<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5625399692375415882</id><updated>2011-07-08T05:21:57.233-04:00</updated><category term='jewelry'/><category term='travel'/><category term='beads'/><category term='recipes'/><category term='family'/><category term='crafts'/><category term='family stories'/><title type='text'>Treasured Paths</title><subtitle type='html'>I hope my blog will inspire you to be fearless, try things.....find your treasured paths, as I am doing. In the words of Kahlil Gibran in the Prophet       'Say not, "I have found the path of the soul." Say rather, "I have met the soul walking upon my path." For the soul walks upon all paths.'</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Queen of the Lake</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16686311915046576303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>4</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5625399692375415882.post-3485756863656653659</id><published>2009-06-19T11:40:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-06-19T13:14:49.756-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Being a mom</title><content type='html'>I have recently spent a lot of time with my children. How dear they are to me. If I leave this world a better place than I found it, it will be because I raised wonderful children and taught them to raise wonderful children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often wish I had already done something big - like written a wildly successful novel or taught children in Ethiopia to read. And, I know, there's still plenty of time......after all, I'm planning to live to be a hundred or more. And I'm intensely more intelligent than I was before. So.................&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, I digress. In a younger day, they called me Pollyanna because I solved problems and led people by teaching others how to look at the glass as half full. I once had a boss who told me I was too "positive". Can that be? I realize every day how special life is. Turning 60 made me more aware of that. So, I look at what I have accomplished. I wish I could say I've done the novel or the teaching program in Ethiopia -  I never stayed on task that long. I have a short attention span. But, I have a wonderful "clan" to leave to the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children reach out every day to touch others, to make this a better place. Sometimes, it's only a smile or a thank you. Sometimes, it's helping another student learn to read (T), speaking up when peers make fun of persons with disabilities(C) or leading the fight when people use hate to make small talk (R). Each of them has their own unique way that they send out those good vibes. I'm humbled when I see them in action.  I'm their mom. How great is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, on those days when you would like to pull your hair out or pull THEIR hair out................remember, you're creating the clan. You're softening the world, so the cruelties that the world sometimes spits out are balanced by the actions of you and yours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/SjvGagCREPI/AAAAAAAAADU/Bb83sETvUtY/s1600-h/IMG_4136.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/SjvGagCREPI/AAAAAAAAADU/Bb83sETvUtY/s320/IMG_4136.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349087141010936050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, here's a picture of what I've been doing................some garage saleing, some painting and stencilling and teaching myself a lot about quilting, applique and the like.  This was once a cheap little makeup table with no stool. I got it at a garage sale for $10 and found the stool for another $5. I painted the ugly brown stain green, antiqued it, stencilled it and did some freehand quilting on the stool seat. It looks pretty in my bedroom and is the jumping off point for my new bedroom color scheme. Never be afraid to try.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5625399692375415882-3485756863656653659?l=treasuredpaths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/feeds/3485756863656653659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5625399692375415882&amp;postID=3485756863656653659' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/3485756863656653659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/3485756863656653659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/2009/06/being-mom.html' title='Being a mom'/><author><name>Queen of the Lake</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16686311915046576303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/SjvGagCREPI/AAAAAAAAADU/Bb83sETvUtY/s72-c/IMG_4136.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5625399692375415882.post-4151216372971462860</id><published>2008-12-08T07:35:00.015-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-08T09:16:13.515-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='recipes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family stories'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Worry............it seems my whole life has been centered around worry. Did I say the right thing? Did I wear the right clothes? Should I return to school to get a degree? Did I spend enough time with my child today? (That was a BIG one when the children were smaller.) Did I pay that bill? Where did I leave my glasses? Did I spend too much? Should I have eaten that HUGE dinner? and then those snacks on top of it? Why do I need so much fabric? or beads? or paint? Why can't I finish things? Why do I start so many things? Am I ADD?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really don't like worry. It is such a waste of time...........and I can't stand to waste time - unless I intend to. I even resent sleeping. It takes away from living.  So why do I worry? Well, I think it's my grandmother's fault.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was this huge woman. Huge in the ways of life, not in stature. She outlived three husbands. Each of them was a phenomenal man who adored her. Each of them was unique and had such wonderful life stories. And the two I knew were beautiful men.....inside, where it counts. Somehow, this 4'10" woman was able to snag &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;three&lt;/span&gt; good men. And I'm sure each of them would tell you that she added far more to their lives than they brought to hers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was a tower of strength, a shrewd investment banker, an inventive chef, an iron-fisted prison warden, a dedicated teacher, an extraordinary clothing designer, an entrepreneur, a comedienne with great one-liners......in short, a woman. Like many out there, she wore lots of hats and did all of them well. But she had this great secret...................................she worried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You could find her in the middle of the night sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her, a cigarette between her fingers ("Mary, you're about to lose your ashes") playing solitaire. If you asked her why she was up, she'd tell you she couldn't sleep. Never a word about worry. But next to her was the pile of bills - or the report card with D's - or the broken whatsit that she was trying to figure out how to get fixed. She never complained. But you knew she worried. It was apparent when she talked with you the next day. Whatever she was worrying over had usually been resolved one way or the other in the night -  in her mind. So, the words came out.....the ones that let her have peace over that particular turmoil. And in the midst of all of this, she would smile at you and you knew the world was a good place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So thank you, Grandma, for so many things............................but not for the training on worry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/ST0o9Gf5ZRI/AAAAAAAAADE/F1H07aanvV0/s1600-h/Grandma+at+table.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 241px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/ST0o9Gf5ZRI/AAAAAAAAADE/F1H07aanvV0/s320/Grandma+at+table.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277419368529618194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a photo of my Grandma with a table full of cookies. She always started making them sometime around Thanksgiving, putting them in the freezer until she got them all done. She made somewhere between 20 to 25 different kinds of cookies. And she gave them to everyone.  But she probably always worried that she wouldn't have enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's one of her recipes that my children love: &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(102, 0, 204);"&gt;Chocolate Peekaboos&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Combine over hot (not boiling) water one 6 oz pkg (1 c) Nestle's Chocolate Morsels, &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/4&lt;/span&gt; c water and &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/4&lt;/span&gt; c maple-blended syrup. When chocolate melts, stir till blended and smooth. Combine in a bowl 1 &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/2&lt;/span&gt; c finely crushed vanilla wafer crumbs, 1 c chopped walnuts or pecans, &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/2&lt;/span&gt; c sifted confectioners sugar, &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/4&lt;/span&gt; tsp instant coffee, &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;1/4&lt;/span&gt; tsp salt; mix well. Add chocolate mixture and stir well. Cut 18 marshmallows into quarters. Shape 1 tsp chocolate mixture around the marshmallow, leaving part of the marshmallow showing.  Let  them cool and get firm before storing.  Enjoy!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5625399692375415882-4151216372971462860?l=treasuredpaths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/feeds/4151216372971462860/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5625399692375415882&amp;postID=4151216372971462860' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/4151216372971462860'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/4151216372971462860'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/2008/12/worry.html' title=''/><author><name>Queen of the Lake</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16686311915046576303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/ST0o9Gf5ZRI/AAAAAAAAADE/F1H07aanvV0/s72-c/Grandma+at+table.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5625399692375415882.post-3712008285034607265</id><published>2007-07-12T07:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-12T11:37:58.135-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='travel'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='jewelry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beads'/><title type='text'>Rock Love</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpY1Gm_d3cI/AAAAAAAAABE/Gt0M2Gf1vx4/s1600-h/082206-6a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 192px; height: 154px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpY1Gm_d3cI/AAAAAAAAABE/Gt0M2Gf1vx4/s320/082206-6a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086311216823786946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;In my day job, I sell jewelry....fine jewelry....in a department store. This is just an extension of my love of rocks. Most of the time little girls pick flowers, write notes and put trinkets in their pockets. Not me. I picked the most beautiful rocks I could find and saved them. My poor mother. Doing laundry for five children must have been bad enough without all those muddy, crumbling rocks. BUT....it led to a lifetime of rock love&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51); font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday, a lady came to my counter wearing the most striking pendant. She said her husband had made it. They spend their winters in Arizona where he's been taking classes for silversmithing. The rock was a gorgeous red and black and gray concoction. She said it was really dinosaur droppings. I found the name for this type of rock is coprolite. I found one beautiful piece of it on Ebay &lt;a href="http://www.ebay.com/"&gt;http://www.ebay.com/&lt;/a&gt; . Just search for coprolite. This guy from Utah has a wonderful slab for sale. Isn't that amazing that something so ugly can become something so beautiful? I need to look for a silversmith class locally.....another path.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpYhjm_d3aI/AAAAAAAAAA0/W6Kmi76CN0w/s1600-h/Rocks+for+Ebay+Aug+3+064.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 183px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpYhjm_d3aI/AAAAAAAAAA0/W6Kmi76CN0w/s320/Rocks+for+Ebay+Aug+3+064.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086289724807437730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few years ago, my dh surprised me with boxes and boxes of rocks, tumbling paraphernalia and such he bought from a lady having a tag sale. She told him this was leftover from a rock shop in northern Illinois. The shop closed when her aunt and uncle became too ill to keep it open. She had no interest in the business so was selling it off.&lt;br /&gt;Over the last few years, I have spent many a happy hour sorting through the rocks, trying to identify them. I have even sold a few slabs of beauties on Ebay. Mostly, though, they sit in my garage....taking up room....waiting for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpY1b2_d3dI/AAAAAAAAABM/ffmN3ZW5qek/s1600-h/Wire+Wrapped+Agates+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 131px; height: 175px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpY1b2_d3dI/AAAAAAAAABM/ffmN3ZW5qek/s320/Wire+Wrapped+Agates+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086311581896007122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Shortly after my dh bought the rock shop (that's how I refer to it), I learned about wire wrapping. So, off we went to Louisiana to learn how to do it. Check out Preston Reuther's site &lt;a href="http://wire-sculpture.com/"&gt;http://wire-sculpture.com/&lt;/a&gt;.  Thanks, Preston. Since I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; the look of sterling silver, almost everything I wire-wrap is done in sterling. I've given a lot of my work away, but several I've kept for myself. Here's one that I wear a lot. I think there are two different types of agates in this wrap. There are two black beads - hematite. And, there's a bronzy-looking glass bead. Let me know what you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're planning a short trip to the Wisconsin Dells soon. I hope to find some things there to wrap. Well, maybe we'll do some restauranting, too....&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;love &lt;/span&gt;to  sample local cuisine. I'll let you know what I find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's thought&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:georgia;" &gt;The optimist says, "My      cup runneth over, what a blessing." The pessimist says, "My cup      runneth over, what a mess."  Bless your mess!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5625399692375415882-3712008285034607265?l=treasuredpaths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/feeds/3712008285034607265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5625399692375415882&amp;postID=3712008285034607265' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/3712008285034607265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/3712008285034607265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/2007/07/rock-love.html' title='Rock Love'/><author><name>Queen of the Lake</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16686311915046576303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RpY1Gm_d3cI/AAAAAAAAABE/Gt0M2Gf1vx4/s72-c/082206-6a.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5625399692375415882.post-8800876314791101260</id><published>2007-07-04T15:03:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T17:20:52.190-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='crafts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='family'/><title type='text'>A Tribute To My Mom</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I guess it's about time to create myself on the internet since I've done it many times in real life. With this first post, I will let you know that I CRAFT. So here goes. In this, my first post, I'd like to share a purse I made using the crazy quilting technique.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I've seen many sites that show fabulous samples of this kind of work, I was most TOTALLY inspired by a quilt project done for the Arrington Cancer Center in Lubbock, Texas. It's my understanding that it hangs on a wall in the center. See it here &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/waycoolnurse/sets/1750021/"&gt;http://www.flickr.com/photos/waycoolnurse/sets/1750021/&lt;/a&gt;. These inspirational ladies have gone on to create what they call "Art Bras". Check out this organization, A Way to Women's Wellness, at &lt;a href="http://www.wtww.org/"&gt;http://www.wtww.org/&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowDNwmwpEI/AAAAAAAAAAc/BfoSXPCcqZk/s1600-h/Purses+2007+001+for+crafster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 159px; height: 156px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowDNwmwpEI/AAAAAAAAAAc/BfoSXPCcqZk/s320/Purses+2007+001+for+crafster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083441614315103298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My first att&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;empt was not as professional as theirs, but very much in keeping with their focus. My mother died of breast can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;cer in 1963 when she was 32 years old.  I call my purse "A Tribute To My Mom".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowFvgmwpGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/00eQdarhm3E/s1600-h/A+Tribute+to+my+mom+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 119px; height: 159px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowFvgmwpGI/AAAAAAAAAAs/00eQdarhm3E/s320/A+Tribute+to+my+mom+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083444393158943842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;The central photo of this bag is her at about age four. It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; incorporates various fabrics including a Betty Boop fabric. I've used some antique buttons, several embroidery techniques, and an assortment of beading. It's fully lined.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowDOAmwpFI/AAAAAAAAAAk/myk3VNUcnTs/s1600-h/Purses+2007+002+for+crafster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowDOAmwpFI/AAAAAAAAAAk/myk3VNUcnTs/s320/Purses+2007+002+for+crafster.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083441618610070610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Betty Boop and the quilted heart in this photo are pockets.  I didn't put pockets on the inside, but now wish I had. I've added inside pockets on several I have made since this one and everyone is very happy with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I carry the purse everywhere and have had loads o&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;f compliments on it. To this point, I've only given purses to my family. Since I've been asked so many times if I sell them, I'm in the process of setting up an Etsy shop. Watch for a link to it in the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;near future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I can't res&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;i&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;st adding something sunny, I'll leave you &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;with an Irish blessing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;Wishin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;g you always...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                     Walls for the wind,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                     A roof for the rain&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                     And tea beside the fire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                     Laughter to cheer you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                     Those you love near you,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;color:#000033;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt;                     And all that your heart may desire&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5625399692375415882-8800876314791101260?l=treasuredpaths.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/feeds/8800876314791101260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5625399692375415882&amp;postID=8800876314791101260' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/8800876314791101260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5625399692375415882/posts/default/8800876314791101260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://treasuredpaths.blogspot.com/2007/07/tribute-to-my-mom.html' title='A Tribute To My Mom'/><author><name>Queen of the Lake</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/16686311915046576303</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_LtK1_PjTGwo/RowDNwmwpEI/AAAAAAAAAAc/BfoSXPCcqZk/s72-c/Purses+2007+001+for+crafster.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
