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Photo by P. Rickrode

The writers police academy was quite the adventure. Lots of hands-on stuff. Lots of great insider information. Lots of really nice people. Not so much sleep. But it was all worth it. The workshops were great, the food was good, the hotel was adequate, the location was perfect, the guest speakers were fabulous. One in particular touched me with his keynote address on Saturday night.

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A few weeks ago, I time traveled. I wasn’t gone very long and I didn’t travel very far, but I definitely went back in time. Back about 36-38 million years ago in fact, if scientists are right. It wasn’t as exciting as I thought it might be but it was interesting none-the-less.

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Let’s talk lightbulbs. We use a lot of them here at the inn, especially those little specialty ones for the chandeliers. Those fancy ones that come in individual little boxes and cost a fortune. Yeah, those. I have 14 chandeliers and each one has at least 10 bulbs. We spend a LOT of money on lightbulbs.

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There are so many dishonest people in the world today. So many people with harmful agendas. So many people out to make a buck. I think you’d be somewhat foolish if you weren’t always a little leery of people selling stuff. There are thieves who will take your money and disappear. But I also choose to believe that there are still good people out there too. People who are just trying to make a living. People who come by their money honestly. People who aren’t trying to trick you into buying something they have no intention of delivering.

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Every generation has its unique sound. Music is the first thing that comes to mind. Who doesn’t remember the Big Band sounds of the ‘40’s, the beatnik rock and roll era of the ‘50’s, the mellow ‘60’s,  the groovy ‘70’s, or the always popular bitchin’ tunes of the ‘80’s? I’m not sure if you noticed what I did there, but it’s not just the music that represents the sounds of a particular generation. It’s the language, the slang, the terms the popular kids used at school. There’s a distinct sound for every generation.

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I’m not sure if you’ve seen this graphic (below) or not. I first saw it on Facebook, read it – twice – and thought: “Wow, there’s so much truth in this.” It’s so often the little things in life that determine the kind of person you really are. How we perform certain tasks, if at all, says a lot about how we may or may not treat people or perform other tasks. Or just approach life in general. Little hidden meanings surround all the little things we do.

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I’m a Disney fan. Have been since my first trip to Disneyland in early 1970. As a kid, my brother and I would always choose Disneyland as our destination of choice when asked where we wanted to travel during the summer break from school. Sadly, we seldom went. As an adult, I can go, pretty much, whenever I want to. That’s the beauty of being an adult.

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I’ve blogged about my hair before, probably more than anyone even finds interesting, yet here I am blogging again about my hair. Not my hair so much as my prowess as a hairdresser. My own hairdresser. Let’s just say, I should not switch careers.

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I’ve been in a “getting rid of” phase here at Casa Baer. I’ve unloaded some unwanted things and given away some things I still want but never use (can you say good-bye to about $1,000 worth of gorgeous high-heeled shoes), and made my jewelry box about ten pounds lighter. It was time to donate these items to new homes and people who will – hopefully – enjoy them the same way I did for years.

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Last week I told you of my interest in exploring ghost towns and abandoned places. I relayed the story of the town of Rodney, the capital that almost was. This week, I continue my exploration adventures with you to another spot not too far from my home in Vicksburg, Mississippi. Let’s wander over to Windsor Ruins, what’s left of Mississippi’s greatest plantation home ever.

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