Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Move Over Rudolph

Santa has a new sleigh-- Marine One from the The Ronald Reagan Library.

Have no fear!  Your gifts are on their way.

Wishing you a fabulous holiday.  And a big thank you for making this year so special.

xo Joanna

Tuesday, December 16, 2014

Tis The Season

I've been busy, as you can see.

This the my workroom-- which sounds fancier than "my old office".  I might switch to calling it my "studio" in 2015 where I create, mediate and retreat to when the day catches up with me.  But for now it's the space I dumped all my holiday shopping packages.

It's hard to tell, but behind the mountain of boxes and bags is a large table with my sewing machine on it.  Behind that is a long cabinet stacked high with fabric.  Honest.

And I'm usually very neat and organized.  (Not.)

So this week I sorted, wrapped and wrapped and wrapped, boxed up and shipped, and divided the remaining packages into stacks for their local destinations this holiday.

I can almost see the floor again.

Did my husband help, you ask?  Why of course.  He brought home a package of bows from the drug store... And his work is done.

How's your holiday shopping coming along?

Welcome to - Joanna Jenkins

Saturday, December 13, 2014

Wet. Very Wet

Feeling really lucky to have my Mom's rain boots this week.  She wore them for years whenever it was wet out to walk her sweet dog, Noah.  The dog lives with my baby sister now and the boots were parked at my back door just waiting for the rain.

The first time it rained after mom passed away was in about April and I just couldn't bring myself to put them on.

But this rain-soaked Friday morning in December seemed like a good time to take a short walk between downpours and soak up a little of Mom's love.  I can't fill her shoes but her boots are pretty darn comfy.

 How's your Sunday?  

Welcome to - Joanna Jenkins

Monday, October 6, 2014

I Used To Love Rummage Sales

It was a gigantic fund-raising Rummage Sale like so many others I'd been to...

But it wasn't.  

It was 7 very large rooms of a community center and all the hallways jammed pack with other people's donated "stuff" for sale.

But it wasn't.

It was all meteciously organized and sorted by category so you could easily search out exactly what you were looking for.

But it wasn't.

It was every second-hand shopper's dream sale.

But it wasn't.  Not at all.

Back home recently for a fast weekend of visiting family before the snow flies in Northeast Ohio, my sisters and I stopped by the much anticipated Community Rummage Sale we'd been attending annually for at least 20 years.  This is the mother of all Rummage Sales with more treasures and surprise purchases than any other.  Furniture, kitchenware, linens, pictures, crafts, glassware, you name it...  Truly-- everything you could think of and then some.  We love this sale.

But not this year.

The Rummage Sale is the brainchild of the residents at the senior living community my mom lived in before she passed away nearly 11 months ago.  The "merchandise" is mostly donated by residents when they are downsizing to move into new houses or apartments on the senior campus.

It's generally all the stuff that new residents either can't fit into their new home, stuff their family members don't want or need, or items they simply no longer desire.  It's all donated for a good cause and everyone feels really good about passing their belongings on because the funds raised go to help seniors in need.

But it's not.

And by "not" I mean it's not just stuff donated when new residents are downsizing to move into the senior living community.  It's also all the stuff donated by families when their loved ones pass away.  A realization that we, when attending the Rummage Sale all these years, choose not to think about.

As I said, this was a much anticipated event for my sisters and I so, without hesitation, we piled into Baby Sister's giant SUV and headed to the sale hoping to find small crystal bowls, mason jars and votive candle holders to be used at my niece's wedding this coming Spring.

When we walked into the front door we were immediately greeted by my mother's former next door neighbor.  She really misses mom and we had a lovely conversation together albeit with a lump in our throats.

Then, even though we'd braced ourselves for the possibility of running into more of Mom's other friends, we stepped into the first room to shop-- kitchenware.

But we shouldn't have.

On a table, four steps inside the door, were my mother's kitchen placemats for sale-- The ones I'd made her a million years ago and she insisted were "just fine" for her new home even though they didn't match anything but she used them everyday because I'd made them for her. 

I could literally hear my sisters' intake of breath simultaneously followed by zippered purses opening to reach for Kleenex.  Seeing our mother's donated things for sale never crossed out minds.

And there we stood silently, tears rolling down our faces-- all of us touching the placemats that I now held in my arms like a child holding a favorite teddy bear.  No words, just tears and the realization that our last moments of denial about mom's passing, and thinking the past 11 months had all been a bad dream that we would magically wake-up from, faded with our tears on the fabric of the mates.

Apparently we stood frozen at the "placemat table" for a long time because a nearly 85 year old resident volunteer wearing a name tag and apron gently nudged us along because we were holding up other shoppers.

As we snaked our way through the many tables of sale items, we spotted more of the "stuff" we'd donated when our mother passed away-- Her dish towels, the ones with the crocheted tops that she hung off her kitchen stove handle.  Then came the China tea pot without a lid that Mom always put the dandelions we'd pick for her as kids.

In the "Holiday Room" we immediately spotted the Halloween candle holders with the tiny mice glued on them and the wooden, brightly painted Easter flowers mom pulled out for display every year.

The next room was filled with tables loaded with glassware... and mom's juice glasses, butter dishes, and tea cups as well as several small crystal bowls, mason jars and votive candles.

We stopped by the "Elegant Elephants" room-- Which loosely translated means "the expensive but hideously ugly donated stuff they didn't know where else to put" and there we spotted Mom's over-sized glass angel dressed in a wonky pink and blue glittered gown and appearing to fly like Peter Pan.  I'm pretty sure mom would have called the angel an "Elephant" too but never revealed which family member gave it to her and always had it displayed in her living room.

From room to room we went, seeing residents who asked us if we were our mother's daughters because we look so much like her.  Staff members hugged us and told us with tears in their eyes how much they missed our Mom's positive attitude and sense of humor.

And we continued to "shop" room by room.

But we didn't.

"Shop" that is.  We were really just looking for our mother's things.

In the end, we bought all of our mother's "stuff" that we could find at the Rummage Sale... the stuff we brokenheartedly donated because we all had already brought so much of our mother's cherished possessions to our own home when she passed.

Mom's things at the Rummage Sale were just too hard to see left behind.  Silly, I know, but my sisters and I came home with a carload of our mother's possessions... that we paid for... because we couldn't bear to leave them, or her, behind at the Rummage Sale.

Welcome to  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © Kellis -

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Friday Fragments - 9/26/14

I do my best to stay out of Costco because it's usually an expensive swing around the warehouse store followed by a $1.50 hot dog and soda that I really didn't need (along with a ton of other stuff stacked in my cart).  But this week required stocking up my bare cupboards and this jar of chocolate caramel deliciousness landed in my cart with the silent pledge to "Only eat ONE per day!".

You can see how well that pledge worked... Although I did have a partner in crime, my husband.


I learned a fascinating thing about Costco, Sam's Club and BJ's--  They always have a beautiful display of affordable fresh flowers on hand, but did you know they also do bridal flowers!  Seriously, you can get a "wedding in a box" so to speak, delivered to your front door-- Bride's bouquet, bridemaids' bouquets, boutonnieres and rose pedals for the flower girl, the works.  Who knew!?!

And you can buy bulk flowers as well.  That's how I found out about it.  I Googled "bulk baby's breath" and there it was.


Baby's breath was on my mind for my niece who's getting married in May, 2015-- The same niece that's going to graduate as a Veterinarian two weeks before her big day.  She'd like to work with large animals.  Good thing, huh?  (PS She's 5' 6" tall!)

Did I show you this photo already?


This baby quilt was finished and shipped off to a new mama.  I think she was pretty happy with it.  At least grandma/my friend was who said if she knew what my gift was she'd have kept the blanket at her house for the baby.  Ha!

 Did I show you this photo already too?  A mind is a terrible thing to waste.


And I've been spotting this sign around Beverly Hills at all the public parking lots.  

Give me spare change 
and I may never get off 
these streets.  Give to
organizations that could 
really help me 
and you could save my life. 
It's up to you.
It's up to you.
I'm not sure how I feel about it.  What do you think?


Oh good lord, how on earth did I turn this red on?  And what's with that white bar up there?  Sheesh.  A mind really IS a terrible thing to waste.  Sigh.

Welcome to - Joanna Jenkins

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

There's One In Every Crowd

I belong to a neighborhood community website that lets neighbors, elected officials, and first responders keep in touch about everything from road closures and coyote sightings to requests for contractor referrals and babysitters.  (Think Facebook for your 'hood.)

Residents have been mostly respectful and keep their comments and posts about the neighborhood.  Some just give the facts or ask simple questions--  Others definitely "over share".

Case in point...

A neighbor posted that squirrels were eating all the lemons off her tree and wanted to know if anyone had an easy solution that had worked for them.  From her post question, I got the impression she was looking for safe and sane solutions.

But that's not the response she got.  Turns out, peeps in our 'hood are very passionate about their fruit trees!  And they really don't like squirrels-- Any squirrels!  Not.  At.  All.

One guy talked about the wolf urine he buys online and sprays on all his fruit to scare the squirrels away.  Another talked about having tried a hot pepper concoction that was only successful at killing her trees.  And another actually takes the time to rubber band all her fruit to the branches while it ripens making it more difficult for critters to carry off.

A prominent member of our community went on and on that all she has to do is feed the squirrels plenty of peanuts every single day and they stay away from her fruit trees.  I yiyi-- That was met with screams and pleads to stop feeding wildlife complete with links to county ordinances to prove it's against the law.

There is a long time resident (whose profile includes his photo and complete address.) who simply traps and drowns the squirrels claiming it's the very most humane thing to do.  His comment was easily 300 words long and explained-- in great detail, the ins and outs of his reasoning.  This comment was met with barely a response!

Good lord, you'd think the squirrels were carrying away small children, not lemons!

Within 24 hours there were about 30 comments to the simple question of "how to stop squirrels from eating lemons off trees" with many neighbors feeling compelled to comment for the first time ever.

But then... One comment in particular, well.... that's when things really went sour.

A middle-aged guy (I know because his comments came with his full name, photo and full address)-- let's call him Bozo, bragged that he didn't notice any "bare fruit trees" because he takes daily walks in our area and "has lunch" by picking fruit off other people's trees along the way-- several pieces in fact-- and thinks there's nothing wrong with going into people's yards scavenging because "there's enough fruit for people and the squirrels".

That made me wonder if he poached and dined on the fruit with the wolf urine sprayed on it.

To add insult to injury, Bozo went on to brag that he and a buddy drive around in a swank BMW and gather shopping bags full of a variety of fruit from people's yards... in the dark of night.

And the you know what hit the fan.

The community site blew up with comments.

Apparently, we have some crazy squirrels in these parts who not only eat lemons (and figs, oranges, avocados, apples, pears and plums), they also chew their way through cable wires, security screens and the likes.  Folks mostly just want the squirrels to go away.  But they really, really want Bozo to go away.  And by "away" I mean-- Behind bars in an orange jumpsuit (Orange--no pun intended)!

More than 100 comments later and people are still livid that Bozo sees no problem with stealing fruit from people's yards.  Great debate has gone on and he's justified his actions on the site at least 6 times with no apologizes.  Even people who don't have fruit trees are going ballistic.

Folks have politely, and not so politely, explained to Bozo that homeowners pay a high price for watering, pruning and maintaining their trees.  And the trees are on private property.  Bozo doesn't have a leg to stand on or any right to be taking people's fruit from their yards.

And the comments go on and on and on...

To be honest, I have not gotten into the great squirrel debate with my neighbors but as a result, I've changed my settings to only include police reports on our community website.  Some may say I'd be more passionate about this issue if the squirrels were a problem for me but, at least for now, they are not.

Other than thinking trapping and drowning squirrels is hateful, I just can't get on this bandwagon.  To read all the banter and drama about the fruit thief and see only a few comments about the squirrel-drowner has left me not really feeling very neighborly.

# # # # 

Summer has flown by!  I hope to be back on a more regular basis.  
Thanks for stopping by.
Welcome to - Joanna Jenkins
Photo credit: © denira -

Thursday, June 12, 2014

I'm Not Buying It

Having just posted about the marvels of the iPhone and how it's changed my way of life, I was blown away at a presentation I attended recently given by a successful small business owner who talked about how the iPhone screen is at the core of her business product development.

As the manufacture of modern quilts doing business in the US, Canada and Europe, she discussed how ALL of her designs start small-- very small-- as in on the 2" X 3" screen of her smart phone.  Long story short-- If her quilt looks good on a very small screen... like a cellphone, Instagram or Pinterest-- then they will sell well.  If her quilts lose their impact, color, pattern/design, etc. on the small image size, it's scrapped from her collection.

Kinda makes sense if you think about it.  A gorgeous floral print, for example, may look stunning in a giant quilt, but on the very small screen-- thanks to modern technology-- the pattern is reduced so much it can get lost and, in some cases, can even disappear or muddy the colors meaning the customer might not be getting the quilt fabric/pattern they expected.

Genius, is all I can say because in a million years, I'd have never thought our buying habits (as well as design and marketing products) had changed so much so fast and to such a small-- and very cost effective format.

Then...  I got a look at another successful manufacture who has a very different idea of how people shop... It reminds me of the old Sears catalog approach which, in my opinion, is outdated, ridiculously costly (ultimately to the consumer?) and overkill to say the least.

Not long ago I received FIFTEEN POUNDS of Restoration Hardware catalogs delivered to my door step.  I practically needed a crane to pick them up off my porch.  The package included 14 different catalogs covering their entire product line.  And by the way, they were not promoting a sale.  The impression I got was that I was supposed to keep these catalogs as a reference for future purchases.  (Not.)

Granted, I'm talking about two very different companies and product lines, but the glaring differences between marketing via social media like Instagram and Pinterest versus old school catalogs with expensive photography printed on beautiful paper, then bundled and hand delivered to my front door left me wondering if Restoration Hardware was totally disconnected from today's shoppers-- not to mention the environmental impact of this stack of paper that almost immediately landed in my recycle bin without opening a single page.  Do plush towels, furniture and rugs really sell better using expensive, bulky catalog mailings?

In all honesty, receipt of the Restoration Hardware monster catalogs left me feeling guilty and a little bit miffed that I bought bath towels in their store about three years ago which is why, I'm assuming, I received this expensive collection of catalogs-- Guilty because I'm pretty "green" in our household and call catalog companies asking them to remove me from their mailing list to lighten my carbon footprint.  Dang!  Obviously I missed Restoration Hardware. 

Did my small towel purchase three years ago generate-- and warrant-- my receiving fifteen pounds of catalogs?  No, not in a million years.  My guess is the catalogs ate up their profits in my small purchase.  I'd have rather they shipped me a free towel instead.  That would be positive attention getting marketing.  And I'm guessing the towel would have been far less expensive then the cost to produce and deliver their catalogs.  The towel wouldn't have landed in the recycle bin either-- Just sayin'.

My shopping habits have changed drastically over the past few years and catalogs are long gone.  I turn to the Internet for everything from groceries and books to bathing suits purchases and prefer not to shop in brick and mortar stores if at all possible (Thus the bathing suit shopping online and it's lack of giant three-way mirrors!).  But, thanks to Restoration Hardware, I'm wondering if I might be missing something.  Or not.

What do you think? 

Welcome to  -  Joanna Jenkins

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Already Four

I have a clear memory of blogging about my first great-niece, E, and how marvelous it was to have a smart phone to receive text messages and photos all through my niece's labor.  The idea of communicating with a woman in the delivery room was shocking and exciting.

In the end, a photo of this little peanut appeared on my blog...

It's hard to believe that in four short years I've grown unable to live without my iPhone and totally acknowledge how pathetic it is to admit that... and truly mean it.

And it's also hard to believe that my first great-niece, E, is now a whopping four years old!  I absolutely can't live without her either. 

For her 4th birthday dinner, as usual, our family held hands to say grace before the meal.  E insisted on saying the blessing and took her job very seriously.  After a moment of thought, she took a deep breath and said...  "Dear God...."

And then she proceed to recite the entire Pledge of Allegiance-- After which, we all said, "Amen."

Happy 4th Birthday E.  Make a wish and wish big!

Welcome to  -  Joanna Jenkins

Saturday, May 24, 2014

Sent From Heaven?

There has been extensive debate in our household over getting a very big guard dog ever since our home was robbed.  There is a long list of "pros" for a dog, not the least of which is the police detective strongly suggested we get one. 

Then there's the list of "cons".  Dog hair, nail scratches on our hardwood floors and the ever necessary "poop bag" when walking the dog multiple times throughout the day.  Truth be told, the poop bag is really the biggest reason I've nixed the dog idea since I'd be the one carrying around the poop.

But out of the blue today, the dog debate took a major turn!  Not only did we get a really big dog-- We got a fearless guard dog to stand watch over our house-- Literally! 

Fido arrived, much to our surprise, front and center on our roof (!) for all the world to see. 

It's as if this lovely pooch was dropped from the heavens to protect us.

Unfortunately, the dog belongs to our next door neighbor...

...And we have absolutely no idea how she got on our roof.

No.  Idea.  Whatsoever!  It's a total mystery.

I kinda wished Fido could stay up there but the neighbors asked for her back.

Have you ever had an unexpected/unexplained visitor?

 Welcome to  -  Joanna Jenkins

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

My Godzilla

There are very few things that totally and completely freak me out.  In our home, for example, I handle the spiders and bugs.  And, ahem, "mice".  It really doesn't bother me.

But snakes...  Not on your life!  I do not like them or their ugly cousin the lizard.  They pretty much put me over the edge and that doesn't seem to be mellowing with age.

Case in point--

Recently I was chatting up my husband on the telephone while packing for a mini vacation.  We were leaving the next morning and I wanted to be sure I had everything in the suitcase.  We'd run down our usual check list of warm weather packing and I'd forgotten flip flops.  So, I open the closet door and reached for my favorite orange pair and, and, and...

Oh.  My.  Gawd!!!  There was a huge, Godzilla-sized lizard stretched across the front my shoe closet.

And I almost touched it-- With my bare hand!

I was screaming to my husband to come home and help me but he heard nothing.  I was so scared, that despite my best efforts, no words escaped.  In an instant, through the hysteria, I knew that something had to be done but I was not touching that monster.  No way.  No how.

After nearly hyperventilating I'd made enough noise that the Godzilla withdrew into a shoe cubbie in our bedroom closet so at least I knew where it was.

I caught my breath, told my husband to come home immediately and then got down on my hands and knees, butt in the air, so I could see into the cubbie that was only 8 inches off the floor.
I vaguely remember Husband mumbling something about taking care of it but hung up the phone before he finished.  He knows my fear of snake things and I was confident he'd burn rubber the entire mile and a half drive from his office to our home to save me.

Confident Husband would arrive VERY soon, I mustered the courage to slowly remove shoes from the cubbie so I had eyes on Godzilla again.

He'd stretched out the length of the back of cubbie with the tip of his tail curved to fit.  In other words, he was a whopping 15 inches long!!!  Oh no, I didn't call him Godzilla for nothing!  This guy was BIG and he was in my bedroom shoe closet.

Without a doubt, I knew that if I lost sight of Godzilla before Husband got home to remove it, we'd have to sell the house.  I absolutely would not be able to stay here ever again.  And I'm not kidding.

Call me crazy but I hate lizards and snakes that much.

So there I was, my arthritic knees aching and feeling like the blood circulation in my legs was nearing its end.  My head, bent down to see into the cubbie, throbbed, and I was in a panic that Godzilla would make a move before I could figure out how to trap him in place.

What to do, what to do.

I finally spotted a clear plastic bin not far away that was the exact width of the cubbie so I could see what Godzilla was up to.  But, it had small 1/4 inch holes in it.  I sized up the holes and the lizard and was confident in thinking Godzilla would never fit through them.  He was a very big guy and these hole were pretty small.

Thank gawd.

So while keeping eyes on Godzilla, I maneuvered around to reach the plastic bin with my foot, kicked it contents and slammed it up against the cubbie.  I swear I heard the angels sing.  What a relief. 

Godzilla and I stayed in place--  Me, still bent over on my knees and him, calmly stretched out in my cubbie.  For SURE, I thought, Husband would be home to rescue me any second.  After all, it had been at least 30 minutes since we were on the phone.  WTH?!?!?!

Tick, tick, tick, tick....

Godzilla started looking board, his neck stretching out as if to get a better look at the situation.  I squeaked out some nose to scare him to stay in place but he'd been there so long he was ready to make a move.

I was so stinking happy to have that clear plastic bin covering the cubbie opening holding him in place.  I wouldn't have to touch Godzilla with my bare hands or worse, risk loosing him all together, and that was a very good thing.  He could move around the cubbie all he wanted but he was not going anywhere.



Godzilla got his nerve up, despite my screaming, and crawled into the plastic bin.  Then he stuck his head though one of the 1/4 inch holes.


Where was my husband!!!

Then he did the unthinkable!  Godzilla started squeezing his BODY through the holes as if someone had pulled the strings on a very tight corset making him freakishly thin.  I became a lunatic screaming, this time a loud shrill streams of !@#%$! and I banged on the bin with my shoe until he squeezed his sorry self back into the cubbie.

I nearly had a heart attack.  Godzilla actually looked unfazed.

Still on my knees, butt in the air, I called that lizard and my missing-in-action-husband every name in the book.  If Godzilla so much as blinked I screamed him back into the corner.

We sat there like that-- blinking, screaming, backing up, for another full hour before my husband calmly walked in and asked if the "little lizard" was gone.

One look at my ghost white face and the darts shooting out of my eyes at him was a solid clue that the lizard was still in 'da house.

I immediately sent husband to find a few supplies that would allow him to slide Godzilla out of the cubbie and into a box with a secure lid so he could be removed.

Ten minutes later and with none of the supplies, I agreed to change positions with my husband providing he swore on his children's lives not to take his eyes off Godzilla-- and yes, that meant he would need to be on his knees, head bent down to the ground at eye level resulting in his butt being in the air.

Husband also agreed that if he lost that lizard I would immediately be moving into the Four Seasons Hotel until a new home had been found for us to live in-- I was taking no chance at crossing paths with Godzilla ever again.

Husband knew better than to disagree with me.

We made the guard duty switch and off I went gathering the necessary supplies.  I returned in less than 3 minutes and prepared to pass the box to Husband.  But...  Husband looked a little green in the face.

Apparently Godzilla tried to make a quick escape through the plastic bin holes in my absence and Husband saw his life, and our bank account, pass before his eyes until he got Godzilla under control and back in the cubbie.  (In hindsight, I'd have liked to have seen that.  Ha!  Coming home an hour and 45 minutes after I screamed on telephone.  Sheesh.)

So now it's obvious that Husband, who is not good at this kind of thing anyway, was not going to do the deed and get Godzilla into the box.  That would be my job.

Again, I made him swear that if anything went wrong and Godzilla was not removed from our house, that I would be living elsewhere.

With the patio door to our bedroom wide open, I said a prayer and wiggled Godzilla into a box using a backscratcher.  He flopped in and the lid was slammed shut.  My hands were shaking and I could feel Godzilla moving around in the box.

By now,  it was all I could do to stand up.  My legs were numb and with the box in my hands I couldn't use them to help me up.  That freaking lizard took years off my life.

When I finally made it to the patio, I flung the box as hard and as far as I could-- Watching Godzilla exit the box and swan dive onto the grass.  He landed, shook himself off and sauntered into a heap of yellow tiger lilies by the pool... Before losing sight of me, he stopped, looked over his shoulder and gave me a look like "I'll show you lady."

And he did.

Because now I can never go into the back yard again.

What scares the daylights out of you?

Welcome to  -  Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © Andrey Burmakin -  © seyhoeroglu -  © Lonely -

Saturday, January 11, 2014

So this happened...

I said a little prayer when the holidays were finally over.  They were rough.  I spent much of them in denial but, just twelve days into the new year, I realized I hadn't stuck my head in the sand nearly as much as I'd thought.

Case in point-- My last month in pictures...

Our family welcomed a new baby cousin.  
I made this quilt and hope it keeps him cozy and warm. 
 Glam Clam Quilt Pattern by Latifah Saafar
All fabrics from the fabulous Sew Modern in Los Angeles.

My BFF made homemade marshmallows and shared some with me.  
They were seriously delicious and light as a feather.

My friends also shared their Christmas with me-- 
Their tree was magical and filled with vintage ornaments.

We had relatives from out-of-town visiting for two weeks so we took in the LA sights including the Space Shuttle Endeavor--  I never get tired of seeing this magnificent ship.

We saw "The Secret Life of Walter Mitty" at the movie theater and LOVED it.  (Thanks to great cinematography, I also want to travel to Iceland and Greenland now too!)

Husband hung the blue stained glass in my kitchen window.  It belonged to my mother and looks perfect with the blue glass I've been collecting for the past 30 years.

And we also visited The Skirball Cultural Center. 

This quote says it all for me.  I'll try to keep that in mind as I plow through 2014.

Happy New Year one and all.
xo Joanna

Welcome to