I Am Quite Sure It's Not My Birthday. Quite Sure.

Cake from Travis circa 2010. It still looks Internet fresh.

There's something eerie about reaching an age that matches the last two digits of your birth year.  

Research reveals that this is my "Beddian birthday"...eureka!  A once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. I will get to experience living in my birth year for the next twelve months, and since I am the superstitious sort, I think that might be quite special.  Beddian birthdays are named for NYC Firefighter Bobby Beddia, who lost his life in a 7-alarm fire shortly after he inadvertently inspired a mathemetician  who was touring the Fire Station and heard Bobby note the coincidence, to confirm the theory numerically.  Not a happy year for Mr. Beddia. However, his service and kind spirit will always be memorialized in this way for future Beddians. Today I am a Beddian.

But wouldn't it be better to be celebrating my Star Birthday, which of course means that since it is the 29th of November, I turned 29 today? Apparently, I missed it many mimi years ago. Or would it? I think not. I like this year in my life much better. I would not want to go back to the Star year. It was not kind to me. And I remember feeling soooo old when I turned thirty. Ridiculous!

Today I am the same age as the year I was born.

I like the sound of that.

I've been serenaded by many and gathered very special birthday hugs too.  I'll hold them close to my Beddian heart. The stars must be aligned. So, what was missing about today? Something is off. Ah, Facebook. Barely a ding ding notification all day. Impending bubble burst feeling. Annelisa sent a sweet note today - thank you! And then...nothing. Silence. I was feeling all sorry for myself because hardly anyone on Facebook remembered my birthday when just last year there were nearly 300 birthday wishes on my wall! (I refuse to hear the whispers of 'shallow shallow'..I do not heaaar you)  What did I do? What did I say? No one loves me!!  (imagine screaming toddler temper tantrum icon) 

Wait a minute....maybe no one knooowwwws it's my birthday, except a few close friends and Mr. Sexy Eyes who has had to listen to me whine about no birthday wishes on Facebook.  So I flipped the settings switch and voila!  Instant birthday wishes.

Ding!

You checked your Facebook page just now, didn't ya, Homer?
 After all the fame and glory I've brought to his life.


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Where Do You Park Your Angels?

I went jaunting about this weekend to one of my favorite antique houses in the world. It holds treasures and memories for me, and of course, my beloved Closet of Hats...where all things magical happen. Something about its walls beg me to tell a story. Walk with me through a few chambers of timeless simple beauty. My camera was not in perfect form. Please forgive. Each visit reveals something new I missed the last time I visited. I'll narrate while we shop... if you don't mind.

Do you see that antique head mannequin? She looks like my mother and I Love Lucy all at the same time. I want to let her out of the caged cabinet. She's been asleep way too long.

If you look closely behind the three plates, you will see big painted polka dots on the wall.

What house is complete without polka dotted walls?

On the rich green dresser sits an iridescent depression glass sugar and creamer set.

Jealous love between upside down wine glasses...or are those handbells? 

Antique porcelain gold-plated powder boxes.

 Every pencil skirt needs one of those.

I want my tree to look like this.

Halos and glass wings in a bowl. Isn't that where you park your angels?

I have decided to purchase the green stained glass window in the Closet of Hats. I always considered it part of  the magic room at the top of the stairs you see....it never occurred me until just this moment that perhaps I could recreate it in Bloggingham. Why not?

Below: There's a painting to the right on the far wall. See the dark-haired little girl wearing a white hat? I'll bet she once lived in the closet of hats when it was just a closet and not a closet on a blog. She always catches my eye with a knowing nod. I'm going to leave her be. I think she should continue to live in the spooky old house. In fact, she is spooking me out right now. Moving along...

I keep looking and looking and looking at the chandelier. It's missing a couple of pieces.

Too fancy? Maybe. Maybe not.

Simple etched depression glass and colorful Christmas balls.  My long-ago ex-mother-in-law used this effect all over her house at Christmas. She still does!

I see a plastic Frosty The Snowman yard ornament and a wooden rocking horse in the forefront.
A white artificial Christmas tree from the 50s and a beautiful old white cupboard with green handles. My favorites in this upstairs room are the boxes of vintage glass ornaments tucked away everywhere.

Beautiful turquoise blue Fenton hobnail glass vase . Early to mid 20th century

(See that oval window to the left? That's the Closet of Hats)
where something once possessed me to unpossess myself
and try on a fortune of hats

I believe in the audacity of checkered floors.

and stripes...
 
 Where else would you hang a hat?




Photography Mimi Lenox. Like something you see? Write me and I'll put you in touch with the owners.
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What I Should Have Bought At The Antique Store

Dear Santa,
I have been veeeeerrrrryyyy veeerrrrry good this year. Hint. Hint.

I am still pining for these.

How could I leave them? What was I thinking???!!! They are perfect for the downstairs den.

And no, I do not live in a harem.
Yet.

I'm going to make some cookies right now for the Big Guy at the North Pole.
On second thought...maybe not. 

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A Thanksgiving Story by Mimi Lenox

It is tradition on my blog to re-post this story every Thanksgiving. A lot has changed in the years that followed, but it still stands as one of the clearer defining moments of my life. I am thankful for so many things this year, including the love of family and friends, the spinning of peace globes, and the ever-changing, sometimes even revolutionary process of life - all of it is beautiful in its own way.  I hope you and your family have a safe and wonderful holiday. ~ Mimi

Mama's Jail

When my son was fifteen he did something stupid. His dad, my ex-husband, gave him the usual “Atta boy don't do that again” talk, the school got their three days without his smart mouth and I was left with the what am I gonna do with this child? nightmare invading my dreams. In those days there was no imaginary blog dungeon, no chains, no rack – not that I would have used it ( I didn't even believe in spanking) – but you catch my drift.

What am I going to do with this child?

The conversation went something like this: “You know I love you so I'm not even going to preface this punishment with I love you because you've already gotten a slap on the wrist but OK OK I love you.”

“Yeah, I know Mom.”
He started to walk away.

“Well, I hope you'll still love me when I tell you what your punishment is going to be.”

Although I vowed never to give the think of all the starving children speech to my child (I broke that rule many times), this time I went for the jugular. Mine was bulging. “What were you THINKING?! Do you think you can just go through life handling things this way? Do you know how privileged you are? (yeah Mom) Do you understand that there are kids in this world who would love to have your life? (yeah Mom) Why are you choosing to mess things up for yourself? Do you know that you can't play sports now? (yeah Mom) Are you listening to me?! If you don't get your act together young man you're going to end up somewhere you don't want to be and I'm not bailing you out. Do you hear me? (yeah Mom) You have no idea how close you came to getting in serious trouble today, do you? Do you? Well, DO you?? (a surly yeah Mom....See, I told you, listen to the smart mouth.) What you do right now in school will determine your future. And now you have a bad mark on your academic record and a three-day suspension before high school. You are out of control!”

“So ground me,” said the smart mouth.

“No. I will not ground you.”

He halted.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Just think of it as Mama's jail.”

The smart-aleck ceased for a moment and then....."Whatever, Mom.”

I was furious with him and at my wit's end. He needed to see how the real world works. I made arrangements. It took some doing but they finally saw it my way. "You want your son to do WHAT? But he's not a criminal (not YET I thought) and we're not a juvenile detention center." (well......) "Will you please allow us to do this? I asked the nun-like administrator of this facility. “I'm not trying to teach him a lesson here, that is not the point, but he needs to see and understand with his own eyes how lucky he is and how his actions now can affect the rest of his life.”

So for the next two months that summer we got up at five am, drove to another town and worked in a homeless shelter's soup kitchen. It was the worst of the worst neighborhoods. I had cleanup detail (you didn't think they'd let me near the food now, did you?) and he served the line.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

I never told him why. He didn't need another lecture.
Think of all the starving children just got real.


After one week of losing his summer sleep to ride an hour in my car at the crack of dawn - with music blasting all the way - and mingle with very old people volunteers and stir canned creamed corn in a pot for an hour he said, “Why didn't you just send me to REAL jail?! I hate this!”


Uh huh, I thought. Just stir, Buster.

In the middle of the second week he started to actually get up before I did. “Hurry up, Mom. We have to get going.” (Oh great, I thought. He's met a pretty girl at the homeless shelter. That's the only reason he would get up at five am. My plan has backfired. Drats!) And what was this grand revelation I expected him to learn? Heck if I knew. I was just a parent with an unruly fifteen- year -old with no respect for himself or his elders or his life. I didn't even know if it would make a difference.
All I knew was that somehow the corn and pintos and no-dessert-for-you rule would magically translate into a light-bulb moment for him. Osmosis maybe? I just knew this was the right thing to do but I didn't know how or why.

One early afternoon as I started to clean the lunch tables with a large wet rag and a bucket of soapy water, rearranging the napkins and utensils for the next meal, I looked up to see my sleepy-headed son talking with a man through the narrow serving window.

My boy had just served lunch. There was pie for dessert that day.
Pumpkin pie.The man had returned to the window for another slice.
He was dirty. Shaky.
No teeth. Scraggly. Scary. Smelly. And hungry.

The rules were clear. One serving per person. No seconds. Period.

No one was looking. And I'm thinking....We're going to get thrown out of the soup kitchen for not following the rules. Oh great! Suspended again. And this time I'm going down with him. Oh the shame. Until.....

The man who wanted more pie.

Up until this point he rarely made eye contact with anyone in the line. Especially not the kids. He plopped the food on the plate and reached for the next empty Styrofoam sadness shuffling through. People with their entire families in tow. Hungry folks down on their luck and needing not even a hot meal. Just a meal. Families living in cars through no fault of their own. On the street. Raggedy clothes crossing elbows with his Tommy Hilfiger jeans and watch.
Pork 'n beans, wax beans, any beans. Didn't matter. Please feed my child. My little girl is hungry. I saw it in their eyes. The sadness. And the shame.

I was so moved that summer. Apparently, I needed a reality check too. But that was not the point. Was it?

The man would not stop asking and he was forced to look him squarely in the eyes. I could see the wheels turning in baby boy's brown-eyed head..... “Will you shut up? I'm going to get in trouble if you don't go away.”

Silence.

And a hungry stare full of embarrassment that a life-giving gesture lay in the hands of this kid he did not know and would never know - someone young enough to be his grandchild - who held something he wanted.. something he had to beg for. And then I saw my son slip a plump piece of pumpkin delight (with whipped cream) onto the scraped clean empty plate. The man nodded appreciatively, lowered his head, and walked away.

By this time my wet rag had dropped to the table and the cleaning had stopped. My hair in a net, pretending to fold silverware sets, I watched what happened. He saw me sit down. I waited for someone to say something. I waited for him to get in trouble. No one saw his discretion that day but I'll tell you this - If I could have jumped through the tiny little window and wrapped my arms around that boy I would have done so.

He was shuffling his hundred dollar Nike-shod feet standing with a spatula and an empty pan, trying not to look at me. When our eyes finally met, the blur of tears between us said what no lecture ever could. We never talked again about the man, the pie, or his punishment.
But I was proud.

We finished our tour of shelter duty as promised and school started again in the fall.
That was many years ago.

Did that summer stop him from forever being a knuckle-head? No.
Did he straighten-up-and-fly-right from that moment on? No.
Were there more nightmare dreams for me through the teenage years? Yes.

But I have to believe that it shaped his understanding of the world a bit and through all his troubles that most certainly came later, I did see – and continue to see – a great compassion develop in him for people in need.

And to this day, every time I'm offered a slice of pumpkin pie.... I see a homeless man, a prized piece of dessert and brown-eyed humility.

Mine.

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Monday Mimisms ~ A Visit With Doctor Bones

"Good work, Miss Pencil Skirt, keep it up," said Doctor Bones as he read my rehabilitation progress report. Span is better, swelling is so-so, grip much better, rotation not-so-much, fingers-to-palm excellent, flex coming along. I was happy to get a gold star from DB for all my hard work,  still.....I had a few questions. "But...but...I can only turn it thisssss much!"
"That's normal, Miss Skirt. You're only two months into a year long process. Your x-rays show the break is healing... slowly. Be patient. You've just begun."
**imagine pouty lips and internal temper tantrum**

And then in an instant of told-ya-so I said, "Well, I played two measures yesterday with my left hand just to see if I could."
**imagine a look of surprise from Doctor Bones and a rolling of the lovely eyes**
"And could you?"
"With lots of pain and very slowly. I hit most of the notes. And it was very frustrating."
"You are not ready yet. You have a long way to go. Maybe you should try again in six months or so."
There goes the spring performance. 
**imagine fire and steam coming from underneath my pride**

Patience is NOT my virtue. So I said...
 "I really miss my power walking, Doctor Bones. When can I reasonably expect to start that again? I can only walk a short distance before my hip starts hurting and not very fast. Should I keep pushing myself to walk faster? I don't care if it hurts but will it injure anything more if I do?"
He looked at me and grinned.
"Keep pushing yourself but not to the point of tears."

**imagine inside secret plan to do just that**

So, for now I'll hold on to "Good work, Miss Pencil Skirt," and keep the gold star.
He has no idea who he's dealing with here.
 


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Veteran's Day 2012

In all branches of service across the world, we honor and salute those who gave and continue to give the ultimate sacrifice. 

  Band of the 10th Veteran Reserve Corps. Washington, D.C. April, 1865

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Stunning Peace Bloggers Continue To Amaze

Good morning. All across the world from six continents and 153 countries last week, BlogBlast4Peace rang the warning bell of peace. It is still ringing as I make my way through the list of peace posts in the Blogosphere. I would like to be able to visit all of you, but the reality is - happily - that there are so many I may never find you all! Thank you for continuing to amaze me. Thank you for your unwavering support for this movement. Thank you for allowing me to befriend and collaborate with so many like-minded and creative people. Thank you for inspiring me to press on in the land of peace blogging. I am truly humbled by your friendship.  I am honored to share the brilliance of your words and artwork with the rest of the world.
Here are a few samples of what is out there. I shall return.

The Unused Portion

 "...and how nice it is (not really, but I take you for intelligent readers) to be among the educated poor in the Northeast section of North America.  and that perspective comes to me directly from women halfway around the world, who find the strength to face death at the hands of warlords while mothering their children.  I can get wrapped so tight in the evenings, because I didn't use any time during the day to wash the dishes from breakfast, and now I have to wash them all in order to make dinner...poor me.  are you feeling any sympathy yet?  yeah.  me neither. ...
....than the least I can do for this world, and I do mean the very least, is take the opportunity as a relatively well-positioned, educated, poor, single mama to make sure that nonsense like freaking over the dishes not disturb the cone of love and supporting energy that I need to keep raised and flowing towards my sisters who live on the front lines, all day, every day." (words by The Unused Portion)


See what I mean?
Brilliance.

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Dona Nobis Pacem ~ The Dream: Trees In The Courage of Time

Welcome to BlogBlast4Peace 2012. Thank you for blogging peace with us today. Do check back for updates and visit our Facebook Fan Page where there are thousands blogging for peace from 152 countries. Tag me with your peace globe. We will tag and share around the world. Be sure to sign the Linky List at the bottom of this post or in a comment. Happy Peace Blogging today! Visit, visit, visit.

Today is my grandfather's birthday. There is no better way to honor him. He was the most peaceful person I ever knew.

 
 The Dream ~
Trees in the Courage of Time

 I didn't see him at first. I was more interested in her.

Stunning. In the afternoon sun, she was stunning. Dressed in her finest lace. That skirt. Those shadows. Those flaws. Those curves!

Oh, she had her fungi infirmities alright. But she was beautifully clothed in all of it.  Right down to her roots and the algae on her bark. I'd gone searching in the woods today. Searching for words. I wanted them to fall into my head and come flying out my pen like the leaves around my feet in the chill of an autumn day.

 

Enter That-Little-Voice-In-My-Pencil Head:  oh mimi mimi mimi. Why are you photographing fungus? Reeeeally, Mimi? Photographing fungus? For your peace post? said the sane voice in my head.  You're gonna write a peace post about a tree? 
Really, said I, the similarly infirmed woman-of-trees and broken limbs. I know when the muse visits, O Inconvenient and Often Wrong Voice of Sanity. And It's visiting now. As soon as I turned the corner under the tree where the summer owls lived, I knew. Her white-skirted beauty nearly took my breath away. It stopped me in my tracks. That's a muse. Oh yes, that's a muse. Would you feel better if I gave her a name? We'll call her Lily Lichens. 

I wanted to touch her skirt and talk about the woodsy mannequin of beauty she'd become, facing the evening sun like a Queen on a lace covered throne.  No wonder the owls wanted to be near her kingdom.

She had no limbs to speak of.  Only a bare-topped presence in the forest of Bloggingham.
 But given the splendor of her skirt, I hardly noticed. Maybe the other trees couldn't recognize her awesomeness. But to me she was perfect imperfection.

  Lily. She reminded me of someone. Of something.
I looked up. Poor thing had no coverage. No shelter. No life. Just barren and black. Empty arms and a trunk full of chemical compounds. In need of...yes...that's it!

 I once had a dream I remembered my whole life.
I can put myself there in an instant. I walked through a forest of trees, but not just any 'ole trees. They were trees full of hurt and trees full of pain, bent down and twisted in the sickest most crippled of ways; all of them dead and black as coal.  The gnarled trees represented people. My heart hurt to look at them because I knew them by name and I could see their naked infirmities.  Their sorrows had become their actual physical manifestations.

 Then along came a man who walked among the trees with me. He was a healer. In my soul's frame of reference he was Jesus to me. As He walked through the forest of blighted trees, he spoke to them with love. His presence and authority brought energy and light. Suddenly there was rejoicing. At the sound of His voice they were upright and healed. Every single one of them. There was no more suffering. 



I am so weary of watching the suffering of humanity in my world. Sometimes I wonder how people who live in the midst of war manage to get up another day. If there were bombs falling in my morning commute, wouldn't I have just a tad more to worry about than broken limbs? I might want to stay in bed altogether. 

But then again, there's Lily to consider.
 
 What IS that noise in the leaves? Oh, probably just a squirrel. Wait! did I just see...no...can't be...no such things in these woods. But still. That was an awfully big squirrel darting behind that rock if you ask me.


But getting back to Lily. I wouldn't say this in front of her, but the girl is just wiry. How long has she been sitting here like this, exposed and vulnerable, prone to all sorts of vile and violent ridicule. It's embarrassing to be on display when you're a little short-changed in the display department. Not that I would say that in front of her.  I wondered how one so regal could bear the brunt of it.
 Other trees can be so cruel. 

 But even without a Jesus walker, Lily has courage. She knows deep in her roots that lichens like her need to sit in the morning sun. She will calmly nourish. She will calmly rebuild. She will heal in the sun and one day grow to be the neighbor she once was - the ally, the friend, the brother, defender, the peacemaker of all trees - dependable, shade-giving, strong, sturdy, able to stand up to temporary terror.  Lily will prevail.
'Cause I'm here to tell you that when trees lose their limbs they grow strength in other places.

And that came in mighty handy a few minutes later.
I'd wandered up the mountain, much farther than I should have been alone with a broken arm and toting a camera in the other. But you know me. There's something there, up near the cluster of my mountain rocks I know I must see. I need to get there. Just watch your step, Mimi, don't hurry. You'll still make it in time to photograph those high-hilled shadows and get back before dark to write your peace post in plenty of time before midnight.
And I was alllmost there when I heard it again.

Did you see that?

 I don't have mortar shelling in my life, violence at my door or bloodshed on my streets like so many are experiencing at the moment. I have wild noises in the woods.  And trees full of lichen. Inconvenient mishaps that trip me up at the smallest sound of trouble. I've had a lot of that lately. And worries. Stress. Life is full of challenges big and small. How does one stay peaceful in the midst of chaos? I've asked that out loud quite a lot lately. You see one thing through and something else shows up to throw you off your game. And just when you convince yourself it's OK to have a temporary pity party, you realize your blessings and the things you think catastrophic are nothing in comparison to children in the sand with no food. 
Sometimes I am shadow and sometimes I am light.
That is what it means to be human. 

And I have learned this: Suffering causes people to lose their peace. Just as my dream trees mourned in sorrow, just as my Lily waits for sunshine, so do children play in streets with bombs and bullets waiting for someone to change their world.
 
I want to wake up one morning and hear on the morning news that an unknown Bringer of Peace attacked the streets of Syria, or the roadsides in Baghdad or the majestic hills of Afghanistan carrying nothing in his arms but an olive branch and a batch of cookies. "He was met with much rejoicing," they'll say, as they all lay down their weapons.
They were trees in the courage of time.
Bent and listening for a spoken word of power.

 

It takes courage to be peace in the midst of conflict. 

   Everywhere you go you will walk among people striving for something - standing bare in the forest waiting for something -  because nations are just people and people are just humans camped out on the same global axis. At the root of it all, we are just trying to walk our own peace wherever we are.
  Sometimes people need to latch onto your peace before they can find their own. 
Be that peace.
 (Even if your limbs are falling off)

 We are made ever stronger when sheltered in the shade of our allies, our truest trusted friends, our most honest relationships. Nothing else in life is worth fighting for. 


The reality is that we live in a world where people spin hatred stronger than a peoples' will to be free. What kind of courage is that? What kind of world is that?
I'll tell you what kind of world. A planet full of an ever- growing number of humans who are so desensitized to the brutalities of life and human suffering that they begin to believe that the taking up of arms is strength, when in fact it is only power, and that the laying down of arms is weakness when in fact it is holy surrender. 
This must stop. 

Because if it doesn't, we will shoot the branch bearer when he appears.
And I might want some cookies.

The fox was faster than I. About half my size and poised to pay me an up close and personal visit. And I'm standing in a clearing? Now?? Wearing a long sweatercoat to further trip me up with a white-tailed fox? There are a million trees and I am six feet from the nearest one with no where to go but up? Or down...if the fox has his way. Who am I kidding? Me and my broken lichen limbs couldn't climb a tree if we found one. I could not see the tree for the forest this time. So I had to walk. And pretend I wasn't afraid. W.A.L.K. S.l.o.o.o.w.l.y. M.i.m.i. and get yourself off this mountain. Yes, folks, this time I listened to the well-timed voice of Sanity. That creature looks hungry, all bent over with his nose to the ground sniffing around for...for...food.  
I really didn't want to be his dinner.

 I made it back home safe and sound, vowing never to walk that mountain alone again (you know how long that will last) and wishing just a little that I'd not strayed so far from home when the fox came to my forest.  There are worse things in the world ya know. Lily, in her infinite wisdom, continues to rebuild at dusk, sitting in the sun.  She surrenders and waits. A tree in the courage of time. I put aside my fear and walked away from the fox. Given a bigger challenge or a bigger fox, that might mean the difference between life in a war zone and life under green green leaves..


Maybe the world doesn't need a savior. Or a hero. Or even a fatigue-wearing band of well-meaning revolutionaries armed with bigger and better weapons. 
Maybe we need dream walkers brave enough to arrive with empty arms and powerful words.
 As for me? I would just like to grow an olive branch.

Or two.




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Some of the Blog4Peace 2012 Participants

1. Mimi Lenox 2. Sweet Purrfections - Dona Nobis Pacem 3. Cate 4. The Best Parts with Ferd Crotte 5. My Siamese-Dona Nobis Pacem-2013 6. GLOGIRLY: Dona Nobis Pacem 7. Lets Give Peace a Chance (Kalyan) 8. Janice/Chasing Myself 9. Judy 10. Diane Hsz 11. Sachiko Ueyama ~ Blog4Peace Japan 12. The Island Cats - Dona Nobis Pacem 13. Diane Hsz/ Music for peac 14. The Maaaaa of Pricilla 15. CAT Wisdom 101: Cats #Blog4Peace 16. Ken Smith 17. nelson 18. Blog4Peace Facebook Fan Page ~ 21,000 peace bloggers. Join us! 19. inigo 20. Jae in South Korea 21. Ken Smith 22. Smidgens, Snippets & Bits 23. Blog4Peace The Official Site 24. Gemma Wiseman 25. Julie Schultz 26. Gattina in Belgium 27. Trav's Thoughts ~ 100 Reasons To Blog For Peace 28. Travis ~ 30 Days of Peace Quotes! 29. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 3 30. Thomma Lyn Grindstaff 31. Grumpy Cat Purrs for Peace 32. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 4 33. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 5 34. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 6 35. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 7 36. Rascal and Rocco- Simple Ways to Have a Peaceful Day 37. Clooney's Num-Num Fund - Dona Nobis Pacem 38. Michelle of Crowsfeet Blog 39. Charlie Rascal - Dona Nobis Pacem 40. Flynn: Dona Nobis Pacem 41. Sometimes Saintly Nick 42. Akelamalu 43. Jennie Marsland 44. Bing Yap (PinkLady) 45. Sue Greer-Pitt 46. Friends FurEver - Dona Nobis Pacem 47. Sue St Clair - Toronto Canada 48. Shelter Cats - All we are saying.... 49. Laura Hegfield 50. EileenTrainor aka Cybercekt 51. Alasandra, The Cats & Dogs 52. EileenTrainor aka Cybercelt 53. DrillerAA 54. nonamedufus 55. Forty Paws - Dona Nobis Pacem 56. Janice D'Agostino

57. Tink 58. Travis Cody 59. Dawn 60. Vinny Bond 61. Faith Suley 62. Daryl 63. Houe of the Mostly Black Cats 64. Glenda Gilbert Clarke 65. Savannah's Paw Tracks: Dona nobis pacem 66. Animal Shelter Volunteer Life 67. Laurie Blackhall 68. Goodnight Gram 69. Ann Tracy 70. Abby Angel & ManxMnews-- Blog4Peace 2013 71. Speedyrabbit 72. Mama Pajama 73. jansfunnyfarm - Dona Nobis Pacem 74. Deb Montague 75. Screaming Me-Me!!! 76. T. L. Cooper 77. Marilyn 78. The Screaming Pumpkin 79. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 8 80. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 9 81. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 10 82. Max the Psychokitty 83. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 11 84. Buddah Pest 85. Karen A. Thompson 86. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 12 87. sherry blue sky 88. Julia Phillips Smith 89. CherryPie 90. Welshcakes Limoncello 91. Jessica 92. Barbara Shallue 93. rose 94. The Gal Herself 95. Rumpydog 96. Michelle Culp (ndpthepoetress) 97. Knitnana Meezer & Tonk 98. Prudence and Theresa 99. Mary Jane Holmes 100. Shannon 101. House Panthers - Dona Nobis Pacem 102. Mickey's Musings - Dona Nobis Pacem 103. A Tonk's Tail 104. Sans Pantaloons 105. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 13 106. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 14 107. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 15 108. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 16 109. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 17 110. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 18 111. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 19 112. Lui

113. Sweepy 114. HoundsInHeaven 115. Paula 116. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 20 117. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 21 118. Teri and the cats of Curlz and Swirlz 119. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 22 120. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 23 121. Diane Hsz/ Music for peace 24 122. Sandra Hammel 123. Frank Sirianni 124. Rallentanda 125. Kjelle Bus ~ Sweden 126. Rosidah, Indonesia 127. ChrysalisAngel 128. Zoolatry with Ann Adamus 129. Browser Life 130. Salix's Art Nook 131. It's All About The Whimsy! 132. Karla Jackson 133. Sanni Jansen and Family in Germany 134. Jim's Little Photo and Poem Place 135. Tami Caskey Brown 136. Jobi Harris @ Ask Fisher 137. Cate in New Zealand 138. Music Of My Life ~ Indonesia 139. Curlz and Swirlz 140. Ned Hamson 141. Binding Ink With Humanities 142. Security Is For Cadavers 143. Nanna Aldrich Murakami 144. Long Hollow 145. Pikku Punapippuri in Finland 146. Community Mediation Center of Calvert County Maryland 147. Silvieon4 148. OneSpoiledCat 149. Hutch A Good Life 150. RennyBA's Terella in Norway 151. Brian's Home 152. The Cat On My Head 153. Beaded Tail 154. Bertram's Blog 155. Skywriting ~ South Africa 156. An Unfittie's Guide To Adventurous Travel 157. Grace 158. Mouse Droppings 159. Runaway Sentence 160. Oran's Well 161. Shay's Word Garden 162. Verse Escape 163. Confessions Of A Laundry Goddess 164. Coco The Couture Cat 165. Jessica Obsenschain 166. Cate 167. The Best Parts   168. Susan, continued..    169. MANX MNEWS  170. Susan continued..

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