write a regular magazine column&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;86. Buy stock&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;87. Watch all the films on my Greatest Movies List&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;88. Fall in love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;89. See my blog on the &lt;a href="http://technorati.com/pop/blogs/"&gt;Technorati 100 list&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;90. Go to the Olympics&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;91. Go to TED Talks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;92. Meet the Dalai Lama&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;93. Visit India&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;94. Take up yoga again&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;95. Go to the Kentucky Derby&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;96. Learn to meditate&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;97. Teach adults to read&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;98. Walk every day&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;99. Try acting&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;100. Have no regrets&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-3122097189225980276?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/3122097189225980276/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/09/30-bucket-list.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3122097189225980276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3122097189225980276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/09/30-bucket-list.html' title='30. The Bucket List'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sq2Ob-H48QI/AAAAAAAAAOY/LFA_0-vnVp0/s72-c/135115501_dc0e8026fc.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-701960600731387057</id><published>2009-09-03T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T21:06:14.238-07:00</updated><title type='text'>29. Modern Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqCDTiIYK3I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/o-hmWXyoAv8/s1600-h/224445041_151b59b1ac.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqCDTiIYK3I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/o-hmWXyoAv8/s400/224445041_151b59b1ac.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377442326683069298" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ac_jalali/224445041/"&gt;Andrew Jalali&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm a bit obsessed with the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;New York Times &lt;/span&gt;Sunday Style feature called "Modern Love." It's fascinating to read other people's accounts of their love lives--dating, marriage, commitment, family relationships, passion, lust, loss. I'll make a cup of tea and cozy up on the couch with the &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Times&lt;/span&gt;, losing myself in the newest tale of heart pounding drama. Maybe it's the romantic in me. Or maybe it's the social part of me. But I love to read this stuff. I can't help but feel that each one of these stories is a universal story in some way. Modern Love. What is it? How does it work? Who knows. It's a mystery. But the story below, in particular, struck me as being really touching. I've talked a lot recently about letting go of preconceived notions...throwing out the expectations we have for ourselves and others and just letting it &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;be&lt;/span&gt;. But how easy is that to do? Easy maybe if the person you love forgets to pick up their towel off the floor. Not so easy if the person you've been married to for decades tells you that he never loved you and wants to leave you and the kids...read this...you may cry. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/02/fashion/02love.html?_r=2&amp;amp;pagewanted=1&amp;amp;em"&gt;Those Aren't Fighting Words, Dear&lt;/a&gt; by Laura A. Munson&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-701960600731387057?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/701960600731387057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/09/29-modern-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/701960600731387057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/701960600731387057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/09/29-modern-love.html' title='29. Modern Love'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqCDTiIYK3I/AAAAAAAAAOQ/o-hmWXyoAv8/s72-c/224445041_151b59b1ac.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-1603541862131947188</id><published>2009-09-03T16:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-03T19:25:03.357-07:00</updated><title type='text'>28. Questing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqByue1QDXI/AAAAAAAAAOI/UEfgP_OWMfQ/s1600-h/77690196_7b835abc69.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqByue1QDXI/AAAAAAAAAOI/UEfgP_OWMfQ/s400/77690196_7b835abc69.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377424097956334962" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/marj_k/77690196/"&gt;marj k&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The agreement is signed and my divorce will be final in a matter of days. I'm not really sure how to explain what I'm feeling right now. On the one hand, this is what I've waited for for months--slowly rebuilding my life piece by piece after it came crashing down all around me. And this step seemed like the last missing piece of that puzzle. And yet, when I signed on the dotted line, I felt extreme sadness. Not because I doubt my decision but because the finality of it all is hitting me. It will be done. It will be over. And it will be soon. On the other hand, I can say those same words, "It will be done. It will be over. And it will be soon" and I recognize the peace in that. The ending that I've been waiting for is finally here and new opportunities are waiting for me around the corner.  The journey is, in essence, just beginning. And that is really exciting.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I once heard Elizabeth Gilbert give a talk on the nature of the quest--she talked about how, historically, journeys of discovery have been undertaken by men to prove their manhood but that women were generally left out of these quests unless they were renegade or didn't care if they were labeled crazy. Women who attempted to journey out on their own without family or a husband to chaperone garnered a seriously negative stigma. Now women travel freely all over the world but it seems to me that there is still some female guilt associated with the idea of journeying towards self-discovery. Of course, questing doesn't have to involve getting on a plane or riding a camel across the desert. But it does involve dedicating a lot of time to the task of excavating and mapping your own heart and mind. It also requires asking the deeper, harder questions. Why do I keep acting in the same way expecting a different result? What motivates me to do this, or say this, or act this way? Who are the people who make me feel stronger and who are the ones that bring me down? Why am allowing this toxic energy, language, person, thought into my life? Why can't I let this go? Why does this hurt so much? How do I deal with anxiety, stress, pain, loss, failure? And is this the best way to deal with these things? Am I lying to myself? Obviously, answering these questions requires looking into a mirror and being honest about who is reflected back at you. This is the quest. It happens inside. As nice as it may be to buy a ticket to Venice and ride in a gondola down the narrow canals, you still are who you are no matter how far away you run to escape. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqBvuVlbkGI/AAAAAAAAAOA/XFsr89QDXqc/s1600-h/3418821369_c010a14c7c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 236px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqBvuVlbkGI/AAAAAAAAAOA/XFsr89QDXqc/s400/3418821369_c010a14c7c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377420796939178082" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mad_mariner/3418821369/in/photostream/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Mad Mariner&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gilbert says, "&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="border-collapse: collapse;  font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;If you are brave enough to leave behind everything familiar and comforting (which can be anything from your house to your bitter old resentments) and set out on a truth-seeking journey (either externally or internally), and if you are truly willing to regard everything that happens to you on that journey as a clue, and if you accept everyone you meet along the way as a teacher, and if you are prepared – most of all – to face (and forgive) some very difficult realities about yourself….then truth will not be withheld from you." I love this quotation because it embodies the notion that the answers really do lie inside of you. You don't need a fancy degree or a stack of books from the self-help section of Barnes and Noble to figure it out. You don't need a six month sabbatical from work or a cruise around the Caribbean to know the truth. You just need to be honest with yourself. It may not be pretty. You may want to drop down and cry for three days on your kitchen floor. You may feel very, very raw. But sometimes the lies we tell ourselves are outrageous. And they get us nowhere. My best friend Helen recently asked me why it was that I was doing something incredibly dumb. And I responded that I didn't really know. She was silent for a few seconds and then said, in a way that only a very good old friend can, "Come on. Yes, you do know why. Be honest. At least with yourself."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqBmWrESYxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/tt6-gtw364Y/s1600-h/elizabeth-high-horse2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 287px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqBmWrESYxI/AAAAAAAAAN4/tt6-gtw364Y/s400/elizabeth-high-horse2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5377410494784234258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family:'Book Antiqua';"&gt;This may very well be one of the scariest times of my life. And so now would be one of the easiest times to sugar coat things and coast through the fall, eating the Halloween candy that is already in the stores and burying my head in one of those September fashion magazines that weighs 20 pounds. But instead, I'm going to continue the quest. I'm going to delve inwards and outwards. As Liz Gilbert outlined, I'm going to go on a "truth-seeking journey" using every experience as a clue and every person I meet as a teacher. My heart is open to new lessons. This is my time. And I'm going to make the most of it. If you too are feeling like taking a journey without leaving your house, consider going on this quest with me. Ask yourself the tough questions that no one can answer for you. Consider being truthful about the answers, even if you have never been before. And then begin the work necessary to heal and grow and thrive. Whether the questions involve marriage, relationships, career, friendships, family, success, physical,  mental or spiritual health, the answers are not about others. Take out blame, take out anger, take out preconceived notions regarding what you want others to do or be or say...and be honest about your part in it all. What have you contributed to these situations and how can you remedy them? Be brave. Be honest. Be open. This could potentially be the greatest journey of your life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-1603541862131947188?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/1603541862131947188/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/09/28-questing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/1603541862131947188'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/1603541862131947188'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/09/28-questing.html' title='28. Questing'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SqByue1QDXI/AAAAAAAAAOI/UEfgP_OWMfQ/s72-c/77690196_7b835abc69.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-2030556410791003982</id><published>2009-08-16T16:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-17T20:46:19.683-07:00</updated><title type='text'>27. Angels and Demons</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Soi053U1kRI/AAAAAAAAANw/PIWNkoWp8W0/s1600-h/255870_f520.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Soi053U1kRI/AAAAAAAAANw/PIWNkoWp8W0/s400/255870_f520.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370741461836206354" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/mezdeathhead/2263687858/"&gt;mez love&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been confronted with a situation where you had to make a choice--turn left or right, say yes or no, acquiesce or fight back--and right at that moment when you needed to make the big decision, you started to hear voices? I know, I know. You're saying, "She's finally gone around the bend." But I don't mean paranormal voices from another realm. I mean those tugging little whispers that come to us when we're faced with a choice. You know what I'm talking about. You've heard them too, haven't you?&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We've all seen images in movies or cartoons that personify these voices. The angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. The devil egging you on--telling you what you might like to hear. I imagine my little devil as an imposingly rude Tony Soprano type with a New York accent, smoking a cigar and saying, "Go ahead. What's the worst thing that could happen? So he cheated on you...four times...with your best friend...so what? Give him another chance. He's a hottie." Or maybe your demon says things like this, "It's one doughnut! One freakin' doughnut. Never hurt anybody! Eat it. It'll be good. You'll feel better. Eat it! EAT IT!" Or perhaps, he says, "Who do you think you are? You know you'll never be good enough. I can't believe you would even consider doing that. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Have you seen your resume? Are you learning impaired?" Yeah. This guy is a real self esteem booster, a certified psychological train wreck. But he's there lurking in the shadows, waiting for the slightest sign of self doubt. And then, he pounces, trying to wear you down. It doesn't always take much convincing. We can be easily manipulated depending on our emotional state. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoiwJLAeGJI/AAAAAAAAANg/aWlc9eyNHig/s1600-h/541850027_2348cb0b8c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoiwJLAeGJI/AAAAAAAAANg/aWlc9eyNHig/s400/541850027_2348cb0b8c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370736227259390098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/danlin/541850027/"&gt;mali mish&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then there's our angel. I imagine mine as a miniaturized version of the Dalai Lama, quietly and contentedly telling me, not what I want to hear, but &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what I need&lt;/span&gt; to hear. He is patient, kind and nurturing. He is wise, loving and respectful. He is the one who tells you the truth. He is your best friend, your ideal mother, your ideal father, your seeing eye...watching out for you when you can't watch out for yourself. It's so tempting to ignore that wise little laughing man though. His way is not always fun...it sometimes means taking the road less traveled, doing the thing that will leave us alone, vulnerable, raw, or open to ridicule. His answers to our Tony Soprano insults would sound something like this: [Cue the Dalai Lama voice] "Does this really make sense? To go back to a man who has abused and belittled you? Who has no regard for your feelings? Better to say goodbye to this deadbeat loser (maybe Dalai wouldn't say that, but this is my version of him and I like it) and move forward with your life. You are worthy of so much more kindness and love than this person is capable of giving. Give yourself a gift and walk away." Or in answer to Tony's doughnut rant, Dalai would say, "This doughnut is a weapon that you use against yourself every time you lift it to your lips. It is poison. Put it down and know that soon your double wide fanny will be svelte and gorgeous." Or maybe he has thoughts on Tony's self-esteem killing chat. "Who do you think you are? I will tell you who you are. As Max Ehrmann said in &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Desiderata&lt;/span&gt;, 'You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.'"&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family:-webkit-sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoixZYDr4kI/AAAAAAAAANo/PbQRUnEl2ic/s1600-h/141937705_7a7c0aaa28.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoixZYDr4kI/AAAAAAAAANo/PbQRUnEl2ic/s400/141937705_7a7c0aaa28.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370737605152072258" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/eltonmelo/141937705/in/photostream/"&gt;Elton Melo&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Yes, it can be visually interesting to imagine these voices as little people. But the truth is that Tony and Dalai are BOTH very much a part of us. The devilishly rude and obnoxiously undermining demon is made up of all of our self-doubt and insecurities about our validity in work, relationships, parenthood, you name it. And the voice of the angel is the voice of our intuition--the hard-to-accept, painfully obvious, rather-not-do-it TRUTH. When we deny this truth, we do ourselves a disservice. We try to stuff the jack back in the box so that we don't have to accept what is really there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This post is meant to be plea. Listen to your voices. Next time a decision comes up--big, small, significant or not--take a moment to listen to what your intuition is telling you. If you feel uncomfortable, unsure, taken aback, insignificant, like saying "hell no," then by all means, take some more time to think about your decision and why you would be saying yes when you know you should be saying no. There's no crime in responding, "I need to think about that. I need to check my calendar. I can't commit to that right now because I'm swamped with other projects. Maybe next time." Whatever. It's your life. Not theirs. And remember, above all else, that the choices matter. One question answered with a  "No" instead of a "Yes" and my life would be in an entirely different place right now. Regrets are a waste of time but it does give me pause to think about how important future decisions will be to my well being. You can bet on the fact that I've been trying to push Tony a little further out of my life and bring Dalai a little closer to the front of my brain. It's still a daily challenge. But when you're conscious of it, you can make decisions based on your truth rather than fear or the made up realities that we sometimes construct to hide from what's really there. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Think about it. What are your voices telling you right now? How can you embrace your angels instead of your demons?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-2030556410791003982?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/2030556410791003982/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/angels-and-demons.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2030556410791003982'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2030556410791003982'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/angels-and-demons.html' title='27. Angels and Demons'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Soi053U1kRI/AAAAAAAAANw/PIWNkoWp8W0/s72-c/255870_f520.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-2190081621162787860</id><published>2009-08-11T22:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T19:17:43.007-07:00</updated><title type='text'>26. Plan An Adventure</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIhBsrCWxI/AAAAAAAAANY/PkS6cqC7YWo/s1600-h/IMG_1331.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIhBsrCWxI/AAAAAAAAANY/PkS6cqC7YWo/s400/IMG_1331.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368890018834307858" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So a while back, I mentioned my camping adventure in the Berkshires. My friends and I had so much fun and the weather managed to hold up so we were able to hike and swim in the lake and spend time outdoors. I haven't laughed that hard in a while. I love these girls. They are the three other sides to my square, the ones that get me, the ones that will tell me the truth...even if it stings. They make me laugh and allow me to cry. And they inspire me to have all kinds of adventures. With them, I've been to Miami and Boston, had amazing spa treatments and danced all night. I've gone to museums in Philadelphia and New York. Done sleep away camp as a teenager. Been to yummy restaurants like &lt;a href="http://www.cookshopny.com/000_home/000home.htm"&gt;Cookshop&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://www.noblecookery.com/"&gt;Noble American Cookery&lt;/a&gt;. I've hiked up and down a giant mountain speckled with boulders, insects and mud. With them, I've sung show tunes at the top of my lungs and walked down wedding aisles. I've spent single Valentine's Day nights with them sharing food and hanging paintings. I've confided my deepest secrets, admitted my most vulnerable thoughts and shared my biggest dreams. We talk about our relationships--the good, the bad and the dysfunctional and we are honest with each other no matter what. We've discussed bikini waxing, vomit and bowel movements...yes, seriously...in no particular order and none of them only once. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIg3thvCDI/AAAAAAAAANQ/0nh2xF2LBUw/s1600-h/IMG_1330.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIg3thvCDI/AAAAAAAAANQ/0nh2xF2LBUw/s400/IMG_1330.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368889847265036338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Shiny sequined lake in the Berkshires&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When you feel this comfortable with a group of people, it's hard not to have adventures. Everything you do becomes an adventure. Before we even left our campsite, we talked about what was next on the horizon for us--where do we want to go? When can we all get together? What kinds of things would we want to do? We thought of New Orleans, Las Vegas, Paris, or the Caribbean. Nothing solid got planned but we are in talks to do something soon. And I find that just knowing that there's an adventure &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;on the horizon&lt;/span&gt; makes me happy. Looking forward to a vacation, a party, or a get-together can sustain you through tough work days, a cold winter or hard times. If you're feeling like things are getting stagnant or you're wishing you were somewhere else right this minute, then take some time to plan an adventure. Whether it's this weekend or next year, if you have something out there to look forward to, your days will be filled with hopeful anticipation. Take a little time to imagine what you want your next adventure to look like and then plan it. Write out the steps you need to take to make it a reality--saving up some cash, looking online for the best travel deals, strategizing how to get a group of friends in the same place at the same time. Then take the first step on your list. Pretty soon, you'll be on your way to a fantastic adventure and really amazing memories.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgv70lPxI/AAAAAAAAANI/-vTJIf7EZrA/s1600-h/IMG_1326.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgv70lPxI/AAAAAAAAANI/-vTJIf7EZrA/s400/IMG_1326.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368889713663229714" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Four chairs for the four musketeers&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgmK0kabI/AAAAAAAAANA/FaGZHD1reso/s1600-h/IMG_1318.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgmK0kabI/AAAAAAAAANA/FaGZHD1reso/s400/IMG_1318.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368889545891015090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Me and Rachel during our hike&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgcjwTOCI/AAAAAAAAAM4/Ac4atdp7Gow/s1600-h/IMG_1312.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgcjwTOCI/AAAAAAAAAM4/Ac4atdp7Gow/s400/IMG_1312.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368889380785305634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The reward at the end of our hike&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgPEcTnLI/AAAAAAAAAMw/WekUXdChRY4/s1600-h/IMG_1305.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIgPEcTnLI/AAAAAAAAAMw/WekUXdChRY4/s400/IMG_1305.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368889149041646770" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The foursome&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-2190081621162787860?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/2190081621162787860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/26-plan-adventure.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2190081621162787860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2190081621162787860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/26-plan-adventure.html' title='26. Plan An Adventure'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SoIhBsrCWxI/AAAAAAAAANY/PkS6cqC7YWo/s72-c/IMG_1331.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-6387802194607457975</id><published>2009-08-07T12:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T17:17:56.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>25. Friday Favorites</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Here is a list of my favorite things from this week. Hope you enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ef0aqd7shDY/SnyEzhziciI/AAAAAAAAAAc/dHJCrOpYTWI/s1600-h/arts-julie-and-julia-584.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ef0aqd7shDY/SnyEzhziciI/AAAAAAAAAAc/dHJCrOpYTWI/s320/arts-julie-and-julia-584.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367310876701520418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.julieandjulia.com/"&gt;Julia &amp;amp; Julia&lt;/a&gt; premiered today. Went to see it with my mom.&lt;br /&gt;I loved Julia Child and Julie Powell's blog about working her way through &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mastering the Art of French Cooking&lt;/span&gt; was hilarious and heartfelt. The movie was really refreshing--not the usual romantic comedy or dramatic blood bath but just a simple movie about two women and cooking. Really nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sny5VHcLlhI/AAAAAAAAALw/kDQ4hb24FUo/s1600-h/31qMjz75ZxL._SL500_AA280_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 280px; height: 280px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sny5VHcLlhI/AAAAAAAAALw/kDQ4hb24FUo/s400/31qMjz75ZxL._SL500_AA280_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367368628344428050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is something about &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Happy-Clinique-Women-Perfume-Spray/dp/B0002DL29S/ref=pd_sbs_bt_4"&gt;Happy by Clinique&lt;/a&gt; that actually does make me happy. It's citrusy and summery and refreshing and whenever I wear it I feel alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sny4Aq5V6DI/AAAAAAAAALo/XnETuikaakk/s1600-h/pro_pii_101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 244px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sny4Aq5V6DI/AAAAAAAAALo/XnETuikaakk/s400/pro_pii_101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367367177573099570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Haagen Dazs Pistachio ice cream is delicious. Nothing really more to say. It's just yummy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sny9KF6y_eI/AAAAAAAAAMA/BhwFr_ps3Ek/s1600-h/tomato_heirloom300w.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 370px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sny9KF6y_eI/AAAAAAAAAMA/BhwFr_ps3Ek/s400/tomato_heirloom300w.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367372837003918818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had an amazing heirloom tomato salad this week from my favorite cafe--fresh, local garden tomatoes, shaved red onion, avocado, lettuce, olives, and a tasty vinaigrette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnzA_uh4JII/AAAAAAAAAMY/hppuvRrINXk/s1600-h/br665111-00p01v01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 345px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnzA_uh4JII/AAAAAAAAAMY/hppuvRrINXk/s400/br665111-00p01v01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367377056973202562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes. Fall shoes are in the house already and I'm coveting these &lt;a href="http://bananarepublic.gap.com/browse/product.do?cid=13384&amp;amp;vid=1&amp;amp;pid=665111&amp;amp;scid=665111002"&gt;Banana Republic booties&lt;/a&gt;. Love. Love. Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-6387802194607457975?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/6387802194607457975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/25-friday-favorites.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6387802194607457975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6387802194607457975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/25-friday-favorites.html' title='25. Friday Favorites'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Ef0aqd7shDY/SnyEzhziciI/AAAAAAAAAAc/dHJCrOpYTWI/s72-c/arts-julie-and-julia-584.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-3405406940061979309</id><published>2009-08-06T20:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T21:56:29.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>24. Proust Questionnaire</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnuwJ2gePlI/AAAAAAAAALg/36c0mydawQA/s1600-h/2809128736_58dd284f1c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 370px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnuwJ2gePlI/AAAAAAAAALg/36c0mydawQA/s400/2809128736_58dd284f1c.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367077064239103570" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jup3nep/2809128736/"&gt;Katerina 2353&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 1892, Marcel Proust answered a questionnaire that had become a popular party activity. This questionnaire was meant to reveal one's innermost thoughts and feelings. Proust answered the same questions many times throughout his life to determine how his thoughts had changed. Over the years, parts of this questionnaire have been used in interviewing and some questions can be seen on the back page of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Vanity Fair&lt;/span&gt; and by James Lipton on I&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;nside the Actor's Studio&lt;/span&gt;. I thought it might be interesting to answer the same questions that Proust answered at the end of the 19th century. They seem to be just as valuable now as they were then.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Where would you like to live?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On the beach.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your idea of earthly happiness?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sharing a really good meal and a glass of wine with people I love.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;To what faults do you feel most indulgent?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Procrastination, being hard on myself and overlooking faults in others&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who are your favorite heroes &amp;amp; heroines of fiction?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mr. Darcy and Frederick Wentworth; Elizabeth Bennett, Anne Elliott &amp;amp; Marianne Dashwood&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who are your favorite heroes &amp;amp; heroines in real life?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Firefighters, Sully Sullenberger, Christiane Amanpour &amp;amp; other journalists, Mother Teresa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your favorite painters?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Georgia O'Keefe, Edgar Degas, John Currin, Amadeo Modigliani, Auguste Renoir, Jackson Pollack &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your favorite musicians?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Bruce Springsteen, Coldplay, Ingrid Michaelson, The Fray, Anna Nalick, Maroon 5, Imogen Heap &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The qualities you most admire in a man?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Honesty, tenderness, intellect, an open heart, a backbone, humor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The qualities you most admire in a woman?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Openness, humor, candor, understanding, caring&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your favorite occupation?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Writer&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Who would you have liked to be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Elizabeth I&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your idea of the perfect day? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A sunny one, in a bikini, on a beach chair, in front of the crashing waves...preferably with friends and something yummy to eat&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your most marked characteristic?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Creativity&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What to your mind would be the greatest of misfortunes?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;To never have loved or been loved&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Your favorite color?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sea glass blue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite flower?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hydrangeas&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite bird?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Red breasted blackbird&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite prose writer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nicholas Kristoff, Frank Rich, Jeffrey Sachs&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Favorite poets?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Jane Kenyon, Pablo Neruda, Robert Frost, Sylvia Plath&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What natural gift would you like to possess?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ability to play amazing music--maybe piano &amp;amp; violin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your present state of mind?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Relaxed, reflective, hopeful&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;What is your motto?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When life hands you lemons, make limoncello.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-3405406940061979309?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/3405406940061979309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/24-proust-questionnaire.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3405406940061979309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3405406940061979309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/24-proust-questionnaire.html' title='24. Proust Questionnaire'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnuwJ2gePlI/AAAAAAAAALg/36c0mydawQA/s72-c/2809128736_58dd284f1c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4596011048446989930</id><published>2009-08-06T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-06T20:23:51.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>23. Notes to My Younger Self</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnuaXXbydtI/AAAAAAAAALY/ewRgqqbBADA/s1600-h/1578145976_b182779b0d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnuaXXbydtI/AAAAAAAAALY/ewRgqqbBADA/s400/1578145976_b182779b0d.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367053107160315602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/ale2000/1578145976/"&gt;ale 2000&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I recently read a great post by Danielle LaPorte from &lt;a href="http://www.whitehottruth.com/"&gt;whitehottruth.com&lt;/a&gt; in which she writes notes of advice and wisdom from her 40 year old self today to her 20 year old self back then. I often think about how my life would be different if I had known then what I know now. I guess it's all part of the journey of life to learn a lot of these things at your own pace. Some lessons take longer than others and I'm still trying to work out why I haven't picked up on some major ones yet. But I thought it would be worthwhile to borrow Danielle's idea and write a few notes to that 20 year old who thought she knew it all. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold; "&gt;Notes to My Younger Self&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Eat whatever you want. One day you won't be able to so you should enjoy it all now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Don't give your time, generosity of spirit, love, affection, or body to any man who treats you and your feelings as after-thoughts. Statistics say that there are more than 3 billion men in this world. If one guy is treating you like crap, there are billions of other possibilities for happiness. Don't waste your time. It's precious. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Don't borrow money from friends or family and don't lend money unless you can afford to never see it again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Actions speak louder than words. If a guy or a friend is saying all kinds of sweet or seemingly sincere things and then their actions reflect the opposite, then drop them like a wet frog. The actions indicate what they really think about your relationship. Talk is cheap. People need to show you that they care. If they don't, refer to note #2.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. Ask for what you want. Even if you think you won't get it, ask. It never hurts to go out on a limb for the things you think you deserve. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Believe in your dreams. When we're kids, we think we can be anything--Olympic pole vaulter, President, nuclear physicist, rock star...but as the years go by, we become more jaded...less likely to believe that we can do or be whatever we dream. Don't lose sight of your childhood enthusiasm. It's really important to stay connected to that little kid. That's where all of the truth lies.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. Read more. You'll never regret educating yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Pay attention to your feelings. They really do try to speak to you. We just shut them out and pretend that what we're feeling isn't actually there. Getting in tune with your intuition, your sense that something isn't quite right, the gut reaction to something someone says or does or doesn't do--can be the difference between happiness and constant anxiety.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9.  Be a good friend. Friends are really where it's at. Make new ones, cultivate those relationships, share your feelings with them--even the crappy stuff--, laugh really hard and be there when they need you. Later in your life, your friends will sustain you through thick and thin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Don't get used. Be street smart as well as book smart. Know that there will always be people who want something from you...who want you to do their work or pay their bills...people who want to take credit for your ideas, or justify their behavior by pressuring you to participate in it. Don't buy it. Just as note #5 tells you to ask for what you want, remember that you should also feel free to say when you think someone is disrespecting you or abusing your friendship...make it clear that you don't allow disrespect. Stick up for you because no one else will.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Life is really beautiful. Make the most of your days. Get outside. Go to the beach. Meet friends for dinner. Learn a new language and travel. Think deeply. Breathe fresh air. Let your hair down. Smell the flowers and stick your tongue out when it snows. Embrace each new year as it arrives. Be an active participant in your own life. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. Don't worry so much. There's plenty of time for that once you get married, buy a house, have kids and need to pay a stack of bills...for now, enjoy the freedom of not knowing what is right around the corner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. Stand in your own glory. You don't need anyone's approval to validate your own existence. Wear what you want, read what you like, be friends with good people, no matter how quirky, and don't try to conform to what's cool, seemingly right, or popular. None of those things matter when it's just you in a one bedroom apartment--you need to be able to look in the mirror and say that you are perfect just the way you are.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Take care of your health for the rest of your life. Exercise, eat well, take vitamins, moisturize your skin, wear SPF and avoid sun poisoning. Don't abuse yourself by neglecting your body.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Be the change you wish to see. Volunteer, tutor students, plant a garden, donate your time or money to people less fortunate, create a foundation, be an active citizen...one who makes change happen and who contributes to society.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Allow yourself to cry. Don't put up walls. If you feel something, let it out. Otherwise, it just builds and builds and comes out in other more destructive ways. Have a good cry, preferably with a nice shoulder to lean on, and then wipe away the tears and do something about it. Tears, then action.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Don't take your family for granted. No one will ever love you the way they do. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Look for work you love. You will spend so much of your life working. Make sure that you don't spend it in misery. Find something you are passionate about and create the working life you want. You don't have to spend your years in a gray cubicle overlooking a cemetery (yes, I actually worked at a place like that). Ask yourself what your ideal job looks and feels like and then go out and get it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. Love deeply.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Enjoy every minute of your twenties. They will fly by just as the years following will be gone in a snap. Get to know yourself. Ask yourself what you want. Do daring and exciting things that will later seem outrageous. Love yourself and treat yourself well. Live and laugh and love and learn. As the song says, these are the days to remember but they will not last forever.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4596011048446989930?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4596011048446989930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/23-notes-to-my-younger-self.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4596011048446989930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4596011048446989930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/08/23-notes-to-my-younger-self.html' title='23. Notes to My Younger Self'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnuaXXbydtI/AAAAAAAAALY/ewRgqqbBADA/s72-c/1578145976_b182779b0d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-7113475591875379784</id><published>2009-07-31T12:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T13:12:02.634-07:00</updated><title type='text'>22. Friends</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnNPM4mMu5I/AAAAAAAAALI/y-F6yzulB9g/s1600-h/3189394800_2816551e47.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnNPM4mMu5I/AAAAAAAAALI/y-F6yzulB9g/s400/3189394800_2816551e47.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364718663898020754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/24186584@N05/3189394800/"&gt;flickr artist&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm about to leave on a weekend camping trip with three of my friends. They're the kind of friends you hang out with when you want to be doubled over in pain laughing hysterically or if you want to share something painful and have a good cry. They always guarantee a good time and I'm excited to spend this weekend with them in upstate New York. Friday's are usually dedicated to my favorite things. And so it's apropos that today begins my friends weekend because time with them is what makes me happy and what has sustained me through the last year.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I will be back in a few days to tell you all about the good times. In the meantime, call someone who you value as a great friend and tell them how much they mean to you. It may sound corny but it's always nice to know how much you mean to someone you care about. Never take friends for granted. Call them, send them emails and notes and plan visits. This particular group of girls doesn't get together often but when we do, we make the most if it. Enjoy the weekend, preferably with some good friends.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-7113475591875379784?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/7113475591875379784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/22-friends.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/7113475591875379784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/7113475591875379784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/22-friends.html' title='22. Friends'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnNPM4mMu5I/AAAAAAAAALI/y-F6yzulB9g/s72-c/3189394800_2816551e47.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-8831241146895398138</id><published>2009-07-30T19:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-05T12:27:50.234-07:00</updated><title type='text'>21. Not So Critical</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnM4E9vfyvI/AAAAAAAAALA/UvHyQ5TILBY/s1600-h/2463077384_5a9f2f37b6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnM4E9vfyvI/AAAAAAAAALA/UvHyQ5TILBY/s400/2463077384_5a9f2f37b6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364693239072803570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/65859642@N00/2463077384/"&gt;nkimadams&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why are relationships so complicated? We've got friendships, intimate relationships, family and colleagues. And while each of these types of relationships brings us happiness, they can also cause us a lot of stress. I've been thinking a lot lately about why this is. What is it about some people that causes us frustration or disappointment or anger? Why can't we just let things go sometimes? I think the answer lies in our &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;expectations&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I once had a friend and coworker who continuously let me down. We would make plans and she would cancel last minute or forget all-together. She would procrastinate doing things and then lie to cover her tracks. And in a few instances, during very significant times in my life, she just didn't show up. For many years, I put up with her behavior but, all the while, I was seething inside. Every disappointment led me to make further judgments about her and to create even bigger expectations in my head about what she &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; be doing. I began to only see her flaws. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It took me a long time to realize that she was never going to change. I could not change her because she had no desire to do so. I had no control over what she might do. Instead, I tried to look at the situation from a compassionate standpoint. Rather than asking myself how I could get this person to change, I began asking myself if I could relate to her on some other level. Could I remove my desire for her to be different and just engage with her on a human level--being compassionate, open, wise and humble? When we look at others with an open heart rather than with a critical eye, it changes everything. I found myself wanting to be more understanding rather than judgmental. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sadly, that friendship didn't last. It wasn't because she wouldn't change.  It was because once I was able to truly see her, without judgment or criticism, I was able to determine whether or not we were compatible as friends. When you accept someone for who they are, the answer is right in front of you. It's when you try to change someone that you become confused and unsure. Try not to be so critical. See people in their skin, for who they are. And then you will know.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-8831241146895398138?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/8831241146895398138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/21-not-so-critical.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/8831241146895398138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/8831241146895398138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/21-not-so-critical.html' title='21. Not So Critical'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnM4E9vfyvI/AAAAAAAAALA/UvHyQ5TILBY/s72-c/2463077384_5a9f2f37b6.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4625380697579402336</id><published>2009-07-30T19:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T10:33:06.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>20. Stop Watching Your Kettle</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnMpG8uJxbI/AAAAAAAAAK4/8kPxI4nrOhE/s1600-h/2476113361_8a162dce3e.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnMpG8uJxbI/AAAAAAAAAK4/8kPxI4nrOhE/s400/2476113361_8a162dce3e.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364676780484052402" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/zebraartist/2476113361/in/photostream/"&gt;Anaya&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love the idea of just bumping into your destiny. We can't plan for that next opportunity, we can't forecast when we will bump into Mr. Right, and we don't know what is waiting around the corner. We can't plan for these things--they just happen. And it seems that if we obsess over exactly when and where and who...well, nothing much ever really does happen. It's like the watched kettle. It never boils. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But did you ever notice that when you least expect it...when you're not paying attention...when you're just going about your business in your own way...BAM! There it is. You meet someone new. You get that job opportunity. Something exciting and fresh and unexpected comes your way. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the movie, "Under the Tuscan Sun," Frances Mayes is a recently divorced woman who, by chance, ends up moving to Tuscany, a place she had never traveled to before. Frustrated and depressed by her husband's betrayal and her non-existent love life, she mopes around looking just as down as she feels. Her friends try to counsel her and I love their advice. Signor Martini tells her about the train tracks that were built high in the Alps between Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks before there actually was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built the tracks because they knew one day the train would come. Likewise, Frances' friend Catherine tells her that when she was a little girl she would spend all of her time looking for ladybugs. Finally, she would fall asleep in the grass. When she woke up, she was covered in them. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What is the common theme here? Forget about the things you want so badly you can taste them. Forget about your depression concerning work or love or family. Forget about things or people who are wasting your time. Work on yourself. Build your foundation and what you are seeking will come to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;. Stop watching your kettle. It will never boil. Ask yourself what still needs to be taken care of in your own life to make you feel good and to bring you back on track? Work on your house, your resume, your fitness, your novel. Remember yourself. And focus your life fully on taking care of you. Destiny has an interesting way of just dropping the pieces into place. Take a deep breath. Lie down in the grass. Close your eyes. When you wake up, the ladybugs will be crawling all over you.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4625380697579402336?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4625380697579402336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/20-stop-watching-your-kettle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4625380697579402336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4625380697579402336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/20-stop-watching-your-kettle.html' title='20. Stop Watching Your Kettle'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SnMpG8uJxbI/AAAAAAAAAK4/8kPxI4nrOhE/s72-c/2476113361_8a162dce3e.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-9126628489456653156</id><published>2009-07-28T18:04:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T19:19:44.287-07:00</updated><title type='text'>19. Buy a Lottery Ticket</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm-lGtqfQmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/j1I75eLH9dQ/s1600-h/2517609857_0a3bbf53fa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm-lGtqfQmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/j1I75eLH9dQ/s400/2517609857_0a3bbf53fa.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363687215977153122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26758663@N08/2517609857/"&gt;elsief1&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You know that feeling you get when you're driving and you suddenly realize that you have no idea how you got where you are? You know...like a mini-black out or something? It's as if a period of time in your life just disappeared. I think of this feeling whenever I notice my life getting out of control. With so many demands being put on us it's easy to wake up one day and say, "Wait a minute. How did I end up here? How did I let this happen? How could I not have noticed?"  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was re-reading my copy of "Eat Pray Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert the other day and I came across an amazing passage. Liz describes how life is full of so many things that we have absolutely no control over. These things can sometimes make us feel as though we don't have control over &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;anything&lt;/span&gt;. But then she goes on to talk about &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the things that we do have some say in:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;There are certain lottery tickets I can buy, thereby increasing my odds of finding contentment. I can can decide how I spend my time, whom I interact with, whom I share my body and life and money and energy with. I can select what I eat and read and study. I can choose how I'm going to regard unfortunate circumstances in my life--whether I will see them as curses or opportunities (and on the occasions when I can't rise to the most optimistic viewpoint, because I'm feeling too damn sorry for myself, I can choose to keep trying to change my outlook). I can choose my words and the tone of voice in which I speak to others. And most of all, I can choose my thoughts." &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I found that to be such a simple concept but deeply profound. When you feel as though everything around you is spinning out of control, take a deep breath and remember that there are so many things you can take charge of...so many things that you can do to make your life happier, more fulfilled, peaceful, and healthier. So the next time you're frustrated with someone's actions or words, something that went wrong at work, or a relationship problem, remember that you have a whole suitcase full of lottery tickets at your disposal. Cash one in and take back control of your day.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-9126628489456653156?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/9126628489456653156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/19-buy-lottery-ticket.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/9126628489456653156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/9126628489456653156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/19-buy-lottery-ticket.html' title='19. Buy a Lottery Ticket'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm-lGtqfQmI/AAAAAAAAAKw/j1I75eLH9dQ/s72-c/2517609857_0a3bbf53fa.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4217547666637401272</id><published>2009-07-28T13:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T14:58:31.880-07:00</updated><title type='text'>18. Leading Lady</title><content type='html'>I love the movie "The Holiday." Not because it's the best movie ever made or because it deserves an Oscar for best actor. I love it because of Kate Winslet's character, Iris. I could so relate to her and her struggle to take back her life. She's a good person who tends to act like a bit of a doormat at times. This clip is one of my favorite scenes from the film and regardless of whether or not you've seen it, I'm sure that you can relate to not quite feeling like the Leading Lady of your own life at one time or another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lryug3Mlv7Q&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lryug3Mlv7Q&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;That is &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so&lt;/span&gt; right! No one wants to be the "best friend." The one who gets taken advantage of. The one who sits at home pining after someone who doesn't love them back. The one who doesn't ask for what she wants. The one who repeatedly gets ignored or passed over because she's so meek and mild that no one notices her. So what does it mean to be the leading lady of your own life? I've been thinking a lot about this lately. And I've come up with a few parameters that I think fit the leading lady persona, or at least what I would like it to be.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Say what you mean. &lt;/span&gt;Often, the best friend type will simply skirt the issue or avoid the topic because it's uncomfortable or because we don't like conflict. Don't make waves and everyone will like you. Well, screw being liked. It's overrated. It's better to say what you mean, tell them what you want, ask for what you think you deserve and then be prepared to offer evidence as to why you're right. Even if you're challenged, stick to your convictions. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Show confidence. &lt;/span&gt;This can be easier said than done. A lot of times, we walk into situations where we feel intimidated or nervous. But I like to advise people to "fake it until you make it." Just close your eyes and imagine that you are the most desirable, intelligent, capable and worthy woman. What does she look like? How does she act? What does she say? How does she sit? How does she walk? Head down, pouty face, wearing sneakers? Or head held high, smiling, glowing and looking polished? Mimic someone who you admire. Call on the spirit of Grace Kelly or Jackie O and fake it until you make it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Don't settle. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style=""&gt;When we lack the confidence of a leading lady, we're apt to settle for less than we deserve. That means we might date a man who is an emotional nitwit and who can never give us what we want. It might mean that we settle for less of a raise than we earned at our job. Or maybe we allow a friend to continue to abuse us or take advantage by borrowing money and never repaying or saying rude things without question. It might mean we don't go for what we want out of fear. Don't settle for anything less than what you truly desire. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Practice the art of self-indulgence. &lt;/span&gt;Women, in particular, have a very hard time with this one. But ponder it for a bit. Think of a woman who you admire--one who really knocks your socks off with her wit, and charm, her humor, her style, her body, her accomplishments. Then tell me--does she neglect herself? Probably not. All of the women that came to my mind seem to do a pretty good job of taking care of their minds, bodies and spirits. Only when you bring these things into balance and make yourself a priority can you be a leading lady. Take care of yourself and both you and others will notice a big difference. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm9xleiqcPI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/JIxru8cY1RQ/s1600-h/grace.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 176px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm9xleiqcPI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/JIxru8cY1RQ/s400/grace.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363630569889100018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Grace Kelly&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Think about the movie of your life. When the credits roll, who is leading the show? Is it you? Or your spouse? Your children? Your ex? Some other person who should simply be an extra? Shouldn't you be the leading lady of your own life? I mean, you only get one. Take advantage of it. Live it up. Enjoy life. And make yourself the priority.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4217547666637401272?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4217547666637401272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/18-leading-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4217547666637401272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4217547666637401272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/18-leading-lady.html' title='18. Leading Lady'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm9xleiqcPI/AAAAAAAAAKQ/JIxru8cY1RQ/s72-c/grace.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-16339417660262912</id><published>2009-07-28T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T15:49:04.067-07:00</updated><title type='text'>17. Row Your Own Boat</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm9oREA8afI/AAAAAAAAAKI/wU1toXJHvNw/s1600-h/3629445521_1ae1308da8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm9oREA8afI/AAAAAAAAAKI/wU1toXJHvNw/s400/3629445521_1ae1308da8.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363620323566316018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/craigyc/3629445521/"&gt;Craigyc&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;We're a busy society--we have family, friends, commuting, lots of work, bills, and stress. It's tiring just listing all of it. All of these things zap our energy and can leave us feeling totally spent. It's at times like this--when you're crawling to your bed at night and drooling on yourself as you doze off at work--when you think there's absolutely no extra time left in the day for &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;. I know myself. Generally it's been my pattern that when I'm stressed about something or overwhelmed with too many projects, my own self-care goes to the bottom of the to-do list. Pedicure? Nope. Bubble bath? Nah! Eat those three square meals and take a multi-vitamin? No time for that. All of the things that would normally make me feel good and energized and pretty go out the window. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;When I first separated from my ex, I spent a few weeks in what I will call an induced coma. I was definitely awake and I could hear you if you spoke to me but other than that I was probably in a fog. I was confused, disoriented, stressed, and sad. I didn't know what direction to turn or what to do first. So I did nothing. And then I kept doing nothing but the bare minimum of getting to work and getting home. That went on for a few more weeks. But then I had that light bulb moment--you know, the one where you ask yourself, " Self, are you a moron?" I realized that I was allowing the situation of my separation to take control of me. I was a little boat in a vast ocean with no oars being pushed and pulled violently in many directions. I needed to grab back my oars and start rowing, dammit.   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And row I did. I vowed that I would get up every morning without fail, shower, and get dressed into something that made me feel sexy (Thank God for the invention of the push-up bra). I remembered something Sarah Ban Breathnach said in her book, "Romancing the Ordinary," about the power of scent and I started spraying perfume, not only on my neck and wrists, but also behind my knees. Trust me. It makes you feel good. I experimented with makeup and got a new haircut. I started going to yoga classes and eating better. And I went out with friends every week to laugh or see a movie or have dinner. I started rowing my own boat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I opened up my own bank account (Nope. Didn't have one. Gave it up when I got married). I started going out alone--to movies, to dinner, for walks. I wrote in a journal, went for long drives along the beach and listened to upbeat dance music. I joined a photography class. I was rowing. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Time passed quickly and I feel stronger. I know that it's because I've been taking much better care of myself. I've been trying to focus on &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what I want&lt;/span&gt; as opposed to what someone else wants me to do or how they want me to be. I'm done with that. Rowing your own boat doesn't mean that you're alone. It just means that you can take care of yourself. And you know it. It means that you have the confidence to steer for yourself--to make the tough choices and the hard calls. It means not allowing others to influence you negatively. It means understanding that you have power. Take control of your oars. Steer your own course. Row your own boat.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-16339417660262912?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/16339417660262912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/17-row-your-own-boat.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/16339417660262912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/16339417660262912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/17-row-your-own-boat.html' title='17. Row Your Own Boat'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm9oREA8afI/AAAAAAAAAKI/wU1toXJHvNw/s72-c/3629445521_1ae1308da8.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-3662221891790934032</id><published>2009-07-26T17:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T20:10:31.270-07:00</updated><title type='text'>16. Weekly Favorites</title><content type='html'>My weekly favorites are coming a bit late but that works out because this weekend was filled with a lot of revelations and that means new things to share. Hope you enjoy!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smz9BN2lUvI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/yL09c-4UIIA/s1600-h/marsh_L.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 162px; height: 200px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smz9BN2lUvI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/yL09c-4UIIA/s400/marsh_L.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362939453631714034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I LOVE &lt;a href="http://www.vosgeschocolate.com/"&gt;Vosges&lt;/a&gt; chocolates. But I especially love these Caramel Marshmallows. Dark chocolate, homemade marshmallows with Madagascar bourbon vanilla beans, caramel toffee and grey sea salt. Delicious!!!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0CfEiEfZI/AAAAAAAAAJg/xkzRFVfeKaY/s1600-h/41HNnQdC43L._SS500_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0CfEiEfZI/AAAAAAAAAJg/xkzRFVfeKaY/s400/41HNnQdC43L._SS500_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362945464083971474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I always get into the shower in the morning feeling a little groggy, not quite like waking up just yet from my slumber. But as soon as I open this &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000V5PC3Y"&gt;Pink Grapefruit Splash&lt;/a&gt; body wash, I feel a jolt of energy. It's citrusy and vibrant and filled with moisturizing beads. Stock up on a few bottles. You'll go through them like wild fire.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0HJV3VE6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/Eg4H8y4PXss/s1600-h/38699915.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 185px; height: 185px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0HJV3VE6I/AAAAAAAAAJo/Eg4H8y4PXss/s400/38699915.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362950588337558434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love songs that make me want to dance, that leave me humming that tune and that make me happy, happy, happy. &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/E-N-D-Energy-Never-Dies/dp/B00192IV0O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=music&amp;amp;qid=1248659631&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;The E.N.D.&lt;/a&gt; (Energy Never Dies) is the new album from The Black Eyes Peas and it does all of those things--whether it's "Boom Boom Pow" or "I Gotta Feeling," I've been singing from this album all summer. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0Mu5FmPOI/AAAAAAAAAJw/vXeGdYqs71A/s1600-h/15309410.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 180px; height: 280px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0Mu5FmPOI/AAAAAAAAAJw/vXeGdYqs71A/s400/15309410.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362956731005943010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I assigned my writing class an essay entitled 'Wisdom" from the book &lt;a href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Infinite-Life/Robert-Thurman/e/9781594480690/?itm=1"&gt;"Infinite Life"&lt;/a&gt; by the Buddhist scholar, Robert Thurman. I was really inspired by Thurman's idea of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;selflessness&lt;/span&gt;. He disagrees with the Western idea that we need to know who we are and what we want to do when we grow up. "If you don't know exactly who you are all the time, you're not sick, you're actually in luck, because you're more realistic, more free, and more awake! You're being too intelligent to be stuck inside one frozen mask of personality! You've opened up your wisdom, and you've realized that 'knowing who you are' is the trap--an impossible self-objectification. None of us knows who we really are. Facing that and then becoming all that we can be--astonishing, surprising, amazing--always fresh and new, always free to be more, brave enough to become a work in progress, choosing happiness, open-mindedness, and love over certitude, rigidity, and fear--this is realizing selflessness."  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0Q-w_rvbI/AAAAAAAAAKA/ruRuEnSFfRk/s1600-h/469911153_dc99c3d5e0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sm0Q-w_rvbI/AAAAAAAAAKA/ruRuEnSFfRk/s400/469911153_dc99c3d5e0.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362961401758072242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/alicemariedesigns/469911153/"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;alicemariedesign&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This weekend was the &lt;a href="http://www.balloonfestival.com/"&gt;New Jersey Festival of Ballooning&lt;/a&gt;. There's something about these beautifully colorful balloons and the idea of floating in a basket in the clouds that makes me swoon. Love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-3662221891790934032?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/3662221891790934032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/16-weekly-favorites.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3662221891790934032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3662221891790934032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/16-weekly-favorites.html' title='16. Weekly Favorites'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smz9BN2lUvI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/yL09c-4UIIA/s72-c/marsh_L.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-7072167831022620738</id><published>2009-07-26T07:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T07:33:31.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'>15. Do Nothing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxo84RBdfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/b9j2Du0c3D0/s1600-h/30839021_376900a5d2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxo84RBdfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/b9j2Du0c3D0/s400/30839021_376900a5d2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362776651396642290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/emdot/30839021/"&gt;Emdot&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know a lot of people who think the idea of doing nothing is sacrilege. You need a to-do list, you need to check off items, you need productivity, you need stress. It's part of life. But I think one of the best things we can do for ourselves is to take a mini-vacation from our usual routine. Sunday always seem to be the best day for this kind of thing. When I think of Sundays, I see the New York Times and a cup of tea, staying in your p.j.'s until noon, making some yummy breakfast like pancakes or scrambled eggs and enjoying whatever the day brings. If that sounds like a crazy, out-there proposal, then you are one of the ones who truly needs it the most. I call it my Lazy Head Mazy day...just going with the flow, relaxing and doing what makes you feel good.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm a bit of a Maroon 5 fan and they have this song called Sunday Morning that just sums up that relaxed, laid-back, convertible-with-the-top-down feeling. Listen and get lazy.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWsfrHvUMZM"&gt;"Sunday Morning"&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-7072167831022620738?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/7072167831022620738/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/15-do-nothing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/7072167831022620738'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/7072167831022620738'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/15-do-nothing.html' title='15. Do Nothing'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxo84RBdfI/AAAAAAAAAJA/b9j2Du0c3D0/s72-c/30839021_376900a5d2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-2330359983617339829</id><published>2009-07-23T12:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-31T10:29:32.211-07:00</updated><title type='text'>14. Dream Space</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxbImh7G9I/AAAAAAAAAIo/fdf2IFY350M/s1600-h/image_thumb%5B3%5D.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxbImh7G9I/AAAAAAAAAIo/fdf2IFY350M/s400/image_thumb%5B3%5D.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362761459631332306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;This summer in New Jersey has generally been pretty wet and gloomy. I love the rain but too many days in a row of darkness and anyone could start to feel a bit down. Instead of dwelling on the murkiness of it all, I decided to start day dreaming about the home I know is going to be in my future very soon. It wasn't until after I moved out of the house I shared with my ex that I realized it didn't represent me at all. The furniture and the colors and the design--none of it was really who I think I am. Certainly not who I think I am &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;now&lt;/span&gt;. And so I decided to create an illustrated book of my dream space. Something to look forward to and a place where I can work out what my own style actually is.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxaszq5eUI/AAAAAAAAAIY/LfSBJXhkfsA/s1600-h/3-blue-livingroom-1007_xlg_thumb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxaszq5eUI/AAAAAAAAAIY/LfSBJXhkfsA/s400/3-blue-livingroom-1007_xlg_thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362760982122297666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love going through magazines and websites to find design inspiration and I usually clip and save pictures that make me feel happy. Over the course of the last few months, I've realized that my style is light and bright and white. I love comfy couches that you can sink into and fresh flowers.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxagVabt-I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8XaIRT2RslI/s1600-h/hosl03_somethingsgottagive.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 331px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxagVabt-I/AAAAAAAAAIQ/8XaIRT2RslI/s400/hosl03_somethingsgottagive.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362760767841744866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I fell in love with the set design for the movie "Something's Gotta Give." Most of the action takes place at a Hampton's beach house decorated much like all of the photos in this post. Comfy, loungy, beachy but sophisticated. I realized that this is my style. But for years, I had been living in the exact opposite type of space. I love being surrounded by books--this image from SGG's set is the perfect corner nook for me. Two chairs, a good reading lamp, a table to put my tea on and shelves lined with books.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxaW7drRPI/AAAAAAAAAII/Z1D0Q5OLDsQ/s1600-h/kitchen1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 260px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxaW7drRPI/AAAAAAAAAII/Z1D0Q5OLDsQ/s400/kitchen1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362760606257202418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love the idea of an all-white kitchen. It's so clean and fresh and bright. It makes me happy just looking at it. And those floors. Gorgeous.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxZ48LIrzI/AAAAAAAAAIA/NTh7IpKgBoA/s1600-h/arsl01_hagan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 331px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxZ48LIrzI/AAAAAAAAAIA/NTh7IpKgBoA/s400/arsl01_hagan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362760091051798322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My favorite color is blue--sea glass, hydrangeas, the sky, deep water, nautical stripes. And so I like the idea of a lot of white punctuated by blue accents like the pillows and flowers here. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxZzbMPTsI/AAAAAAAAAH4/ELhcyw8K57w/s1600-h/arar01_hagan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxZzbMPTsI/AAAAAAAAAH4/ELhcyw8K57w/s400/arar01_hagan.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362759996298710722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The nautical inspiration here is really nice and I love the woodwork on the foreground chair.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxhno7XzNI/AAAAAAAAAI4/wTu3lAnqHT0/s1600-h/ericas-study-desk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smxhno7XzNI/AAAAAAAAAI4/wTu3lAnqHT0/s400/ericas-study-desk.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362768589920652498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As a writer, I really appreciated the study space of Diane Keaton's character, Erica Barry. The windows look out on the ocean. A fresh breeze, french music playing, lots of light and very comfortable. A close-up view of her old, antique, wooden desk--piled with research papers and manuscripts, flowers and fun objects. And the view of the dune grass and the ocean beyond. The perfect work space. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxbBQI_XgI/AAAAAAAAAIg/pS2VR2S1TwY/s1600-h/image12_thumb.png"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxbBQI_XgI/AAAAAAAAAIg/pS2VR2S1TwY/s400/image12_thumb.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362761333362089474" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The beautiful light shining through the windows here is perfect. I also think artwork can make a room and this painting of a house on the shore is simple but powerful with its color palette. The painting below is also from the film "Something's Gotta Give." It's by an amazing artist names &lt;a href="http://kentonnelson.com/"&gt;Kenton Nelson&lt;/a&gt; who paints with a very vintage feel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxZcoCBNVI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Ujg3EbTRqA8/s1600-h/nel046-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 325px; height: 325px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxZcoCBNVI/AAAAAAAAAHw/Ujg3EbTRqA8/s400/nel046-1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5362759604608513362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So these are just a few of the many images that I've collected in my search for my own dream space style. I think it's coming together. But I'd like you to ask &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;yourself&lt;/span&gt; if you're living in your dream space or just a space. If you think you've lost a sense of what your own style really is, start looking through magazines for inspiration and clip what looks good. Keep a file or glue the images into a blank book and see if any patterns start to emerge. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Charlotte Perkins Gilman said, "The home is the centre and circumference, the start and the finish, of most of our lives." Remember that your home should embrace you when you come into it. It should make you feel warm and relaxed and inspired. But your house can't do it alone. &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You&lt;/span&gt; need to know yourself and the things that make you happy in order to incorporate them into your surroundings. Take some time to illustrate your space. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-2330359983617339829?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/2330359983617339829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/14-dream-space.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2330359983617339829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2330359983617339829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/14-dream-space.html' title='14. Dream Space'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmxbImh7G9I/AAAAAAAAAIo/fdf2IFY350M/s72-c/image_thumb%5B3%5D.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-4093881450786531408</id><published>2009-07-23T11:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-26T06:05:45.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>13. Laugh!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smi7B1v2d5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/N3WwVxgPfyw/s1600-h/1342323378_193a25fc63_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smi7B1v2d5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/N3WwVxgPfyw/s400/1342323378_193a25fc63_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361740996666619794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/pinksherbet/1342323378/"&gt;Pink Sherbet Photography&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people that know and love me get a glimpse of someone who is a total goof ball. I love to tell jokes and funny stories and laugh until I double over in pain. I like little laughs and big huge ones. I love laughing with friends while talking about old times or with my family about something hilarious that one of us does at the dinner table. I love laughing with strangers at the movies or with my students during class discussions.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd like to think that I laugh as often as I can. But life can sometimes drop a lot of speed bumps on our path and laughing might seem like the last thing you want to do. Voltaire said, "God is a comedian, playing to an audience too afraid to laugh." There are some situations that are simply not funny and don't warrant hysterical fits of giggles. But there are also times when things are serious and we &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;should&lt;/span&gt; laugh. Laughter can be some powerful medicine. Letting go and allowing ourselves to just enjoy the moment and each other can be so freeing. Stop over-thinking, have a glass of wine and get silly. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Laugh and when you're done, laugh some more. No one on their death bed ever said, "Gee, I wish I hadn't laughed so much. That was a bummer. Should have done some more work or something." I came across this wedding video online and thought that it summed up the idea of play, of fun and of just having a good time. This couple clearly understands that no situation is so serious that it can't include laughs. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4-94JhLEiN0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4-94JhLEiN0&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-4093881450786531408?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/4093881450786531408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/13-laugh.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4093881450786531408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/4093881450786531408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/13-laugh.html' title='13. Laugh!'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Smi7B1v2d5I/AAAAAAAAAHo/N3WwVxgPfyw/s72-c/1342323378_193a25fc63_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-431862243383576731</id><published>2009-07-21T17:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T19:18:48.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>12. Perspiration</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZtO3DN2jI/AAAAAAAAAF4/s6WkpZc6qyU/s1600-h/IMG_1242.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZtO3DN2jI/AAAAAAAAAF4/s6WkpZc6qyU/s400/IMG_1242.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361092508494191154" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On Saturday, Helen took me to Philadelphia's &lt;a href="http://www.philadelphiasmagicgardens.org/"&gt;Magic Gardens&lt;/a&gt;, which are not quite gardens at all but a building and adjacent yard covered in mosaic installations--walls, ceilings and floors. &lt;a href="http://www.isaiahzagar.org/"&gt;Isaiah Zagar&lt;/a&gt; has been creating art since 1959 when he was 19 years old. He has made it his mission to make the city of Philadelphia into "a labyrinthine mosaic museum." The Magic Gardens is an amazing thing to witness up close. Over the course of 14 years, Zagar worked on this multi-level maze of mosaic--bottles, mirrors, glass, bits of sculpture, fragments of found objects, painted tile work, toilets, wheels, cement, pottery. This was truly a labor of love. And at almost 70 years old, Zagar is still working, producing and teaching workshops. Helen and I are serious art lovers and we were so inspired by this place, this artist and his commitment to Philadelphia and to his craft.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZtlKmaD-I/AAAAAAAAAGA/vFtS1ZGg1OM/s1600-h/IMG_1245.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZtlKmaD-I/AAAAAAAAAGA/vFtS1ZGg1OM/s400/IMG_1245.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361092891699187682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Later, when we left the building and began walking down South Street, we noticed dozens of other local buildings on which Zagar has left his mosaic mark. Some of his works cover whole sides of buildings while others just a doorway or facade. This is clearly his passion. Thomas Edison said, "Genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration." Zagar's work made me remember that this is very true. I often will say that I have writer's block or hear other writers or artists saying that they just don't have that creative spark today. But the truth is that sometimes we have to push past that and just get working. If the perspiration, or actual work, is 99% of the battle, then we really don't have the time or the luxury of saying that inspiration hasn't hit. Maybe we just have to work and the inspiration will come somewhere in the midst of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZudLK4nfI/AAAAAAAAAGI/p_f4h0pWCSI/s1600-h/IMG_1246.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZudLK4nfI/AAAAAAAAAGI/p_f4h0pWCSI/s400/IMG_1246.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361093853924859378" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Here's the challenge. Is there a project or a piece of a project that you've been wanting to work on but haven't yet gotten that inspirational "spark" you were looking for? What if you were to simply say, "So what? I don't have the spark. Big woop? I'm doing it anyway!" Just begin it. Get your hands dirty. Start at the beginning. And just keep working for, say...an hour. Force yourself to write...or paint...or hammer...or film...or click...or sing. Then, when the hour is over, see how you feel. Not necessarily what you produced. But how you feel. Work off of that momentum. Don't wait for the spark. If you do, you're putting your creative life on hold for something that may never show up. The only thing you have control over is that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt; show up--ready and willing to work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZyF4pGH-I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DF7sXPk3ySE/s1600-h/IMG_1252.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZyF4pGH-I/AAAAAAAAAGQ/DF7sXPk3ySE/s400/IMG_1252.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361097851860819938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few more inspirational shots of the mosaic Magic Gardens. Literally every surface was covered. I found the staircases to be really beautiful...up or down any of them and you stepped onto another level or terrace filled with unique images and new nooks and crannies to explore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZyeWrcnNI/AAAAAAAAAGY/hYCR5cOUrk8/s1600-h/IMG_1255.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZyeWrcnNI/AAAAAAAAAGY/hYCR5cOUrk8/s400/IMG_1255.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361098272240606418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Occasionally, you might find something really gorgeous and fully intact stuck into the mix, like this sleeping Buddha. There were also whole lamps, toilets, dolls, bicycle wheels, plates, action figures, and pottery brought back from Zagar's travels.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZy96XhWQI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Fh90qk2TKWE/s1600-h/IMG_1239.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZy96XhWQI/AAAAAAAAAGg/Fh90qk2TKWE/s400/IMG_1239.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361098814396651778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This bottle wall was really impressive. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the light was shining through all of the bottles and reflecting off the mirrored shards. It was a very bright space, both literally and figuratively.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZzQaPP-UI/AAAAAAAAAGo/XBF0lLyhh8s/s1600-h/IMG_1262.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZzQaPP-UI/AAAAAAAAAGo/XBF0lLyhh8s/s400/IMG_1262.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361099132189538626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It really felt like a Wonka Land of mosaic. Every surface was covered. It was actually a bit disorienting at times. At one point, inside one of the indoor rooms, I almost fell down the stairs because I didn't realize they were there. All the mosaics blended into each other making it hard to make out where one surface ended and another began.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZ0yyEILsI/AAAAAAAAAGw/pnqY7qPyKr0/s1600-h/IMG_1251.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZ0yyEILsI/AAAAAAAAAGw/pnqY7qPyKr0/s400/IMG_1251.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361100822212521666" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love this shot of Helen standing in the outdoor jungle of mosaic. I especially love the painted tile phrase that Zagar placed way up in the upper right hand corner of the photo. It says, "Isaiah keeps working." He does. And when the going gets tough and the inspiration fades, keep on working. No matter what. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-431862243383576731?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/431862243383576731/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/12-perspiration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/431862243383576731'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/431862243383576731'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/12-perspiration.html' title='12. Perspiration'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmZtO3DN2jI/AAAAAAAAAF4/s6WkpZc6qyU/s72-c/IMG_1242.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-5721313334232612949</id><published>2009-07-20T17:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-21T17:23:44.082-07:00</updated><title type='text'>11. Things I Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmVCpXhJ8yI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xGAujh4w5DQ/s1600-h/IMG_0852.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmVCpXhJ8yI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xGAujh4w5DQ/s400/IMG_0852.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360764209909592866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I came across a really great post today on Carla Kay White's &lt;a href="http://carlakaywhite.com/"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;. It lists 101 things that she loves. Carla is the creative genius behind the iPhone app &lt;a href="http://happytapper.com/"&gt;Gratitude Journal&lt;/a&gt;. She is also a fellow student in my Unravelling class. And so it was interesting to check out her list of favorites. For today, I thought I would create my own list of things I love. I hope it will inspire you to start one yourself. P.S.--Ignore how many of these items are food-related. I couldn't help myself. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;1. Heavy rain storms&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;2. Pizza with extra cheese&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;3. Beaches with powder white sand&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;4. Snuggling&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;5. The white washed houses on Santorini&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;6. Degas paintings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;7. My brother's crazy sense of humor&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;8. Seeing my words in print&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;9. Learning something new&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;10. Unexpected rainbows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;11. Traveling by car, train or plane&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;12. The Dalai Lama&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;13. The Sunday New York Times&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;14. Starbuck's caramel apple spice&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;15. Broadway shows&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;16. Penne with vodka sauce&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;17. Sunsets on the shore&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;18. Autumn&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;19. Blue glass&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;20. Afternoons spent in the bookstore&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;21. Interior design&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;22. Romantic comedies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;23. A sunny day in a convertible&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;24. A good kisser&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;25. Strawberry shortcake&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;26. My dog Mo and her "smile"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;27. My dad's mustache&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;28. The English Tudor house I grew up in&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;29. Long drives down the coast&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;30. Target shopping&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;31. Ginger Ale&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;32. Tiny babies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;33. Political debates&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;34. Deep conversations until after midnight&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;35. Really good friends and a bottle of wine&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;36. Reading all night to finish a great book&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;37. A beach chair right where the water licks at your feet&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;38. Mysteries&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;39. Shellfish, preferably with butter&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;40. Double chocolate cherry cookies&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;41. Pushing the clocks back&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;42. Being Greek&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;43. The friendship I have with my mom&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;44. Boardwalk hotdogs with mustard and sauerkraut&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;45. Great mentors&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;46. Fireflies and starry nights&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;47. Georgia O'Keeffe&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;48. Masterpiece Theatre&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;49. Jane Austen's work but especially &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Persuasion&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sense &amp;amp; Sensibility, &amp;amp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pride &amp;amp; Prejudice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;50. Savannah, Georgia&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;51. Blank journals and sketchbooks&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;52. CNN's Anderson Cooper&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;53. Sailing on the Hudson River&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;54. Making dinner at home with someone special&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;55. Tickle fights&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;56. Old movies like &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Casablanca&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Holiday Inn&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;An Affair to Remember&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;57. The Barefoot Contessa&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;58. Museums &amp;amp; 19th century European paintings&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;59. Rootbeer floats&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;60. Mount Olympus, Greece&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;61. Goats (I'm a Capricorn)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;62. Beach houses&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;63. Wild Sweet Orange Tea in the morning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;64. Long phone conversations with my BFF&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;65. A little black dress&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;66. My dad's Thanksgiving stuffing&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;67. My white MacBook&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;68. Fresh figs&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;69. Great-fitting tall jeans (I'm 5'11")&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;70. Italy&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;71. Trying new types of food&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;72. Tropical islands&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;73. A new set of colored pencils&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;74. A great haircut&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;75. Falling in love&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;76. Bubble baths&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;77. A good night's sleep&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;78. Meeting new and interesting people&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;79. An English accent&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;80. Beautiful underwear&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;81. Laughing until my stomach hurts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;82. Making lists&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;83. Giving gifts&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;84. Halloween--costumes, cider, crunchy leaves, getting colder, candy, pumpkins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;85. Lively class discussions&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;86. Hand-written notes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;87. Fresh flowers, especially hydrangeas, gardenias, lilacs and purple roses &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;88. Quiet time&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;89. Afternoon naps&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;90. Holiday shopping&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;91. Hosting a dinner party&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;92. Fondue&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;93. Freshly fallen snow&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;94. Wishes&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;95. Freshly folded laundry&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;96. Milk chocolate&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;97. Christmas morning&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;98. Floating on my back in the ocean&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;99. A big full moon&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;100. Gummi Bears&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;101. Not knowing what is around the corner&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-5721313334232612949?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/5721313334232612949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/11-things-i-love.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5721313334232612949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5721313334232612949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/11-things-i-love.html' title='11. Things I Love'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmVCpXhJ8yI/AAAAAAAAAFw/xGAujh4w5DQ/s72-c/IMG_0852.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-3532291123170739129</id><published>2009-07-19T06:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T15:46:51.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10. Hands</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOfTfxEl-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/BSP97qUCmGs/s1600-h/IMG_1231.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOfTfxEl-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/BSP97qUCmGs/s400/IMG_1231.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360303138794674146" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I spent yesterday afternoon with Helen at the Rodin Museum. One of the things that struck me about Rodin is the way he sculpted hands. Even though he used bronze and plaster and marble, he still managed to create life-like hands with veins and wrinkles. They are beautiful. His sculpted hands got me thinking about my own. What they look like, what they do, how important they are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOfn0fDpKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/CYW7i6okv5I/s1600-h/IMG_1270.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOfn0fDpKI/AAAAAAAAAE4/CYW7i6okv5I/s400/IMG_1270.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360303487953642658" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;My hands are fairly smooth. They're just beginning to show some of that elephant wrinkling at the knuckles but, otherwise, they still look young. I have long fingers--the kind that would be great for playing the piano, except that I never learned how. I've been a serious nail-biter my whole life--at this point, a combination of nerves and habit. Recently, I've been trying to kick that little obsession. I bought this yucky tasting polish that supposedly helps nails grow and keeps you from biting. We'll see. The skin on my hands is fairly pale and so you can see the thin blue rivulets of veins trailing over the tops and on the palms. On my right palm, near the bottom is a lone freckle. Life lines run from side-to-side, from corner to corner, up and down, intersecting and colliding. My fingerprints are each unique labyrinthine swirls. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOf7rEW3_I/AAAAAAAAAFA/eLdAEif7-yU/s1600-h/IMG_1227.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOf7rEW3_I/AAAAAAAAAFA/eLdAEif7-yU/s400/IMG_1227.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360303829023121394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the years, my hands have helped to push me to a crawl and then into an upright stance. My hand held the pencil for my first scribbled alphabet. My hands held onto the handlebars and didn't let go. They worked on my first art project and have never stopped creating. My hand waved goodbye as my parents drove away after dropping me at college. My hands helped to hug away my friends' hurt after break-ups and family tragedies. They typed my first resume and reached out to take my diploma. My hand made the sign of the cross as I got married. It also covered the sounds of my sobs as I walked away from my husband. And these days, my hands have been doing a lot of typing, a lot of writing, a lot of holding the camera. A lot of work. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOgieKqD2I/AAAAAAAAAFI/Ua7xVkZajCE/s1600-h/IMG_1229.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOgieKqD2I/AAAAAAAAAFI/Ua7xVkZajCE/s400/IMG_1229.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360304495574781794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What do your hands look like? Are they smooth and pale like porcelain? Or are they rough and full of character? Remember that your hands do a lot for you in a day, a month, a year, a life. Try to trace your history through what your hands have done. It's amazing to see it on paper. Be kind to them--lotion, sunblock, massages, manicures. Because, in a way, you really do hold your history in the palm of your hand. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-3532291123170739129?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/3532291123170739129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/hands.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3532291123170739129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3532291123170739129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/hands.html' title='10. Hands'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmOfTfxEl-I/AAAAAAAAAEw/BSP97qUCmGs/s72-c/IMG_1231.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-2200273127250720012</id><published>2009-07-18T04:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T11:58:02.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>9. Going It Alone</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmKRXiH4AUI/AAAAAAAAAEo/O59sxbMkRVY/s1600-h/2495527132_e6085e8ac1_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 370px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmKRXiH4AUI/AAAAAAAAAEo/O59sxbMkRVY/s400/2495527132_e6085e8ac1_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360006340007166274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/85287163@N00/2495527132/"&gt;skrockodile&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I drive into Philadelphia to visit Helen for the weekend, I try to get in early before rush hour begins on Friday afternoon. But that means that she isn't home from work yet. So I usually park my car and walk to the art museum and spend a few hours there. Or I'll hit a coffee shop in the area, buy myself a chai and wander. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I arrived here in Phili. yesterday afternoon and, instead of my usual spots, I stopped into this great restaurant called &lt;a href="http://www.figsrestaurant.com/"&gt;Figs&lt;/a&gt;. It serves Moroccan inspired food and has a very relaxed BYOB atmosphere. I decided to order a pot of their amazing mint tea. They serve it in beautifully small and delicate glasses. And it smells divine--fresh crushed mint leaves sit at the bottom of your cup and you get an aromatherapy treatment each time you take a sip. I sat at the window looking out at the street and read a book until I got the call from Helen that she was home. It was the perfect "on my own" outing. Once upon a time, I had a huge issue with going anywhere by myself. What will people think if I go to a movie alone? That I don't have any friends who would want to go with me? That I'm a crazy loner? What kind of weirdo goes to a restaurant and has a meal alone? Why not eat my frozen pizza at home without the glares and stares of people who are coupling? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The poet, Edwin Robinson, once said, "For when a woman is left too much alone, sooner or later she begins to think. And no man knows what then she may discover." I've found that my recent solo excursions have given me that time to think--time that has allowed me to ponder so many different things like future goals, creative projects, how I spend my weeks, how I want to nourish my body, how I got here, who I want to spend my time with, the mark I want to leave on this world, etc. Some simple, day-to-day concerns and some big, existential thoughts. But none of this thinking would be possible without alone time. Me time. One of my favorite things is to go to the movies alone. I get to pick the movie &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I &lt;/span&gt;want to see (which most of the time is some artsy fartsy thing that no one else would care to pay money for) and I get to really enjoy the experience in my own way. That's not to say it isn't enjoyable with others but it's just &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;different.&lt;/span&gt; Same goes for eating alone or taking a walk alone or spending the afternoon roaming the bookshop alone or traveling alone. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Julia Cameron, in her book, "The Artist's Way," talks about the importance of filling up the well. She specifically talks about artists and the necessity of taking time &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;alone &lt;/span&gt;to recharge those creative juices. This can only come from solitude, reflection and creating an environment in which you will be able to &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;notice &lt;/span&gt;the beauty around you. The same, I think, can be said for life in general. If we don't set aside sacred time to think about our own desires, ideas, and feelings, these things lie under the surface without a proper outlet. And if we don't fill our well--with new places, people, sights, sounds and tastes--it goes dry. Take some time this week to go on a solo excursion. As time goes on and you begin to feel more comfortable with the concept, I promise you that you will look forward to this special time alone, by yourself and only for yourself.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-2200273127250720012?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/2200273127250720012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/9-going-it-alone.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2200273127250720012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/2200273127250720012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/9-going-it-alone.html' title='9. Going It Alone'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmKRXiH4AUI/AAAAAAAAAEo/O59sxbMkRVY/s72-c/2495527132_e6085e8ac1_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-6203215826551667760</id><published>2009-07-17T08:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-17T11:11:23.371-07:00</updated><title type='text'>8. Friday Favorites</title><content type='html'>So I've decided to finish off each week with a list of my favorite things--books, products, music, exhibits, etc. that have inspired me. Hope it makes you want to explore a bit also. This afternoon, I'm heading to Philadelphia to visit my oldest and dearest friend, Helen. We have a great weekend planned with lounging, food and artsy stuff to fill up the well. Will let you know all about it when I return. In the meantime, TGIF, friends! Enjoy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmCcI_HP88I/AAAAAAAAAD4/aiT3PhjhQ5g/s1600-h/br670570-05vliv01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmCcI_HP88I/AAAAAAAAAD4/aiT3PhjhQ5g/s400/br670570-05vliv01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359455234765616066" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love this &lt;a href="http://bananarepublic.gap.com/browse/product.do?cid=48942&amp;amp;vid=1&amp;amp;pid=670570"&gt;Cordoba tote&lt;/a&gt; from Banana Republic. Something about the slouchy curves that makes me feel laid-back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmCdXQeuVLI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3XkAMqSpdiQ/s1600-h/130_3_medium_01.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 250px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmCdXQeuVLI/AAAAAAAAAEA/3XkAMqSpdiQ/s400/130_3_medium_01.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359456579457275058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These &lt;a href="http://www.henribendel.com/shop/living/signature_10oz_candles"&gt;Henri Bendel candles&lt;/a&gt; are so delicious that you want to lick them! They come in scents like Lemon Verbena, Apricot, Pomegranate, and Peony. My favorite is the Gardenia. A tad bit pricey at $30 but they last forever and make you feel so good. Try them. You'll be hooked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmC4abhl0nI/AAAAAAAAAEI/vNc8AzZ_ML8/s1600-h/roxy_paine_big.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 350px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmC4abhl0nI/AAAAAAAAAEI/vNc8AzZ_ML8/s400/roxy_paine_big.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359486320775647858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This &lt;a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/special/se_event.asp?OccurrenceId=%7B6267CA47-491B-4776-A468-0673F8362B0F%7D"&gt;rooftop exhibit at the Met&lt;/a&gt; is on my must-see list. Roxy Paine has created a wonderland inspired by the human body, trees and industry. Plus an amazing view of Central Park.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmC6FCKwb_I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/VkWPwdv3uU4/s1600-h/250px-Sonia_Sotomayor_portrait.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 314px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmC6FCKwb_I/AAAAAAAAAEQ/VkWPwdv3uU4/s400/250px-Sonia_Sotomayor_portrait.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359488152214990834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching some of the confirmation hearings this week for the new Supreme Court justice and I've been so impressed with &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonia_Sotomayor"&gt;Sonia Sotomayor&lt;/a&gt;. She is eloquent, strong and very well-qualified. I was proud of her as she fielded questions from Democrats &amp;amp; Republicans alike. She hasn't faltered. Nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmC8_1Xh2fI/AAAAAAAAAEg/2sGUF7Ik1Uo/s1600-h/karsh-georgia-okeeffe-1956.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmC8_1Xh2fI/AAAAAAAAAEg/2sGUF7Ik1Uo/s400/karsh-georgia-okeeffe-1956.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359491361414437362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading a biography of the artist, &lt;a href="http://www.okeeffemuseum.org/"&gt;Georgia O'Keeffe&lt;/a&gt;, after seeing some of her work at the National Gallery. She was an amazing woman. I especially fell in love with the idea of going to New Mexico because of the inspiration she found in the rock formations, bone remnants and badlands there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-6203215826551667760?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/6203215826551667760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/8-friday-favorites.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6203215826551667760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6203215826551667760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/8-friday-favorites.html' title='8. Friday Favorites'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmCcI_HP88I/AAAAAAAAAD4/aiT3PhjhQ5g/s72-c/br670570-05vliv01.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-5106085131088757518</id><published>2009-07-16T19:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-16T19:17:25.438-07:00</updated><title type='text'>7. Sweet Dreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl_dBC2vTMI/AAAAAAAAADo/1IiYtXS5fyU/s1600-h/IMG_0908.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl_dBC2vTMI/AAAAAAAAADo/1IiYtXS5fyU/s400/IMG_0908.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359245091610250434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Last week I really stretched myself thin--between teaching, grading papers, working on developing my late summer and fall courses, and trying to make time for my own writing and photography, friends and family, I was worn out by the weekend. I was sluggish and seriously dragging. I felt a summer cold coming on. You know the kind--itchy throat, aching joints and fatigue that makes you want to pull the covers over your head and forget your schedule. But instead of taking a time-out, I fought it off for the weekend and kept going. I totally ignored what my body was screaming--"Hey, lady! Get a clue! I'm tired and need a rest. Give me a break. I work hard for you. Have some sympathy!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;By Monday afternoon I knew the gig was up. I couldn't even keep my eyes open. And so I did something very uncharacteristic--I took a nap. Yep. I cozied up on the couch with my dog, Mo, and fell into a deep slumber. Anyone who knows me also knows that I'm not a nap person. I always thought naps took valuable time from the to-do list that needed to get done and made you even sleepier for the rest of the day. And so I always resisted nap time. But I'm starting to understand why the afternoon siesta is one of the most revered traditions in many countries. A nap can leave you feeling refreshed and can give your body the rest it so desperately needs. This whole week, in fact, has been a sleep fest. I've taken a cue from Mo, who is a great role model for sweet dreams. She plays when she wants to play, drinks when she's thirsty and will lay down &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;upside down like a human&lt;/span&gt; whenever she wants to catch some Z's. I love when her droopy eyes close and she quietly begins to snore. She certainly takes care of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;her&lt;/span&gt; needs. Mind you, she doesn't have quite the same bills and responsibilities that we all do but I think we could learn something from her.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Martha Graham once said, "The body never lies." With all of the hustle and bustle we go through in a week, it can be hard to hear the quiet voice of desperation that might be coming from your own body. But if you find yourself feeling tired, worn out or mentally drained, listen to the voice that is pleading with you to take a rest. Curl up in your bed, even if it's for a short time, and reenergize. What I realized is that all of those to-do list items--my class plans, my writing, spending time with people I love--won't &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "&gt;ever&lt;/span&gt; get done if I get sick or neglect my health. Better to institute some preventative care, buy yourself some "health insurance" and start napping. Don't thank me. Thank Mo.    &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl_d8a91eJI/AAAAAAAAADw/N286sEJu6R0/s1600-h/IMG_1077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl_d8a91eJI/AAAAAAAAADw/N286sEJu6R0/s400/IMG_1077.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359246111694747794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-5106085131088757518?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/5106085131088757518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/7-sweet-dreams.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5106085131088757518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5106085131088757518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/7-sweet-dreams.html' title='7. Sweet Dreams'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl_dBC2vTMI/AAAAAAAAADo/1IiYtXS5fyU/s72-c/IMG_0908.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-5295615414185443461</id><published>2009-07-15T13:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-15T15:40:37.777-07:00</updated><title type='text'>6. Journaling</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl5ZcrQ-IBI/AAAAAAAAADQ/I5Ns6mwRH68/s1600-h/329749939_bd73ef8271.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 373px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl5ZcrQ-IBI/AAAAAAAAADQ/I5Ns6mwRH68/s400/329749939_bd73ef8271.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358818955802583058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photograph by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/trumpetvine/329749939/"&gt;Trumpetvine&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I'm inspired by all of the great journal writers I've discovered online in the last few months and so I decided to buy a new journal today. I'm hoping that soon it will be filled with great stories, pictures, bits of paper and lots of color. You may think of journaling as this difficult or depressing practice or maybe you've tried to journal but just couldn't stick with it. I think journaling can be a lot more fun if we just let go of the "rules." Who cares if you journal every day? What if you just filled up your journal with things that made you happy today? Or maybe your journal could be the place where you work out a plan for how you'll start that new business or a place to keep notes about the books you read. Journals can be great "dumping grounds" for all of our grievances but they can also be sacred spaces for our dreams, plans and goals. In the past, I've kept journals about cooking (recipes, cooking classes, &amp;amp; successes/disasters in the kitchen), travel (dream destinations, road trip ideas, beautiful photographs), and art (information about museum trips, exhibits, artists, and new books). Journals can be illustrated, made up of torn paper and magazine clippings, pen &amp;amp; ink drawings, rubber stamping, paint and glue. Or they can be traditional, with page after glorious page of gorgeous handwriting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a run to the bookstore and browse the journals. Which one jumps out at you with its cover design? Is it serious embossed leather? Does it have cartoon characters on it? Maybe it's all about serenity with flowers or waterfalls or Buddha? Is it tiny so that it fits in your purse or pocket? Or perhaps you think the bigger the better for your thoughts and artwork. Whatever it is, choose the one that best fits how you feel right now, the one that brings a smile to your face. Buy it. And then write your first entry immediately, maybe right there in the store or in your car. Make a promise to yourself to not follow rules and to not pay attention to the "right way" of journaling. Instead, doodle, have fun, write what you feel and paste whatever you like into the book. Have fun with it and create your own sacred space for all of those amazing thoughts and inspirations. Here are some of my favorite journals, sketchbooks and writing ideas. Maybe they will inspire you to take your new journal to the next level:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://embers.typepad.com/e/52Q/"&gt;52Q&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://besottment.typepad.com/photos/my_journal/index.html"&gt;Besottment&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Journal-Joyce-Carol-Oates-1973-1982/dp/0061227986?ie=UTF8&amp;amp;s=books&amp;amp;qid=1191847982&amp;amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Joyce Carol Oates&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://adebanjialade.blogspot.com/"&gt;Adebanji Alade&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://inkonmyfingers.typepad.com/ink_on_my_fingers/2009/02/-something-beginning-with-s-.html"&gt;Susannah Conway&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wreckthisjournal.com/?page_id=15"&gt;Wreck This Journal&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://trumpetvine.com/sketchblog/"&gt;Trumpetvine&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-5295615414185443461?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/5295615414185443461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/journaling.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5295615414185443461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5295615414185443461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/journaling.html' title='6. Journaling'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sl5ZcrQ-IBI/AAAAAAAAADQ/I5Ns6mwRH68/s72-c/329749939_bd73ef8271.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-6966389992732352898</id><published>2009-07-14T11:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-14T12:51:40.320-07:00</updated><title type='text'>5. Forget Regret</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlzguASNxZI/AAAAAAAAADA/7gpb2oaJyXo/s1600-h/3360838428_61e12dd65f_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 350px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlzguASNxZI/AAAAAAAAADA/7gpb2oaJyXo/s400/3360838428_61e12dd65f_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358404737619051922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;Photography by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/v1nz/3360838428/"&gt;v1nz&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I've spent a good amount of time over the last year thinking about regrets. What if I had only done what my heart had told me to do? What if I had said no? What if I had stopped myself from saying hurtful things? What if I had actually asked myself what I wanted? What if I had just told everyone to kiss my butt? What if? What if? What if? I eventually felt as if my regrets were giant shackles literally weighing me down. But I've recently been trying to unlock those shackles and rid myself of such a heavy burden. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The writer, Katherine Mansfield once said "Regret is an appalling waste of energy; you can't build on it; it is only good for wallowing in." That image seems so appropriate. Wallowing is exactly right. To regret simply means that we stay fixated in one place feeling sorry for something we can never change. There's nothing to build on. But if we look on past experiences as just that--experience--we can use what we've learned to make smarter choices in the future. And so, I ask you, is there something you've done or said in the past that you've been holding onto with a vice-like grip? Something that, if it were to grow wings and take flight, would leave you feeling lighter and more at peace? If you answer in the affirmative, then here's the exercise: Take that little piece of regret that has been itching you like sand in your bikini bottom and turn it around. How can this "what if" be turned into a lesson for the future? What have you learned from going through this experience that is an asset to you today? Remember, with regret there's nothing to build on. But if you listen to the lessons of your experiences, you create a foundation that nothing can shake.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-6966389992732352898?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/6966389992732352898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/5-forget-regret.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6966389992732352898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6966389992732352898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/5-forget-regret.html' title='5. Forget Regret'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlzguASNxZI/AAAAAAAAADA/7gpb2oaJyXo/s72-c/3360838428_61e12dd65f_m.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-3290480208928936379</id><published>2009-07-13T15:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-13T16:47:23.040-07:00</updated><title type='text'>4. Jersey Girl</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvCu-z4a_I/AAAAAAAAACI/Rv_UoTtpoHQ/s1600-h/IMG_0394.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvCu-z4a_I/AAAAAAAAACI/Rv_UoTtpoHQ/s400/IMG_0394.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358090294077713394" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Over the years, I've heard all kinds of jokes and insults about New Jersey--that it's the "armpit" of America, it smells like a garbage dump, has excessive traffic, and its residents are just like the Sopranos. While I agree with the traffic comment, there are a lot of misconceptions about New Jersey. I find that most people who look down on Jersey are the same ones who have only passed through on their way to New York or who have spent a long layover in Newark Airport. If my only exposure to this state was the Garden State Parkway or the NJ  Turnpike, I would think this place was a hell-hole too.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But I've always loved the Garden State for its diversity--lots of different people and a variety of things to do. Those of you who have never been here probably don't know much more than the fact that we're next door to Manhattan. But we are also known for our beautiful beaches, colorful gardens, horse farms and protected wetlands. New Jersey's northern mountains often surprise people who don't expect to see sharp rock cliffs and gorgeous green valleys. We also have Atlantic City--the casino town that gave its street names to the popular Monopoly board game. We have salt water taffy, boardwalks and the most diners in the country. Our state fruit is the blueberry and our vegetable is the tomato. And rightly so, as we have amazing Jersey tomatoes in the late summer. We are home to the mythical Jersey Devil and we have a rich history as one of the original thirteen colonies. George Washington made his famous Delaware River crossing here during the Revolutionary War in 1776. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvDBtv8RlI/AAAAAAAAACQ/0Wg33FuGW6o/s1600-h/IMG_0352.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvDBtv8RlI/AAAAAAAAACQ/0Wg33FuGW6o/s400/IMG_0352.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358090615915300434" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are always things to criticize if you want to but I've been spending a lot more time lately thinking about what I love about where I live. I try to notice the green everywhere as I'm driving to and from work. I take extra time to head to the beach to watch the waves. And I've been delving into a bit more American and New Jersey history to learn the things I either missed or wasn't paying attention to in grade school. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;What are the things you love about where you live? If you were to "stop and smell the roses," what would you notice about your surroundings that, perhaps, you ordinarily ignore? What are your favorite sights, smells and sounds from your neighborhood? Who do you enjoy seeing? It's worth taking some time to appreciate the place where you spend so much of your daily life. Take some time today to notice the beauty in your everyday surroundings. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvGh6NwB4I/AAAAAAAAACY/mHgQlRniNX0/s1600-h/IMG_0831.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvGh6NwB4I/AAAAAAAAACY/mHgQlRniNX0/s400/IMG_0831.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358094467552249730" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-3290480208928936379?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/3290480208928936379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/jersey-girl.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3290480208928936379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3290480208928936379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/jersey-girl.html' title='4. Jersey Girl'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SlvCu-z4a_I/AAAAAAAAACI/Rv_UoTtpoHQ/s72-c/IMG_0394.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-5378260664578082917</id><published>2009-07-12T17:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-12T18:35:58.066-07:00</updated><title type='text'>3. Try Something New</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Slp-CF5upzI/AAAAAAAAACA/YVkMiPX2oIo/s1600-h/6a00d8341c103953ef01156f73008a970c-800wi.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 120px; height: 120px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Slp-CF5upzI/AAAAAAAAACA/YVkMiPX2oIo/s400/6a00d8341c103953ef01156f73008a970c-800wi.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357733281119774514" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I often say that I plan on being a lifetime student. I have a B.A. and an M.A. in English Literature and, at the moment, I don't plan on working on any other degrees. But that won't stop me from taking a course here and there in subjects that interest me. And that's why I'm so excited! A few weeks back, I registered for a self-discovery e-course led by a beautiful British writer and photographer named Susannah Conway. After days of anticipation, I received a "Welcome" email today and the class officially begins tomorrow. I've been a fan of Susannah's blog &lt;a href="http://inkonmyfingers.typepad.com/"&gt;Ink on My Fingers&lt;/a&gt; for months and was intrigued by the description of her e-course called &lt;a href="http://www.susannahconway.com/e-courses"&gt;Unravelling&lt;/a&gt;. I eagerly awaited the next sign-up date and, luckily, was able to grab a spot. The course combines photography and writing assignments with videos from Susannah and lots of opportunities to chat with other participants from more than 20 countries. I cannot wait to wake up tomorrow to get the first assignment and to explore a little more of &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;myself&lt;/span&gt; through this course.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Which leads me to ask you--is there a class you've been wanting to take but you just haven't gotten the get-up-and-go to sign up? A cooking class? An Italian language course? Maybe painting, business, writing, interior design? Whatever it is, do a bit of research and register for one this week. Or add your name to the mailing list and be the first one to sign up when registration begins. Don't allow fear to get in the way. Even if you haven't set foot in a classroom in decades, don't know the first thing about Mandarin Chinese, or you're afraid of people, don't wait another day to follow a little dream. Do it now. Do it today. Here are a few of my fantasy classes for inspiration:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.patriciawells.com/"&gt;Patricia Wells-Cooking in Paris &amp;amp; Provence&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.internationalculinarycenter.com/food-writing.htm"&gt;The Craft of Food Writing at the French Culinary Institute, NYC&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://bepresentretreats.blogspot.com/2009/06/light-shadow-aboutworkshops.html"&gt;Light &amp;amp; Shadow @ Be Present Retreats&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nationalgeographicexpeditions.com/triptypes/photography"&gt;National Geographic Photography Expeditions&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.italianculinaryacademy.com/courses_scher.htm"&gt;Cooking Classes in Italy&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-5378260664578082917?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/5378260664578082917/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/3-try-something-new.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5378260664578082917'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/5378260664578082917'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/3-try-something-new.html' title='3. Try Something New'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Slp-CF5upzI/AAAAAAAAACA/YVkMiPX2oIo/s72-c/6a00d8341c103953ef01156f73008a970c-800wi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-3299762165772261471</id><published>2009-07-11T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-11T14:12:03.086-07:00</updated><title type='text'>2. Signature Style</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sljqv-o6bkI/AAAAAAAAABQ/9HIZddzCwjY/s1600-h/pfeiffer-02.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 359px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sljqv-o6bkI/AAAAAAAAABQ/9HIZddzCwjY/s400/pfeiffer-02.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357289866746555970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Photos by Mark Abrahams for &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:78%;"&gt;InStyle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every now and again, I question my sense of style. I mean, I think I tend to look put together for the most part. But I gravitate towards the same kinds of things over and over again. I have more black clothes than I know what to do with--shirts, dresses, turtlenecks, shoes, handbags. I wear tailored pants and simple sweaters, fitted jeans with a white t-shirt, a tank watch and diamond studs, but very few additional accessories. And sometimes, when I see a stylish woman wearing a trendy or daring outfit, I wonder why I hadn't thought of that. My style has been called "safe," "cute," and the dreaded, "simple." And for the longest time, I thought those comments were insults. "Simple" does not equate to sexy, stunning or Angelina Jolie. And sometimes you just want to feel like Laura Croft.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the other day, I picked up the July issue of InStyle with Michelle Pfeiffer on the cover. I don't know about you, but I think she is so beautiful, not just for being 51 but for any age. What struck me about her interview was how honest she was about what she is and is not comfortable with, both in terms of fashion and life. She believes that the worst thing you can do is try to be someone you're not. And I totally agree. The photos of her in a classic black dress, a jumpsuit and jeans and t-shirt reaffirmed for me that my style is, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in fact,&lt;/span&gt; a style. Pfeiffer says, "Simple is always best. Some of my favorite items are those that may not look like much on the hanger, then you try them on and they take on a whole new life." I have always been impressed with her classic elegance and her lack of pretension, so I think I'll just take her word for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But all this got me thinking about signature style. Do you have one? If I asked you what it is, what would you say? Trendy and on top of what's hot? Preppy? Beachy? All-American? Bohemian? Punk? Artsy? Maybe you didn't even realize that you don't have a style? Take a little bit of time today to inventory your wardrobe. Just glance around. Anything that you're holding onto because you &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hope&lt;/span&gt; it will fit next year? Or because the 70's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;have to &lt;/span&gt;come back in fashion again? Maybe there are a few pieces that you really like but they make you so uncomfortable when you wear them (too-low jeans, the skirt that rides up when you walk, or the shoes that fall off when you take 3 steps)? Clean house and make sure that everything you've got, whether it's jeans and a t-shirt or a ball gown, makes you feel amazing. Your style should convey something about who you are. If that's the case, what are you putting out there every day? &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Slj9_oKu_7I/AAAAAAAAABw/_ULIJSYB8Wk/s1600-h/061109-pfeiffer3-400x400.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 157px; height: 368px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Slj9_oKu_7I/AAAAAAAAABw/_ULIJSYB8Wk/s400/061109-pfeiffer3-400x400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357311026313232306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-3299762165772261471?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/3299762165772261471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/2-signature-style.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3299762165772261471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/3299762165772261471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/2-signature-style.html' title='2. Signature Style'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/Sljqv-o6bkI/AAAAAAAAABQ/9HIZddzCwjY/s72-c/pfeiffer-02.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8054949409219949007.post-6814518074304891379</id><published>2009-07-10T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-10T13:53:17.611-07:00</updated><title type='text'>1. New Beginnings</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SleFnJHbsrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ZyluprcwbjY/s1600-h/IMG_0414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SleFnJHbsrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ZyluprcwbjY/s400/IMG_0414.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356897189288981170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;The First Year Project was born out of my insane need to feel productive. You see, this past year has been a bit of a whirlwind. Separation, impending divorce, my father's heart attack, a big move, career changes. Everything that &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;could&lt;/span&gt; have happened, did happen in the last 12 months. And I admit it...I became distracted...depressed...idle. And not in the mood to be sharing cups of tea, bon-bons and a chat with the world. But then, in January, I began journaling again after a long time away from personal writing. Since then, I've been adding snippets of lots of different things--story ideas, rants about people I wish I could shoot to the moon, things I'm grateful to have in my life and, surprisingly, the bones of what has become The First Year Project. In one entry, I wrote, "Wouldn't it be great if we could all just press the refresh button on our lives and begin again?" We've all had those days when we think things can't get much worse...and then they do. Or those moments when we want to curl into a ball and disappear or pack up and move to France. But &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"&gt;c'est la vie&lt;/span&gt;, this is not usually possible. What if, instead, we could make small, easily incorporated changes into our lives that would have maximum impact? What if we could, in essence, begin again by changing our outlook on life, trying new things and being a bit more brave? What if we could create our very own first-year-of-the-rest-of-our-lives?&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This blog is meant to be a sort of starting fresh, clean slate, New Year's Resolution list that you can start on any day of the year, at any time. It's a place to come for inspirational ideas, beautiful images and words to make you smile. It should be a bright spot in your day. My plan is to share 365 little gems--things you can do, places you can go, ideas to work from. Sometimes the entries will simply be my musings. But I hope that you will join in conversation with me so I'm not merely talking to myself. Although I've taken to doing that a lot lately, friends would be a welcome addition.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;And so, here we go! Welcome to The First Year Project. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8054949409219949007-6814518074304891379?l=thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/feeds/6814518074304891379/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/1-new-beginnings.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6814518074304891379'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8054949409219949007/posts/default/6814518074304891379'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://thefirstyearproject.blogspot.com/2009/07/1-new-beginnings.html' title='1. New Beginnings'/><author><name>Patricia</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15642739412789288680</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SmTz9l0uWJI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/09Zk20pA4X0/S220/IMG_0985.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_p3QhDCuRfmg/SleFnJHbsrI/AAAAAAAAAAc/ZyluprcwbjY/s72-c/IMG_0414.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
