tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88076924102047125572024-02-20T18:55:44.072-07:00Runaway BoomerStories, observations, random musings, and unsolicited advice from a former executive who ran away from the corporate rat race to redefine her life.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.comBlogger264125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-28051961082305560972014-06-03T11:35:00.002-07:002014-06-03T11:36:11.395-07:00Dye Your Hair Blue (or whatever)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouN7xDR4Yj_OttaQDYN81QYB7z-U-RwiLm8PLsfUxOLWohabdt2a7ahgdUIw3DK76LPQv2JrsjYGm2EuR7uQgtmVg7b8xgFxundLM3hbPwXCpPvdzRAzmHrLJOtnylpAwsqSzs753Xrs/s1600/Blue+Hair+Girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjouN7xDR4Yj_OttaQDYN81QYB7z-U-RwiLm8PLsfUxOLWohabdt2a7ahgdUIw3DK76LPQv2JrsjYGm2EuR7uQgtmVg7b8xgFxundLM3hbPwXCpPvdzRAzmHrLJOtnylpAwsqSzs753Xrs/s1600/Blue+Hair+Girl.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a>I now have a neon blue streak in my hair. Why? Because ever since I retired six years ago, I've wanted to<i> </i>do something a little crazy that I never would have done while I was working in a corporate environment. And why not blue hair? Why the hell not? People will think it's weird? Don't care. I might not like it? It's semi-permanent and will wash out over the coming weeks. It's not a color that occurs in nature? See the flowers behind me in the photo - they're almost a perfect match. I'm too old for such silliness? Hogwash.<br />
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How long SHOULD we wait to indulge ourselves and take action on the stuff of our daydreams and urges? I don't want to wait until it's too late. Having a life-threatening illness 12 years ago was a rude kick in the pants - a reminder that our futures are not ensured. Every day, everywhere, tragedy strikes when we least expect it. As far as we know, we only have one life to enjoy, and we should do it up right. Big, Bold, Active, and Out There. That's what I think.<br />
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How does this translate beyond my seemingly insignificant hair color? That depends on you, and your deepest desires, regrets, hankerings, and niggling unrequited daydreams. Those shouldn't always end up at the bottom of your priorities, to be done sometime in the future "when I have time", "when I am more fit", or "after". Beware of those words. Sometimes you have to pursue joy.<br />
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Other enriching things I have enjoyed since my attitude adjustment:<br />
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<i>Bollywood Dance Class</i></div>
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<i>Trip to Italy & Greece</i></div>
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<i>Four years living in the heart of Chicago</i></div>
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<i>Tour of southern England</i></div>
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<i>Singing with Prescott's Sweet Adelines</i></div>
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<i>Becoming a Golfer</i></div>
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None of these were earth-shattering or weird, but I certainly could have come up with good reasons not to do any one of them. (Fear, Expense, Laziness, Embarrassment, etc.) I don't know what's next for me, but I'm thinking...<br />
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Listen to that little voice in your head. It usually knows what it's talking about.</div>
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<br />Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-86117107378720763812014-03-24T10:03:00.001-07:002014-03-24T10:03:33.344-07:00Remembering Norman "Jerry" RobertsLast night, we lost our beloved Jerry Roberts - Mom's only sibling and my only uncle, and a long-time resident of Montpelier, Vermont. He is at peace now after a long battle with a rare illness. Fortunately, his devoted wife and family were there for him all the way. Mom visited just last week. Jerry leaves behind his wife, Elaine, sons Kenneth and Scott, three grandchildren, one great-grandchild, and his sister Dolores Haropulos.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqV41UaTRAS25TEVmbEqvCRb7FEFRc_XbnByak3bgkQeg0gt1v1xSqpPwQrMrpFM_nNB5KLXKGjQcu2IQGP1WuanCZcYwCwqE4W05i7HUlJ333FKyNOzTtqr2mkf83QJWBhNmKrUmPQI/s1600/Jerry+1971.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWqV41UaTRAS25TEVmbEqvCRb7FEFRc_XbnByak3bgkQeg0gt1v1xSqpPwQrMrpFM_nNB5KLXKGjQcu2IQGP1WuanCZcYwCwqE4W05i7HUlJ333FKyNOzTtqr2mkf83QJWBhNmKrUmPQI/s1600/Jerry+1971.jpg" height="208" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uncle Jerry in 1971. This is the way I'll remember him.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Jerry and I shared the special bond of the same birthday, October 27. I will remember him for his good, patient nature, his sense of humor, and his hearty laugh. He was the rock of his family, and I am painfully sorry for the void his passing leaves in the lives of his immediate family.<br />
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Born in 1934, Jerry and big sister Dolores shared the experience of the lean years of the Depression. They enjoyed a modest but cultured life in Manchester, NH, as well as time with their maternal grandparents and childhood friends in rural Vermont. Along with his parents and carpenter grandfather, he helped build the home my mother now lives in on Belmont Street in Manchester. During the Korean War, Jerry served with the Coast Guard. His career was spent in the insurance business, where he had extensive experience in claim investigations. Most recently, he enjoyed his retired life with his wife. The children and their families were close.<br />
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Ron and I will be leaving for the funeral in Vermont. It will be good to see my cousins and to pay our last respects to a wonderful uncle.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-12198450687011215782014-03-13T07:50:00.000-07:002014-03-13T07:50:25.175-07:00Over But Not Out<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WnyTZPYZDSUMlHn_OG8bSVhAg6wPXCY2Q_Gik4XZy-fL2p8FTHnxBaXpeqK82ZldI0to3JGbYukpGtgFJbLSXDf1yCC6bQ9ZwebeI6KPhN7RdkHLChaXLNGRyvbicnnzw4rlpBphNqw/s1600/Last+Blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1WnyTZPYZDSUMlHn_OG8bSVhAg6wPXCY2Q_Gik4XZy-fL2p8FTHnxBaXpeqK82ZldI0to3JGbYukpGtgFJbLSXDf1yCC6bQ9ZwebeI6KPhN7RdkHLChaXLNGRyvbicnnzw4rlpBphNqw/s1600/Last+Blog.jpg" height="320" width="254" /></a>Today is the 5<sup>th</sup> anniversary of my Runaway Boomer
weekly blog. With this, I’ve published 262 posts on a rambling array of subjects.
This has been a wonderful way to express myself; allowing me to explore what’s
in my head and share thoughts and feelings with friends. Feedback has been
rewarding and heartwarming.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My weekly self-imposed deadline was established to contribute some structure and discipline to my personal schedule after
retirement. Given that our post-career life has evolved into a full, busy
mixture of routine and spontaneous fun, I no longer feel the need for this
weekly ritual – in fact, I am beginning to feel a bit stifled by it. My
creative juices flow on their own schedule…not necessarily over morning coffee
on Thursdays.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Runaway Boomer will continue – but postings will be less
frequent and predictable. You will hear from me when something is on my mind
that causes bubble and flow. I will write when, if I didn’t, my
head might explode.</div>
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<br /></div>
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I hope you have enjoyed my blog over the past 5 years. Most
certainly, I have! I’m not sure what’s next… I’ve always wanted to write a
book, but I’m not convinced that I have the required attention span. Maybe
Twitter is more my style. I’m open to where circumstances take me.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Peace</div>
Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-71962408180698675392014-03-06T08:07:00.001-07:002014-03-06T08:07:33.348-07:00Close EncountersI had a handful of opportunities to meet celebrities while working in the hotel business. For several years, the Hilton in Skokie, Illinois hosted entertainers performing at the nearby Mill Run Theatre. After that time, the occasional business trip to Hilton's headquarters in Beverly Hills put me in places where I would have sightings of famous people. Here are a few stories about my favorite close encounters (with photos of how they looked at the time).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5aXeuDrFkbvKcpZMb2Bk-fDLLq7N8fw0rMHhpqT1Mrw02xe8qjIkRUxFUYETe53LjB3xIMy3YtpsowVlYIiQxpDzd1YjqvqslLBFioFUMow3lpZIrQ1ervfr_VXvZkyO4wATzJVhN7E/s1600/Burt_Bacharach_1972.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ5aXeuDrFkbvKcpZMb2Bk-fDLLq7N8fw0rMHhpqT1Mrw02xe8qjIkRUxFUYETe53LjB3xIMy3YtpsowVlYIiQxpDzd1YjqvqslLBFioFUMow3lpZIrQ1ervfr_VXvZkyO4wATzJVhN7E/s1600/Burt_Bacharach_1972.JPG" height="200" width="158" /></a></div>
In the late 70's Burt Bacharach was leading orchestras that played concerts of his remarkable popular hits. Rehearsals took place in our rooftop lounge. Burt gave me tickets to the show, and invited me backstage. He also asked me to play tennis and to go out for a burger, but I was working and couldn't take him up on his flirtations. At one point when we were chatting, I asked how he felt when he heard one of his songs as "elevator music". His response? <i>"That's not my music."</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzU6HHfPwQuf9W-oRA_UPbtaFXtFoNEy7zrYr8_gayd4G2DEf-VaTRRs3_A1dWEKWBzSx1rwgBFth_FLRcyM9LmrrJsvB9tyGgo-qMgfYMnQblVSU7DNkKTkXlbSntcPku0-e93dTErWs/s1600/Osmonds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzU6HHfPwQuf9W-oRA_UPbtaFXtFoNEy7zrYr8_gayd4G2DEf-VaTRRs3_A1dWEKWBzSx1rwgBFth_FLRcyM9LmrrJsvB9tyGgo-qMgfYMnQblVSU7DNkKTkXlbSntcPku0-e93dTErWs/s1600/Osmonds.jpg" height="196" width="200" /></a></div>
The Osmonds booked an entire floor in our hotel. They were all polite, charming, funny, and fun to be around. We had hoards of Donny and Marie fans hanging out in the lobby at all hours. Between rehearsals, the guys got bored. My front office staff met them out on the lawn behind the hotel to play touch football. Somewhere I have a photo from the game that appeared in a local newspaper.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyrbv8t4kMEhp2WNf5TlxAfoDJnqcT4S9XuSAtAhD_e_ECSEYKBGztqkWS0QLWTE-71kXquqHyTqSX9K2nq3WpJd7veznbUrDXNtiRDZu_vjh3_HDxuFPCB-FD5rGUEqdytGKI5Hvcyo/s1600/chita_rivera.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLyrbv8t4kMEhp2WNf5TlxAfoDJnqcT4S9XuSAtAhD_e_ECSEYKBGztqkWS0QLWTE-71kXquqHyTqSX9K2nq3WpJd7veznbUrDXNtiRDZu_vjh3_HDxuFPCB-FD5rGUEqdytGKI5Hvcyo/s1600/chita_rivera.jpg" height="200" width="144" /></a></div>
I checked Chita Rivera into the hotel and told her I had been a fan since seeing her in the original run of "Chicago" on Broadway. Later, I walked through the hotel coffee shop. She was at a table alone (incognito in a scarf and a lack of makeup) and asked me to join her, because she didn't like to eat alone. What a lovely lady.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0i75yU0siXEKHS9sCJbvBwO8PB-SoiJ5dhVltDR8eiGw1MezOP8iOQI3fqh2u8l7lSGWC8ZE3nIEyakHVspagCffy8Xo16MypskNuXWzStNZL1O__3qkxaK4jl59g-zPLQHkiTRITj84/s1600/lou+rawls+08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0i75yU0siXEKHS9sCJbvBwO8PB-SoiJ5dhVltDR8eiGw1MezOP8iOQI3fqh2u8l7lSGWC8ZE3nIEyakHVspagCffy8Xo16MypskNuXWzStNZL1O__3qkxaK4jl59g-zPLQHkiTRITj84/s1600/lou+rawls+08.jpg" height="200" width="157" /></a></div>
Lou Rawls had an amazing voice - whether speaking or singing. When he stayed in our hotel, I would gather his messages and scurry to meet him in the lobby to deliver them. He would say, <i>"Well, thank you, dear"</i> in that VOICE. I was so sad when I heard of his passing in 2006. A kind and talented man.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJvjdjyzgMerxYrgAk4NV15xj5kYjxGTXckJz-B3SJlFxnFAjiLzI2CtIvNMsq2k_BjhPkRXqLNWcMmtuGGWZz9BJz2tykELZQbw91eI2ozjkfinXs_smYTV_XgO3EwKp1cFkk-Pp-gg/s1600/mac_davis_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCJvjdjyzgMerxYrgAk4NV15xj5kYjxGTXckJz-B3SJlFxnFAjiLzI2CtIvNMsq2k_BjhPkRXqLNWcMmtuGGWZz9BJz2tykELZQbw91eI2ozjkfinXs_smYTV_XgO3EwKp1cFkk-Pp-gg/s1600/mac_davis_1.jpg" height="200" width="140" /></a></div>
Remember when Mac Davis had his own TV variety show in the 70's? While he and his band stayed at the Hilton, they were friendly and charming. His guys challenged us to a softball game, while Mac was off doing an interview. Our hotel team won, and on Mac's returned he demanded a rematch. His team won the second game. Mac gave me front row tickets to his show and winked at me during one of his songs. Lifelong fan.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJoLqx1Y56-73SaaqqTiWbZOtAp9HvBF_Pg3IQcEncuCYlSNWo189Nt_eQEMtFs9k6NWgQRlCXldOdfQyhyphenhyphenElJ8f1ZOHpLdu7cQxGo2vgA-KmR6y5XooRCvUneHddNyz-29EAMzeRm7E/s1600/Walter-Payton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJoLqx1Y56-73SaaqqTiWbZOtAp9HvBF_Pg3IQcEncuCYlSNWo189Nt_eQEMtFs9k6NWgQRlCXldOdfQyhyphenhyphenElJ8f1ZOHpLdu7cQxGo2vgA-KmR6y5XooRCvUneHddNyz-29EAMzeRm7E/s1600/Walter-Payton.jpg" height="200" width="146" /></a></div>
For several years, the Chicago Bears stayed at our Hilton on nights before home football games. I met many great football players, but Walter Payton has always been my favorite. He was polite and soft-spoken. The team had a curfew, after which we could not accept phone calls to the players. Walter asked me to put through calls from his girlfriend, regardless of the time. I had to say no. I felt terrible about it. Rest in peace, Sweetness. Your signed photo has a place of honor in our office.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqwmvjFDmu1X9eouH2uv3tSCaoI5q5GPgiBTLw6hLqxM4H9BqaADvMr6sNiKgvXMJqYQ6LEbzA1dWzlh_H1zPrHmFy1naVlXkKz9rhYayJjkzuEhv8rpSNnHt3BIn76s9EVIIwsfL-_s/s1600/Harrison+Ford.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkqwmvjFDmu1X9eouH2uv3tSCaoI5q5GPgiBTLw6hLqxM4H9BqaADvMr6sNiKgvXMJqYQ6LEbzA1dWzlh_H1zPrHmFy1naVlXkKz9rhYayJjkzuEhv8rpSNnHt3BIn76s9EVIIwsfL-_s/s1600/Harrison+Ford.jpg" height="200" width="158" /></a></div>
Oh my, Harrison Ford! To make a long story short, I met Harrison Ford on his front porch in Beverly Hills. (A friend knew the address.) I have shame, but I did get to look into those blue eyes from just a few feet away. Although a bit disconcerted about my appearance, <i>"How did you get here?"</i>, he was gracious about chatting with me for a minute, and provided an autograph. My partner in crime, my sister Althea, drove the getaway car.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-79596568123134046282014-02-27T08:27:00.000-07:002014-02-27T08:27:14.500-07:00"Personal Branding?" Bah!Flipping channels through daytime programming recently, I happened across a talk show hosted by reality television personality Bethanny (Real Housewives of NYC), whose guest was another reality television personality, Omarosa (The Apprentice). The two of them were arguing, noisily and cattily, about their "personal brands" - whose was stronger and better. It was a disgusting display of ego and rudeness and...desperation. They were both losers in that exchange.<br />
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Now imagine any of these memorable people sitting on a talk show sofa promoting their "personal brand": Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne, Elizabeth Taylor. No. Just no. Even with current day personalities, have you heard the phrase "personal brand" coming from the mouths of accomplished people such as Bill Gates, Condoleezza Rice, or Warren Buffett? No.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBWbSvnZvJG9J00kZBwkHHshzhOyT7PRB3l0oX-QTd1o_q-ImNWySFHjv3aUJ_QG-PG70CxTCvfYTvNZ5xGK8sD9Bl8K_HaN6e9ZmPhCSDtS2k9ny0J8LM69zc_-0NaXJBsrOj3TWU-8/s1600/icons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRBWbSvnZvJG9J00kZBwkHHshzhOyT7PRB3l0oX-QTd1o_q-ImNWySFHjv3aUJ_QG-PG70CxTCvfYTvNZ5xGK8sD9Bl8K_HaN6e9ZmPhCSDtS2k9ny0J8LM69zc_-0NaXJBsrOj3TWU-8/s1600/icons.jpg" height="139" width="320" /></a></div>
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I am not adverse to branding. During my career, I worked to create a brand for Hilton's technology. The project was exciting and turned out to be successful. Our team gathered several prestigious awards and Hilton benefitted from the recognition. Branding is an important part of business. Branding sells products and services, attracts investors, and helps build a loyal following.<br />
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Lately, I am hearing more and more nonsensical yammering about personal branding. Too much of it is coming from the people who are trying to create a brand for themselves. Themselves - not a product or a business. Let me give them some advice:<br />
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1. You aren't a brand just because you say you are.<br />
2. You need a good reputation, not a brand.<br />
3. Do some soul-searching about your identity, what you stand for, and how you want to be perceived by others.<br />
4. Stop talking about it, consistently walk the walk, and earn it.<br />
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The phrase "Personal Brand" should be banished. Are you with me?<br />
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<br />Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-83515967924302354462014-02-20T09:39:00.000-07:002014-02-20T09:39:50.684-07:00It's Always Something - GoodJust when one aspect of my golf game comes together - another disappears. It's the great mystery of golf.<br />
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Since starting to play golf regularly about six years ago, my game has improved. My handicap has dropped about 15 points. But it's a case of faltering baby steps forward and, often, a step or two backward. Progress is frustratingly slow. Golf is at the same time a great social pastime and a very personal competition between mind and body. It takes focus, hand-to-eye coordination, discipline, and endurance.<br />
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I'm sure this doesn't sound like fun to some people. But it's hard to communicate the best of this game. There are so many moments that make up a four hour round of eighteen holes:<br />
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Intense anticipation while lining up your drive on the first tee.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">The heady sweetness in the air early on a clear summer morning.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Exhultation when you hit a shot exactly as planned.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">The satisfying sound of impact on your club's sweet spot.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Warm and honest moments with your golf friends.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Eternal hope for that hole-in-one.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Delight at sharing the course with wildlife.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">Expansive views of landscapes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">The scent of turf damp with moisture.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #134f5c;">The belief that "this will be the day" for...whatever.</span></div>
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<br />
So we gladly tolerate body soreness, uncooperative clubs, blow-up holes, bad bounces, water hazards, the occasional snake, cactus thorns in our socks, wind, bunkers, and capricious miscellaneous blows from the Golf Gods. We're on the golf course with friends, and it's all good.<br />
<br />
<i>P.S. I have a lesson today at 11:30, because I can't hit an iron right now to save my life. Tee time for 1:00 with the girls.</i><br />
<br />Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-68022883073535328022014-02-13T12:23:00.000-07:002014-02-13T12:23:22.532-07:00Retirement BrainI forgot this was Thursday - Runaway Boomer blog day - until 5 minutes ago.<br />
<br />
This is one of the risks/blessings of retirement. We don't always know what day it is without a calendar. I have two calendars, yet I still have occasional issues. My phone is my primary resource. Secondarily, we have a lovely Arizona Highways desk calendar that we keep either on the coffee table or the kitchen island.<br />
<br />
Yet here it is, Thursday, and I forgot to write my blog this morning.<br />
<br />
Days of the week are difficult enough, but the date is another thing entirely. I rarely write checks anymore, so don't have that reminder. Thank goodness for my cell phone, without which I would be lost. (Literally lost sometimes, as I use it as a GPS too.)<br />
<br />
There are schedule touchstones, weekly events that usually keep us tuned in:<br />
<br />
SUN: Couples Golf & $2 tacos at the club<br />
MON: Golf with Ron<br />
TUE: Sweet Adelines rehearsal night, and a new episode of "Justified" to watch when I get home<br />
WED: Errands in town<br />
THU: Afternoon golf with the girls<br />
FRI: Happy Hour at Talking Rock's club<br />
SAT: Ron's weekly hike, and when I put fresh sheets on the bed<br />
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The great thing is that we mostly don't care what day it is. We don't have to get up early. We don't have to go to work. After so many years of doing what we had to do, we now do what we want - pretty much when we want to. Woo hoo! Retirement brain isn't so bad.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-46331911799374631182014-02-06T07:46:00.000-07:002014-02-06T08:41:54.386-07:00Ties that Bind<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
As we live our lives, we unconsciously weave a beautiful web of experiences and memories. Other people and creatures pass through; some with no lasting effect - but a few carry wisps of our web into their own. Our life creations become forever entwined. These are the ties that bind us to friends that will always be special.<br />
<br />
My web contains<br />
...the little friend who lived across the street and played in my parents' home<br />
...the high school buddies who bonded at the neighborhood bus stop, in the school library, a class, a rehearsal hall, or a sports field<br />
...the first love who will always have a place in my heart <br />
...the college compatriot I met while becoming the adult I am today<br />
...the work colleague who helped me get my footing early in my career, and the one who teamed with me to accomplish daunting tasks<br />
...the wise and wonderful person who was kind and supportive during a serious illness<br />
...the cherished people who will always be family, regardless of events<br />
<br />
My husband and family share the heart of my web. They, and others, have influenced the design of my life. They are part of who I am.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-42730929250212091162014-01-30T09:10:00.000-07:002014-01-30T09:10:07.416-07:00Let's Make-UpI read an article the other day by a blogger who wrote about wearing make-up, specifically, knowing she looks better with it on, and not believing people who tell her otherwise. Here's the article if you are interested: <a href="http://groupthink.jezebel.com/please-dont-tell-me-that-i-look-better-without-make-u-1509128447?utm_campaign=socialflow_jezebel_facebook&utm_source=jezebel_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow">Please, Don't Tell Me that I Look Better Without Make-up</a>. Although I think the author has lingering issues with a manipulative man, she did make some interesting points on a subject many women consider on an ongoing basis.<br />
<br />
I don't wear make-up every day, but I did when I was working. Once or twice, if I was called into work overnight or on a weekend for a crisis, I skipped this routine. People asked me if I was OK or whether I was ill. That told me something right there. Most people look better with a little artful enhancement of their face and features. The appropriate style and amount of makeup can (and should) vary greatly by age, time of day, and event.<br />
<br />
When I was in junior high school, I asked Mom whether I could start wearing makeup. NO. I regrouped and asked again, several days or weeks later, if I could wear it if you couldn't tell I was wearing any. Mom clearly didn't think that was possible, so said YES. Then I pointed out that I was at that moment wearing very subtle pink lipstick, the thinnest possible stripe of eyeliner, and a wisp of mascara. She had registered none of this until I pointed it out to her. At that age, I had smooth, clear skin, and a natural blush to my cheeks. Nothing exotic was required to make me happy. The little that I did made me feel more confident and helped me fit in with my peers. Those things are pretty important at the age of thirteen. My routine didn't change much through college, although I added some extra drama to my makeup when I had a date or went to a special event.<br />
<br />
By the time I had a career, my wardrobe changed, and make-up felt like part of my professional outfit - my armour, as well as an important part of daily grooming. I had more disposable income, so bought better products, graduating from drug store cosmetics to Clinique and eventually Estee Lauder.<br />
<br />
As I continue to age, I feel that make-up helps me to look my best. My hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes are becoming lighter, and my complexion is more uneven. If I take no steps to enhance my features, sometimes I feel like I am completely fading away! There are days, especially on the golf course, that I don't wear cosmetics, other than sunscreen and lip gloss. Fortunately, all of my friends have seen me this way so I'm not embarrassed. But when I go out to lunch with my husband, or to the Club for Happy Hour, I'll fuss with my hair and face to look my best. It makes me feel better (and younger), and in a way it's a form of respect to my friends. It's also fun.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKqn-JmsLqKvGyt7_UvMrwcyKV1LRCg1LSluPpoB8SouDgNy_R5EN5hRPghRJB2qi6GTETa5k6ub30HC_QGZrxRVFid5thXs7KAi_WlVZhP4bWqBa0r4d8Hx47QBSvmYjHiwLNc7flwg/s1600/With+and+Without.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIKqn-JmsLqKvGyt7_UvMrwcyKV1LRCg1LSluPpoB8SouDgNy_R5EN5hRPghRJB2qi6GTETa5k6ub30HC_QGZrxRVFid5thXs7KAi_WlVZhP4bWqBa0r4d8Hx47QBSvmYjHiwLNc7flwg/s1600/With+and+Without.jpg" height="199" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Left - WITHOUT MAKE-UP Right - WITH MAKE-UP</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Wear make-up / don't wear make-up. It's a tool; a toy; an embellishment. There's no right or wrong. It's about how you feel and what best represents what's inside.<br />
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Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-80092130922488436112014-01-23T08:19:00.000-07:002014-01-23T08:19:33.239-07:00Sisters of the HeartI am fortunate to have two sisters and one brother of the blood. In addition, I am blessed to have a good handful of "sisters of the heart". We know, love, and understand each other. We share fun, laughter, and tears. I could not do without their friendship and support. I am in awe of their talents, strengths, and resiliency.<br />
<br />
These sisters of the heart are at an age where they have known unhappiness and pain, yet they rise from each blow stricken and continue to seek the joy in life. Each new day is welcomed with hope and faith. Every friend is greeted with affection and a smile. If help is needed, it is requested or provided, without self-conciousness. There is awesome strength in our combined love and experience.<br />
<br />
We are beautiful to each other, and glow from the confidence that brings. Hearts are safely worn on sleeves. We are here for each other.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0EqV6AD1XkLu8KfGC-Kwpo5EFddYknORkbDNtk75xBXG9ZcZZLf5mvWngB7fwB-c-1PvUL6gh3MqNKxSGdBdPb8S2LuGZolJ0Sy3Vf8GpFRNtv8Aa_c7Sb2AgTeo6n0U8IMTqFNBVIY/s1600/happiness+necklace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0EqV6AD1XkLu8KfGC-Kwpo5EFddYknORkbDNtk75xBXG9ZcZZLf5mvWngB7fwB-c-1PvUL6gh3MqNKxSGdBdPb8S2LuGZolJ0Sy3Vf8GpFRNtv8Aa_c7Sb2AgTeo6n0U8IMTqFNBVIY/s1600/happiness+necklace.jpg" height="92" width="200" /></a>Many changes must be borne in our lives. Some things change - others begin. With the right support, we make the difficult and necessary transitions while seeking new happiness. Having sisters helps.<br />
<br />
My sisters of the heart - you know who you are. I have your backs. Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-64390533071797188792014-01-16T07:19:00.001-07:002014-01-16T07:19:25.940-07:00This Dawn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uZyQ8qLkZg2uPIAPPLYNSwhsjjLscEdgnE3pJs9Z4jAEzSL06uNZSXFd0IgBJco6JKwr9VtMyQylPTM9-_uoU-j_eUkkUmJfW1ePGjmrwWhqBM9U2bwnEO6ucgVI2XzWvlzAnOoIE-4/s1600/Dawn+in+the+Hood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uZyQ8qLkZg2uPIAPPLYNSwhsjjLscEdgnE3pJs9Z4jAEzSL06uNZSXFd0IgBJco6JKwr9VtMyQylPTM9-_uoU-j_eUkkUmJfW1ePGjmrwWhqBM9U2bwnEO6ucgVI2XzWvlzAnOoIE-4/s1600/Dawn+in+the+Hood.jpg" height="200" width="84" /></a></div>
Among the many blessings<br />
in my life<br />
I am still an active<br />
Daughter, Sister, Wife<br />
<br />
Well into middle age<br />
with no children to my name<br />
These family ties that we still have<br />
lift us and sustain<br />
<br />
For now, my home is full<br />
with Husband, Sister, Mom<br />
Moments now - memories later<br />
prayers of thanks this dawnLaurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-78273842809805535182014-01-09T08:56:00.002-07:002014-01-09T08:56:37.470-07:00Remembering AuraniaForty-nine years ago today, a 25 year old woman died in a single car accident caused by icy roads in Billerica, Massachusetts, less than a mile from her home. She was my father's baby sister and my Aunt Aurania. I ran across her obituary this week, and did some unsuccessful hunting on the internet for records. I don't have enough information to identify her widowed husband, Frederick Patterson; with whom the family lost touch. There were no children. All of Aurania's immediate family have since passed on - her parents, Thomas and Irene, brother John (my father), and sister Katherin. They each suffered through her untimely accidental death that day decades ago. She shouldn't be forgotten.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfRzlqxNzk_soi4bzNLbV9YsM29eA5amcEerAEu-AqV2xvuLyx24rgFd6V88PcEnt8CWC-nPfSy_V-chG-LmeL9cIg4Jsh79lqaRznWang_6iK73U1sQ8dQB4xZZUhgxHDbSKXU3NJqM/s1600/Baby+Aurania+small.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyfRzlqxNzk_soi4bzNLbV9YsM29eA5amcEerAEu-AqV2xvuLyx24rgFd6V88PcEnt8CWC-nPfSy_V-chG-LmeL9cIg4Jsh79lqaRznWang_6iK73U1sQ8dQB4xZZUhgxHDbSKXU3NJqM/s1600/Baby+Aurania+small.jpg" height="200" width="145" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>"Baby" and her father</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Aurania was the youngest of my grandparents children (by 9 years), and retained their nickname of "Baby" into adulthood. When Dad enlisted for World War II, Aurania would have been (I think) just 3 years old.<br />
<br />
Chicago of 1939 was Aurania's birthplace, but her parents relocated to Manchester, NH in the early 40's, and that's where she was raised. Aurania graduated from Notre Dame College in Manchester in 1961. In their alumni newsletter, they remembered her as <i>"a smiling, cheerful person, whose philosophy of life was to try to bring happiness to others"</i>. A classmate's comments in the 1961 yearbook were, <i>"She is an excellent, serious conscientious student, but her bell-like laughter proclaims her delightful <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoXrPqxo6gqxXygTh49TUDuRNk03m5EFiqBTlX69ikS46Vjo6nyRNAQh8b5dpl3fRqa-WxfNrbSfpNqGRqNf2vdmnUvjGtrpkq-jtoBUnrqKT-12Fz-mOG9F58mBlk1YS1ILL9rnhHGY/s1600/Aurania+1959.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUoXrPqxo6gqxXygTh49TUDuRNk03m5EFiqBTlX69ikS46Vjo6nyRNAQh8b5dpl3fRqa-WxfNrbSfpNqGRqNf2vdmnUvjGtrpkq-jtoBUnrqKT-12Fz-mOG9F58mBlk1YS1ILL9rnhHGY/s1600/Aurania+1959.jpg" height="320" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Aurania Haropulos in 1959</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
sense of humor. Endowed with wisdom beyond her years, still she has the gaity of youth and is popular among her contemporaries. We are proud to call her friend, and we know that whatever her creative dreams, she has the capacity to attain them."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I was only 9 when Aurania died. I'm left with emotional snapshots of a beautiful, kind young woman, a whiff of perfume, a charming laugh, and a wide smile. Thank God I at least have that much.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-27885778150578036442014-01-02T09:29:00.000-07:002014-01-02T09:29:23.879-07:00A Case FOR Facebook<div class="MsoNormal">
This morning, a Facebook friend shared an article from the
Huffington Post, entitled “11 Reasons You Should Quit Facebook in 2014”. Some
of the author’s reasons were based on perceived “annoyances”; others based on
privacy concerns stemming from commercial data mining or worry about your
“friends” seeing things you don’t want them to see. I’m not a Facebook
shareholder, and I know that Facebook isn’t for everyone. Many people have
reasonable and valid reasons not to use Facebook. However, I have my own view
of the benefits of this outlet for social connectivity…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
EMBRACING FAR-FLUNG FRIENDS</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Over the years, I lost touch with people I cared about. I
have moved 5 times since graduating from college and starting a career. My
friends and I were busy, and it seemed to be almost impossible to keep up with
people – even with the advent of email. Through Facebook, I have been able to
renew meaningful contact with people who are dear to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
REAL FRIENDS CARE</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have good times and bad. Sharing the good times isn’t
necessarily boastful or narcissistic. Sometimes it’s about sharing Happiness
and Joy and Hope. It can be inspiring. And I can’t count the times friends have
reached out for help or support and received it. Communication in any form can
be a lifeline. Give and you get back tenfold. Share and people will share with
you. Thank God, it’s Human Nature.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
BE TICKLED</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just in the past 24 hours, Facebook has delivered photos of:
a friend’s newborn baby, a reunion of college friends performing a New Year’s
show, my sister celebrating her birthday week, a friend’s parents meeting their
grandchildren for the first time… I could go on and on. If you aren’t
interested in what your Facebook friends share online, then you can either
“Hide” their postings (they won’t know, so you won’t hurt their feelings), or
you should “Unfriend” them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why do people share so much on Facebook? I don’t think there
is a simple answer. I’ve asked myself the same question about why I blog.
Without going into a lot of psychological depth… I want my friends to know me.
I’m not blessed with children or grandchildren. Maybe I’m looking for other
ways to leave my footprints in the sand. I like to write. I like to make people
laugh. I like to communicate. So sue me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
NO FEAR</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I choose not to dwell on the negative possibilities of
Facebook use. I regularly visit my Facebook Account and Privacy Settings, and
restrict them as necessary. I don’t play games via Facebook, because they
require that I share my friends’ info, which isn’t mine to share. Facebook facilitates
extensive data mining. Fortunately, most companies are really inept at it, so I
don’t feel particularly threatened by their efforts to capitalize on what they
think they know. My ability to ignore their flailing advertising overtures is
considerable. If the intrusion ever actually outweighs the benefits I gain from
Facebook, I will reconsider my position.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Dear Friends: Keep reaching out, post those photos that keep
me in the know and warm my heart, share your personal philosophies, give and
get in return. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Happy New Year!</div>
Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-36006636379443873292013-12-26T08:07:00.000-07:002013-12-26T08:08:18.337-07:00Better with FriendsIt's better to share the joy during the holidays if you can. We can try to open our door and our hearts, and let a little extra love float around. Those kindnesses are remembered for many years, friendships are deepened, and new bonds are formed. Bless the lovely people we shared our time with on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. We look forward to many more days, weeks, and years of shared experiences.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQcHTX03A-kYwrroyq648HqJfhjw6FFngjhouWwNxMkdMCHmLGPJU79FOcwihuYloUu3lfVgZZ3ElWCkjUEn0NACil5azucoCltTu3EofjOzsu2q_SsFPTydl0rI_DWY2oyegP9QPmLA/s1600/Christmas+at+Maffeis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBQcHTX03A-kYwrroyq648HqJfhjw6FFngjhouWwNxMkdMCHmLGPJU79FOcwihuYloUu3lfVgZZ3ElWCkjUEn0NACil5azucoCltTu3EofjOzsu2q_SsFPTydl0rI_DWY2oyegP9QPmLA/s320/Christmas+at+Maffeis.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="color: #0b5394;">Hoping you are having happy holidays of your own, </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #0b5394;">and that you will have a wonderful 2014!</span></i></div>
Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-26689440466926029492013-12-19T07:32:00.000-07:002013-12-19T07:32:06.744-07:00Christmases Past<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So many memories creep in as Christmas draws closer... As children, we waited with so much anticipation for Santa, and strongly felt the love of our parents that came with special gifts under the tree. Some early years with family were the best. There was the year Dad bought a blue spruce so big he had to take the railings off the front steps on approach to the house. Then it took pushing from outside and pulling from inside to get the tree in. It was tall and broad and almost took up the entire living room. Awesomeness Defined.</div>
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Once out on my own, still I got home for Christmas as often as I could. Other holidays were spent with friends who were extended family. Early in my relationship with Ron, we would drive all night (usually through an ice storm) from Dallas to the farm in Melvin, IL. The old farm house was packed with family and joy, cheese balls and cookies, stockings and presents. What fun it was!</div>
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Time and circumstances change our traditions. We married, our careers became more demanding, and we moved...Dallas to Las Vegas to Memphis to Chicago to Prescott. We lost Ron's parents and my dad. We gradually began to enjoy the restful peace of having our Christmases shared alone together.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZ1grfTNXIO0Mvf1EYYQFhpMU5PmbwCakCEqAC36koEzLRtuYV-FVsrRsg98rLC1Tcw9RY6mt2oz2RFUkcnCCdpC3vL2xk6TNE4b62Bm3aHQebe-sTRjNct3qnt1bvQXNr8-Tquk1s2w/s1600/90's+Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifZ1grfTNXIO0Mvf1EYYQFhpMU5PmbwCakCEqAC36koEzLRtuYV-FVsrRsg98rLC1Tcw9RY6mt2oz2RFUkcnCCdpC3vL2xk6TNE4b62Bm3aHQebe-sTRjNct3qnt1bvQXNr8-Tquk1s2w/s320/90's+Christmas.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Christmas at our home in Las Vegas in the mid-90's.</i></td></tr>
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Christmas Eve we have champagne and sinful hors d'oeuvres, like pâté and caviar. We play hours and hours of Christmas music by candlelight, with the tree sparkling bright. First thing on Christmas, we open our stockings. Then Ron makes pancakes for breakfast. We sip mimosas while exchanging gifts and receiving happy phone calls from family and friends. In the afternoon, we prepare a Christmas dinner. By evening, we settle in for a quiet evening together, basking in our good fortune and an aura of love.</div>
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This year we will have friends over for a laid back Christmas Eve, and will join a larger group of friends for Christmas dinner. We hope you all have plans for your own kind of Christmas joy. We'll all always have memories of Christmases Past.</div>
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All the best to you and yours. Merry Christmas! </div>
<br />Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-19560722584026039272013-12-12T07:37:00.001-07:002013-12-12T07:37:41.286-07:00Lost "Arts"When was the last time you did any of these things?:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Used a sewing machine to make a garment</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Changed the oil on your own car</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Made biscuits from scratch</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Wrote a letter to family or friend in longhand</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Wrapped a present (without using a bag!)</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Played a musical instrument</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Sang in a chorus/choir</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Created a piece of art</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Went on a walk just to enjoy nature</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #134f5c;"><i>Gave yourself a manicure/pedicure</i></span></div>
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This is not an indictment of anyone's personal practices - just an observation that we may be becoming more and more removed from certain types of activities that used to be part of our daily lives, responsibilities, and small personal joys. Sure, things change over the years. But it strikes me that we are constantly undergoing meaningful cultural change. And it's not all good. Aren't we more than a bit spoiled?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYRLlHFaqOuKDLRkgJXhWRAsR0h7KJyYl_XWQqVkD3I1wvaelM_Gw5qpj59n3YvVzuAbD13E78MKreaDmttQ20Sdvx-bxx4GTwKtuiko8dImRmNbDd28HoZ_7G2mDEVyxYYjKKOt8728/s1600/Sewing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsYRLlHFaqOuKDLRkgJXhWRAsR0h7KJyYl_XWQqVkD3I1wvaelM_Gw5qpj59n3YvVzuAbD13E78MKreaDmttQ20Sdvx-bxx4GTwKtuiko8dImRmNbDd28HoZ_7G2mDEVyxYYjKKOt8728/s200/Sewing.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
There was a time that if I wanted an outfit for a special occasion, I would buy a pattern and fabric, and make it myself. I remember, with fondness, a killer magenta dress that I made for a date sometime in the mid-80's. I recently bought a new sewing machine and have material for a summer frock, but am having trouble getting that project off the ground. Funny how intimidating a new sewing machine, still in its box, can be...<br />
<br />
I admit that I never changed the oil on my own car, but today, when you can have it done in 20 minutes for 30 dollars - why would you do it yourself? Someone else can deal with the environmental requirements for disposing of the old oil, while you have a Starbucks.<br />
<br />
Internet shopping and gift wrap services have eliminated the need to wrap a lot of presents. But I make sure I buy wrapping paper and bows to make some gifts extra-special for the recipient. It wouldn't seem like Christmas otherwise.<br />
<br />
Last year, I got a long, newsy handwritten letter from a friend. It was tucked into a Christmas card. I recognized it for what it was, a true gift from the heart.<br />
<br />
Many, many conveniences are available for a price. They help us save time, but usually at a price. Sometimes the payment comes from your wallet. Sometimes the price is a loss of connectivity to things that matter. However you do what you do; please make sure you are staying dialed in to life.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-41576965821256592222013-12-05T08:02:00.000-07:002013-12-05T08:02:06.495-07:00Motivation a la Fitbit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5XqW5ay9RmdcSBZ8IKY5SQ1KG-_VzJSU13fVtrqiEsVpe8vM2fi7o5Cjny-6sHYac34c2a1SI94zp4jNBktA_c-QD1NmiT4NnzMG0XHjjfQ5n3MOWvspPy7WOte5ode7tL1yaQDtKok/s1600/Black+Fitbit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq5XqW5ay9RmdcSBZ8IKY5SQ1KG-_VzJSU13fVtrqiEsVpe8vM2fi7o5Cjny-6sHYac34c2a1SI94zp4jNBktA_c-QD1NmiT4NnzMG0XHjjfQ5n3MOWvspPy7WOte5ode7tL1yaQDtKok/s200/Black+Fitbit.jpg" width="138" /></a>I am a gadget freak, although I believe it's less about the gadget itself and more about finding the perfect tools for life's little challenges. I continue to challenge my aging self to increase physical activity and drop some pounds. To that end, my husband bought me a Fitbit Force for my recent birthday. It has become a constant wrist accessory for me.<br />
<br />
The Fitbit Force, at it's most basic function, is a watch and pedometer. But it goes further than that, estimating calories burned, flights of stairs climbed, and identifying "very active" periods. The free software (for desktop and smartphone), syncs your wristband with your desktop computer and your smartphone. You can set goals for yourself and your Fitbit will message you when you are approaching your goal, awarding badges when you achieve certain benchmarks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRs7dBHxpTIUA0_MYPPtLG1NZZqwLlCy0vhQTrKkDu6xHfJIk9NYD3bBYXXrdaWOnID3E6GcT-0OWoT9-8p1AsW5g-vYcuP-gPQtJqNZR0wl_1DHhMQ1nmW9z_XtF3vNi51fm4sK0PpU/s1600/Fitbit+Shot+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpRs7dBHxpTIUA0_MYPPtLG1NZZqwLlCy0vhQTrKkDu6xHfJIk9NYD3bBYXXrdaWOnID3E6GcT-0OWoT9-8p1AsW5g-vYcuP-gPQtJqNZR0wl_1DHhMQ1nmW9z_XtF3vNi51fm4sK0PpU/s200/Fitbit+Shot+2.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="133" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Partial) Tracking Screen<br />from Smartphone</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Another feature of the Force is a "Sleep Mode" that tracks your movements during sleep and reports on your "sleep efficiency". It's fascinating to see how many times a night I was restless or awake. It seems pretty accurate, although if you wake up and are very still, it can't tell you are awake. But if you get out of bed it knows, since you have taken steps. When you toss and turn, it tracks that as restless time. Quality of sleep is closely associated with general wellness, so I find this to be a welcome feature.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMxBi81J8I1F5kueFNhxUiwjyOv2xFjSSWUMkkJC9nVyA3fGyI3Hf8SagmVMzoYGv-cqyY0BRR9Rovpz4Dt1QaQa5wP0OxtL8KyWvjdPlRUZm0l973QhPYJ2bw87gAjtnzIerkEX1G0tE/s1600/Fitbit+Shot+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMxBi81J8I1F5kueFNhxUiwjyOv2xFjSSWUMkkJC9nVyA3fGyI3Hf8SagmVMzoYGv-cqyY0BRR9Rovpz4Dt1QaQa5wP0OxtL8KyWvjdPlRUZm0l973QhPYJ2bw87gAjtnzIerkEX1G0tE/s320/Fitbit+Shot+3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Sleep Record from Last Night</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For more complete stats, detail food and water intake, and enter the data on your smartphone or computer. Log other activities the Force cannot effectively track, like swinging a golf club for 18 holes or lifting weights.<br />
<br />
If you're all in, there is a wireless scale (Aria) that interfaces with Fitbit, which tracks progress on weight loss. We have the scale, but I'm not ready to get on it quite yet... Soon.<br />
<br />
I'm really happy with my new gadget, and if it motivates me to move a little more every day, it was worth the $129. See <a href="http://www.fitbit.com/">www.fitbit.com</a> for more information. Ron bought mine at Best Buy, but you can purchase directly from Fitbit or on amazon.com.<br />
<br />
<i>This is not a paid endorsement. Just feedback from a friendly gadget freak.</i><br />
<br />Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-20879104245588548102013-11-28T12:02:00.000-07:002013-11-28T14:40:32.039-07:00Culinary ThanksgivingHappy Thanksgiving! I am thankful for so many things on this wonderful holiday, but let me be specific in a light-hearted culinary way:<br />
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I am thankful that today is one of a handful of Pancake Holidays in our household. It was a good way to start the day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjWu0lL1-ddfJDhwN3Jf1RKs1TBtOk0nKgki5_RGjC9fm3MUkDqhoYiedpweNT6_IhF4o5gN86sp96CCttqDYA7HkAxWCgXZ5cqIGT9pgdmak2vuhHkwF2ek7yoL7YH-0T91CsDL09vc/s1600/Stuffings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCjWu0lL1-ddfJDhwN3Jf1RKs1TBtOk0nKgki5_RGjC9fm3MUkDqhoYiedpweNT6_IhF4o5gN86sp96CCttqDYA7HkAxWCgXZ5cqIGT9pgdmak2vuhHkwF2ek7yoL7YH-0T91CsDL09vc/s200/Stuffings.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The great debate: Sausage <br />
vs. Bread Stuffing</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I am thankful for my mother's recipes that continue to be a part of our holiday, even though Mom is many miles away. We'll have Mom's Bread Stuffing and Mom's Apple Pie today.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for the food traditions gained from the Baileys, including Sausage and Rice Stuffing, and Oyster Casserole.<br />
<br />
I am thankful for favorite recipes contributed by friends, including Dave Byerly's Cranberry Chutney.<br />
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I am thankful for the bounty of information on the Internet, which today is providing the means for me to make Ruth Chris' version of Sweet Potato Casserole.<br />
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I am thankful for shortcuts, like the Stouffer's Spinach Souffle that I bought.<br />
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I am thankful for Ron's skills as a home chef. He's doing so much of the work today - including the manhandling of the turkey. And he made Cranberry Syrup, for what will be an awesome holiday martini.<br />
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Enjoy the day! I am eating up the Facebook posts that give me the flavor of your Thanksgiving, and help bring you closer than the actual miles that separate us.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-56872259930839351322013-11-21T08:02:00.001-07:002013-11-21T08:02:52.750-07:0050 Year MemoryIn the history of the Unites States of America, four Presidents have been assassinated. The most recent was President John F. Kennedy, on November 22, 1963...fifty years ago tomorrow.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89yOX0_Qm6zhjj_LadPvJ5c402i48IY3c9IdoisxkgVLpn5UsrIR2OTn9yB8bBpL6LyXChoycHI9qT7RFGfZSLz9L2oWqpoNhr1LS-Q3AqJYMsL1dEQLfYrnXbQNyX9aql6626yNFY4k/s1600/John-and-Jackie-Kennedy-a-007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="120" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89yOX0_Qm6zhjj_LadPvJ5c402i48IY3c9IdoisxkgVLpn5UsrIR2OTn9yB8bBpL6LyXChoycHI9qT7RFGfZSLz9L2oWqpoNhr1LS-Q3AqJYMsL1dEQLfYrnXbQNyX9aql6626yNFY4k/s200/John-and-Jackie-Kennedy-a-007.jpg" width="200" /></a>I was 8 years old, in third grade at Meadow Hall Elementary in Rockville, Maryland. When the news of the shooting in Dallas broke, I was in Mrs. Gonano's class. A teacher from another class came into our room, and she was crying. This was startling at a young age, to see an adult teacher crying. She spoke quietly to Mrs. Gonano, who then shakily told us what had happened. Minutes later, the school principal came on the public address system to make an official announcement. School was cancelled, and we were told to go home.</div>
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<div>
As young children, we couldn't completely comprehend what had happened. But the message that it was really bad news got through, and we were scared. I remember the walk home, with panicked, crying children around me. Fortunately, I lived only about 2 blocks from school, so was home quickly.</div>
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<div>
Although I clearly remember the reaction at school, I don't really recall how my parents dealt with it at home. For me, it was enough that we felt safe and reassured with Mom and Dad.</div>
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We watched the funeral procession on TV, and I remember feeling sad for Carolyn and John, because their Daddy was gone forever.</div>
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Years later, as a teenager living in the Washington, DC metropolitan area, I visited Arlington Cemetery, the site of Kennedy's grave and the Eternal Flame. Early in my work career I lived in Dallas for 14 years, and many times drove the route of the President's motorcade on that fateful day 50 years ago, past Dealey Plaza. </div>
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<br /></div>
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We are connected to this and other historic events that occur during our lifetimes in many ways - some small and some very influential to who we are or who we become. To many people today, the assassination of President Kennedy is merely history. For some of us, it is a vivid memory.</div>
Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-53457358181499271552013-11-14T07:27:00.000-07:002013-11-14T07:55:01.337-07:00Comforting Food<p dir=ltr>What is comfort food to you? We all have our own definition. Some of my favorites are things Mom served the family for years...meatloaf, tuna noodle casserole, and creamed tuna on toast. But I have an additional set of comfort foods that are all ethnic. The paternal side of my family is 100% Greek. My Yiayia (grandmother) was a REALLY good cook, and some of the things she made became my comfort foods.</p>
<p dir=ltr>The difficulty is that my Yiayia is long gone. She didn't write down her recipes. Now I roam the earth searching for happiness in the form of truly good Greek food.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Fortunately, I have some good recipes that dirty every pan in the kitchen, but yield good results. And I have some favorite Greek restaurants too. They include Molyvos on 7th Avenue in NYC, and Melanthios or the Parthenon in Chicago. But I keep looking...</p>
<p dir=ltr>Last night we tried Greekfest in Phoenix, and were disappointed. Several things were overcooked, and the seasonings were off base. But the owner had just made fresh kourambiethes (a Greek version of something you might know as wedding cookies). So my consulation was to take a bag of those back to the hotel for dessert. Not as good as Yiayia's, but comparisons rarely measure up.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Comfort food elicits groans of glee and memories of happy, loving times. Don't we all pursue those feelings? I'm always on the prowl.</p>
<p dir=ltr>P.S. This blog entry was written on my cell phone at the airport. I apologize for any errors caused by big fingers on itty bitty keys.</p>
Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-75802594770005351132013-11-07T07:13:00.000-07:002013-11-07T07:13:37.626-07:00Dishpan Hands, My Ass!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByTc2Bc2QL64Bg1-0a92Y3U7m192cCH5YcqnYv2ooQlSudhzgZQnl_giFG_qo_YCe6A1a64f8HigwuhRxyiEzpnCVhPJ3ywtvofFv0pDzDLblASZ1PfbYiEFg-N3UDxlQbSEhDpE-sQg/s1600/Dishes+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByTc2Bc2QL64Bg1-0a92Y3U7m192cCH5YcqnYv2ooQlSudhzgZQnl_giFG_qo_YCe6A1a64f8HigwuhRxyiEzpnCVhPJ3ywtvofFv0pDzDLblASZ1PfbYiEFg-N3UDxlQbSEhDpE-sQg/s200/Dishes+2.jpg" width="140" /></a>Our dishwasher died a sudden, dramatic death about a month ago (after a protracted illness). Since then, we have been washing dishes by hand and using disposable party plates as much as possible. The replacement dishwasher has now been identified, and will be ordered today. In the meantime, when I scuff my feet and moan my way to the stack of dirty dishes by the kitchen sink, I give myself a mental slap and think about how spoiled we are today.<br />
<br />
We have the luxury of appliances that do most of our work for us. In the 1950's and early 60's Mom wasn't exactly down by the stream beating our dirty clothing on rocks, but with four children, it was a true and constant chore to keep clothes and dishes clean. In the early years, Mom had a clothes washer, but no dryer. There was a clothesline in the back yard. I have no idea how Mom kept up with it, with four small children underfoot.<br />
<br />
There was no internet shopping. Instead, shopping excursions were a family affair.<br />
We didn't download books - we went to the library almost every Saturday.<br />
Remember the days before cash machines? If you needed cash, you went to the bank during business hours.<br />
Cell phones hadn't been invented. Kids had curfews and came home when the street lights came on, or in response to shouted summons from the back door.<br />
There were no movies on demand. We had a black and white TV with about 3 channels, and we all watched it together.<br />
Designer clothes for kids? Harumph. Special outfits were made by Mom on her own sewing machine.<br />
No video games. We read books, played Monopoly, skated on the sidewalk, and played dress-ups.<br />
Gentlemen always had a clean, pressed handkerchief handy. We kids would iron them for Dad.<br />
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I could go on, but this sort of thing has been done to death and passed around via email and on Facebook. Every once in a while, it doesn't hurt to put things into perspective a bit. Right now, I'm going to enjoy a little "Retro Housekeeping". In other words, I'll be washing and drying the dishes by hand.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-53423130607398974252013-10-31T07:20:00.001-07:002013-10-31T07:20:36.940-07:00The One and Only SedonaIn the United States, we are fortunate to have a handful of places unlike any other on earth. Their uniqueness may come from landscape, climate, and/or history and culture. Sedona is one of those places and, if you haven't been there, a visit should be on your bucket list.<br />
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We are fortunate to live only about an hour and a half drive from Sedona, and come here a few times a year. Hiking, biking, sight-seeing, shopping, and golf are the attractions. Sedona is a small town, with a full-time population of only about 11,000. However, 3.5 million visitors annually come from all over the world to see the luminous towering red rock sandstone formations in and around Sedona. Some seek the fabled healing powers of the energy fields among the rocks.<br />
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Yesterday we came to Sedona with a few other couples, to play golf, dine, and play more golf. The Sedona Golf Resort at the Hilton Sedona has a beautiful course with challenging greens. The course whipped me, but I was repeatedly pacified by the stunning views from every tee box and fairway. It's difficult to stay self-focused or frustrated for long when so clearly dwarfed by the majestic display around you. <em>"Darn, I missed my putt, but LOOK AT THAT!"</em><br />
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Last night we dined at Dal and Di Luca, a standout Italian restaurant. This morning we'll complete our visit by playing golf at Oak Creek Country Club. Back to the more sedate beauty of Prescott tonight. It's nice to have such an appealing getaway available so close to home.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-59977172012746360452013-10-24T12:22:00.001-07:002013-10-24T12:22:41.066-07:00Autumn ImpressionsDecided today to do just a little composite of some photos from New England during our travels. They've been tinkered with some, using Photoshop. Hope wherever you are, you enjoy your autumn as much as we are!<br />
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<br />Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-45117063885831100292013-10-17T06:20:00.001-07:002013-10-21T15:08:36.176-07:00We're Leaf PeepersBeing in New England in the fall is about more that merely being a "leaf peeper". To be sure, the showy display of reds, golds, oranges, plums, browns, and remaining greens is breathtaking in its artful riot. Traveling along the highway is almost like driving through a museum. But the best of it can only be appreciated in slower motion - on foot.<br>
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We're staying on the southern coast of Maine, in Ogunquit. Our small inn is a historic home that has been updated and expanded. Part of the charm of this area of the country is found in eschewing chains for local, owner-operated businesses.<br>
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Fall is beautful everywhere but, like the foliage, seems intensified here. Ogunquit has a distinct crispness in the air, accompanied by the scent of wood-burning fireplaces in use. Leaves already carpet the grass after floating from trees. They crunch satisfyingly under our feet by the granite-lined curbs.<br>
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Homes and businesses are decorated for Halloween and fall, with pumpkins, scarecrows, hay bales, spider webs, ghosts, and goblins. Visitors and residents stroll down the sidewalks in bright sweaters. They've given up sandals for boots.<br>
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Yesterday we savored clam chowder on a cool and cloudy day. Dinner last night was lobster pizza, served on an enclosed patio with heat lamps. In our not-too-distant future, I foresee tasting a seasonal brew of some sort. Everything is enhanced by the sea air, spiced with the pungent smell of fallen leaves.<br>
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Locals can call us leaf peepers if they will, but we know that being here now is about so much more.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8807692410204712557.post-42711654530888593112013-10-10T08:30:00.000-07:002013-10-10T08:30:02.276-07:00Happy 40th Reunion, Magruder Friends!The Magruder High School Class of 1973 is having a reunion this weekend in my home state of Maryland. Although unable to attend, the upcoming event has me thinking about high school days and my good friends from that time.<br />
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Our class was the first graduating class in a brand new school. The Class of '73 never had to be underclassmen, as we started there in the fall of 1973 as 10th graders, with 8th and 9th graders in the school. For the next 3 years, we grew up together...8th, 9th, and 10th graders, then 9th, 10th, 11th graders, etc. We had a graduation class of approximately 300 students.<br />
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I was active in some sports - managing the boys soccer team one year (and practicing with them), playing basketball, and running track. But my first love was music. I was in Chorus and Madrigal classes, and also took Music Theory. During High School, I decided to pursue a music degree in college.<br />
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We had a close-knit group of good friends that hung out before classes started around the card catalog in the library. I didn't have a high school boyfriend, and wasn't a cheerleader... In other words, I was never one of the "cool girls". But I had fun with my friends, was a good student, excelled in choral endeavors, and cheered on my friends on the football and track teams.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Steve Waterman, Gail Hughes, Scott Clifford, <br />Me, and Mo Hughes</td></tr>
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We rocked mini-skirts and long, straight hair, and made pierced ears mainstream. This was a time before tatoos, multiple ear-piercings or body piercings, flaunted cleavage, and bare midriffs were acceptable for nice girls. When I went to a party where there was drinking and smoking, I called my parents for a ride home so I wouldn't get in trouble. There were no cell phones and no personal computers. We had books at home and went to the library, and did our homework longhand. Surely I sound like a dinosaur now, but it was a good time to be a teenager.<br />
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Upon graduation, most of us were ready to move on and see what else life had to offer. But I remember several tearful group goodbyes as, one-by-one our friends went on to college or other adventures. Some are still friends today, via occasional personal encounters, emails, Christmas cards, or Facebook. I treasure these shared memories I have with you.<br />
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Happy Reunion! Raise a glass to me - I'll be thinking about you.Laurel Haropulos Baileyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11647372821546628875noreply@blogger.com2