tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33892187239653736762013-05-27T14:08:11.005-07:00 Mary Robertson Just a girl from the Gaspe A place to come home to ....
I am a storytellerMary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-54422444719330296192012-11-14T17:58:00.001-08:002012-11-14T18:00:05.361-08:002012-11-14T18:00:05.361-08:00Wednesday Night at the Inn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vqNbaa9dGX8/UKRKUfacjrI/AAAAAAAAAYI/Z5uodLsYq7o/s1600/mermaid+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vqNbaa9dGX8/UKRKUfacjrI/AAAAAAAAAYI/Z5uodLsYq7o/s400/mermaid+001.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A drawing I made for a story I wrote... the link to find it is at the bottom of the page. </td></tr>
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Well it's Wednesday night at the Inn. Went for a walk after I got home from work. I made a delicious green smoothie filled with good things like spinach, sprouts, a clementine, flaxseed, coconut milk and a energizing mix of protein powder that I got at the health food store. Eventually I am hoping that all of this effort will pay off and I will get stronger again. I have a lot of shovelling ahead of me this winter. I can just see myself trying to shovel my way out of the yard at 5 a.m. Oh well such is life and I will just have to trust life.<br />
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So back to the Annie Wright story. If you have found this blog by chance, I am writing a story one entry at at time, so you will have to go back and catch up on the story.<br />
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<em>From her handwritten manuscript.... 1956</em><br />
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<em>So what was I doing inviting a stranger into my parents house and into my well planned life. Bobby was expecting me to be his wife and my father was expecting to increase his business profits and settle down his daughter. My mother was expecting more grandbabies and my sisters were going along with it all because they never had a choice in their lives either. My sister Janet had ran away with Peter Richards. She was so in love with him but my parents told her that they had no intention of letting her ruin her life with the likes of someone like him. See he was a drifter, or so that's what father called him. He had joined the army and quit so of course his life was ruined ...according to my father. He was a no good for nothing character without any plans for a decent future. Father wanted what was best for his girls and that meant them marrying a rich well respected son of one of the town's respectable families. So he found her, brought her back and threatened poor Peter enough to send him on his way. I have always thought that he paid him off as well. </em><br />
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<em>And so Janet settled down with a man that I know she did not love, in a life she still lives to please my parents. They lived in a beautiful house and had three children. She spent her days baking brownies and going to school meetings. Of course she went to the beauty salon twice a week because she had to look good for her perfect husband, who spent very little time at home. He was a nice guy to have at family gatherings but I suspect that he is a cold man at home. Janet never says anything but I have known her all my life and I can see her sadness. Poor mother, I wonder if that was how she ended up with Father. Was hers an arranged marriage? Did she ever love her husband or was it just what was expected of her as well. </em> <em>Maybe she never knew what it was to fall in love and therefore could not understand her daughters.</em><br />
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<em>So there I was falling in love with a stranger who I knew very little about, yet he was more familiar than anyone I had ever met. In the few days that we had spent together, I told him everything about my life. We laughed together and I cried from the sheer overwhelming happiness that I felt being near him. His kindness, his tenderness and deep dark eyes made me weak and strong at the same time. For the first time I felt the courage to want something enough to go against my parents. In that short amount of time, I knew I was in love. I was ready to give up everything to spend more time with him. I wanted to walk away from all the responsibilites of being Annie Wright. I knew for sure that I could not marry Bobby. I could not settle down in this small town and live my sisters' lives. I could not live my life just to make my father proud of me and give my mother more grand children to talk about to her friends. </em><br />
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<em>Yet at that time in my life, I had nothing of my own and was totally dependent on my parents. The little money I had saved was spent on a typewriter. The delivery of what I had so desired and saved for had brought me something totally unexpected.... my first taste of love and soon to be sorrow. </em><br />
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Okay folks that is all for tonight. I wish I could write for hours but it is time for bed. These early 4:30 mornings means I have to get to bed early or else I will struggle through my days in a fog. I promise to write on a more regular basis as I have a hundred more stories to tell. Unfortunately like everyone else, I know I have an expiry date so I must not leave this earth with the stories untold, therefore I have to spend more time here writing. <br />
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Thanks Teresa, I appreciate your kindness!!!<br />
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<em><a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/100727989/the-fisherman-and-the-salmon-a-fabled">http://www.etsy.com/listing/100727989/the-fisherman-and-the-salmon-a-fabled</a></em><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-64638425544315294932012-11-11T15:54:00.000-08:002012-11-11T15:54:23.453-08:002012-11-11T15:54:23.453-08:00Where have I been?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Princess Louise..... this is a book in progress </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hi everyone, well here it is Sunday night again and the weekend is over. I wanted to do so much and although I never stopped, it seems all I did was housework.. you know laundry, vacuuming, ironing etc. Then I had to do the outside work as well. Bringing in wood, picking up everything in the yard before the snow falls, feeding the birds and trying to get a walk in to stay healthy. At this point in my life, it is all about trying to stay well. I cannot afford to be sick for two reasons, I have to work because I am alone to pay the bills and I cannot get sick because there is no one to take care of me. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I did not expect to find myself alone again at this point in my life but life is full of twists and turns and I have had my share of them. He left one Saturday night and he never came back. I know he is sick but it seems all very strange. There must be a reason I tell myself to be living this surreal situation and if I can just remain in control of it all, I will find out at some point later in life. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Things will fall into place as my Mom used to say but for now I am just trying to survive. No one really knows what another goes through, No one knows their thoughts and worries and the reasons they do what they have to do. Yet they do judge though and some do it with pleasure to fill the the empty spaces in their own lives. No wonder I understand women so well... I am my own walking textbook. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Okay I will continue the Annie Wright story but just not tonight for I am feeling a little bit too close to tears. The healing process takes time. I must not be too hard on myself... time will heal me once again.</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-13160345216664627492012-11-04T15:43:00.002-08:002012-11-04T15:49:03.438-08:002012-11-04T15:49:03.438-08:00A Sunday Night at the Inn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well what can I say but that I am so sorry for not writing lately. Life has been giving me a few challenges to deal with and I seem to be living within a story that seems impossible to believe, yet it is my life. This is a picture of me taken a few years ago which always makes me smile because it pretty well somes up my confusion and "<em>what in the heck am I supposed to do now</em>", attitude. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">What is my story you may ask, well I will not reveal it at this point for I am still feeling the emotions that go with loss and I do not really understand it all, so I will keep it undercover while I nurse my little self back to strength. Getting back on your feet gets harder as you get older believe me but that's okay as my goal is to live until I am 95 so I have lots of time ahead of me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes I think I have been given these many roadblocks in life, so that I could better understand the characters in my stories. I had to experience the pain, fear, loss and find the courage to start again. I thank God every day for my strength and I know that it came from watcing my parents go through their life. Mommy may have been pregnant with me when this picture was taken for I am the next in line and not in the picture. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Mom was an amazing woman as she never gave up despite her many twist and turns. She used to say " grab the bull by the horns and keep moving",when the going got tough Well that is exactly what I am doing.... anyway enough about me, lets get back to Annie's hand written story. </span><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;"> <strong>My father owned the town`s only grocery store and everyday he got dressed up and went to work with pride. He worked hard and I think he made a good living. He was well respected and seemed to be admired by everyone in town. Mother listened to everything he said and whether she agreed with him or not, she did what she was told. See he was strict and expected everyone to live by his set of rules. My two older sisters were married by seventeen and I sometimes think that they did so, to get out of the house and away from his rules. They married young men from town who they had grown up with and who came from ``good families`` as Father always told everyone. Brenda married the banker`s son and Janet married the son of Thomas Brady who owned the sawmill. Both girls ended up with beautiful homes and made their father proud as well as profitable business partners. </strong></span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>As for me, well I was well on my way to marrying Bobby Moore, son of Mr. Moore who owned the hardware store. I admit he was tall, dark and handsome, well on his way to being rich, for he worked for his father. He already had his own home and was very in love with me. Between my mother and his, the wedding plans were already in the process of being organised. It was to be a big summer wedding with everyone in town invited. My dress was ordered and Mother was making the final decisions for the invitations and stationary. I thought a pale green would be nice but Mother said that it had to be blue. I agreed because I had no choice in any of the arrangements. The wedding would be held at the town hall and no expenses were to be spared according to my father. This was another way to make him look good and appearances meant everything. I was not allowed to cut my hair until after the wedding so that it would be long enough for a tied up look. Mother had found a picture at the beauty shop on one of her trips there and she brought it home and stuck it above Father`s desk to get his approval.</strong> </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>I went along with it all because I did not seem to have a choice. Before finishing high school, I had told my mother that I wanted to go to college and become a librarian. I will never forget the look on her face. It was as if I had said that I wanted to become a street walker. She shook her head and left the room without saying a word. That night at the supper table, my father made it clear that his daughters would make their life in this town for it had everything they needed. All I had to do was settle down, get married and bring up his grandchildren. There was no need to look elsewhere for anything.</strong> </span></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><em> </em>Well that is it for tonight, hope you enjoyed it. I will really try and enter two more post this week. Hope you have a great week ahead, remember to spread some kindness, the world needs it more than ever. Please look after our animals friends as well for we share the earth with them.</span> </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-17153322695950523992012-10-21T16:32:00.003-07:002012-10-21T16:35:34.241-07:002012-10-21T16:35:34.241-07:00Annie Wright The story continues<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Hi again everyone, here is the next part of the story about Annie Wright. If you have not been following the story, please go back and start at the beginning to understand what is happening.</span> </span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: large;">From Annie's manuscript that she wrote.....</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe I should not be writing this for who knows who will read it, but I feel I have to so that I will be understood. As I write it, I feel I am making peace with myself, forgiving myself for the choices that I made way back then. It all happened so suddenly and once it started it was as if I had got caught up in an unfamiliar part of life that I had no experience with, yet I went after if as if my life depended on it. I know I hurt some people but it was my life and for the first time, I wanted what I wanted, not what they all wanted and expected from me. I had suddenly came alive and the real me stepped forward. I believe life does that to us all for we are who we are meant to be and at some point, life forces us to shed our outer layers and face the reality of our souls desire. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;"> His name was Jeff and he was from a small town in Alberta. He had travelled across the country selling and delivering typewriters. He said he loved his work because he got to travel and meet so many people. When he stopped by my place that day, his life changed as well. Had he known what lay ahead of him, would he have stayed the night? </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">He held me close and I could feel the beating of his heart. His arms felt strong and I felt myself mold into his embrace. I was so afraid as I reached to put my arms around his neck. It felt so good and I forced myself to look into his eyes. I felt weak. As we both stood there shaking and holding on to each other, he gently kissed my lips, with a warmth I had never known. It was the first time I had felt passion and it was magnetic for I held on to him as if nothing else in the world existed. That night I layed in his arms and we talked until the early hours of the morning. He was a gentleman and never did anything but hold me that night, despite an awakening and need inside of me. I was afraid and yet I was not, for a longing that I had never known burned its way through my good girl common sense. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">I woke up the next morning to the sound of him cooking breakfast on my mother's new wood stove. What would she had said if she knew what was going on in her kitchen. Afraid that he would see me in the early morning light, I made my way to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked a mess with my hair uncombed and my face pale and tired looking. Yet my eyes were bright and full of life. I quickly splashed water on it and brushed my teeth. I tied my hair up in a loose ponytail and headed downstairs to see him holding out a cup of tea for me. I smiled and reached to take it but he set it on the counter and reached for me instead. Once again, I was safe and warm in his arms and felt like I was the happiest person in the world. I could not imagine being this way. The word love suddenly made sense to me and I repeated it over and over again in my head, smiling to myself. </span></em><br />
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Looking back on my life, I would have to say that this was the happiest day of my life.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Okay folks, that is it for tonight. I have to go and get ready for work tomorrow. I promise I will write a few entries during the week ahead. Please leave a comment if you have read it. Thanks Teresa for your comments, I appreciate them. I will soon be adding a way for you to subscribe to this blog as soon as I figure out how to do it. Then you will be able to be notified by email for each entry and will never miss a part of the story. Thanks for reading it and have a nice evening!</span><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-49750467337701987622012-10-20T14:11:00.004-07:002012-10-20T14:14:44.711-07:002012-10-20T14:14:44.711-07:00 The Fear of Changing a Door Knob<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">A heavy fall rain is falling at this time here at the Inn. It is really coming down and once again the fire crackling in my wood stove feels great. I have to go out for supper as my sister just got home and a delicious plate of lasanga is waiting for me, so it will be worth going out in this wet weather. It was a busy day here, as Saturdays always are, for it is catch up on chores day. I amazed myself by changing the lock on my front door all by myself. I knew it had to be done and have thought about it for about two months, wondering who I could get to come in and change it. Part of me said to do it myself, the other part said you can't do that Mary... it takes someone who knows what they are doing. That persistant voice that is always trying to hold me back told me that I would get into a mess if I tried and then what would I do. It would be worst than ever, because I would ruin the lock already there and then my door would not lock at all. So I listened to that supposedly voice of reason but this morning I said no and looked on Google to see if I could maybe try and actually do it. I found my screw driver, opened the package for the new knob and after about twenty minutes, I had the new knob in place and the key actually opened it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">VOILA... I did it!!! It felt great and it made me realize how fear has been a part of my life and how many times it has stopped me. Maybe I can do so much more... maybe I can be so much more... I just have to try. Maybe I can surprise myself with so many other things that I have wanted to do, if I can just silence that voice inside of me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">You know the old saying that there is nothing to fear but fear itself.... well maybe it is true!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The next installement on Annie Wright is almost ready and I will post it tomorrow</span></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-51820035635836779152012-10-16T16:07:00.001-07:002012-10-16T16:09:52.994-07:002012-10-16T16:09:52.994-07:00Wishing Your Life Away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wishing well in my yard... full of dreams and wishes that have yet to be realised.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Another rainy night here at the Inn. It is really raining out there and I am thankful to be safe and warm here inside. The wood stove is burning and I hear the rain outside. I also will be knitting for awhile before going to bed with a book. Life is good! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have been thinking a lot lately about what is really important in life. We make so many wishes throughout our life, in fact from the time we are small children, we learn the practice of wishing for this or that, or for a special day to arrive; like a birthday or Christmas. My Mom used to tell me not to wish my life away, for each day was important. Yet I still wish for things at this point in my life... lets just say I have reached that wonderful phase in life called mid-life. Hurrah I made it to here and I am still standing and I am still wishing. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I still have big dreams and am determined to turn them into reality. The one benefit of getting older is knowing that there is only so much time left and that we do have an expirary date. It makes everything we do much more important. We learn to simplify and get rid of the drama in our lives so that we can concentrate on what we really want. Getting older does not mean that we should let go of our dreams, it means we should use our experiences and hard earned wisdom to take us towards what fills our imagination. We must find the courage to face our dreams and take one small step towards making it happen. After the first step, take the second and then keep on going. Practice going towards it, fill your head with the possibilities of realizing it and what it will feel like turing that burning desire into a reality. Write it down and make a list of what you have to do to make it real. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I have several dreams left in me, several that I keep hidden just for me. The one that I will share with you is to build my own greenhouse next summer. A real greenhouse, that will be heated and will provide me with fresh food in spring, summer and fall. I need a root cellar to go with it. You can check out one of my favourite books that is on my wish list about growing vegetables. It is about a winter harvest but that would be a little extreme here in the Gaspe. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Eliot-Colemans-Winter-Harvest-Handbook/dp/1603580816/ref=wl_mb_hu_m_10_dp"><span style="font-size: large;">http://www.amazon.ca/Eliot-Colemans-Winter-Harvest-Handbook/dp/1603580816/ref=wl_mb_hu_m_10_dp</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"> Go ahead, go after your dream and let me know what it is as I would love to hear from you.
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em><strong><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="color: #274e13;">Those
who have achieved their dreams know that life is about willpower and
persistence. It’s about hanging on to hope when your heart has had enough,
and giving even more when your mind and body want to give up. Yes, each
step may get harder but it will be well
worth enduring the journey to get there.</span></span></strong></em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: black; font-size: large;">The next chapter of Annie Wright will be ready tomorrow night so be sure to come back and catch up on her story. </span></span></div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-45564334831604036672012-10-14T11:24:00.000-07:002012-10-14T11:24:21.582-07:002012-10-14T11:24:21.582-07:00 The Next Page<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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If you have been reading this blog, you know that I have been telling the story of Annie Wright. Her daughter found an old handwritten book in her belongings after she died. She has travelled to the Inn to find out more about the woman that she knew only as her mother.<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><strong><em>Who was Annie Wright Part
Five</em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><strong><em><span style="color: black;"></span></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><strong><em><span style="color: black;"></span></em></strong></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="color: black;">I remember that he got up from the table after his lunch and walked towards the door. I immediately felt a sense of loss and for whatever reason I asked him to stay and help me wash the dishes. He looked at me with a slight smile and said, " How rude of me to just walk off like this, what was I thinking." He told me later that as he had walked away from the table, he had tried to find a reason to stay as well. </span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="color: black;"></span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="color: black;">Lunch turned into an afternoon walk and into a late supper. The evening passed and we both fought an overwhelming sense of loss at the thought of being seperated. I had never been a bold person but for the first time in my life , I wanted something that went against what my father allowed. I wanted him to stay, I wanted him to keep talking, I wanted to feel something that had made me tremble for the first time. As if God had heard my silent prayers, it started to rain and with it came gusts of wind that shook the rafters of my parent's old house. Once again, I bravely told him that he could not leave on such a night for it would be too dangerous. His eyes grew darker and my heart beat faster. He said he would sleep on the couch, I said yes and went to find him a blamket upstairs in the linen closet. I remember going into my room and looking at myself in the mirror. For several minutes I argued with my sensible side and forced myself to remember who I was and to think seriously about what I was doing. I was a young woman of twenty years old which should have made me a more responsable person. My parents had left on another business trip and would have never expected their daughter to allow a stranger into the house; let alone sleep in it as well. </span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="color: black;"></span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="color: black;">As much as I tried to reason with myself, I put a smile on my face, fixed my hair and went back downstairs to see him stretched out on the couch, lost in his thoughts. As soon as he saw me, he got up and walked towards me. I handed him the blanket and he placed it on the couch. He touched my face and looked into my eyes, searching for any sign that would allow him to wrap his arms around me. I took a step forward and found myself caught up in what would become the happiest time in my life and the most painful to forget. </span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><em><span style="color: black;"></span></em></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="color: black;">That's it for now.... I will write several entries this week, so be sure to come back and follow along. </span></span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: #660000;"></span></em></strong><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-27549036528800976372012-10-14T06:08:00.000-07:002012-10-14T06:08:33.114-07:002012-10-14T06:08:33.114-07:00October Thoughts<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A Sunday morning service from the past, in fact it is a wedding. </td></tr>
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Good morning, here it is another Sunday morning at the Inn. It's definitely getting colder up here in the Gaspe. It will take more wood to keep the place warm. I must go and fill up the woodbox and finishing digging up the garden. I expect snow at anytime now and this week will force me to buy my winter tires and my winter boots. <br />
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A few words of wisdom for today as it is a Sunday morning and always a time for reflection..... <br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Do you know that whatever trouble or hurting that you are going through right now has a purpose in your life. Pain
doesn’t just show up for no reason. It’s a sign that
something in your life needs to change. At times it can seem to take over your life and consume your thoughts with heavy darkness but it is a necessary part of existance, because just like the butterfly you are goinging to change for the better and turn into that person you know deep down that you are supposed to be. But this change takes strength and remember, it’s not that those who are strong never get weak in the knees,
or that they never gasp for a breath. It’s that while their knees are
shaking, their heart is beating, their body is weak, that they force themselves to breathe and to take another step forward. It is what we all must do.... take that next step forward, open that door and face the fear, for you will find your way through the darkness. If you are looking to read a good book on the subject, r<em><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">ead <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0743243153/ref=as_li_tf_tl?ie=UTF8&tag=marandang-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0743243153"><span style="color: blue;">The
Road Less Traveled</span></a></span></em></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-fareast-language: EN-CA; mso-no-proof: yes;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-51043290254059907152012-09-30T07:57:00.000-07:002012-09-30T08:01:48.470-07:002012-09-30T08:01:48.470-07:00 Sunday Morning at the Inn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Good morning everyone, hope that you ar eenjoying your Sunday. For many of you, it is a day off work, yet you have a hundred things to do. I understand.. really I do! Life is like that, so much to do and so little time. We run and rush and try and do and then we start all over again the next day. Not much we can do except try and take a serious look at our lives to simplify it. Seems simple doesn't it and it is easy to say but how do you really go about it. Well we can't expect to change things with just a thought, it does take time and effort but I am certain it can be done. For today, why not try throwing out one thing that you have no use for, something that you have not used for a year... do you really need it... come on now, be honest. Give it away if you think that it still has some use and do not go and buy anther next week. Lighten your load... it is a start....<br />
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Okay now let's get back to our story about Annie Wright. To follow this story, please subscribe to this blog and add it to your favourites. Join me at the Inn whenever you like, it is a place to come home to... you are always welcome here. Until next time, have a great day and spread a little kindness!<br />
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<strong><em><span style="color: #660000;">Who was Annie Wright Part Four</span></em></strong><br />
<strong><em><span style="color: #660000;"></span></em></strong><br />
<em>He was about to knock on the door when I said hello. Turing around I came face
to face with a man that would change my life
forever.................</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>He smiled and said, " I am looking for a lady called Annie Wright. Would you happen to know her?"</em><br />
<em>Feeling like I should have worn something decent when I got dressed this morning, instead of my faded blue jeans and Daddy's old white shirt, I answered, "I am Annie Wright."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>" Well then I have a parcel just for you and I am going to have to ask you to sign for it because it is a special delivery." </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>I had been waiting for this to arrive for weeks and the excitment must have shown on my face, for he smiled again when I looked up to thank him." You seem to be a happy young lady. I take it that you are going to make good use out of it. Have you ever owned one before? Do you know how it works? Would you like me to make sure that it is in working order, it is a free service upon delivery?" </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>He followed me into the house and together we carefully opened the box. There inside was my shiny new typewriter , an</em> <em>Underwood de Luxe</em>. <em>I had saved for two years to buy it and now I finally was able to touch it. I would be able to write my stories. </em><br />
<em>"Here let me lift it out of the box for you. Where would you like to set it up?"</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em> Feeling a little uncomfortable, I led him to my bedroom where I had a small desk. After he plugged it in and added a sheet of paper, he told me to sit down and start typing. The black letters appeared on the paper and I was lost in my excitment of seeing the reality of a dream being fulfilled. He never said a word as I typed my name over and over again. </em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>I came to my senses and asked him to forgive me for being rude. To make up for it, I offer him a glass of lemonade that I had made the day before, when Maggie, my best friend, came to visit. He accepted and sat at the kitchen table. When I seen that it was lunch time, I offered him a sandwich. Maybe I shouldn't have, maybe I should have seen him to the door and simply thanked him and he would have left. But no, I offered him lunch and in return I changed the course of my life. As I write this, I still remember his eyes, his smile, his hands. I remember his laugh and his easy nature. I miss him still after all these years. For this reason, I have no regrets. For that short amount of time, I lived life to the fullest. I did not know what was to come, what road life would take, I was innocent.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em> </em>Be sure to come back and read the next installment... see you then. <br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-89675886640051661432012-09-27T17:22:00.000-07:002012-09-27T17:23:00.724-07:002012-09-27T17:23:00.724-07:00 Who was Annie Wright ? Part Three <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Welcome back to the Inn.... if you remember this is where we left off in Part Two. Take the time to read this latest entry to this on-going story telling blog. <br />
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Sitting down in the rocking chair, she began to read the mysterious words her
mother had written so long ago...... <em>A woman's life is never as it seems,
for we are the keeper's of many secrets........................</em><br />
<em></em><br />
Bess has read these lines many times since finding the old manuscript. Her mother had written in on the first page. Bess recognised the writing for it was the same way her mother had signed all her birthday cards and wrote her notes for school. Yet she wondered what she meant by the keeper's of many secrets. What had her mother kept hidden from her and her family? She had always been so open about everything, so understanding of everyone else's choices, even when they were questionable.<br />
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Like when Julie Smith had left her husband to go to Tibet on some sort of pilgrimage. Everyone else said she was crazy and that she was probably involved with some man that she had met at work. Her mother had told her to never judge another person's decisions, for everyone was struggling through some sort of issues and the choices they made, surely seemed right to them. She had always said that to judge others was to expect to be judged in return. Bess had heard these words over and over again in her youth and had held herself back from many discussions when co-workers sat around gossiping. She had learned her lessons well.<br />
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Turning the page she began to read again the words her mother had written.....<br />
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<em>It was the spring of 1956, when I first seen him. I had been busy hanging clothes out on the line. It was a beautiful day in April and the sun was shining. There was a warm breeze that brought the promise of warmer days ahead. The snow had melted and the mud around the back veranda was slowly beginning to dry up. I had got up early to get the laundry started as I wanted to make sure to get it hung out early so that it would dry. There was nothing like watching well sorted clothes blowing in the wind. I had always taken pride in sorting out the laundry so that everything matched. My mother had taught me well to hang the whites with the whites and sort through the sizes so that it looked as if it was hung with care.</em><br />
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<em>As I put the clothespin on the last facecloth, I heard a truck drive in the yard. I steppped down off the clothesline stand and walked towards the front of the house. A young man was walking up my front steps with a parcel in his hands. He was about to knock on the door when I said hello. Turing around I came face to face with a man that would change my life forever.................</em><br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-71139721359692085412012-09-23T09:10:00.001-07:002012-09-23T09:10:50.628-07:002012-09-23T09:10:50.628-07:00Welcome to the Inn and let me tell you a story....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: 22pt; line-height: 115%;">W</span><span style="font-size: small;">elcome
to Maggie’s Raggedy Inn a house of stitches and stories. This is a special place
where you will meet some very interesting people whose lives may reflect your
own or people that you know. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #274e13;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine yourself
standing in front of an old wood frame house with a huge wrap around veranda.
You can see that the building has been newly painted and fixed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are flower beds everywhere and then you
see a weather beaten stone path leading up to the front door. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are two large rocking chairs on each
side of the entrance that invites you to stay awhile. Once you step inside the building
you feel that you are entering into another time, for this place reminds you
that have found your way back to the comfort of home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a fire burning in the fireplace in
one corner of the large room enticing you to seek out its warmth. In the
opposite corner you see table where people are softly talking in private
conversations. Above a large wooden counter hangs an old fashion menu board
with the specials of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You spot
the butterscotch pie and suddenly you feel the need to sit and spoil yourself
with this homemade treat. Everything in the room is comforting and peaceful. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some strange reason, you feel somewhat
tired and seek to forget from where you came. You know that you have reached the
place that you have dreamed about; you have found your escape from all that
ails you. You have come home. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sit down
and stay awhile.....................................</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Who was Annie Wright ? Part two.......</span></div>
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Bess followed Mrs. Lawler into the kitchen. Even at this hour of the morning, the Inn seemed to be busy as coffee was being prepared and plates of toast and eggs were being taken from the kitchen to waiting visitors in another room. Apparently she was receiving special privileges because a place had been set for her at the kitchen table. <br />
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Little was said as she ate her breakfast for Mrs. Lawler was busy travelling in and out of the kitchen herself. She could hear her laughing with visitors that were checking out and talking with others in the dining room. She seemed to be a woman with a lot of energy and Bess could not help but smile as she remembered her mother saying that Jessie Lawler had been her one true friend that had always been there for her because she had taken the time to show up. Apparently she had had her share of troubles and after dealing with a broken heart, she had told her mother that she would never depend on another man for the rest of her life. She had inherited her parent's house and had borrowed enough money to turn it into an Inn in what was practically a ghost town. Everyone had told her she was crazy and that she would never get people to come to such a remote little Inn, yet she had been determined and from what Bess was witnessing this morning, she had succeeded. She seemed to be an interesting woman and Bess hoped to find out more about her as well as what she knew about the book her mother had written years ago. <br />
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Her thoughts drifted back to her mother, her best friend and the woman that had always been there for her. The only comfort she had, was that her mother had not suffered before dying. A massive heart attack had taken her that morning. She had been speaking to her the night before and she seemd to be fine. Bess had been dealing with her issues and her mother's final words to her was that she understood. It had comforted Bess because she seemed to have always understood her daughter no matter what she was going through. She had listened to her without making judgements, without making her feel guilty, without any I told you so speeches. Bess had been lucky to have her for a mother, yet it made the loss so much harder. She missed her deeply and even though it had been almost six months since she was gone, the tears still fell and the pain was at times overwhelming. <br />
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To find herself this morning at a small country Inn in the country was an attempt to connect with her mother's past. She thought she knew her so well, yet after finding the hand written book, it left many questions that she had to find the answers for, if she was ever to accept her death. <br />
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"Bess, follow me and I will show you where your room is upstairs. I hope that you will enjoy your stay and I promise that I will sit with you this afternoon and we will have time to talk. You can make yourself comfortable and enjoy the library or go for a walk for their are several paths around the Inn and I promise you that they all lead back to here, so don't worry about getting lost. Here is your key and if you need anything just ask, for we want our guests to feel like they are home here with us." Mrs. Lawler turned and went downstairs. Bess looked around her room and was taken in by the warmth of the decorating touches that had been used to make it feel welcoming. The old walls had been painted in a soft white and the antique furniture added a comfortable feeling to the room. Even though it was late September, the window was open and the soft white curtains moved slightly in the warm breeze. An old white whicker rocking chair with a pale green aftgan caught her attention and beckoned her to sit and rock, something she had not done for a long time. It seemed that life no longer offered such soothing comforts. Placing her overnight bag on the dresser, she opened it and took out the old manuscript that her mother had written.<br />
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Sitting down in the rocking chair, she began to read the mysterious words her mother had written so long ago...... <em>A woman's life is never as it seems, for we are the keeper's of many secrets........................</em><br />
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<em>To read Part 1 please visit the previous blog post.......</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
Please come back again as I tell the story of Annie Wright.<br />
<br />
You can also find another ebook about a fabled love story <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/100727989/the-fisherman-and-the-salmon-a-fabled">http://www.etsy.com/listing/100727989/the-fisherman-and-the-salmon-a-fabled</a><br />
<br />
Visit the gift shop at the Inn <a href="http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com/">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</a> </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-54634451022460401772012-09-22T16:38:00.001-07:002012-09-22T16:38:55.821-07:002012-09-22T16:38:55.821-07:00 Who was Annie Wright ?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #274e13;"><strong>Welcome to the Inn and let me tell you a story....</strong></span><br />
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Who was Annie Wright?</strong></span></div>
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The conducter tapped her on the shoulder and she woke up to hear him say that Irishtown was the next stop in ten minutes. Bess looked around and saw several other passengers were still asleep, while other were looking out the windows, lost in their thoughts. <br />
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She picked up the book she had been reading and put it in her small overnight bag. Checking her purse to make sure she had not lost her wallet she made her way to the front of the train where the conducter was standing. <br />
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She felt the engine slow down and held on to the last seat near the exit to keep her balance. The door opened and she stepped off and made her way to a small building that must have been the train station. The door was locked and she found herself alone in a strange environment. Now what was she supposed to do at 6 a.m in a little town in the middle of nowhere. What had she been thinking when she made a reservation at an Inn in a town that looked as if no one lived here. Fear began to fill her tired body and she thought she was going to faint. Looking around she seen a young man walking towards her. " You must be Annie Wright? I'm Thomas and Mrs. Lawler asked me to pick you up and take you to the Inn. She is waiting for you and asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready and there's a wood fire burning in the fireplace. <br />
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Bess gratefully accepted his offer, despite the little voice in her head that reminded her of her mother's words of wisdom that always told her to beware of strangers. At this point she had to go against her better judgement and she followed him to his truck. <br />
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Within minutes he stopped his vechicle in front of a big old house surrounded by the most beautiful gardens she had ever seen. Thomas picked up her small bag and asked her to follow him. A large sign stood proudly on the front lawn with the words Maggies Raggedy Inn carefully carved into the massive wooden piece of lumber. Bess recognised the name and all her thoughts of fear disappeared. She was finally here and although she did not know what to expect she was hoping that on the other side of the glass door she would meet a woman who had known her mother. She hoped that Mrs. Lawler would be able to answer her many question and help help her understand the woman that had given her birth. <br />
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As Thomas opened the door, she was greeted by a friendly face and the smell of a far off memory of a place she had called home.<br />
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<strong><span style="color: #660000;">This will be a continuing story which I will tell through this blog. I will write several entries a week so be sure to come back as I tell you a story of Bess whose mother has just died. As she cleans out her mother's house and sorts through her things, she finds a handwritten book that her mother wrote, which leaves her to wonder if she really knew the woman called Annie Wright. </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #660000;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #660000;">Don't forget to visit the Inn's gift shop at <a href="http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com/">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</a> </span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #660000;"></span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="color: #660000;">You can also find a Fabled Love Story here.......</span></strong><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/100727989/the-fisherman-and-the-salmon-a-fabled">http://www.etsy.com/listing/100727989/the-fisherman-and-the-salmon-a-fabled</a><br />
<span style="color: #274e13;"></span> </div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-33057790151084582742012-09-19T16:24:00.000-07:002012-09-22T12:53:12.428-07:002012-09-22T12:53:12.428-07:00 Looking for a Miracle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> It's time to move ahead with my life.....</td></tr>
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It's a rainy night here at the Inn. I thought of lighting a fire in my wood stove but didn't as I have not filled my woodbox yet. I will do that on the weekend. Fall is definitely here and I have to get things ready for the colder weather ahead.<br />
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Today I received an email that could change my life. It is a wish that I have had since I was thirteen years old. Last night I picked up my journal for the first time in two weeks and wrote down that I had to organize my life and focus on what was truly important. I wrote down my dreams and described how I saw myself living in the future. It is always the same, my vision of the world I want to create, where I would live a simple life, earning a living from my writing, having a big heated greenhouse to grow healthy food, having my animals, visiting my daughter in Montreal, staying at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel,which overlooks the beautiful city of Montreal, being healthy and fixing up a "scar" from my past. I have carried around the hope to live this way for decades but always said that it would happen " someday" and never felt any real pressure to do anything about it...... until now.<br />
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I do not understand why I am feeling the urgency to really do something about it at this time when I am more tired than usual, as life in 2012 has been somewhat challenging. This has been a year where I was forced to experience many unforseen and difficult changes that have left me unsettled, uncertain, and in fear. Life is fragile and I have learned it the hard way. Maybe all these changes are part of the plan to take me towards my dreams. Maybe I have to get through the obstacle course to see if I am worthy to receive my blessings.... maybe? <br />
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Today I am seeing that nothing happens in life without some effort and courage. We can talk and whine all we want about something, but unless we focus and take action, nothing will change. I cannot have wasted a lifetime hoping to find a solution for nothing. I cannot let fear force me to say it is impossible... not this time... not again. <br />
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I will keep you posted as to what I am going to do about it... any suggestions will be much appreciated and remember I am literally trying to "beat the clock"!<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-84007955517442025832012-07-03T07:05:00.001-07:002012-07-03T07:05:12.069-07:002012-07-03T07:05:12.069-07:00The Old Abandoned House<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HZ7-Son5L04/T_I2SShcLoI/AAAAAAAAAVg/ZHldOyCfVJw/s1600/old+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="307" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HZ7-Son5L04/T_I2SShcLoI/AAAAAAAAAVg/ZHldOyCfVJw/s400/old+house.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Have you ever stopped and looked at an old abandoned house and wondered what it had lived through. Who had lived there years ago? <br />
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Did a young couple start their life here and had layed in bed at night dreaming about their future? <br />
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Did small children run across the veranda laughing and playing tag? <br />
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Did a big family gather together for Christmas dinner and enjoy a hot turkey supper with many servings of dessert? <br />
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Did the family get word that a son would not be coming home again because he was killed in a battlefield on the other side of the world? <br />
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Did a mother fight with her daughter when she came in late one night after being told she was not allowed to be hanging around with Ben Harley's son? <br />
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Did a woman lay awake at night crying and wondering where her husband was again at 2:00 a.m.?<br />
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Did a man bury his wife because she died in childbirth, and was left with six small children to raise alone?<br />
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Did a small child fall into the well and die breaking her parents will to live, yet knowing they had to carry on for they had other children to feed?<br />
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Did a middle aged woman cry quietly, knowing that she had no more love to give her husband after years of arguments and struggles? <br />
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Did a family move to the city looking for a better way of earning a living and leave the house to hold their memories within its walls, hoping that they would return one day? <br />
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Yes what would this house tell if it could speak ... so many stories through the years of time. But it will keep their secrets for house are like that you know. Their walls kept a family safe from the storms of life and protected their belongings by asking little in return. At one time it received a fresh coat of paint every few years and had flower beds to make it feel loved and admired. How proud it had felt when vistors had come over and said how beautiful it was and so well built. In return it would brace itself against the winds and the rain and cry out in pain with its creaks and cracking, yet it never gave in for it had a family that loved it and needed its protection.<br />
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Oh yes, what do you think when you see an old abandoned house? An old eyesore that should be torn down? Just remember that house was very much alive back in its day and all it would need is a little tender care for it to start over with another family and their story. A little paint, some repairs to the roof, maybe some new windows for it to see again and who knows what a place of comfort it could be once more for these old house were built to last and there is not a modern home that can compare to the wise old ways of these magnificent structures.<br />
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-35497559330417342912012-07-01T05:47:00.002-07:002012-07-01T05:53:26.950-07:002012-07-01T05:53:26.950-07:00Florence Nightengale A Life of Passion<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fNvFeqkRAlE/T_A0ynetmKI/AAAAAAAAAVU/1qtGhfeiCO0/s1600/florence+nightengale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fNvFeqkRAlE/T_A0ynetmKI/AAAAAAAAAVU/1qtGhfeiCO0/s640/florence+nightengale.jpg" width="424" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">We have all heard the stories about Florence Nightingale. She was a young woman that was born in Florence, Italy, on May 12, 1820. She spent most of her childhood in England and although she didn't attend school, her father taught her well.
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At an early age she began to study elementary nursing techniques and in 1852 she was given the position of superintendent of the Institution for
the Care of Sick Gentlewomen in London.
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<span style="font-size: large;"> During the Crimean war in 1854 she volunteered as a nurse with a group
of other women. The conditions of the nurising facilities
were inadequate an she brought about changes that would improve the sanitary conditions of the patients care. Florence would check on and comfort the
patients at night, walking the halls with a lamp. It was because of this that
the soldiers gave her the nickname, "The Lady with the Lamp."
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<span style="font-size: large;">In 1856, she became widely known as superintendent of the Female
Nursing Establishment of the Military Hospitals. After meeting with Queen Victoria
</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">she was promised a royal
commission and the Royal Commission on the
Health of the Army, was created in 1857, and this commission also formed an Army
Medical School in 1857 as well. Another royal commission was created as well in
1859, and this commission established a Sanitary Department in 1868.
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<span style="font-size: large;">In
1860, Florence created the Nightingale School for Nurses at St. Thomas'
Hospital. This was the first of its kind, and Florence reformed the workhouses
and trained the midwives and nurses herself. However, her health began to fail
her and in 1901, she became
completely blind. Florence died in London, England, on August 13, 1910.</span> </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Although this gives one a brief overview of her life, I cannot help but wonder about her personal life. After all she was a real woman and I am sure felt the fear, fatigue and emotions that we all do as we move through the different stages of life. There must have been times when she was angry and frustrated and longed for some peace and quiet. Or maybe she found her true calling and it remained her passion throughout her life. How many of us live our lives waiting and dreaming about what we really want to do but push it aside to deal with the real issues of our busy lives. How many of us fear our dreams because reaching towards them just feels painful and impossible. Sound familiar? What a shame to limit our own possibilities with a smaller life.</span> </div>
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<em><strong><span style="font-size: x-large;">How very little can be done under the spirit of fear.</span></strong></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: x-large;"><strong> </strong> </span><span style="font-size: small;">Florence Nightengale</span></em></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-74787316079545301892012-06-30T18:20:00.003-07:002012-06-30T18:23:05.132-07:002012-06-30T18:23:05.132-07:00Mary Magdalene's Reputation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQ0VYllr1Bc/T--lkanGO3I/AAAAAAAAAVI/lLnFvYc7uMw/s1600/magdeleine+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mQ0VYllr1Bc/T--lkanGO3I/AAAAAAAAAVI/lLnFvYc7uMw/s400/magdeleine+3.jpg" width="284" /></a></div>
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Who was Mary Magdalene? Well I think she is one of the best examples of how a woman can be misjudged. I do not know of any other person in history who has been as controverial or as mysterious as this woman. What exactly was her relationship with Jesus and why was she made out to be a prostitute in the history of the church. We know that she was a devout follower of Jesus and followed him to the very end,
and was the first to witness his resurrection.</div>
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Throughout history she has been labeled
such things as a prostitute, Jesus’ wife, apostle and writer of the Gnostic
Gospel of Mary. Although her name has been cleared of the prostitution label,
the mysterious life of Mary Magdalene is still heavily studied and strongly
debated, especially in recent times.</div>
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After Jesus’ death, she was believed to have been his favorite apostle. She was
asked to reveal secret teachings given to her by Jesus. After her revelations, which are found in the Gnostic Gospel of Mary,
she had a disagreement with Peter about the teachings. I am sure that this did not go over well with the boys and they had to discredit her for she may have known more than she should and had become a threat. Therefore they had to destroy her reputation and they did a good job for it is only in recent history that the truth about her is slowly being pieced together. </div>
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Where Mary went and what she did after she left the apostles is still
debatable. Some studies show that Mary was pregnant with Jesus’ child
and went to France, where her descendants eventually founded the Merovingian
line of kings, made famous recently by the<i> Da Vinci. </i></div>
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I am not sure we will ever know the real truth but she is definitely an interesting woman and I believe that we can learn a lot from her life. History does repeat itself just look around and I am sure that you will find your own example of such a woman.....</div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-84597316485097249052012-06-30T15:59:00.002-07:002012-06-30T16:07:19.335-07:002012-06-30T16:07:19.335-07:00We Have Come a Long Way Girls<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CGsOkICeaGk/T--B5xO8fqI/AAAAAAAAAUA/rlVfQqX4OBc/s1600/old+pic+184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CGsOkICeaGk/T--B5xO8fqI/AAAAAAAAAUA/rlVfQqX4OBc/s640/old+pic+184.jpg" width="398" /></span></a></div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><span style="color: white; font-family: GillSansStd; font-size: small;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;">During the early history of the United States, a man owned his wife</span></div>
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</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;">and children. She couldn’t keep her name or possess any assets.</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Even an inherited family home became the property of her husband.</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">If a man chose to send his children to an orphanage, the mother had</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">no defense. She also had no rights over her own body, although he</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">had full rights over his wife’s body. Crimes against women weren’t</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">considered serious. A woman’s “purity” was expected, but rape was</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">almost impossible to prove, and unless it was a black man faced</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">charges against raping a white woman, the punishment was negligible.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">Women simply weren’t deemed valuable—at least not in the eyes of</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">
</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;">the law. You can imagine the rage women must have felt.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><em> Chrystal Andrus</em> <em>Life Coach</em></span></div>
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</span></span></span></span><b><span style="color: #231f20; font-family: GillSansStd-Bold;"><span style="color: #231f20; font-family: GillSansStd-Bold;"></span></span></b><span style="color: #231f20; font-family: GillSansStd-Bold;"><span style="color: #231f20; font-family: GillSansStd-Bold;"></span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-14115170056678102392012-06-29T10:35:00.002-07:002012-06-29T10:35:50.194-07:002012-06-29T10:35:50.194-07:00Angela's Wedding<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Angela</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Angela had planned her special day for July 23. It was supposed to be a dream wedding with 175 people invited. It was going to be a beautiful day and she looked forward to seeing it all unfold. She had splurged on her wedding dress and on all the details. He had let her make all the arrangements and he seemed to be as anxious as she was for their new life to begin. She had met Steve more than a year ago and had fallen in love with him within weeks of his arrival in town. He was good looking, kind, and seemed to adore her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As she waited for the train to arrive, she went over the series of events that destroyed her dreams. The morning of her wedding, an arrangement of beautiful white roses were delivered to her mother's house. She carried them up to her room and knew without a doubt that they were from Steve. Her heart swelled with more love and happiness than she had ever felt in her life. Opening the card she read the words.....</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">My dearest Angela,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">You know I love you and always will for you have brought me more happiness than I have ever known. Therefore it is with much regret and a heavy heart, that I am writing this letter to you, knowing that you will read it on the morning of what you think is your wedding day. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">I will not be waiting for you in the church today. I am sorry to have to hurt you so deeply for I know that you love me. Do not worry, you will meet someone else some day. A woman like you will have no trouble capturing another man's heart. It is my loss. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Do not search for me for I left last night. I have my reasons for doing this. Do not waste your time questioning my decision. Do not waste your time searching for me, for you will never see me again. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Move on with your life Angela, from this moment on, I must only be a faded memory.</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Always,</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-size: large;">Steve</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">She heard the train stopping, picked up her luggage and walked away from the only life she knew. Despite the protests of her family and friends, she knew she had to leave and start again. All she asked for was the strength to start again and to find a simple life. She was on her own and would always be..................</span></div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-20038462446001657432012-06-24T18:15:00.001-07:002012-06-24T18:15:03.839-07:002012-06-24T18:15:03.839-07:00Maggie's Raggedy Inn: Every Life has a Story<a href="http://maggiesraggedyinn.blogspot.com/2012/06/every-life-has-story.html?spref=bl">Maggie's Raggedy Inn: Every Life has a Story</a>: Have you ever sat down for a quick lunch in a busy public restaurant or food court and seen a woman possibly in her early sixties, sitting...<div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-68299211559029010862012-06-24T16:42:00.005-07:002012-06-29T11:29:25.983-07:002012-06-29T11:29:25.983-07:00Every Life has a Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mTzC7ZEGRQM/T-epJEMc2DI/AAAAAAAAATY/22lGy_7HjlE/s1600/old%2Bpic%2B48.jpg"></a>Have you ever sat down for a quick lunch in a busy public restaurant or food court and seen a woman possibly in her early sixties, sitting by herself drinking a cup of tea. You notice that she is well dressed and that she must have put effort into her appearance before she left home. You can see that she carries a certain pride in the way that she is seated and how she is politely making eye contact with the waitress for a refill. </div>
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Who is this lady and what brings her here you might ask yourself for she is really out of place in this burger joint environment. Why is she alone and why does she look so sad? Where in her husband? Is he at work? Is she divorced? Does she have any children? Maybe they are married and living in another part of the world? </div>
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Is she lonely sitting there all by herself? Where are her friends?</div>
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Maybe she just moved here and does not know anyone. Maybe she is looking after a sick husband and this is her only escape to spend time on her own while another caregiver takes over for a few hours to let her get out of the house? </div>
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Maybe she is waiting to meet a long lost friend or maybe she is going to meet a man and is involved in an affair. Maybe she just found out that she has some life threatening disease and she has come here to sort things out in her head before going home to her family. </div>
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Maybe she has just retired and does not know what to do with her time and so she dresses up in the clothes she used to wear to the office so that she feels she still has a reason to get out of the house. Maybe she lost her job and she has not told her family yet and so she comes here to pass her days trying to find a way to tell them that she feels like a failure.</div>
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What was she like as a young woman? What were her dreams and did she live a full life? Is she happy? Did she achieve all that she wanted to do. What are her dreams now for the future? </div>
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There could be a thousand reasons as to why she is here sitting quietly at her table, looking out the window with a far away emptiness. </div>
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Yes everyone has a story and in our busy lives we often forget that each person comes with a past and an uncertain future. You will never know who she really is because you have to get back to work but you tell yourself that you will be back tomorrow and will see another person with another story.<br />
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"It's been said , ‘time heals all wounds.’ I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens.<br />
But it is never gone." ― Rose Kennedy</div>
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</div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-70275089880229737762012-05-27T05:43:00.003-07:002012-05-27T05:43:23.208-07:002012-05-27T05:43:23.208-07:00The Fisherman and the Salmon - A Fabled Love Story from the Gaspe<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-116MMBapKr0/T8Igld_kvqI/AAAAAAAAATI/MV0u_MdIFNY/s1600/mermaid++book+cover+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-116MMBapKr0/T8Igld_kvqI/AAAAAAAAATI/MV0u_MdIFNY/s320/mermaid++book+cover+002.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
This fable is a unique story about forbidden love. If you have ever fallen in love, you will feel the passion that love brings into the life of the young salmon. Innocently she allows herself to go against her nature and follow her heart despite the warnings of her elders. <br /><br /> "<strong><em>The years passed and day after day, he patiently threw his line across the water until there came a time when one fish in particular caught his eye. She was beautiful and her silvery speckled body swam gracefully beneath the sun sparkled</em></strong> <strong><em>waters</em></strong>." <br /><br />This is a story that will take you on an adventure of passion with an end that will remain in your memory long after you have finished the book. Let your imagination travel to the beautiful destination of a salmon river on the Gaspe Coast of Canada, where you will immerse yourself in a watery tale of love.<br /><br />This book is available in my Etsy shop will be sent to you as a PDF file <br />
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<br /> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-84727066950899551852012-05-23T10:56:00.002-07:002012-05-23T11:07:01.831-07:002012-05-23T11:07:01.831-07:00A Hoop Garden Here at the Inn<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mini hoop garden that I built myself to start some flower seeds. I added a grow light to keep it warm on cold days. </td></tr>
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Well it is a beautiful day here in the Gaspe. I am so lucky to be working at home, able to take in the freedom of planning my day according to what I want to do. It seems strange because for the last 12 years I was responsible for running a museum and never seemed to have time to take in the what really matters.... me and what I have always wanted to do. <br />
It has taken an incredible amout of courage to bring myself to this place of freedom. I have had to leave behind the security of a day job and all that it involves. Things that we take for granted like friends, an amount of money that we can count on each week to pay the bills, focus and challenges that energize our lives. To walk away from this, means being cut off from a life source of people and direction to face an unstable financial future. But that is a price I knew that I would have to pay and it will all be worth it in the future. <br />
At this time I am keeping my head very busy planning my future which for sure includes writing and other creative ventures. I have planted a garden and will watch it grow alongside my new life. <br />
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<strong><em>"The happiness of a man in this life does not consist in the absence but in the mastery of his passions" Alfred Lord Tennyson</em></strong></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-77538778715844421792012-01-22T11:03:00.000-08:002012-01-22T11:48:28.200-08:002012-01-22T11:48:28.200-08:00Emily Dickinson Promise of Youth<div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1yXSj0-Yy14/TxxlQaN9OBI/AAAAAAAAASc/vqg5If87W6U/s1600/emily-dickinson.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 328px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700542560934377490" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1yXSj0-Yy14/TxxlQaN9OBI/AAAAAAAAASc/vqg5If87W6U/s400/emily-dickinson.jpg" /></a>Emily Dickinson - poet - In this photograph we can see the beautiful promise of youth, yet life was to bring her many trials and hardships.<br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XhjReOhV2KA/Txxf5PPnGOI/AAAAAAAAASQ/0q-rk9-it8k/s1600/old%2Bwoman.jpg"></a><div><blockquote></blockquote>Today I am working on a new plan for the rest of my life. Yes at times we have to step back and do some serious thinking about what we really want to do with the precious years we have left on this earth. Like Mom used to say, there is no promise of a tomorrow and the older we get the more we realise it. The sad thing is that for many of us in midlife, we think that new possibilities are few and far between. What a waste.. midlife is an exciting new adventure waiting to happen. Yes we feel more tired and have accumulated a truckload of rough hits and losses but damn, we have gained so much wisdom that it is a shame to keep it tucked away inside our fear filled and aching body. </div><div> <blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></div><div>Words of wisdom for today......</div><div><br /> The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern.<br /> Beautiful people do not just happen."</div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-22764675641253458812012-01-20T19:24:00.000-08:002012-01-20T20:01:19.067-08:002012-01-20T20:01:19.067-08:00William Butler Yeats An Education<div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f56DZLmIP28/TxoxITscUaI/AAAAAAAAASE/l18Cn7mP9ss/s1600/yeats.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 358px; height: 392px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699922297186177442" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f56DZLmIP28/TxoxITscUaI/AAAAAAAAASE/l18Cn7mP9ss/s400/yeats.jpg" /></a><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Education is not the filling of a pail,</span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">but the lighting of a fire. </span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"> William Butler Yeats</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"></span></em><blockquote></blockquote><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">In a period of change it seems that we become much more aware of everything that is going on around us. We look at our situations objectively and know that we have to understand things clearly. We search for answers and seek information. That is why the self help writers are making a fortune these days. People are struggling to deal with a fast moving world that is filled with too much stress, too many obligations which lead to more stress, health problems and far too many social isssues that we can ever hope to over come as a society.<blockquote><p> </p><p> </p></blockquote> </span></em><br /><div align="justify"><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">In times of change we tend to pick up a book seeking to find a ray of hope from the author; so that they will tell us how to get through whatever challenge we are facing.</span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">The more we read, the more we find those answers and the further we move along in our quest to reach our chosen destination. Along the way we become stronger and yes in the end we do change... I hope!!!</span></em></div><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"></span></em></blockquote></span></em></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3389218723965373676.post-67122028584491947742012-01-19T09:28:00.000-08:002012-01-19T09:44:57.181-08:002012-01-19T09:44:57.181-08:00Jane Austen What is right?<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XYr2oT0GUOs/TxhTfZzSPkI/AAAAAAAAAR4/fgG-7WM1YUc/s1600/jane%2Baustin.png"><em><span style="color:#000000;"></span></em><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 259px; height: 194px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699397127404404290" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XYr2oT0GUOs/TxhTfZzSPkI/AAAAAAAAAR4/fgG-7WM1YUc/s400/jane%2Baustin.png" /></a><br /><div align="center"><em> What is right to be done cannot be done too soon. </em></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/j/janeausten401516.html"><em>Jane Austen</em></a> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">I wonder what Jane meant when she wrote this? </div><div align="center">Well I will take it to mean that at some point we just know what has to be done.At some point in our story, we have to make a decision about what we know in our heart, to be the best decision for our well being. We have to let go of the control, lose the toxic security and face the storm.</div><div align="center">I am in that storm and the next two weeks will be unsettling and very difficult. It is one of the unwritten laws of nature.... make a change and the wild winds will blow and shake you to your core, demanding that you shed your old self and create a new you. Look at the life cycle of the butterfly. It must break through and fight its way towards freedom and fly beautifully towards a new life. </div><div align="center">May I find the strength of that butterfly!</div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">http://maggiesraggedyinn.etsy.com</div>Mary Robertsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08763945289158430056noreply@blogger.com3