tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91553232861897811452024-03-12T18:55:59.546-05:00INCONCEIVABLY BLONDE....Sometimes it's really hard to believe I'm a blonde...ok, a dark blonde, but a blonde just the same...are my thoughts so deep they're shallow, ummm, or are they so shallow they're deep??!! Well, I'll leave it up to you to decide. Dive on in, the water's just fine....Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.comBlogger118125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-36152562394503195312021-03-01T22:53:00.010-06:002021-03-01T23:03:23.550-06:00Blowing AwayHe turned 5 yesterday.<div>My world, personal lil' hurricane of love.</div><div>My heart, the one that</div><div>daredevils-but-cares</div><div>that-he-tap-dances-on and</div><div>thru-my-soul, the one that</div><div>lives like a livewire, </div><div>fully exposed, throbbing,</div><div>laughing, breathing everything in,</div><div>pandemic and Petri dish of the pre-k world, too--</div><div>Ughhhh, what can I do?</div><div>Freeze Frame? </div><div>A spell to stop him from growing up</div><div>while the brainiacs hurry up and</div><div>de-pandemify our world</div><div>so we can then go back to our</div><div>regularly scheduled lives?</div><div>Where's my bloody wand....</div><div>I can't even....</div><div>Soooo,</div><div>Let him blow out that candle</div><div>and re-light it, do it</div><div>again</div><div>and again</div><div>and again</div><div>(which I could honestly watch forever)</div><div>each time feeling like the first time.</div><div>Priceless. Perfect. My compass and my Why.</div><div>Blowing away every time while we sing. </div><div>"Sing a song, make it simple...."</div><div>Song of happy, of boy, of slime, of stinky feet, </div><div>of the megalodon and the alligator and the zombies that </div><div>always seem to follow <i>right behind Mommy's car....</i></div><div>of sticky fingers, of shredded t-shirts, of cars, of favorite shows,</div><div>of painting, of dart balls, of cookies, of pancakes, and spaghetti and meatballs.</div><div>of life, of hope, of jumping into my arms to tell me all about your day.</div><div>of promise "To Infinity and Beyond."</div><div>Mommy-hood and Mama Bear </div><div>elated, glorified, and worried</div><div>beyond any realm of words known to humanity</div><div>in any tongue.</div><div><br /></div><div>I see, feel, hear, know of the things</div><div>that go bump in the night.</div><div>And other things that tend to wreck lives, </div><div>the world, and are Curiouser and Curiouser</div><div>happening faster and more devastating than usual.</div><div>Ahem...<i>COVID!</i></div><div><i>Time out? Halftime? Uncle?</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>My dreams come true, however odd,</div><div>however dreamy or gruesome they be.</div><div>The eyes have it, so they say.</div><div>And mine have veil lifted,</div><div>as that is the way with me.</div><div>Makes me other, sensitive, exposed,</div><div>vulnerable in youth as am now.</div><div>Harnessing such vision and sensitivity</div><div>while channeling for true purpose</div><div>comes with a price higher than you could know.</div><div>And both path and person is often lonely and misunderstood.</div><div>That's fine. really. </div><div>It's ok, I understand and I'm good with it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>By all except for my truest heart outside my chest</div><div>the one that clarifies all the rest</div><div>and brings it all into sharpest precision</div><div>and aims me like the tool that I am.</div><div>Bullseye!</div><div>right into the fray</div><div>of the pandemic and the chaos</div><div>of today. </div><div>All the while while cuddling with </div><div>him close, ever closer, </div><div>nuzzling his ear as he sleeps</div><div>and I watch over his dreamtime,</div><div>praying to the universe</div><div>to keep him ever strong, healthy, </div><div>joyful yet full throttle handful of high octane non-stop</div><div>curiosity-mixed-with-screaming-body-slamming and learning.</div><div>Because he knows stuff. </div><div>And he'll teach me. He promised.</div><div>And he teaches me far more than I could ever hope</div><div>to teach him. </div><div>Time. Not nearly enough time for all that I want for him.</div><div>Brimming with light, laughter, always smirking mischief </div><div>and dramatic eyerolls. ALWAYS.</div><div>Love, happiness, caring and hugs that he brings </div><div>to everyone he meets.</div><div><br /></div><div>When he looks at me, in the quiet moments, he takes my </div><div>breath away...for a fleeting moment</div><div>drown in the brown of his gaze and see myself</div><div>as I bumblingly endeavor to be but painfully know</div><div>I am not. Not yet. Work in progress. LOT of work.</div><div>HUGE. BIGLY. TREMENDOUS AMOUNT. </div><div>It's incredible. Hasn't been done before (by me at least)</div><div>in the history of my being a mother.</div><div><br /></div><div>Though pandemic clears the streets,</div><div>covers our lips, poops the parties,</div><div>"huggus interruptus," </div><div>and the most precious things best experienced</div><div>all together, in person, cuddled, closer, </div><div>feeling the bond of love, </div><div>of family both near and far.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, my dear, weird, wild, wacky World,</div><div>I humbly submit</div><div>that the screen is </div><div>NOT mightier than the hug, </div><div>but a phantom copy of </div><div>the real, true thing.</div><div>Yes, it's handy, </div><div>and I know there's already</div><div>more than one app for that, </div><div>but nobody discusses</div><div>the price that we, who are the World,</div><div>dearly pay and suffer.</div><div>People sniffle, deny, and die.</div><div>Masses shuffle in lines, </div><div>standing in the blowing rain,</div><div>in the cold, for hours on end</div><div>for the proverbial possible cure</div><div>that is not a cure, just like Magritte's </div><div>"This is not a pipe" but a version.</div><div>Weaker clone of a version not yet known</div><div>but will be. </div><div><br />Life a la pandemic has become</div><div>altered carbon indeed</div><div>helping those in direst need</div><div>while praying my own are okay</div><div>unafraid, and safe. </div><div>Masked, insanely sanitized, </div><div>inside our bubble Family</div><div>getting creative and oh-so-flexible</div><div>with methods and behaviors,</div><div>yet the sleep and work things</div><div>or bills never wait, ever demanding</div><div>that we keep on keeping on, pound of flesh, </div><div>even though, long out of gas, on fumes, </div><div>almost to bone dry, take moment</div><div>of quiet at odd times and </div><div>exhale, breathe, give thanks,</div><div>refocus. </div><div>Watching his chubby, glittering smile</div><div>in my little video clip on my phone</div><div>is the worst best ever: I can't blow out</div><div>or re-light the candle or </div><div>hug the damn screen. </div><div>Technology obseen and</div><div>at times heard, mostly with sniffles </div><div>and a nose blowing into a tissue. </div><div>While I work, apart from him, </div><div>it's all I have. </div><div>Left wanting. </div><div>As is this world</div><div>only if we let it.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Happy Birthday, my Angel, My Miracle....</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-16185873397650952942020-03-09T11:22:00.001-05:002021-03-01T21:29:53.500-06:00GratitudeYes, I'm an Oingo Boingo fan.<br />
Yes, I love this song.<br />
<br />
Yes, I have so much to be grateful for.<br />
Like, laugh lines.<br />
Stretchmarks. Wrinkles and crinkles.<br />
Skin that sags more than is supple.<br />Freckles on my face.<br />
Memories of all the joy and happiness<br />
and sunshine and laughter-<br />
mixed-with-seaweed<br />
and sea foam.<br />
<br />
Aches and pains,<br />
callouses to remind me<br />how far I've come, where I've been,<br />
and "miles to go before I sleep."<br />
<br />
Tears, heartache, sorrow, loss, pain.<br />
Isolation, loneliness. Fatigue. Loss of hope.<br />
Loss of love. Loss of family. Loss of friends.<br />Holding hands with ones who pass<br />from this dimension onto the next,<br />
leaving me behind to mourn and carry on.<br />
<br />
Muscle memory, stored<br />
with the thousands of hugs<br />
and squeezes, and pats on the back.<br />
Also for bruises, scars, lacerations,<br />
tears from dog bites, car accidents, stab wounds,<br />
sports injuries and breaks, fights, rape,<br />
and other superficial yet traumatizing<br />
ticks of life's clock.<br />
<br />
After all,<br />
how do you know of life's bounty,<br />
beauty, and goodness without the<br />
opposition in all things.<br />
So, for me, life is PRECIOUS and PRICELESS<br />
and definitely worth the squeeze,<br />
even if I'm suffocating.<br />
Someone thinks I can handle it and<br />
not break "Under Pressure"<br />
(Miss those two greats and their poetry and difference and<br />
beloved music SO MUCH!)<br />
<br />
Time, the great healer,<br />
the great revealer,<br />
the greatest teacher of all,<br />
for "nature's green is gold,<br />
and nothing gold can stay."<br />
<br />
The most unexpected joy,<br />
after years of bathing my pillow in<br />
tear-stained silent pleas to Heaven,<br />
came at the most inconvenient,<br />
financially broken time of my life--<br />
my little boy--the first time I held him<br />
I knew the greatest joy ever possible, and<br />
a surety that he would forever be mine<br />
and was always meant to be.<br />
<br />
His tiny little finger wrapped around mine,<br />
his sigh of contentment<br />
as he nuzzled into my bare chest,<br />
HIS. I was his. <br />
Singing him to sleep every night,<br />
telling him stories of Nana and Poppa,<br />
watching my husband finally become<br />
what he was always meant to be.<br />
Brought me such joy<br />
it overflowed, overwhelmed,<br />
defied description or words.<br />
<br />
Regardless of the mess<br />
with the rest of our world<br />
in these crazy days,<br />
those little fingers wrapping<br />
tight around my heart, around<br />
my waist, around my neck,<br />
squeezing tight,<br />
little clear voice whispering,<br />
"I love you Mommy"<br />
refills my cup and my strength<br />
and my drive to keep going.<br />
As life truly is beautiful. <br />
A cherished gift.<br />
This is gratitude. a mixed, motley, beautiful bag. <br />
Of "Joy and Pain, Sunshine, and Rain."<br />
<br />
-------------------------------------------------------<br />
<br />
Gratitude--lyrics by Oingo Boingo<br />
<br />
"Life's been so good to me,<br />Has it been good to you?<br />Has it been everything<br />that you expected it to be?"<br />
Now is that gratitude?<br />
Or is it really love?<br />
Some kind of reality<br />
that fits just like a glove?<br />
Now is that gratitude<br />
for everything I've done?<br />
Or is it something else<br />
that's got me on the run?<br />
In the middle of a big tornado,<br />
on the tip of everyone's tongue,<br />
in the belly of a giant whale<br />
all the girls just wanna have fun.<br />
In the look of a frightened neighbor,<br />
in a big warm bed at night,<br />
in a broken elevator,<br />
in the teeth of a dog that bites.<br />
In the middle of a revolution,<br />
in the look of a child's face,<br />
in the silence at the dinner table,<br />
in the stillness of disgrace.<br />
Now is that gratitude?<br />
<br />
But when I think of you,<br />
and what you've done to me,<br />
you took away my hope,<br />
you took away my fantasy....<br />
I once had lots of pride,<br />
the world was in my hands.<br />
I lived way at the top,<br />
in castles made of sand.<br />
Ooooooohhhhhhhh, I dream of you sometimes."<br />
<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-84178089898059216052020-03-08T22:48:00.235-05:002021-03-02T10:26:58.193-06:00Continuity<div>Seems logic has flown</div><div>
Reality has shown some<br />
mighty unreal hands as of late.</div>
<div>
But I hate to ramble on </div><div>and take up your time.</div>
<div>
It is what it is, after all, </div><div>according to stoicism</div><div>--and news flash: I'm the world's WORST STOIC. EVER.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
However, one concept that stands out </div><div>that I must better embrace is "Amor Fati--love it all"</div><div>--in other words, take the bad with the good</div><div>and love it all, however you can. </div><div><br /></div><div>Damn, that's a hard one for me right now. </div><div>Learning to embrace the suck </div><div>right along with the stuff that almost sucks life away too...woo hoo!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Sorry, my rose-colored glasses </div><div>I nearly always wear </div><div>were steamrolled, </div><div>torched, and </div><div>blew away in a tornado </div><div>that tore through my life. </div><div>But, alas, life goes on, </div><div>and so must the show, </div><div>and so must I. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Time's the one thing </div><div>of which we don't have nearly enough.</div>
<div>
I should know.</div>
<div>
It's my business.</div>
<div>
To be in the know.</div>
<div>
To be able to show others </div><div>how to handle themselves</div>
<div>
when the time comes.</div>
<div>And come it will.</div>
<div>
That is the one certain thing</div><div>in this uncertainty of life we lead.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm a walking contradiction, </div><div>in all kinds of ways.</div>
<div>
I'm sensitive and intuitive but </div>
<div>
tough and hardened </div><div>by what I've gone through </div>
<div>
and survived and witnessed firsthand.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm a warrior and a caregiver.</div><div>A nurturer and teacher. </div><div>A lover and a fighter.</div><div>Scared-y cat yet defender</div><div>of those with no voice or place.</div><div>Just like me--I know that feeling,</div><div>and so they claim me as theirs. </div><div><br /></div>
<div>
Others rely on me;</div><div>but I can seldom, if ever, rely on them</div><div>when I truly need to. </div><div>When my chips are down.</div><div>Don't need to be Khaleesi to know</div><div><i>It is known.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I used to believe in happily ever after for myself.<br />Maybe someday I will again. Who knows. </div><div>Yet I still have hope for others. </div><div><br /></div><div>All I need </div><div>is a shoulder to cry on </div><div>once in awhile,</div><div>a good workout, </div><div>a roof over my family's head, </div><div>food in their tummies, </div><div>not even in my own; </div><div>reliable transportation,</div><div>and the ability </div><div>to contribute to important things that </div><div>really </div><div>make </div><div>a </div><div>difference </div><div>an impact and </div><div>all that truly matter in this world. </div><div>Safety. Security. Stability. </div><div>Simple things (in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs as it were). </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Smaller circle, lesser risk.</div>
<div>
Hmmmm, makes sense, simple enough, </div><div>but...</div>
<div>Then there's <i>me.</i> </div><div><i>I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT</i></div><div>and to my own self be true.<br /><i>I can't do both at the same time</i>. </div><div>Believe me, I've tried. </div><div>And tried. And tried. </div><div>Tug-o'-war rips me apart.</div><div>I just seem to mess it up and disappear, you know. </div><div>Full turtle (not Monty, you python).</div><div>Like now.</div><div>Into everything around and inside</div><div>swirling all around. </div><div>How's that supposed to work and not</div><div>all at once?</div><div>Maybe it's the way it's supposed to be?</div><div>This is the way?! <i>Oh really</i>....<br />Mmmmmmkayyy.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I think my heart broke years ago, </div><div>but I refused to accept nor understand it. </div><div>At times I don't even know if I still have one, </div><div>or if it works anymore....</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>Somehow I feel I am meant to be alone </div><div>down the road in awhile</div><div>for the rest of this journey. </div><div>But, truth be told:</div><div>I could definitely use </div><div>a couple of choice kindred spirits </div><div>with a bit of spare time to </div><div>chew the fat, </div><div>work out, or </div><div>pass some time </div><div>to keep me out of my own head </div><div>which never seems to stop. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm a people person, </div><div>just not for the faint of heart </div><div>nor artifice of countenance. </div><div><br /></div><div>So I remain on the fringes and deep dive into my work and my angel's future.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm an open book, </div><div>cannot be fake if my life depended on it, </div><div>so I am my own friend and enemy, </div><div>strength and weakness, </div><div>and I own both fully. </div><div><br /></div><div>You think I'd get used to being hurt and wise up, </div><div>but I kindly redirect you to the previous ramblings and </div><div>pause here, eyebrow cocked and lip pursed, arms crossed, tapping my barefoot. </div><div>Sarcasm and eyeroll are given oh so freely. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm equal parts saint and sinner </div><div>and both are absolutely me.</div><div>Stop being so either or, </div><div>that's so limiting. So flat. </div><div>Abstract, even. </div><div>The very few who truly know will </div><div>laugh till they cry at that image:</div><div>for I'm anything <i>but</i> that.</div><div>Something much muchier and more, something full, <br />squishy flowing, driven, scared, listening, </div><div>feeling, burning-- </div><div>Not quite sure how to describe it, </div><div>but it drives me in all I do, think, feel.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I feel the Spirit,</div><div>as well as the voices of my parents, grandparents, and others speak to me, </div><div>regardless if I'm following perfectly as I've been spiritually raised. </div><div>The way I figure, someone's gotta be collateral damage </div><div>to do the necessary dirty work to make things happen. </div><div>If not me, it'll be someone else. </div><div>So why not me, Wynona....</div><div>I'm here, I'm willing, I'm ready to do what needs to be done. </div><div>I agreed to this long long ago when YOU said you wanted to see if I'd come and I did. </div><div>So, </div><div>here. </div><div>I. </div><div>AM. </div><div>DAMMIT.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At least </div><div>I can work my hardest </div><div>with every ounce of grit I can muster </div><div>to make a difference and </div><div>make this world a bit of a better, more hopeful, brighter place </div><div>for my beloved angel and the future generation of precious souls</div><div>so I can leave this world a bit better when my time is truly up.</div>
<div>
After all, life goes on. </div><div>All we are is dust in the wind, right? </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm supposed to be the one with the answers, </div>
<div>
the one with the witty questions and counter situations,</div><div>quick on my feet and silken steel under pressure. </div>
<div>
provocative thought and devil's advocate and all that jazz. </div>
<div>
That's my role, my zone, my jam, what I was meant to do. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I used to be the life of the party and quite the looker. </div><div>HAHHHHHH!!!!!! </div>
<div>
Give me deep conversation or connection, </div>
<div>
better yet right now, this very moment: </div><div>give me a beautiful beach at moonlight, </div><div>and I'm a rich rich woman.</div>
<div>
The sea understands me. </div><div>Always has. Always will.</div>
<div>
And so it goes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
People either get me or they don't,</div><div>that's my lot in life, and I've gotten used to it. </div>
<div>
Not ever fitting in. </div>
<div>
That's my niche, my role-- the outsider with insight, </div>
<div>
the one who can connect when others can't begin to fathom--</div><div>because of all the junk I've been thru crammed into less than half a century of living. </div>
<div>
That's why I feel so old and young at the same time. </div>
<div>
And so it goes. </div><div>Life. the cycle. </div>
<div>
Preparedness, </div><div>Response, </div><div>Recovery, </div><div>Improvement. </div>
<div>
Continuity. </div>
<div>
That beautiful word.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The dreams and things get more real, </div><div>more steady, rapid-fire-paced</div><div>more disturbing </div><div>yet calming </div>
<div>--making more sense now than ever before</div><div>as the crazy stuff I see everyday all around me ramps up</div><div>and is ingloriously here and now. </div>
<div><br /></div><div>
Who the hell knew I'd EVER end up here.</div>
<div>
Definitely not me, </div><div>I'm usually the last one to know, </div>
<div>
the one lucky key master </div><div>holding the bag at the party </div>
<div>
while everyone gets to play but me--</div>
<div>
nope, not me, I'm pulling a Lloyd Dobler, forever, it seems.</div><div>No pen, no boombox in the rain. oh well. </div>
<div>
And so it goes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I came here</div>
<div>
kicking and screaming</div>
<div>
to this godforsaken place </div><div>I nicknamed HELL.</div>
<div>Crying and all the typical female antics--</div>
<div>
deep down I knew.</div>
<div>
I just knew it would come down to this.</div>
<div>
<div><br /></div><div>
But, truth be told, </div><div>things weren't really peachy<br />
for awhile before that, if I'm being fully honest.</div>
</div>
<div>
I wasn't ready to have that conversation with myself.</div>
<div>
You know, the one where the grown up you and the teenage you</div>
<div>
try to have a coming-to-Jesus moment about the shit that's gone down.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The world all around you broken </div><div>into shards, </div><div>and you're standing, </div>
<div>
panting, breathing, bleeding, </div><div>but still standing. </div><div>Not knowing how or why,</div>
<div>
just putting your training into play--</div><div>one millisecond at a time, </div><div>play after play, day after day, </div>
<div>
task upon task...one foot in front of the other</div>
<div>
as you watch the beautiful wreckage </div><div>burst into flames in the night.</div>
<div>
Beautiful, breathtaking sight, </div><div>even if catastrophic--</div>
<div><br /></div><div>
there's beauty all around, when there's love at home.</div>
<div>
Even if the home is one little angel </div><div>whose every hope and dream, </div><div>every possibility, </div>
<div>
every strength, </div><div>every skill </div><div>depends on YOU.</div>
<div><br /></div><div>
The crazier the crazy gets, </div><div>the calmer I get, </div><div>that's how you know I've truly seen stuff--</div><div>not by what I say,</div><div>not by my resume or credentials or me blathering about--</div><div>but by what I don't say, </div><div>by how much calmer I get, </div><div>and everything just slows down to milliseconds. </div><div>This. </div><div>is. </div><div>why. </div><div>I'm. </div><div>here. </div><div>Period. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Whether you like it or not, </div><div>I really don't give a rat's ass. </div><div>This isn't about you. </div><div>It's most definitely not about me. </div><div>It's about something so much bigger and greater </div><div>and hella dangerous that I lack words to even try to describe it. </div><div>And that's saying something.</div><div>When I get quiet, you should be afraid. </div><div>Very afraid. In fact, RUN.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm here because I'm needed, </div><div>I'm boots on the ground, </div><div>I got skills you need and a perspective you lack. </div><div>I round out your team. </div><div>I don't want to be in charge or steal anyone's thunder, </div><div>I don't give a crap about any of that--you take it. </div><div>Have fun with that, darlin'. </div><div>Beware of the thorns on them there roses, now. </div><div><br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So you smile</div>
<div>
through the pain, </div><div>through the turmoil.</div><div>You've been through tough before, </div>
<div>
but you used to have family, </div><div>which made it so much more bearable.</div><div>This is BEYOND <i>that. </i></div><div><i>Gulp.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
You could carefree stare off at the sea, </div><div>daydream of days long bygone, </div>
<div>
smelling and feeling of home, just for a moment. </div>
<div><br /></div><div>
But stupidity and selfishness </div><div>shatter everything</div>
<div>
into fragments of stained glass. </div>
<div>
Funny, that.</div>
<div>
I love stained glass,</div>
<div>
and mosaics, and </div>
<div>
anything clay, </div><div>glass, </div><div>metal or ceramic. </div>
<div><br /></div><div>
So I'm left bleeding, alone, reeling, </div>
<div>
staggering to stand my ground, </div>
<div>
get my bearings back, </div>
<div>
and make something beautiful </div>
<div>
out of the wreckage that has been my life of late. </div>
<div><br /></div><div>
Some brand new adventure</div><div>with my Angel--</div>
<div>
maybe something with a friend or </div>
<div>
fellow COOP-er along the way </div><div>in this strange place. </div>
<div><br /></div><div>Funny how art gives perspective, </div><div>gives hope, </div><div>gives healing, </div>
<div>and beauty, </div><div>a colorful light amidst the darkness--</div>
<div>
which is why I'm forever drawn to it. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>FEMA ICS concepts fill </div><div>my blonde-aired-y head, </div><div>as I inhale the dusky cooling air, </div><div>wishing to tears it was seaside, </div><div>the burning hope and </div><div>my lil' future asleep,</div><div>snoring in my arms, </div><div>and I sit and finally digest that </div><div>everything in life falls under the concept of continuity. </div><div>Click. </div><div>Lightbulb. </div><div>Whatever.</div><div><i>DING DING DING!</i></div><div><br /></div><div>So glad this ol' weathered dog can still learn some new tricks. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>I'm back to flyin' the COOP</div><div><br /></div><div>rev. 3/2/2021</div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-30219105943248652682017-04-28T10:30:00.000-05:002017-04-28T10:30:00.017-05:00A Time to FailHey everyone! Yes, I know I've been gone awhile from here--I've neglected my creative inner voice. BUT, I have had some very GOOD REASON.... <br />
<br />
So, it's my birthday today, so I had to take some time to share what's been going on and to try to get my writing bearings back on track a smidge.<br />
<br />
Reflecting upon my life, my self, my situation right now, I'm just so dang grateful. Truly. What a ride it's been! I'm owning up to several things now that I'd like to freely share in the hopes of either contributing to the generalizable knowledge base, or to add a voice to my experience that might help or encourage or somehow help others. <br />
<br />
I'm not perfect, I'm not fake, I'm not holier-than-thou. I don't pretend to be anything other than authentic, genuine, and sincere. Period. Oh, and blonde. Can't forget that, LOL! <br />
<br />
I try, I succeed, and sometimes I fail. OK, lately, I seem to be failing a LOT!<br />
<br />
Even failure has a silver lining, as it's such a valuable teacher. I don't share to put myself out there for attention or to fish for compliments--trust me, I'm not that insecure most days. <br />
<br />
Simply put, I share because others have shared with me. Others have mentored me, have taken time with me, have guided and led me. I cannot and WILL not do less. The future generation requires, demands, nay, DESERVES this from all of us. We are all teachers. We are all leaders. We are all students. We are all followers--this never ends, it's eternal, people!<br />
<br />
I want to focus on the past couple of years--from 2014 until the present day. What has happened to me? Well, let's see. We packed up and sold my parents'/my childhood home. We bought a home a county (and another totally different world) away. I thought I had landed my dream job, which quickly turned out to be the wrong thing for me at that moment, no matter how much I wanted it to be otherwise. We moved. I had no job. I had some serious healing to do after going through everything with my folks' passing. <br />
Silly me, I thought that "tiny" move would be easy--both personally and professionally. Especially since our dearest friends did the same and were now in our neighborhood. YAY, right?!<br />
<br />
In a word: WRONGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!<br />
<br />
This work thing was by far the most unexpected, and unwelcome thing to experience--as I found it took me almost 1.5 years to re-enter the workforce. When I finally returned to full-time work, it was in a diminished capacity at a salary rate that was a fraction of what I had been earning before, with no room for growth or development. As a result, I am in a job where I don't really fit, working at less than my capacity or my usual reputation--in an effort to maintain my sanity and preserve myself. Not proud of that, but it's a work in progress. <br />
<br />
Being in crisis mode during this time, I feel I pulled back from my faith-based community, although that was not at all my intent--I felt I've been running on empty and simply had to. Probably a poor choice, but I'm being totally honest here. <br />
<br />
My husband wasn't working, due to health reasons, for over 2 years. That combination of both of us not working for an extended period of time wreaked havoc for us financially and even personally. He had life-saving and life-changing surgery and was unable to return to his previous career and embarked on a dramatic career change. Change is harder for some more than others, as is learning. My hubby has taken up this challenge like a rock star and I'm so proud of him for always putting himself out there!<br />
<br />
Failure to work, failure to make some smarter long-term decisions, I just saw failure everywhere I looked. Crisis mode for 2 years is enough to make the sanest of us crazy. <br />
<br />
Looking at this now, I realize this time allowed me (and my hubby, too) to fail freely--to embrace the learning moments, to understand on the deepest level, to change, and evolve. Terrence, this is powerful stuff. Razing us to the core, to be able to emerge from the flames improved, stronger, better than before. This has humbled me in such a profound way that I don't know if I would have appreciated it in another setting. Painful, but honest. And true.<br />
<br />
At this lowest point, the Big Guy Upstairs/Heavenly Father/The Universe decided to mix things up a bit, answering a prayer I had been keeping in my heart and mind for nearly 20 years--we got a very unexpected chance to become foster and now adoptive parents to a precious soul who was prepared just for us! Talk about awful timing--or, was it?!<br />
<br />
Being at our most humble and vulnerable point, I feel it's opened us up on the deepest level--affording us to bathe in the gratitude of the gift and opportunity we've been blessed with. I love more powerfully than before, if that's even possible. I'm much more patient than before, dismissing the truly insignificant and unimportant distractions of this modern life and focusing on what really matters. I feel it's making us better parents, better partners, better individuals in general. Maybe it's my own warped perspective, but it bears considering.<br />
<br />
By sharing our experience in our fostering and adoptive journey, I've learned that others have not only learned about our process, but they themselves are embarking on similar journeys which will transform their lives and the lives of these beautiful children forever. That's something I never anticipated nor expected--but it, too, humbles me beyond words. <br />
<br />
By expressing my emotions, feelings, thoughts, and reflections I engage and also absorb and evolve continually. My dialogue with others, whether face-to-face or virtually, is a powerful tool I hope continues to be positive, nurturing, encouraging, accepting, and authentic. <br />
<br />
Someday I'll actually get my books/dreams written--struggling with my own inner demons on getting those un-blocked and actually completed. My personal goal is to get something finished by the end of this year and we'll see where things go from there. For some reason, 2017 just is the year. If you don't write it down, it's not real--so this is my first of many steps to make it real for REALS this time :)<br />
<br />
My parents' wisdom, memories, and presence abide with me, and I treasure and celebrate that. I miss them dearly, often to tears and laughter. Sometimes I'm emotional, sometimes I'm laid-back, and sometimes life is just circus-crazy. Learning to find joy and gratitude in failure, in rebuilding, and appreciating that process is a priceless gift for which I'm so thankful. <br />
<br />
I'm thankful for the age spots on my face, the laugh lines, the bags under my eyes. I'm grateful for poopy diapers, for soft cuddles, for runny noses. I'm grateful for the peals of contagious giggles echoing through the house and the sound of toys being played with. I'm grateful for the chance to feel fulfilled despite annoying jobs, to feel adored by my soul's mate at the end of a long and crazy day, and to hold hands no matter what's going on. <br />
<br />
I'm not the clothes I wear. I'm not the car I drive. I'm not the position I hold nor the credentials behind my name. I'm not a calling in church. I'm not my house, nor my neighborhood. I'm not my jewelry nor my purse, nor my shoes on my feet. I'm definitely not my credit score.<br />
<br />
I'm a WOMAN. I'm a Daughter. I'm a Sister. I'm a Friend. I'm a Lover. I'm a Partner/Soulmate. I'm a MOMMY. I'm the twinkle in my Daddy's/hubby's/baby boy's eyes. I'm the fierce mama bear advocating for her little one with every breath and effort in her to make sure he's getting what he needs and deserves from this life. I'm the hug at the start and end of the day. I'm the warm kiss on your cheek. I'm the eye-roll and wink and totally unladylike snort at a corny joke. I'm the contented sigh, I'm the one getting back up after falling down and trying again or starting over. I'm the one working my scars and imperfections into my own personal mix. I'm gratitude for every little thing in a recent world where the big things have gone totally sideways. <br />
<br />
I'm the tears for the tender mercies and quietest moments when I can be still and KNOW HE IS GOD.<br />
<br />
I. Am. FULFILLED.<br />
<br />
I'm grateful for the chance to improve my health to be able to be active and present in every facet of my baby boy's beautiful life. I'm deeply thankful for incredibly caring and supportive friends/family "Framily" who have been answers to more prayers than you'll ever know. For an amazing day care which is a home away from home and beautifully nurturing and stimulating place of love and learning and laughter. <br />
<br />
At the end of the day, I'm the most grateful to simply be comfortable and happy in my own skin. At 44, I'm so richly blessed and fortunate. For every. Little. Thing. <br />
Thank You!<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-73477159131287714112015-06-29T14:21:00.000-05:002015-06-29T15:02:22.900-05:00Closer<div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<i>Special Note before reading further:</i><br />
<i>I've pondered long and hard about sharing this, and for good reason. This is a very mature topic which is definitely provocative and not for everyone's taste....In the end, I felt I needed to share--to point out something incredibly powerful I learned from dabbling in affairs of body, heart, and soul....</i><br />
<i>I guess, in an odd way I'm sharing what happens when you don't follow what you know and feel to be true, just to see what happens...to see if the grass is greener on the other side...so it's a poem with a story and a warning. The road back to self-esteem, self-worth, and spiritual healing comes at a very dear price--while I'm forever grateful for the miracle of forgiveness and the Atonement, I honestly would never want to experience that journey again, nor would I wish it on anyone, if I could prevent it.....</i><br />
<i>This was something I wrote after going through a very experimental point of my life, when I wandered and explored and ended up pretty much bitter and disillusioned from making some pretty awful decisions. Extremely poor judgement, in retrospect.</i><br />
<i>Funny thing about youth, that. Young, beautiful, and oh, so stupid in matters of the heart....</i><br />
<i>Around this time I had again started going back to my church again, in the attempt to get back to what I somehow always knew but had foolishly abandoned anyway.</i><br />
<i>I captured this feeling about my overall disgust and bitterness with the ultimate metaphor of "safe sex," i.e., a condom...</i><br />
<i>That. Is. A. Great. Big. LIE....There's absolutely nothing safe about casual sex....</i><br />
<i>Not something I'm happy or proud of, but just the same--it's one of my many scars and its imprints left me wiser and able to grow and progress into what I'm grateful I've become....</i><br />
<i>Make no mistake, there's honestly NOTHING casual about sex--the epitome of joining--physically, and so much more....the sacred ability to create a bond, to create a life....and the misuse of it truly leads to nothing more than heartache, loneliness, and empty regret and bitterness....trust me on this one. I turned away from things I believed and held dear in the efforts to try to obtain affection, closeness, and in the end that instant gratification nearly became my own undoing.</i><br />
<i>So deeply grateful I was able to eventually get back on the path that has brought me a deeper sense of happiness, joy, and eternal companionship. And, while I recognize my opinion might be in a social minority or even greatly unpopular--it's true for me nevertheless. And I own it, along with all my decisions, the scars, the lessons, the experiences, and the wisdom it's afforded me. All of it.</i><br />
<i>As an artist, I owe it to myself to reflect and share as brutally honestly as I know how....You can take it, you can leave it, you can love it, you can hate it. It's me, just the same. Thank you for reading this, even if you read no further. For those of you who wish to read on, I also thank you....</i><br />
<i>Eliza</i><br />
<i>June 29, 2015</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
I hate condoms.</div>
<div>
Rolled. Powdery.</div>
<div>
Plasticking inside,</div>
<div>
Stretching wide around</div>
<div>
the very fiber of</div>
<div>
release.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's all about.</div>
<div>
Prophylactically choking.</div>
<div>
My space, my air, my mind--<br />
my coming heart</div>
<div>
inhales the burning</div>
<div>
bitter rubber offerings.</div>
<div>
Socially.</div>
<div>
Smoothing them down.</div>
<div>
Pat all down</div>
<div>
nice and easy--</div>
<div>
like "buttah."</div>
<div>
Just like the pillows</div>
<div>
in the morning.</div>
<div>
Unreal.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've yet to feel</div>
<div>
THE ONE THING.</div>
<div>
Is that ME that's </div>
<div>
oozed into that reservoir tip?</div>
<div>
If I let it?</div>
<div>
Is that what I amount to</div>
<div>
after all?</div>
<div>
Torn.</div>
<div>
Wrapper discarded.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Condoms kill</div>
<div>
the urge, the rush,</div>
<div>
the touch of</div>
<div>
two thoughts converging--</div>
<div>
just a thought.</div>
<div>
Out there.</div>
<div>
Smothered.</div>
<div>
Sterile.</div>
<div>
All yours.</div>
<div>
Alone.</div>
<div>
Hiding under the blanket</div>
<div>
of "Responsible...."</div>
<div>
<i>Riiight.</i></div>
<div>
To keep me in the shape</div>
<div>
of your toy,</div>
<div>
nice and safe-like</div>
<div>
from feeling.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Again?!</div>
<div>
<i>Ugh.</i>..</div>
<div>
Just. FAKE. It.</div>
<div>
Scream to protect....</div>
<div>
That's what you </div>
<div>
really mean</div>
<div>
what you</div>
<div>
really are</div>
<div>
what you</div>
<div>
really bare</div>
<div>
when you </div>
<div>
pull it over.</div>
<div>
Tight.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For the time being,</div>
<div>
Taut to be friction,</div>
<div>
taught to be clean.</div>
<div>
Immuned. Dry<br />
from penetrating gush<br />
of</div>
<div>
the sharing,</div>
<div>
the closing of eyes</div>
<div>
in me</div>
<div>
to me</div>
<div>
on me </div>
<div>
with me.</div>
<div>
How long can you last</div>
<div>
against me?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Go ahead and put it on.... </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
(Originally drafted 2/24/98, Rev 6/29/2015)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-55748298651604831872015-06-24T08:23:00.000-05:002015-06-24T08:23:12.939-05:00Gran's Afgans (You Promised)This was written back in 1994, the very first time I truly dealt with death of a close loved one--my gran was everything to me at the time--not only was I her and my great grandma's namesake; but she had a way of making me feel like I was the most special thing on the planet. She had a tradition of making afghans for each of her children, their wives, then her grandchildren, and then great-grandchildren. She had made me mine the year before. I went to see her two weeks before she died, and we had planned on my coming up again in a couple of months so she could finally teach me how to crochet so I could begin making afghans for my very own family someday. Sadly, that never happened. <br />
Her death totally crushed me at the time--that was the very first time in my life that I couldn't stop crying...it wouldn't be the last, but at the time I thought it so strange and very intense....Ever since, I have had a very powerful spiritual connection with her, for which I'm profoundly grateful and which I cherish and treasure. She makes me laugh, she makes me cry, she still makes me feel like the most special thing on the planet, only now it's from the other side of the veil....Here's to you, Velma Jane Jeffries Farley. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You promised to make my babies afghans, too,<br />
when the time came. But you've gone away.<br />
I promise to raise them loving you as I do.<br />
<br />
I cried out in anguish, begging for you<br />
to hold out a little longer--'til my 21st birthday.<br />
<i>You promised to make my babies afghans, too.</i><br />
<br />
I know, such a selfish, naive thing for me to do,<br />
but I never really had a chance to say,<br />
"I'll promise to raise them loving you as I do."<br />
<br />
A year has passed, and I still remember you<br />
giggling in bed, slyly wink in your way.<br />
But. You promised to make my babies afghans, too.<br />
<br />
You're the sweetest dearest friend I ever knew.<br />
You made me treasure every part of life each day.<br />
I promise to raise them loving you as I do.<br />
<br />
It aches to say goodbye, it's true--<br />
Hugs, kisses, stories--in our minds to stay.<br />
You promised to make my babies afghans, too.<br />
And I promise I'll raise them with memories of you.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-71118654801042778982015-06-24T08:15:00.000-05:002015-06-24T08:15:42.091-05:00Last Night<i>Another oldie revisited...again, from another chapter in my life....</i><br />
<br />
<br />
I miss you.<br />
I had that dream again<br />
last night.<br />
Whispers prickling,<br />
tickling surrender into<br />
the back of my neck.<br />
So real I giggled in my sleep.<br />
<br />
I miss you.<br />
Warming flushes sweep<br />
my thoughts, my face, my heart<br />
at one wordless moment.<br />
Trapped by the burning black<br />
of your eyes.<br />
So real I gasped into my pillow.<br />
<br />
I miss you.<br />
Searing, rhythmic velvet<br />
tracing, teasing, tormenting<br />
constant, gentle spirals of hot<br />
everywhere.<br />
So real I cuddle closer in bed to make it last.<br />
<br />
I miss you.<br />
Cradling me tight against you<br />
and the low, hot roar of your bike.<br />
Nuzzle my throat, my chest,<br />
my hair in the salty breeze.<br />
So real I breathe the fading warmth of the sunset.<br />
<br />
I miss you.<br />
Clearing the haze of memory<br />
at morning's light.<br />
Struggle to stay in your arms<br />
at the beach awhile longer.<br />
So real your smoky taste<br />
lingers on my lips<br />
As I lazily stretch awake.<br />
<br />
I want that dream again.<br />
I miss you.<br />
<br />
<i>Written by Eliza Jane Gomez</i><br />
<i>(1/11/96)</i><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-49070123370649054652015-06-19T16:15:00.002-05:002016-08-31T11:35:28.080-05:00ExceptionsLook at me.<br />
Really.<br />
Look at me.<br />
When you look at me<br />
what do you see?<br />
Do you see<br />
what you want to see?<br />
Or everything<br />
I could be?<br />
Everything...<br />
except really <i>me</i>.<br />
<br />
Talk to me.<br />
Really.<br />
Talk to me.<br />
When you talk to me<br />
what do you say?<br />
"Come on over,"<br />
or, "Go away!"<br />
"Do you want<br />
to come out<br />
and play?"<br />
Everything<br />
except "It's okay."<br />
<br />
Dance with me.<br />
Really.<br />
Dance with me.<br />
When you dance with me<br />
what do you do?<br />
Do you move<br />
how <i>you</i> want to move?<br />
Or do you sway to<br />
the beat and<br />
the groove?<br />
Everything...<br />
except<br />
you're in love.<br />
<br />
Listen to me.<br />
Really.<br />
Listen to me.<br />
When you listen to me<br />
what do you think?<br />
Do you listen<br />
as well as you think?<br />
Or do my moving lips<br />
wake up your kink?<br />
Everything.<br />
Except,<br />
I'm swollen pink.<br />
<br />
<br />
Come with me.<br />
<i>Really</i>.<br />
Come with me.<br />
When you come with me<br />
how do you <i>feel</i>?<br />
Do you come undone<br />
as you start to feel?<br />
Or manage to keep<br />
both hands on the wheel?<br />
Everything...<br />
Except<br />
what is real.<br />
<br />
<br />
Lie to me.<br />
Really.<br />
<i>Lie</i> to me.<br />
Tell me<br />
what I<br />
want to hear.<br />
Tickle soft,<br />
whispery lies<br />
in my ear.<br />
That with you I<br />
have nothing<br />
to fear.<br />
Nothing...<br />
except you're<br />
not here.<br />
<br />
<br />
Stay with me.<br />
Really.<br />
Stay with me.<br />
When you stay with me<br />
where will we go?<br />
Do you stay 'cuz<br />
you want to be with me--<br />
I gotta know.<br />
Or is this whole damn thing<br />
just for show.<br />
Anything--<br />
except <br />
"I don't know."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-83729323848495867032015-06-17T12:26:00.000-05:002015-06-17T16:08:46.215-05:00UnfinishedI stand here, quaking,<br />
like those aspen you showed me,<br />
unfinishing the poem<br />
I cannot write.<br />
Quaking--to feel warmth<br />
in chilling breeze.<br />
Empty-handed,<br />
looking at Stars,<br />
wonder how they still<br />
manage to shine in the frigid night.<br />
Do <i>You</i> shiver in solitude?<br />
Can <i>You</i> get warm?<br />
Show me how....<br />
<br />
I lie here, stroking<br />
my hair,<br />
like the wind<br />
in those mountains<br />
you brought me to,<br />
unfinishing the book<br />
I cannot read.<br />
Stroking--to feel passion<br />
in sterile room.<br />
Empty-handed,<br />
looking at Sunset,<br />
wonder how it still<br />
manages to paint vibrant<br />
on the dusty night.<br />
Do <i>You</i> caress the land lovingly?<br />
Can <i>You</i> still feel? <br />
Show me how....<br />
<br />
I turn here, streaming<br />
with tears,<br />
like that river we passed,<br />
unfinishing the song<br />
I cannot sing.<br />
Streaming--to feel whole<br />
in enormous bed.<br />
Empty-handed,<br />
looking at Waters,<br />
wonder how they still manage<br />
to surge through the endless night.<br />
Do <i>You</i> pour out your sadness?<br />
Can <i>You</i> forget?<br />
Show me how....<br />
<br />
(For JMS, original draft 8/8/96, rev 6/17/2015)<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-89302467855173898622015-06-12T08:13:00.002-05:002015-10-01T08:37:49.797-05:00Mirror, Mirror<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mirror, mirror on the wall,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">can you tell me where I am?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">I've gone and lost myself somehow<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">don't know if I’ll get back again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Get back to where I actually knew<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">and felt and lived where I belonged.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Where life was simple, good, not cruel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">or missing everyone else. Just
<i>wrong</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mirror, mirror on the wall,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">can you show me how I am<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">here? They've gone. I'm alone now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Don't feel I can begin again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Begin to feel I actually know <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">and feel. and live. Where I belong.<br />My life uninterrupted…no, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">it seems those days are long since gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mirror, mirror on the wall,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">can you show me when I am<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">supposed to get a clue--right<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>now</i>?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Don't know when I'll feel<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>me</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Begin to feel myself allow,<br />relax, unwind, let my guard down<br />
just enough for it to show<br />
before the tears come crashing down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Mirror, mirror on the wall,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">can you show me what I am<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">trying to do--<i>as if you know</i>.<br /><i>
DON'T</i> tell me it’s all right again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">Begin to be all right with all<br />
this constant change, its ebb and flow<br />
and knowing where I turn to call<br />
upon You, searching high and low<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />Mirror, mirror on the wall,</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;">can you show me who I am?<br />
I’ve truly lost my mind, I think--<br />
don’t imagine I’ll find it again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
Begin to find another me<br />
beneath the chopping of the waves.<br />
A me that’s truer, that can be<br />
braver, speaks up, misbehaves<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt;">Mirror, mirror on the wall,</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 11pt;">can you show me why i am<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">so different, change. I'm not the same.<br />Don't worry--I'll be fine again.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Begin to what? <i>Who? How? Where? When?!!</i><br /><i>Well??</i> I'd <u>really</u> like to know....<br /><i>Ugh</i>, why do I bother!? <i>ANSWER ME!</i><br />Stupid mirror, I've got to go....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-28702751532886518302015-06-10T12:59:00.000-05:002015-06-15T09:41:41.797-05:00Acceptance <i>Dedicated to Alana Deringer Segall, friend of my heart and soul, a great hero and mentor and tremendous example who returned to Heaven Friday, June 12, 2015....I love you now and forever....</i><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
People act like death is war--<br />
a personal vendetta.<br />
And, while I suppose it <i>can</i> be,<br />
<div>
I disagree.<br />
<br /></div>
<div>
To me,<br />
life is much more a</div>
<div>
mountain to climb,<br />
conquer, figure out,<br />
wrestle, </div>
<div>
and struggle with...<br />
battle against, if you will...<br />
until that gradual surrender.</div>
<div>
<br />
Death is peace,<br />
the reprieve,<br />
the calm after the storm<br />
that is life....<br />
the pause, the space,<br />
the catching of breath... </div>
<div>
letting go-- finally--</div>
<div>
to be able to </div>
<div>
spiritually breathe,<br />
see, and feel....</div>
<div>
<br />
Reality<br />
of what's<br />
<i>true</i> and <i>honest</i>,<br />
when it all<br />
comes down to the wire,<br />
is so very different<br />
than what we like to think.<br />
<br />
Drink it all in.<br />
Slowly. Sipping. Savoring.<br />
Line upon line.<br />
Here a little, there a little.<br />
Though we somehow tend<br />
to linger in the middle,<br />
meander, muck around<br />
and around<br />
and around<br />
<br />
Lying down after<br />
such a long day--<br />
feeling euphoric<br />
from the tired<br />
floating,<br />
worries away and<br />
free. quiet.<br />
be still, rest now,<br />
and be done with the been,<br />
has, could, would, should...<br />
Done.<br />
<br />
Well done!<br />
Now, close your eyes.<br />
Relaxing into<br />
acceptance--<br />
like frayed favorite fabric--<br />
brushing off the<br />
flaking Body's skin,<br />
shedding the worn<br />
patches of pain,<br />
leaving the brain<br />
behind. <br />
<br />
Exhale the past<br />
inhale the future<br />
embrace them all<br />
as you drift into the Great<br />
Beyond the veil.<br />
<br />
Don't be afraid--<br />
it's ok.<br />
We're here.<br />
He's THERE.<br />
Just let go....<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Written Wednesday, June 10, 2015<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-75821508324415160122015-06-09T09:38:00.000-05:002015-06-09T09:43:55.983-05:00Needs<i>Another oldie revisited and reworked....from forever ago, it seems ;) Enjoy!! EG</i><br />
<br />
I needed to come here<br />
to clear through the haze of my thoughts.<br />
To reach out and scratch your whiskery jaw,<br />
to see gold bits dance in the depths of your eyes--<br />
the gold of the heart of a good man.<br />
And a good friend.<br />
<br />
I needed to stretch here<br />
To grab myself from within.<br />
To reach out and rub your weary head,<br />
to cradle you in my arms,<br />
to melt with the heat of your lips--<br />
the heat of the heart of a good man.<br />
And a good friend.<br />
<br />
I needed to lie here<br />
to feel alive again.<br />
To reach out and tug on the back of your neck,<br />
to lick the pulse of your skin with my tongue,<br />
to revel in the cool thick of your hair,<br />
to moan in the strength of your hands--<br />
the strength of the heart of a good man.<br />
And a good friend.<br />
<br />
I needed to see here<br />
to see where my life should go.<br />
To reach out and finger the cleft in your chin,<br />
to drown in the green of your life,<br />
to curl my toes in the soothe of your voice,<br />
to splay my fingers across your chest,<br />
to smile at the fullness of your laughter--<br />
the fullness of the heart of a good man.<br />
And a good friend.<br />
<br />
I needed to be here<br />
to know what's out there for me.<br />
To reach out and smooth the day from your back,<br />
to snuggle alongside you in bed,<br />
to memorize your profile in the car,<br />
to giggle as you tickle my knees,<br />
to sigh as you tighten your arms around me,<br />
to tingle at the throb of your heart against mine,<br />
to linger in the wisdom of your embrace--<br />
the wisdom of the heart of a good man.<br />
And a better friend.<br />
<br />
(Original draft 8/11/96, rev. 6/8/2015)<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-15219571070208042192015-06-08T15:21:00.000-05:002015-06-08T15:21:34.256-05:00A Sister's LoveA sister's love is a funny thing.<br />
Not all sweet and peachy-fuzzed.<br />
Yet you love your dumb brother<br />
who runs crying to Mother--<br />
Why do you love him?<br />
Because.<br />
<br />
A sister's love is a funny thing.<br />
It's not loud so all can hear.<br />
You've had a bad day.<br />
He's broke and can't pay...<br />
you quietly put in his hand--<br />
"Here."<br />
<br />
A sister's love is a funny thing.<br />
Doesn't change with the times or the days.<br />
You love him still,<br />
although you could kill<br />
him. Sometimes.<br />
But you won't.<br />
Always.<br />
<br />
A sister's love is a funny thing.<br />
Sometimes either subtle or proud.<br />
Yet nothing can replace<br />
that look on his face<br />
whenever your eyes first meet<br />
in a crowd.<br />
<br />
A sister's love is a funny thing.<br />
Always has been, and always will be.<br />
We reserve the right<br />
to hug, laugh and fight<br />
with our brothers.<br />
Eternally.<br />
<br />
<br />
To all the sisters and brothers out there...<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-2105371656282253032015-06-08T15:02:00.000-05:002015-06-08T15:08:36.556-05:00ConsentLet it run<br />
let it pour<br />
let it out<br />
let it soar<br />
let it be<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it see<br />
let it for<br />
let it feel<br />
let it tore<br />
let it heal<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it flow<br />
let it roar<br />
let it melt<br />
let it floor<br />
let it love<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it peace<br />
let it war<br />
let it burn<br />
let it door<br />
let it me<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it scream<br />
let it gore<br />
let it free<br />
let it sore<br />
let it do<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it think<br />
let it bore<br />
let it speak<br />
let it swore<br />
let it sweet<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it write<br />
let it wore<br />
let it sleep<br />
let it snore<br />
let it dream<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it done<br />
let it lore<br />
let it rich<br />
let it poor<br />
let it laugh<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it roam<br />
let it tour<br />
let it go<br />
let it spore<br />
let it stop<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
let it high<br />
let it score<br />
let it low<br />
let it fore<br />
let it live<br />
let it more<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-68901008673978960292015-06-08T14:18:00.001-05:002015-06-08T14:18:45.143-05:00Stones to SandA stone<br />
keeps on turning<br />
in the sand<br />
keeps on smoothing,<br />
getting glossy<br />
in the water<br />
swishing 'round<br />
back and forth<br />
in clouds and sun.<br />
A stone<br />
keeps on turning<br />
in the sand<br />
getting smaller,<br />
smaller still<br />
mixing more<br />
into the water<br />
swishing 'round<br />
back and forth<br />
in clouds and sun.<br />
A stone<br />
keeps on turning<br />
in the sand,<br />
smoothing, shrinking,<br />
drifting down,<br />
until it turns<br />
into just one,<br />
one of the same<br />
same sands that<br />
washed it all away<br />
under the water<br />
and then returns<br />
more stones to sand--<br />
sand for water<br />
to swish around<br />
back and forth<br />
in clouds and sun.<br />
<br />
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-44299623577840878992014-10-13T12:48:00.000-05:002014-10-13T12:48:15.511-05:00Friendly Reminder--MHA Fundraising Auction this Thursday, Oct. 16th, at ArtServe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LuP4Y7NGAHE/VDwPbJpvfvI/AAAAAAAAGhE/USzXoLky0lI/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BFundraiser%2B9%2B10%2B14%2B%231%2BOutdoors.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LuP4Y7NGAHE/VDwPbJpvfvI/AAAAAAAAGhE/USzXoLky0lI/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BFundraiser%2B9%2B10%2B14%2B%231%2BOutdoors.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
To get tickets, which are only $20 and fully benefit children's programs at MHA, call (954) 746-2055.<br />
<br />
Visit www.mhasefl.org to learn more about the great work MHA of SE Florida has done in our community for over 57 years :)<br />
<br />
On behalf of the Board of Directors, I humbly thank you for your gracious support. <div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-51159826690525629012014-10-08T16:24:00.002-05:002014-10-08T22:40:48.166-05:00Come on Down, Have Fun, Enjoy Art and Support Mental Health Programs--October 16th--MHA of SE Florida has Art/Jewelry Auction at ArtServe in Ft. Lauderdale<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ulTe6IlqO7w/VDYC17H-SUI/AAAAAAAAGgg/GBcUtOC1cqQ/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BAuction%2BFundraiser%2BOct2014_Final.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ulTe6IlqO7w/VDYC17H-SUI/AAAAAAAAGgg/GBcUtOC1cqQ/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BAuction%2BFundraiser%2BOct2014_Final.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9155323286189781145" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9155323286189781145" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://draft.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=9155323286189781145" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ulTe6IlqO7w/VDYC17H-SUI/AAAAAAAAGgg/GBcUtOC1cqQ/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BAuction%2BFundraiser%2BOct2014_Final.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ulTe6IlqO7w/VDYC17H-SUI/AAAAAAAAGgg/GBcUtOC1cqQ/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BAuction%2BFundraiser%2BOct2014_Final.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ulTe6IlqO7w/VDYC17H-SUI/AAAAAAAAGgg/GBcUtOC1cqQ/s1600/MHA%2BArt%2BAuction%2BFundraiser%2BOct2014_Final.PNG" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oiytvG7oZfw/VDYEH9PdycI/AAAAAAAAGgs/CJHZlTzjuV4/s1600/About%2BMHA.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oiytvG7oZfw/VDYEH9PdycI/AAAAAAAAGgs/CJHZlTzjuV4/s1600/About%2BMHA.png" height="640" width="483" /></a></div>
<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-59342819182769296062014-10-08T16:12:00.001-05:002014-10-08T16:12:31.822-05:009Muses Art Center - Mental Health Recovery, Support, Advocacy, and Education<a href="http://www.9musesartcenter.org/#.VDWoqNGZ1nA.blogger">9Muses Art Center - Mental Health Recovery, Support, Advocacy, and Education</a><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-40959949337467241052014-09-30T13:11:00.000-05:002014-09-30T13:11:39.414-05:00LDS temples grow ever closer to members | Deseret News<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://img.deseretnews.com/images/article/midres/1414987/1414987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://img.deseretnews.com/images/article/midres/1414987/1414987.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
Article link. <a href="http://www.deseretnews.com/article/865612022/Temples-grow-ever-closer-to-members.html?pg=all#xf12kflJgTpIEY9g.15">LDS temples grow ever closer to members | Deseret News</a><br />
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Article by: Tad Walch, Editor, Deseret News<br />
Photo credit: Jason Swensen, Deseret News <br />
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This is the latest Deseret News article printed today which focuses on the
blessings of having a Mormon/LDS Temple closer to home. SPOILER ALERT:
ummm, I'm in it (running away to hide behind the sofa, LOL)--such a
humbling experience. I'm grateful to be able to share my perspective as
a SO FLA LDS member, growing up quite far away from a Mormon Temple.<br />
Enjoy :)<br />
<br />
Eliza<br />
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Article's photo slideshow http://www.deseretnews.com/photo/gallery/story/865612022/LDS-temples-grow-ever-closer-to-members.html?photoId=1414987<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-4307401186499213882014-05-05T19:03:00.001-05:002014-05-05T19:03:33.258-05:00Check it out...Church News World Report clip about the Cultural Celebration, Dedication and Cornerstone Ceremony for Ft. Lauderdale TempleChurch Dedicates Fort Lauderdale Florida Temple: http://youtu.be/obOMgW_zURk<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AouRcBgGODE/U2gm0vyhNXI/AAAAAAAAD3s/eZYxZkuNDBg/s1600/20140504_100756.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AouRcBgGODE/U2gm0vyhNXI/AAAAAAAAD3s/eZYxZkuNDBg/s640/20140504_100756.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-59622556163695015572014-05-05T07:32:00.001-05:002014-05-05T07:32:03.897-05:00Dedication Day Weekendhttp://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/fort-lauderdale-florida-temple<div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-60456200801166171102014-04-22T22:23:00.001-05:002014-04-22T22:28:50.776-05:00Anyone Anywhere Can Watch South Florida Cultural Celebration Live Broadcast by Clicking This Sitehttps://www.lds.org/broadcasts/languages/florida-cultural-celebration/2014/04<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cjxsbK6GxRM/U1czcB75InI/AAAAAAAADOQ/_YQcNMYNVnY/s1600/20140325_201900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-cjxsbK6GxRM/U1czcB75InI/AAAAAAAADOQ/_YQcNMYNVnY/s640/20140325_201900.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-57905469532976523882014-04-22T22:14:00.001-05:002014-04-22T22:27:27.682-05:00Mormon Newsroom Article on Ft. Lauderdale Temple Open House visit by Governor, US Congressmen, Other Leaders<p dir="ltr">http://www.mormonnewsroom.org/article/florida-governor-visits-fort-lauderdale-temple</p>
<p dir="ltr">Photo credits: Mitzi Donderis <u>Capote</u></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dQUgdWEYjpk/U1cwyZBBvzI/AAAAAAAADOE/YKTUYTGq-uY/s1600/_MCP9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-dQUgdWEYjpk/U1cwyZBBvzI/AAAAAAAADOE/YKTUYTGq-uY/s640/_MCP9.jpg"> </a> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9155323286189781145.post-14819480594563329372014-04-10T17:09:00.005-05:002014-04-10T17:09:55.200-05:00Sunrise at the Fort Lauderdale Temple--Beautiful!I took this picture the very early morning of the press conference kicking off the Special Preview Tour/VIP week launching the Open House events for the Fort Lauderdale Temple in Davie, FL--it was a chilly day, but the sunrise hitting the Temple just so simply took my breath away :) Had to share, even if it was a simple pic from my cell phone--not exactly a professional shot, but by far, one of my faves that I will treasure forever..... Enjoy!<br />
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<br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All content on Inconceivably Blonde is owned, authored, and copyrighted by Eliza Jane Gomez. Please contact the owner/author to obtain permissions for authorized use.</div>Eliza Jane Farley Gomezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16414943092606856824noreply@blogger.com0