In The Adult World, Embarrassing Things Happen

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How I wish they were birds.

As I promised yesterday, here’s my Bob Ross story.

Until high school, I went to a parochial school where I was bullied and I hated it. But during the summer, I attended different kinds of camps and made friends from other schools, which made the whole year more bearable.

One summer, I was taking a class called Knights and Castles, learning about Medieval times, and my best friend in that class was Aja, pronounced Asia. During the afternoons in that hot summer, I would watch Bob Ross on the old TV I had in my room that only got PBS, and I would usually fall into a lazy nap during the broadcast. Aja watched it, too, so we would giggle about different things he said or did. One quote in particular: “There are no stupid mistakes. There are only happy accidents.”

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52/52 Challenge For 2016

This is an annual exercise I’ve done since 2014 in which I set goals for myself for the next year. A lot like New Years Resolutions, this is just like a vision board for my next year.  In 2014, it was The 36/36 Challenge (36 because I started it late in the year) and last year, it was The 51/51 Challenge (51 because I got it out a week late.)

This one was hard to write, which really surprised me. I had a hard time thinking of new things I want to get into, but that may be because I’m still a new SAHM mother and so involved with the Wee One.

Though I’m getting this one out late in the year, I’m still applying it to all 52 weeks because I have begun doing things in the challenge.

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The Art in Protest / The Protest in Art

As I have written several times lately, I was raised in St. Louis.  Police action in one of our suburbs, Ferguson (yes, legally it’s a small town, but it’s really a suburb of St. Louis), has been the center of protests around the world over the past week, but especially in the U.S. The night it was announced the officer would not face criminal charges for killing a young man, different parts of the city – literally – burned. Cars and buildings were on fire and in other ways destroyed and fire crews couldn’t get to them for the force and crush of people on the streets.

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