tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118566722024-03-07T03:39:39.805-05:00Ice Cream DiariesOne guy's account of the trials, tribulations, and offbeat characters from one old-fashioned ice cream and candy shop just west of Mt. Tom, in the tiny hamlet of Easthampton, Massachusetts.Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.comBlogger425125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-52793120700336307352022-12-25T08:48:00.000-05:002022-12-25T08:48:37.078-05:00Christmas Eve Memories<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m sitting here relaxing with a tasty holiday beverage after a hectic holiday week at the scoop shop. It’s Christmas Eve, and while all of my immediate and extended family lives far away, I can’t help but think of them and the great holiday memories we all share. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some of the best ones are from Christmas Eves as a kid. It was always spent with my Dad’s side of the family, the side from Finland who somehow ended up in Fitchburg, Massachusetts. When my Dad’s parents, Sylvia and Joe, affectionately known to me as Gramma and Grampa, were still around, they would always host Christmas Eve. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">They still lived in the house my Dad grew up in, on Elm Street in Fitchburg. Where the Elm Street pizza was invented. The house was small and cozy with furniture you could tell had a lot of stories to tell about the raising of four active children. The stairs to the bedrooms upstairs were steep and ominous for the younger ones. I’m not sure why, but the rooms that loom loudest in my mind are the small storage room on the back of the house and the detached single garage. They were full of interesting artifacts, among them polished rocks and equipment, empty jars, and what might be considered antique tools even back then. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">The backyard was sloped and always full of mountains of snow that time of year, since as I would later learn, Fitchburg is smack in the middle of the snow belt of Massachusetts. When it rains along the coast or a Nor’easter barrels through New England, towns from Fitchburg to Worcester always seem to get thumped.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-8e2f0dea-7fff-57db-3f7a-555550436ac0"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The day was always full of fun winter activities like snowman making, sledding, and even skiing at Hospital Hill, just up the road. In my memory, Hospital Hill is a giant and foreboding mountain like one you’d find in say, Switzerland or Tibet. I’m sure if I drove by there now, it would be much less intimidating than it was to a six year old on yard sale skis or a red plastic toboggan. In any event, Hospital Hill was a great place to learn to ski. They even had a rope tow for a while, terrifying as it was. While I never heard any stories of kids getting smooshed by passing trucks at the bottom of the hill, looking back in my mind and not recalling much of an effort for fencing between the bottom of the hill and the road, I have to believe it happened at least once. The upside of the dangerous downside of Hospital Hill was that there really was a hospital nestled on the top.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While we kids made snowmen in the yard or risked our lives at the Hill, Gramma was busy in the kitchen getting Christmas Eve dinner ready. The house was always warm and full of comforting food smells. The Christmas tree stood majestically in the living room, full of ornaments made with loving hands, My memories of those trees were that they were closer to Charlie Brown’s than one you’d see in a window at Macy’s, but there’s no denying the certain charm of a tree felled in Grampa’s favorite hunting forest. There were always a few gifts under the tree for us kids, and in the spirit of the season, resisting sleuthing for yours was futile.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The afternoons at the grandparents for us kids - my brothers Rick and Mike, cousins Beth and Rea, Charlotte, and once in a while Wendy, Cindy, and David, were always fun in a way that kids of today will never know. For these were the days before Ipads and Iphones, Fortnite and Tik Tok. Any of the fun and entertainment you found was that which you created yourself using prehistoric methods such as rummaging around the aforementioned storage room, digging out a Parchesi board, or throwing some Jax on the cracked cement walkway. You never had any idea what your friends at home were doing, and strangely enough, you didn’t care. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What you did care about that day was that soon after the sun went down, Santa would come strolling up the driveway of that little house on the street of Elm.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dinner was always a feast thanks to Gram Sylvia, Mom Jen, Aunt Joyce, and Aunt Alma. Comfort food all around. Even inedible vegetables such as turnip and squash were made palatable when blanketed with gooey mini-marshmallows, and the beans got bedazzled with crunchy fried onions. Luntiloita was always on the menu. I don’t know how to spell it or remember what it actually was, but my best guess was it was some root vegetable that might come in your winter farm share. I do remember how much fun it was to say. ‘Please pass the luntiloita’. It was even more fun to say, because it was one of the only two Finnish words we all knew. The other being, of course, Hous Guy Yolowa. Merry Christmas. Sure, I could have googled ‘how do you say Merry Christmas in Finnish’, but that’s how it sounds, and for the sake of this memory, that’s all that matters to me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">While it’s fun to remember afternoons and Christmas Eve dinners, that day was really all about Santa. You see, it was not long after the Christmas cookie plate and Dad’s ice cream with cool whip on top desserts made their way around the dinner table that someone would say they thought they heard Santa’s bells outside or the clomping of reindeer hoofs on the roof. We kids, already on high alert for Santa’s impending visit, would perk up in our seats, and if we could get out from the table, we’d actually go to the nearest window to see if the jolly one was on the premises. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sure enough, it was never long after the end of dinner, when the grownups were drinking coffee and dinner conversations were starting to lull, we’d hear a hearty ‘Ho, Ho, Ho’ coming from the driveway and getting louder as a round man in red approached the side door. ‘Merry Christmas! Ho! Ho! Ho!’ he’d exclaim, to the resulting glee of me, my brothers, and cousins. ‘Santa’s here! Santa’s here!’ we’d all chime as we extricate ourselves from the dinner table and skip toward the door. Santa would come barrelling in, a giant bag of toys slung over his shoulder and repeating his Ho, Ho mantra again and again. The energy in the kitchen was electric. Santa was here! The older kids, by Nancy Drew’ing which uncle had gone missing, could figure out it was Uncle Ed or perhaps the drunk neighbor Ted who got enlisted to be Santa a few hours earlier by the grown-ups who just weren’t feeling inspired to play the role that year.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But when you were young and still a believer, it didn’t matter that the Santa that just walked into that warm kitchen full of Luntilota ladened dinner dishes was wearing an outfit plucked from a day-after Christmas sale at Woolworth’s and a beard that barely covered this guy’s weekend stubble and beer breath. We were in the presence of royalty. Santa was in our house! He’d work the room for a minute, like only a once-a-year actor can do. He’d take a bite out of the Christmas cookie that was offered up. Like a rock star, he’d work his way through the adoring crowd and find his place on that old comfortable couch next to Chuck Brown’s tree. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We all gazed wide-eyed at Santa as we found our own plots on that little living room floor. Once we were situated and he’d used all his Santa one-liners about how much ground he had to cover that night and the demands of bringing toys to every kid in the world, he’d open up his big sack of goodies and pull out the first present. ‘Rea!’, he’d bellow. At which point, Rea, or whoever’s name he called, would jump up to join Santa. This usually involved the person sitting on Santa/Uncle Ed’s lap to open their present in front of the crowd of anxious kiddos and Kodak Instamatic wielding parents.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The gift we each got always seemed to be something from our Christmas lists for Santa. It was uncanny how he always knew what we wanted. As if we kids needed any more evidence that Santa was absolutely real. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That exercise repeated until everyone in the room had a gift. It truly was the stuff of dreams.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Santa’s duffle was finally empty, that was his signal to be on his way. After all, he had millions of other houses to go to that night. Thinking back, It really was a thrill that he would spend so much time just at our Christmas gathering. He’d stand up, gather his empty bag, thank everyone for the hospitality, and with a few more Ho, Ho, Ho’s, he’d be on his way. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We kids were ok with that because part of Santa being ‘on his way’ meant he was stopping at our houses to fill our stockings and living room floors under our Christmas trees with all the presents we’d asked for in our letters and prayers. As he walked out that kitchen door towards his sleigh idling on the roof, we each happy sighed, yawned, and looked to our parents with that ‘we can go home now’ look.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our parents would quickly pack up our things. They’d go out to our station wagons parked in the driveway, drop the back seats, and lay out our sleeping bags and pillows. Mom would be tucking us into those bags as Dad drove us off towards our home. We were tired but still jacked up on Christmas adrenaline, enough to power the Highland Lighthouse. I remember Mom trying to coax us to sleep as we gazed out the window of that Gran Torino wagon with the walnut veneer siding. Our eyes were fixed on the sky because we knew Santa who looked a lot like Uncle Ed was flying around up there somewhere, sleigh full of gifts for us. Before we actually gave in to sleep, Dad would have pointed to the sky at least six times as he said, ‘Look! I think I see Santa!’ </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we rolled into our own driveway, we’d be groggy from sleeping through most of the drive home, but awake enough to spy under our tree to see if Santa had been here yet. Alas, in all those Christmas Eves in Fitchburg, he never beat us home. ‘Of course, he hasn’t been here yet. Fitchbury is much further north than here,’ our parents would say. Which made complete sense to our four to eight or so year old brains.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We’d be tucked into our beds for the night. Little did we know this is when Mom and Dad’s Santa work would just begin..</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Great memories :)</span></p><br />Merry Christmas All!</span><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>Love, cousin Jimmy</span></div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-85754004027072424782016-02-25T19:46:00.003-05:002016-02-25T19:46:29.562-05:00Moment of Zen.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We all have a place that fills us with a sense of calm and peace when we think about it. I think I found mine this winter. A few deep breaths and remembering how it felt to be here does the trick.<br />
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What's yours?Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-52246131640462219262016-02-24T17:15:00.001-05:002016-02-24T17:15:13.964-05:00Why I do yoga. Today.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">A friend recently asked why I do yoga. She's working on a school project. Here's my response...</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">Why do I do yoga?</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">I’ve been practicing yoga off and on
for roughly twenty years now. I must admit it’s been mostly off,
but I’ve rediscovered it over the past year. Usually my ‘on
period’ is driven by a friend invite or seeing a sign for a yoga
class at the gym or a nearby studio, but this latest rediscovery has
been a more conscious effort. I think if I share my reasons for
jumping back into yoga, it might help to explain what I like about it
and how it helps me to be more centered.
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">I've
been so wholly focused on making Mt. Tom’s a success over the past
decade, I've neglected the part of me that craves spiritual
connection - something deeper and more meaningful. I finally have a
manager and a crew that have been with me for a few years and are
ready and able to take on more of the tasks I've been doing myself
since the beginning. This is opening up a sizable chunk of time for
me. </span></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;"><span style="color: #141823;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">I've
been trying to redefine success where time and balance are weighted
more heavily than my bank account. </span></span>
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I've always been into fitness, nutrition, and self-help, but I've
generally compartmentalized that from my professional life, and even
from each other. I'm still in the exploration stage, but I feel like
yoga could be that 'thing' that brings it all together at a deeper
level. Meditation is great, but I like how yoga connects you with
your body, your humanness. It simplifies things down to just your
breath. It's non-judgmental. It asks you to push past your comfort
zone, but in a non-threatening way. Every yogi I've met has such
good energy. They seem to have this aura of fullness to them, their
happiness is overflowing. I know that happiness can really only be
found within yourself, but it seems like yoga is great way to center
yourself and help bring life down to its most basic level. And I
think that's where many of the answers lie.</span></span>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">Yoga is like one of those great friends
that even if you lose touch with them for a period of time, when you
reconnect, you can just pick up where you left off. No hard
feelings. No guilt. Nobody’s fault. You’re just genuinely
happy to be together again.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">I’ve done yoga in the comfort of my
own home occasionally, but following the words of a one-dimensional
person on a video just isn’t the same as being in a studio with a
real live instructor. You’re surrounded by fellow yogis of all
different sizes, shapes, and abilities. You get to feed on each
other’s energy. You can’t just put the video on pause and go
make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You’re in it for the
duration. No two live classes are exactly the same. The instructor
will often ask the class how they are feeling and if there’s
anything in particular they want to work on. Classes vary certainly
by instructor and style of yoga, but even the same class will feel
differently from one week to the next.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">I really like how yoga connects your
mind to your body. Let’s face it, most of us wander through our
days in an overworked, overstimulated fog. When you enter a yoga
studio, and take your place on a mat, you leave all your to-do lists
and dramas outside. It’s almost as if the stresses of your day are
all in your shoes, and when you take them off as you enter the
studio, they stay there with your socks. Of course, they’re still
there waiting for you after class, but I’ve noticed those stresses
have a slightly lighter grip on you compared to when you took them
off and metaphorically left them at the door.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">During a recent yoga class, the
instructor asked us to set an intention to focus on the ‘space in
between’. When you hold a pose, like when you’re stretching
before a run, there’s a point where hit the resistance of your
muscle. Your body says, ‘ok, that’s far enough.’ Then you try
to push a little further. How hard you push past that point
determines your level of discomfort, while stimulating your body to
become more flexible. Just like when you lift weights and you do
those extra reps after your body says, ‘I don’t think I can do
one more.’ In both cases, you’re pushing yourself out of comfort
zone. And as we all know, this is where the growth happens - both
mentally and physically. Just as the highs and lows in our life shape
our memories and our character, it’s the ordinary moments ‘in
between’ where we spend most of our time. Being more fully in
those ‘rainy Wednesday afternoon’ moments is one of the the keys
to a more fulfilling life. Yoga seems to have a way of providing
those kind of illuminating reminders.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">In a nutshell, yoga is a great way to
slow down for a little while, connect with that precious,
irreplaceable instrument known as your body, and align it with your
mind and your thoughts. To breathe deeply and consciously, and just
be. Yoga is pliable. It can be whatever you want it to be. Go to
hot yoga and sweat out your toxins. Take a core yoga class and
strengthen your middle. Join a Vinyasa flow and enjoy a moving
meditation. It doesn’t have to be spiritual, but it can be. No
one is keeping score. Like meditation or lifting weights or running,
the actual act of doing yoga likely will only happen for a couple
hours of your week, but it has the ability to have a positive effect
on all the space in between. It encourages you to be more aware of
what’s going on around you and to take better care of your body and
your mind. Like a warm ray of sun on your face, it sheds a little
light on your soul, and that feels good.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">‘Relax and lean away from the noise
in the mind.’ - Michael Singer</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #f9cb9c;">Namaste.</span></div>
Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-89041299551937221652016-02-11T13:32:00.000-05:002016-02-11T13:32:27.662-05:00Costa Rica 2016<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwoavChjUzYZcbLkTwuE7-seKwYo0z6PkSH83MHOf75SRTml6bh4-RWdfvaU8sdpYgJZeY0f_Egvk575K8HHhcFD0ygXNh6MOytZuRR8DI_FyqarnkAV6OzNTuatXQTVwjIHPPFg/s1600/cr24.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwoavChjUzYZcbLkTwuE7-seKwYo0z6PkSH83MHOf75SRTml6bh4-RWdfvaU8sdpYgJZeY0f_Egvk575K8HHhcFD0ygXNh6MOytZuRR8DI_FyqarnkAV6OzNTuatXQTVwjIHPPFg/s640/cr24.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Welcome back to the Ice Cream Diaries, soon to be renamed ‘What Jim did in January’ for my lack of posts the rest of the year. You may have been wondering if I got to get away at all this year, with the shop being open through the month of January for the first time. Well, you’ll be relieved to know that yes, I did still get to enjoy my annual month of leisure, or ‘January of Jim’ as I’ve been known to call it. This thanks to scoopervisor extraordinaire and newly minted ice cream maker, Natasha, and her trusty sidekick, Abby. I made a pact with them and the rest of the crew that I’d keep the shop open so long as it still (mostly) felt like a month off for me. Let’s face it, longing thoughts of January downtime have always been what’s gotten me through the summers of eighty hour scoop weeks and endless ice cream making. The crew and I worked harder and smarter throughout the Fall to engineer, to coin an old career, me out of the process. Tasha stepped up to the ice cream making plate. Abby became candy wench. And the rest of the scoop crew learned to think a little more like their boss (e.g. I’d better go make sure the bathroom is clean). </span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-bd2d2c10-d157-33d3-c61f-18b5e97b1554" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thanks to their efforts and care, and a nice little assist from Mother Nature, January was a rousing success. While you may have missed the hand-packed pint fire sale we usually have the end of December, a few of you may have enjoyed your first ever January Mt. Tom’s birthday ice cream cake. I hope no one is reading this and thinking, ‘darn, I could have been getting my favorite ice cream for the past month!’ In any event, a huge thanks to Tasha, Abby, Ashley, Chloe, Tess, Brian, & Gabby for a job very well done. Being made redundant feels good this time around.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So now you’re probably wondering, where did I go this year?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I kicked around the usual bucket list - Thailand, Africa, Bali, Chile, Machu Picchu, but decided I didn’t want to do such a long trip during this, my first ‘open January’. Secondly, I vowed to myself I would do something warm this year. Incidentally, that vow was made somewhere in a frigid tundra of Iceland this time last year. I just couldn’t shake the image of me relaxing with a good book in a hammock on a beach much closer to the equator than Easthampton. Couple that thought with my recent rediscovery of yoga, vacation planning started with a Google search, ‘tropical yoga retreats’. The search ultimately landed me in Costa Rica - more specifically Montezuma Yoga, located in a hip little seacoast town on the lower coast of the Pacific side. While I knew this trip wouldn’t be cultural rich or full of new city experiences, the thought of a more reflective, soul-soothing, skin bronzing inner vacation sounded like just what the doctor ordered.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In a word, the trip was fantastic. Eight days of fun in the sun and on a yoga mat. If you haven’t been to Costa Rica yet, I can’t recommend it more highly. The beaches are amazing. The weather is near perfection. 80’s during the day and 70’s at night. It’s safe, and the locals are super friendly. My accommodations weren’t five-star, but when you can hear the ocean surf through your window at night, you’re willing to overlook the lack of air conditioning and the shared bathroom. I’d chosen the ‘yoga & wellness package’ from the yoga studio based at the hotel. It included one yoga class a day, breakfast at nearby hotel on the ocean, a one hour massage, a full day snorkeling excursion to Tortuga Island, and a one-on-one private yoga lesson with one of the resident yogi’s. It had all the elements I was looking for without being overly restrictive. No vegan, gluten-free, everything-free meal plan, or silent breakfasts, or mid-day Law of Attraction lectures. The perfect way to relax while dipping my foot a little deeper in the yoga pool. If any of that sounds good to you, here’s the link </span><a href="http://montezumayoga.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #1155cc; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Montezuma Yoga</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I won’t bore you with what became a pretty sweet daily routine - wake up to a beautiful sunrise over the ocean, walk to breakfast on that ocean, relax on a hammock for a while, go to the beach with a few of my new beautiful yoga friends, do some yoga, walk into the town for a couple drinks and amazing seafood with aforementioned beautiful yoga friends. Drift off to sleep to a warm sea breeze and the soothing sounds of the surf. Wake up and repeat.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw15HYAHwGfWv0Vh0TNkdcjSIw_TGvqZG1tD8UGSalpwJL9O9vZ9LJpMz01TdrZ81kduVKKhnr6VBm5VVKJF5xypxaPn8cGAfFhYJlKS08eiX5E4G_GddGPHDaBdb6tn5UJ6bU4Q/s1600/cr9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw15HYAHwGfWv0Vh0TNkdcjSIw_TGvqZG1tD8UGSalpwJL9O9vZ9LJpMz01TdrZ81kduVKKhnr6VBm5VVKJF5xypxaPn8cGAfFhYJlKS08eiX5E4G_GddGPHDaBdb6tn5UJ6bU4Q/s640/cr9.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I thought might be more interesting and challenging, and a good way to get the writing juices flowing as I get ready to start another installment of my soda fountain counter picture books ‘Ice Cream Parlor Wisdom’, would be to share a few thoughts from my indispensable travel companion, the trusty journal. One of the things I really like about traveling is it gives you a chance to get out of your routine. For me, that means more time to relax, to be a little more aware, and to reflect a bit on where I am and where I’m going. I recently read this quote somewhere, ‘</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Create a life you don’t need a vacation to escape from.</i></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ While I appreciate the sentiment, I strongly believe everyone needs and deserves a vacation in some form, no matter how great your life is on a day-to-day basis. A vacation is a chance to add some variety to your life, to try new things, see new places, and meet new people. These horizon-expanding experiences often offer great moments of clarity, like when you leave the city lights for the countryside and look up to see a dark sky full of so many more stars.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With that as an introduction, I’d like to offer what I’m calling my </span><i><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><b>Lessons from Yoga Camp’</b></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.</span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sometimes it’s best to just jump in.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Getting to Montezuma, Costa Rica was a bit of a challenge. It started with an early morning drive to the airport, a flight to San Jose, a few hour layover in a very crowded airport, an anxious flight on a tiny plane to what could better be described as a parking lot than a landing strip, and a thirty minute taxi ride from a NASCAR-aspiring local who spoke zero English. I got to my hotel room to find a note saying, ‘come on up and join us for yoga at 6’. I looked at my watch, and it was 5:30. Road weary and underfed, I was in no shape to try my first yoga class in the ‘big leagues’.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I went anyway.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It turned out to be the best class of the week. The studio was open air, with beautiful hardwood floors and gentle ceiling fans that circulated the cooling sea air. The sounds of the surf mingled with light guitar strumming from a local musician playing in the corner. The only light was from candles carefully placed around studio. The instructor walked around throughout the class with a spray bottle of lavender-infused water that felt like rain when it hit your skin. Was I out of my element and over-matched by the nearly fifty other yogi’s crowded into this studio in paradise? Absolutely. Was I really nervous as Silvia, the Dutch instructor, called us into our first downward dog. Most definitely. Did I feel a surge of confidence and a great sense of relief at the end? You betcha.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">People are mostly concerned about themselves. I mean this in the most positive way.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When i started that first class, I was really worried about making a fool out of myself. After all, I was a total weekend warrior when it came to yoga. I’d been going to a class a week for the past few months. That particular class has the words ‘gentle’ and ‘restorative’ in its title. I really enjoy it. Karen the instructor is great, and while I know how to get into a pigeon pose and what Savasana means, I strongly suspected the yoga classes here would be much more challenging. This was definitely the case, but the good news is that was ok. Sure, most of the people in the class had better form than mine. Heck, I can’t even reach my toes. But as I fumbled with a couple poses that first night, and looked around to my fellow yogi’s to see where my limbs were supposed to be, I quickly realized everyone was so wrapped up in getting themselves into position, breathing, and staying balanced, that they probably wouldn’t have noticed if I was wearing a clown suit and juggling coconuts. True in yoga, and I believe equally true in life.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How will you know what you like if you don’t try different things?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was great to be able to try a number of different styles of yoga in one week. Core, Vinyasa flow, Yin, Hatha, Nidra. There were two classes each day - morning and night, so it was great to also try out different times of day. Each had a different instructor. This past week I went to a drop-in yoga class with the amazing Mary Beth from Kripalu, and I think she described it best. She said, </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.6667px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>Yoga is a lot like ice cream - many flavors so you should try them all. Find a favorite that resonates - and then, before long you will likely shift and find another you like as much or better.’</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You don’t need to be ‘Suzy the Snake’.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a woman in a number of my classes who was one flexible and strong yogi. We’d do a relatively simple pose, and she would do it too but would put her foot behind her head or balance on her forehead or some other crazy move. Even our instructors were impressed. I know I’ll never be that flexible or be able to pull off half the poses she did seemingly effortlessly. But you know, that’s ok. Neither could most of the people in the room. I bet she has no idea how to make ice cream. :)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You don’t need to be plugged in all day long.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The hotel where I stayed, as I mentioned, was nothing fancy. In addition to not having mini-fridges in the room or TV’s, the only wifi to be found on the compound was within about ten feet of the reception desk. I didn’t feel I needed an international data plan for the week, so my internet access was limited to that weak signal or the occasional restaurant in town. Every morning I’d walk down to the reception hut, drink a cup of the complementary coffee, and check in with the shop and the world. I’d check in again once before I went to bed at night. The rest of the day I enjoyed blissfully disconnected from the endless bombardment of what everyone else what was feeling or doing. Those moments walking the beach, lying in the hammock, doing yoga, or writing in my journal were just that. Moments spent in the moment, undisturbed. Just as life should be lived.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Set your intention.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the beginning of each class, the instructor asked us to set an intention for the practice. What did we want to focus on for that hour. Yoga is a bit like a moving meditation. It involves focusing on your breathing while moving your body into various poses that stretch muscles into positions beyond their usual range. You reach a point of resistance and then you try to go a bit further. Some asanas (poses) may also involve challenging elements of balance. Setting your intention may be as simple as answering ‘why am I here’, meaning ‘why did I take this class’, or as complex as ‘why am I really here?’ It can be a single word to dedicate your practice to, like compassion, truth, or freedom. It’s simply a way to focus your subconscious mind on something that’s important to you. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I am ___________.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One of the instructors, at the beginning of class, asked us to finish that sentence. For that entire class, we were to keep that in the back of our mind. It became our intention for the practice. How would you finish that sentence?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Dream jobs aren’t usually just given to you.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One my yoga buddies that week had just gotten off the boat. Literally. She had spent the past 8 years on the crew of a yacht company, sailing all around the world with people famous or just famously wealthy. Over drinks at dinner she told amazing stories of adventures with guests that included Brad Pitt, Sarah Jessica Parker, David Geffen, billionaire Israeli businessmen, Oscar De Larenta, and Calvin Klein, just to name a few. We were left speechless as we tried to imagine what that lifestyle must be like. The crazy stories were surreal, but it’s something else she said that stuck with me. When someone once said to her, ‘how did you get so lucky to be chief purser to the rich and famous,’ she answered calmly, ‘I scrubbed decks and washed dishes for two years and really shitty money.’’</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Work hard, and you will be rewarded. I’ve always believed that, but it was refreshing to meet a living reminder in yoga pants.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Are you going to look for the goodness in things or the darkness in things? That’s the choice.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The man who owned the hotel was an older Greek man named Costas. He was a friendly guy who sat by the reception area with his coffee and cigarettes and chatted with guests. He also had a little Ipad he gazed into like a looking glass. It seemed every morning when we joined him for the free coffee, he’d have some horrible news of the world to share. My funny British yoga/drinking buddy appropriately called him ‘Dr. Doom and Gloom’. He was the first to tell us about David Bowie, the bombing in Turkey, and the death of Alan Rickman. Casual conversation with him usually ended up with him offering grim prophecies of an imminent WW III ‘Jim, you Americans won’t be able to avoid it this time’, and the collapse of world economic markets. He seemed convinced civil war in his home country of Greece is also not far off. His current impression of Americans in general could be summed up, to use his words, with ‘Miley Cyrus’ and ‘The Kardashians’. I asked him why he cared so much, especially living in paradise and all. His response, ‘I have friends at home and these other places,’ While I respect the compassion, it seems like a horrible way to set the tone for your day. Note to self, stop watching the news in the morning. Which leads me to..</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">How you start your day sets the tone for your day.</span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I don’t need a lot of words to express how great my days started during my Costa Rica getaway.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOJRrbsOp9BT0eDxH2EyzN-JlstsBX3bgNRDDXmSHOENlgVmf_y9lOtlvLxDTO6nWLhyo6FnqT155VbmfxWviDEyOiad20bqo7l5Gs1fOUCMVxfvcfHxUpfN29AeFCirF05NlTg/s1600/cr14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSOJRrbsOp9BT0eDxH2EyzN-JlstsBX3bgNRDDXmSHOENlgVmf_y9lOtlvLxDTO6nWLhyo6FnqT155VbmfxWviDEyOiad20bqo7l5Gs1fOUCMVxfvcfHxUpfN29AeFCirF05NlTg/s640/cr14.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br class="kix-line-break" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well, I think I could go on and on, but I’ll stop. My travel intentions to deepen my yoga practice, make a few friends from foreign lands, and most of all, unwind in a hammock on the ocean were all realized. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The universe is listening. You just need to be clear about what you’re asking for.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here are some of my favorite pics.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The Studio that dreams are made of..</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjVjhqZRkYletd-9G19Zn31FaebWE-YbqrLTHyv3cD0amqY6-U1Whi0xi5S9lznu5M9cRGsS3cCEQ4V4D4ptaM-bgVDQTIr8z8ELHB0Won2-f33eX6RdmG1tC0tmZ6ovl89LnFQ/s1600/cr21.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjVjhqZRkYletd-9G19Zn31FaebWE-YbqrLTHyv3cD0amqY6-U1Whi0xi5S9lznu5M9cRGsS3cCEQ4V4D4ptaM-bgVDQTIr8z8ELHB0Won2-f33eX6RdmG1tC0tmZ6ovl89LnFQ/s640/cr21.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Rock Garden on the beach<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrdqOd3q5H1t-TZoW2QdQqBUgmO6IyQW4LMMPepMyrTveWISlCyzjuLy1IKOmA2X8uiTQnAABCGP09qGqnwQ73HpcRrKI2ZZNPyJawTQQz4Gp4hTyd6J43rUw7W9nFSKkxVGVyw/s1600/cr3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTrdqOd3q5H1t-TZoW2QdQqBUgmO6IyQW4LMMPepMyrTveWISlCyzjuLy1IKOmA2X8uiTQnAABCGP09qGqnwQ73HpcRrKI2ZZNPyJawTQQz4Gp4hTyd6J43rUw7W9nFSKkxVGVyw/s640/cr3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The check-in desk and wi-fi zone<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-S7ke6iyJV9Az8SYbabKxzyIJJDpmDfIptkBHpn1OmWKs5AeTcvXe3xj7tFLMnVZKRwLFILbC-xouENCLA58K_fT6vu0Tt4iqN24p5CliBAP7oS62RlO3Tmw6AS0oECoGyYVcLw/s1600/cr12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-S7ke6iyJV9Az8SYbabKxzyIJJDpmDfIptkBHpn1OmWKs5AeTcvXe3xj7tFLMnVZKRwLFILbC-xouENCLA58K_fT6vu0Tt4iqN24p5CliBAP7oS62RlO3Tmw6AS0oECoGyYVcLw/s640/cr12.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
The 'airport'<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7Dt-ZDxgVd4754ePxgpIwT9RnaTsTbn7L2-WOW1EfV95K-j2p3c_VsTLi8qUNEe45xsseanItfDqEhrBLKtcRpUaMquyDH8KkVXqmjgpNkJ-r87r1TIeglOMRGzaOhcPc3qxEg/s1600/cr11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf7Dt-ZDxgVd4754ePxgpIwT9RnaTsTbn7L2-WOW1EfV95K-j2p3c_VsTLi8qUNEe45xsseanItfDqEhrBLKtcRpUaMquyDH8KkVXqmjgpNkJ-r87r1TIeglOMRGzaOhcPc3qxEg/s640/cr11.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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The studio<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgj3r1UI9w-VpKijKReCjxs17tU2_KTAbGyl8clAdFAjkBfvfLt06yb_pRCBSqWJY8HfCP2KZ79e4gN6Qx011t8Ew8xW0i0PSuwdWR3urn9LImDWY4xpUVtOpZtLgd_ImskDAGA/s1600/cr15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqgj3r1UI9w-VpKijKReCjxs17tU2_KTAbGyl8clAdFAjkBfvfLt06yb_pRCBSqWJY8HfCP2KZ79e4gN6Qx011t8Ew8xW0i0PSuwdWR3urn9LImDWY4xpUVtOpZtLgd_ImskDAGA/s640/cr15.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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The Montezuma Falls. Where the cool kids hang out.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiuQpTZjxyvC_G6DEgxLCAk0fE7xxFL74yGXCORJfulMS67WJvxF2bHa4J0jNKagqfXzzh76LvRZDrvouJrn8ecKaR3bMM6jIoDsLdcD8KyEGe36xz_W2_wSJ9JiqAy1XwcD1cQ/s1600/cr13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIiuQpTZjxyvC_G6DEgxLCAk0fE7xxFL74yGXCORJfulMS67WJvxF2bHa4J0jNKagqfXzzh76LvRZDrvouJrn8ecKaR3bMM6jIoDsLdcD8KyEGe36xz_W2_wSJ9JiqAy1XwcD1cQ/s640/cr13.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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Hotel Los Mangos<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7uoDgcOSv2TZm9XwCY2FJsLOzT8-XDynXuJsvjE5M6ACuQthyphenhyphenpvbeHs_3xpEZfgxXMFHwT3f5hmHC0n_UajyRctcvnvR8_AF_u6uyresHX5kYn8C_f2Hc-krG1ZtH_E5g0IECg/s1600/cr16.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF7uoDgcOSv2TZm9XwCY2FJsLOzT8-XDynXuJsvjE5M6ACuQthyphenhyphenpvbeHs_3xpEZfgxXMFHwT3f5hmHC0n_UajyRctcvnvR8_AF_u6uyresHX5kYn8C_f2Hc-krG1ZtH_E5g0IECg/s640/cr16.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Snorkel Destination<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WyzYTrbyWbktsVj99Yp3iLlJowoA0QRn3BWs7otSrw5Meo25ODsHSG9HeccpuEWFBG5hQSWVLwkxAnvinYsQ5AyPqwDGyzJaLXGHMMkguKvwGhv8oRYNlnd3RMkbZ3yQoQs66A/s1600/cr19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4WyzYTrbyWbktsVj99Yp3iLlJowoA0QRn3BWs7otSrw5Meo25ODsHSG9HeccpuEWFBG5hQSWVLwkxAnvinYsQ5AyPqwDGyzJaLXGHMMkguKvwGhv8oRYNlnd3RMkbZ3yQoQs66A/s640/cr19.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br />
Dr. Doom & Gloom<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8kxkfjVbIIlp_oumJk_0mJu0DEvAezaeRguz6jtMU_Zvb8dJ4YjQtZWAHp-0LP-AHhcHk1z_aHgFFmxXTHJJUViIR8O5KGfMMxt_SQbav8xbYhyW9pnZL93FdI1CsygmsNwtaA/s1600/cr23.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr8kxkfjVbIIlp_oumJk_0mJu0DEvAezaeRguz6jtMU_Zvb8dJ4YjQtZWAHp-0LP-AHhcHk1z_aHgFFmxXTHJJUViIR8O5KGfMMxt_SQbav8xbYhyW9pnZL93FdI1CsygmsNwtaA/s640/cr23.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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A banquet of yoga<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3A6MyCe6RCh9a67Puof8tqeMQRnjIMaEeZ4vC1kjfk3rxrK4CZdApIWo1Na-CRVRBm_Ib4kgGe3xUBI9RhlwzGoA90MhIb64IUmZuLd1vJHJHpPjntU63ePDD8Z-Ec6RCZvCp_Q/s1600/cr20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3A6MyCe6RCh9a67Puof8tqeMQRnjIMaEeZ4vC1kjfk3rxrK4CZdApIWo1Na-CRVRBm_Ib4kgGe3xUBI9RhlwzGoA90MhIb64IUmZuLd1vJHJHpPjntU63ePDD8Z-Ec6RCZvCp_Q/s640/cr20.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Omm.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4SxhSlW4eDaN1wS-E8JV8Q4AfYw-jsDANmbubZzGovp_Wa1caNPKwTos8FQhMFXywJD2TK_7o2-RP52mT0Pt4U9FWIlFRRdAllxH7zXPTQX-PVBwWVvftsCSrP_lRi_VyAshNQ/s1600/cr17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN4SxhSlW4eDaN1wS-E8JV8Q4AfYw-jsDANmbubZzGovp_Wa1caNPKwTos8FQhMFXywJD2TK_7o2-RP52mT0Pt4U9FWIlFRRdAllxH7zXPTQX-PVBwWVvftsCSrP_lRi_VyAshNQ/s640/cr17.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 20.24px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Warrior II Selfie.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrPPQAZRawHBWybqcpFGnDvz3QNY-VqjKg7n4vvBd__-FDxMUgYVznk1I0tnOba30DaR8bDwOsDcCTIQqPfRoCz496p4dLtT0rF3kVoIRGnLQsNpboT9hDz_QA1-i_I08SQyYJA/s1600/cr10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtrPPQAZRawHBWybqcpFGnDvz3QNY-VqjKg7n4vvBd__-FDxMUgYVznk1I0tnOba30DaR8bDwOsDcCTIQqPfRoCz496p4dLtT0rF3kVoIRGnLQsNpboT9hDz_QA1-i_I08SQyYJA/s640/cr10.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some wildlife</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJs1aoIMIv1btOUebCJyOkFIhDydi8w6tIWYRaU5aKVxg44kohBgGvhsHCblVLDmGHM3tmQU9HhQfxUVQkzfrApiXXQewF2Oh-Xw197qHM3dT9h2t_ssxWPrUi-DZtQjRhGbV_Q/s1600/cr6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJs1aoIMIv1btOUebCJyOkFIhDydi8w6tIWYRaU5aKVxg44kohBgGvhsHCblVLDmGHM3tmQU9HhQfxUVQkzfrApiXXQewF2Oh-Xw197qHM3dT9h2t_ssxWPrUi-DZtQjRhGbV_Q/s640/cr6.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b style="font-weight: normal;">The pool.</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fE-uGTGhICB0Kxc_NzvyeDJdqv0oPYnqNToA44rxwfB-BTJpsJzrC_EDhJLZK2mzW5tedBpLDiw394KUP23vxXOUspHIxTVjaoR8lh_Brn_RSUE026SIuztQ_dz8UpqPKFA7hw/s1600/cr22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2fE-uGTGhICB0Kxc_NzvyeDJdqv0oPYnqNToA44rxwfB-BTJpsJzrC_EDhJLZK2mzW5tedBpLDiw394KUP23vxXOUspHIxTVjaoR8lh_Brn_RSUE026SIuztQ_dz8UpqPKFA7hw/s640/cr22.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
The big beach.<br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;">Downtown Montezuma.</b><br />
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Lunch crasher.<br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;">The ocean.</b><br />
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<b style="font-weight: normal;">And last but certainly not least, the hammock..</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Thanks for listening.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 20.24px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Namaste.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jim</span></div>
<br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-43184003115447857222015-03-09T12:00:00.001-04:002015-03-09T12:00:49.321-04:00Iceland in the winter?As you can see, the trusty Ice Cream Diaries seems to get little attention for anything besides my travel adventures or a new coffee table book. As I've explained before, it's not because I don't still love the gig or that I'm not still entertained by the cool stuff that happens in my little slice of ice cream paradise. Case in point, the very cool marketing poster handmade by my buddy's 10 year old daughter Mallory..<br />
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In any event, one of the many 'off-season' thoughts that runs through my head and often falls onto my 'projects list' for the new year is to resurrect the old ICD blog for more the just the aforementioned travel and book release entries. Suffice to say, I wish I could promise a weekly new entry or even a monthly one, but in the more likely event that this snow actually does melt and ice cream chaos returns to consume my life as it does every year starting around April 23rd, I've learned better than to make such a promise. But who knows. Perhaps something or someone will inspire me between now and next January..<br />
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In the meantime, let's talk about my latest winter break, or 'January of Jim' as I like to call it. As you probably know, in addition to my usual trip west for some<a href="http://www.visitparkcity.com/" target="_blank"> Utah skiing</a> and Colorado quality time with great friends, I like to boldly go to a place I've never gone before. Ideally, it's a destination on my travel bucket list. Last year's <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jim.ingram.9678/media_set?set=a.10202577507095345.1073741826.1126587481&type=3" target="_blank">Galapagos Islands trip</a> was a tough act to follow to be sure. An African safari was high on the list this year, but the whole Ebola thing spooked me from that a little bit.<br />
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Perhaps next year. If anyone has any tips.. Or would care to join?<br />
<a href="http://www.intrepidtravel.com/uk/tanzania/serengeti-trail-83385" target="_blank">http://www.intrepidtravel.com/uk/tanzania/serengeti-trail-83385</a><br />
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But let's talk about this year, shall we? As you probably already know (and if the title of this blog didn't give it away), this year's port o' call was Iceland. It didn't click off the 'warm and tropical' box on my January destination criteria, but it's been a place I've wanted to go for some time. Sure, a July visit to Iceland has its advantages, but the reality for me right now is I'm not able to leave my teenager alone for more than a day or two during the high season. And by teenager I mean Mt. Tom's of course. I knew Iceland wouldn't be warm in early February (I booked it as late as I could in my break so as to have more than the four hours of daylight I would have gotten in early January). It was a lot of great things but I can't say warm was one of them. Then again 30's and 40's felt balmy after the single digit highs I left here in snowy Massachusetts.<br />
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And besides, who wouldn't want to go to a place where there were 130 volcanos and 80% of the population believe that elves are real.<br />
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Who knew when I booked the trip back in November that I'd be flying right in the middle of the Superbowl. And much more importantly, who knew our beloved Patriots would be in said Superbowl. I did get to watch the first half in the international wing of Logan airport. As luck would have it, I got to travel on one of the few IcelandAir planes equipped with Wi-Fi. Eight euros well spent..<br />
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Just five short hours and one missed night of sleep later, I stepped foot on the same giant chunk of lava our first lunar astronauts trained on, the magical treeless isle of Iceland.<br />
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I couldn't resist the map with the volcanoes on it. </div>
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I could tell from the spotless Ikea-like airport, this was no ordinary country.<br />
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Even the airport bathroom was something..<br />
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It was just a quick and sleepy forty-five minute shuttle from Keflavlik to downtown Reykjavik. I was a little leery about staying in a hostel, being over 21 years old and not traveling with a backpack, but my fears were unfounded. It didn't hurt that I had chosen one of the best hostels on the entire planet.<br />
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<a href="http://www.hostel.is/hostels/ReykjavikLoft/" target="_blank">Loft Hostel</a><br />
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Super cool, nice rooms, downtown location, clean and peaceful, happy hour every day, and live music most nights. Hostels everywhere could learn a lot from this place.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjunBL03ZZRjyviFwA7501j_P8vdNAx8RLUhT-Akp-0oVTC0DSx_cwbZcA3CvxXacRW7Uie-WCDqoXOf8uThrgN7oax_PD-90O-FaWoZeJJmB9j_pbJbhNW2m1BfxHnmdMCgrMg/s1600/Photo+Feb+04,+4+52+51+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvjunBL03ZZRjyviFwA7501j_P8vdNAx8RLUhT-Akp-0oVTC0DSx_cwbZcA3CvxXacRW7Uie-WCDqoXOf8uThrgN7oax_PD-90O-FaWoZeJJmB9j_pbJbhNW2m1BfxHnmdMCgrMg/s1600/Photo+Feb+04,+4+52+51+AM.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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And what's not to like about a place that cuts your morning cold cuts into heart shapes?<br />
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After check-in and a quick jetlag-induced power nap, it was off to get the lay of the land and book a few excursion for my week in the land of ice.<br />
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Looking across the bay..<br />
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The Hallgrimskrikja church...</div>
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The view from the belfry of the church...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuJSIlKIUUVgIIUa1osY26qp0UCl3JanjAPy1bg_TkVmGlpznJ0S9tQ2vogPWNILZVMnCeYmlBpzT0kNIkyZUh9_EWRxfmUEoU-wN27wEaeQpBEvk0fXNo01HMlFjy8LbhU0YMg/s1600/Photo+Feb+05,+5+17+52+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuuJSIlKIUUVgIIUa1osY26qp0UCl3JanjAPy1bg_TkVmGlpznJ0S9tQ2vogPWNILZVMnCeYmlBpzT0kNIkyZUh9_EWRxfmUEoU-wN27wEaeQpBEvk0fXNo01HMlFjy8LbhU0YMg/s1600/Photo+Feb+05,+5+17+52+AM.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a><br />
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Ok, I didn't go here. It claims to be the only one in the world. Proving that there truly is a museum for everything.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1pvUWE-KxN6DR98oR3bghwyfC7AT7bipKfunirjLnGlU6mmdj4kUAcZXUz645ZYQ3WbSgmZLXETIZmsH-WAgwG2JBeBYYuoKQ___NlTv0Jk-VDQj7-1v2hbyJCDAjeHsxYkQtQ/s1600/Photo+Feb+02,+9+13+33+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ1pvUWE-KxN6DR98oR3bghwyfC7AT7bipKfunirjLnGlU6mmdj4kUAcZXUz645ZYQ3WbSgmZLXETIZmsH-WAgwG2JBeBYYuoKQ___NlTv0Jk-VDQj7-1v2hbyJCDAjeHsxYkQtQ/s1600/Photo+Feb+02,+9+13+33+AM.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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Moving right along. Did you know what is the most popular restaurant in Iceland?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYw0jBMHYyWLnzNLlf65MNB8MHBNqtcS-ijzIfeUcBvBE2GRkxrYby0AGN3EXUXLqDnlmmelxukfth_E6JqcRXfGEEx0jKRvVl8kh_OZ3F63ph1pcFex1Fs02oW4iPkmqvrqQnQ/s1600/Photo+Feb+03,+1+56+32+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPYw0jBMHYyWLnzNLlf65MNB8MHBNqtcS-ijzIfeUcBvBE2GRkxrYby0AGN3EXUXLqDnlmmelxukfth_E6JqcRXfGEEx0jKRvVl8kh_OZ3F63ph1pcFex1Fs02oW4iPkmqvrqQnQ/s1600/Photo+Feb+03,+1+56+32+PM.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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Yes. it's true. Don't ask me what the brownish condiment was because while it was yummy, I have no idea.<br />
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It was much tastier than this would have been, despite what the label might lead you to believe..<br />
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Dried fish and fermented shark are the 'local foods' tourists are told to try while they are here. Luckily, one of my travel guides gave us some helpful tips on that. He told us about the process of fermenting the sharks, which involved months of hanging in a barn, among other not so pleasant things. He also mentioned the locals call it rotten shark, and it's about the last thing they would choose to eat. Ok, maybe just before pickled ram testicles and blood pudding, other tourist temptations he told us to avoid, although he probably didn't need to. He also said they would probably 'turn your stomach upside down'. I agreed, and wisely stuck to hot dogs and Paninis. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJE2vJath1MeXBdL5kp_YmTMljQkFaFcErdY67-GwNgiiEJPjqmsX8dA9e8xEvs65FMN0VEv69_r2jOq-AWE_MMMXFDotaNgBOiL3JugVGhKZ6nie9xGJfa4FB0Hv9meYpAHFPpA/s1600/Photo+Feb+04,+3+52+33+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJE2vJath1MeXBdL5kp_YmTMljQkFaFcErdY67-GwNgiiEJPjqmsX8dA9e8xEvs65FMN0VEv69_r2jOq-AWE_MMMXFDotaNgBOiL3JugVGhKZ6nie9xGJfa4FB0Hv9meYpAHFPpA/s1600/Photo+Feb+04,+3+52+33+PM.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Although I must admit I was tempted by the reindeer..<br />
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Speaking of ice cream (it is the Ice Cream Diaries after all), when I see a sign in a window that says 'Authentic Icelandic Ice Cream', I must investigate...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-08vuIATx_TsTAig4WYHCfMqU4BCke6GuegHT5vH2wN3xmLVkD8QyG1eKinOM0rUTn7BmrFBWraEN0K1-b0kTB8YakFuMOcdycRXf168pddJwT2q1RMF7M5SHsjIcw0tayCeNjA/s1600/Photo+Feb+03,+2+21+07+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-08vuIATx_TsTAig4WYHCfMqU4BCke6GuegHT5vH2wN3xmLVkD8QyG1eKinOM0rUTn7BmrFBWraEN0K1-b0kTB8YakFuMOcdycRXf168pddJwT2q1RMF7M5SHsjIcw0tayCeNjA/s1600/Photo+Feb+03,+2+21+07+PM.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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Truth be told, while the consistency (aka overrun) was decent, the caramel pecan lacked flavor. On the bright side, it left me feeling better about my ability to go head-to-head with Iceland in an ice cream taste-off.<br />
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Did you know that professional boxing is illegal in Iceland?<br />
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And that geothermal power heats over 90% of the homes. For cheap.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-I38oLpiayb8vd85tNvNGHSienHXAue5W0RQJIaLfQoi9VZLQMfmnve5W6YbfgXhfAdv-xLPywQKUSVWJjMbkK9CZ4vy8aNpogeFrL0utY63HRkV3-oTsu4EhdVu8DRKI_5WAYw/s1600/Photo+Feb+03,+4+36+40+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-I38oLpiayb8vd85tNvNGHSienHXAue5W0RQJIaLfQoi9VZLQMfmnve5W6YbfgXhfAdv-xLPywQKUSVWJjMbkK9CZ4vy8aNpogeFrL0utY63HRkV3-oTsu4EhdVu8DRKI_5WAYw/s1600/Photo+Feb+03,+4+36+40+AM.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a><br />
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Above is one of the turbines to prove it. Below is what I call 'sunrise over a power plant'..<br />
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It was interesting to walk through town in the dark. At 10:30 in the morning..<br />
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When there's a bar next door called the <a href="http://lebowski.is/" target="_blank">Lebowski Bar</a>, you know it's really just a matter of time before you find yourself there. </div>
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Sure enough, I did. While I expected it to be Hard Rock Café-like, full of American tourists and tacky collectibles all over the walls, I was happily surprised by the healthy mix of locals and tourists. The bartenders were friendly, and the movie trivia game was a lot of fun. Of course it always to helps to win, thanks to my movie Mensa friends from NYC who I met at the bar. The place did have a life-sized bowling alley, Big Lebowski trivia on the walls, and a full white Russian menu, so they did quite enough to live up to tourists' expectations..</div>
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Beers weren't cheap (around 10 bucks a piece on average pretty much everywhere you went), but I did manage to find a sweet old pub at the end of the street that offered a big beer and a shot (some kind of vodka I think) for 570 Kronur, about six bucks. <a href="https://www.facebook.com/olsmidjan" target="_blank">Olsmidjan Bar</a>. </div>
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By the way, did you know beer was illegal in Iceland until 1989?</div>
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Happy place, Iceland style..</div>
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Speaking of beer, I thought this was funny. And worthy of an ice cream version for my own window..</div>
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Unlike the dudes from New Jersey I met at the Lebowski Bar who were just there to party, I was actually there to see what I'd heard were some amazing landscapes in form of glaciers, mountains (volcanos), waterfalls, and geysers, so I booked the obligatory Golden Circle tour. None disappointed..</div>
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<a href="http://skalholt.is/cathedral/" target="_blank">Skalholt Cathedral</a></div>
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Pingvellir National Park..<br />
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Gullfoss Waterfall</div>
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Strokkur geyser. The tour guide suggested we 'stand as close to the geyser as you can to get the full effect'. Not something you'd hear at Yellowstone..<br />
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Icelandic horses, they are a hearty breed. They are purposely kept out of the barn so they don't get soft. And if you're thinking about bringing any other type of horse into the country, not gonna happen. This line is staying pure. And I was told they don't like to be called ponies..<br />
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After a long and amazing day being at one with the cool and chilly Icelandic landscape, one owes it to themselves to spend a day in the infamous tropical oasis near the Arctic Circle, the<a href="http://www.bluelagoon.com/" target="_blank"> Blue Lagoon</a>. <a href="http://www.goiceland.is/2012/02/national-geographic-names-blue-lagoon-a-world-wonder/" target="_blank">National Geographic</a> calls it one of the 25 wonders of the world. She's got my vote.<br />
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My picture doesn't do it just so I'll have to steal one from their site...<br />
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The reason I didn't get a good picture that day is because I just didn't want to get out until they kicked me out. 100 degree mineral-infused water, swim up bar, saunas, mud masks, refreshing waterfalls, and in-water massages. This place truly was a slice of paradise tucked inside a volcano crater. Words just can't fully describe the awesomeness of this place.</div>
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And of course, last but not least, what would a trip to Iceland in the winter be without a search for the Northern Lights. Aurora Borealis. Downtown Rejkavik, although it is the capital of Iceland and where two-thirds of the country's three hundred thousand inhabitants live, looks more like a sprawling suburb than a city. It does throw off some light, but I wouldn't be surprised if you could still see a strong night of the Northern Lights from the rooftop deck of my hostel. But that's not the way you typically do it here when you really want to get a good look. You book an excursion to a dark part of the island at least a half hour out in any direction. Yes, you can go by boat too. Our bus left at 8 pm, and by 8:45 we were standing in a snow-covered field in quite literally the middle of nowhere.<span style="text-align: center;"> </span></div>
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It was darker than this photo makes it seem. Unfortunately, you can't force the northern lights appear. They come and go as they please. All you can do set up your tripod, wait, and hope. When you get cold, you go inside the little snack bar and grab a hot cocoa.</div>
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Standing in that dark and snowy field with a hundred strangers from many corners of the world, each of us trying to satisfy a curiosity, was very cool, bordering on strangely spiritual. I've always preached it's much more about the journey than the destination, but that field on that cold night really felt like a destination for me and this collective group of strangers. Who doesn't have 'seeing the Northern Lights' on their bucket list? Through some strange versions of the alignment of our planets, we had found our way here, like Richard Dreyfuss and his band of summoned strangers standing in the desert in Close Encounters of the Third Kind. None of us knew exactly what we were going to see, but we knew it had the potential to be big. I tried not to make this trip all about seeing the lights, but I still couldn't help but be caught up in the anticipation, camera at the ready.<br />
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We stared at a still beautiful starry sky for a long time, with only an occasional shooting star as a reward. After what seemed like hours, my frozen toes surrendered, and I sought refuge in the warm shuttle bus. I flipped through many of the photos I've just shared with you and reminisced about all the amazing sights and experiences I'd had during my week in Iceland. Sigur Ros, Takk played in my ears. I had met some great people and been exposed to a whole different way of life while reaffirming we all still crave the same things. I'd built upon my 'get out of your comfort zone' traveling solo confidence and enjoyed some much needed time of reflection with my journal and a strong latte with the locals in their favorite cafés. I was in a good place. I didn't need to see the lights to make this trip a success. I was fulfilled. Bus driver, I'm ready to go home now.<br />
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And just as it is with so much of life, when you release your need for something, it finally appears...<br />
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Thanks for listening.<br />
<br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-66540590225306752942014-10-14T13:16:00.000-04:002014-10-14T13:17:42.247-04:00Another scoop of countertop reading hits the.. counter!<b style="font-weight: normal;"></b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'm not sure how I did it, but somewhere in the middle of making ice cream nine hours a day and completing the endless tasks required to keep an ice cream shop going all Summer, I managed to put together the long-overdue follow-up to my first coffee table photo book 'Hand-me-downs: Some Slightly Used Tips on Life for my Little Brother'. It's called 'Ice Cream Parlor Wisdom: Another Scoop of Slightly Used Life Tips from the Guy Making Ice Cream in the Back'. <br />
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The format is the same, but the images and essays are all fresh. I hope you like it.<br />
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As form of introduction, I've included the introduction you'll find in the book. Here it is...<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">How've you been?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It's hard to believe it’s been nearly ten years since I gave the one hardcover copy of Hand-me-downs to new high school graduate little brother Ted. I still look back on that day with pride and satisfaction. I had created a book from a tiny voice born out of the experiences and observations of my life. I don’t know if Ted has picked up my little life instruction book since. I hope so, but I try to focus on the things I can control. It was the process of creating it that brought me joy - the challenge of channeling my thoughts into a form that might be used again by someone else. And by me. It was immensely satisfying, and I still get a charge out of seeing a customer leafing through the tattered copy while they eat a cone of cookie dough.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It occurs to me that the life I had leading up to that day I shared the book with Ted barely resembles the life that followed. I've completely reinvented my life to the point of it being unrecognizable from the one I enjoyed all those years before it. I left the confines and comforts of corporate life for the challenges and insecurity of small business ownership. It’s been a wild ride of learning, trying things, and constantly adjusting the sail. Starting something new puts you out of your comfort zone. It’s scary and uncertain; the prospect of success or failure hinging on the decisions you make and the way you direct your efforts. It’s also immensely satisfying and rewarding. Creating something from nothing. Your baby.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">During my annual winter break this year, I took a trip to the Galapagos Islands. Located five hundred miles off the coast of Ecuador, this ring of tiny islands is both breathtakingly beautiful and fascinating. Teeming with wildlife that harbor little fear of humans, these underdeveloped volcanic islands provide a rare opportunity to see and interact with marine life. Sea lions lounge on park benches. Marine iguanas scurry about on the beach. Playful baby sea lions swim along with the adventurous snorkeler in a lagoon. Giant hundred year old tortoises lumber along the side of a dirt road. It’s a natural habitat unblemished by the progress of human civilization.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It’s also the birthplace of evolutionary theory. Charles Darwin visited Galapagos in 1835. It was here he noticed the subtle variations in similar species from island to island, particularly the beaks of finches. Darwin collected massive amounts of samples and data. This data would eventually become the basis for his landmark thesis, ‘The Origin of Species’. He observed that in just a few short generations, the beaks of finches had changed to be better suited to the unique environment of their island home.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In short, they evolved.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">That’s where it hit me. Isn’t that what our own lives are all about? Evolving. Darwin called it natural selection. Whether it be on a soccer field or the thoughts in your mind or in a bird's beak. We are constantly evolving. I’m not the same person I was ten years ago, and neither are you. My basic philosophies may be similar, but life has molded me into something different. Our cells are constantly dying and being replaced by new ones. Life’s experiences teach us lessons, point us in new directions, and show us what works and what doesn’t. A decade ago, I steered my life onto a new path, and that’s brought me new lessons and experiences. New teachers have come into my life. I’ve made some of the same mistakes, but I've tried to learn from them. I've evolved.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The day I decided to say goodbye to cubicle life was the beginning of my evolution.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Forcing myself out of my comfort zone was the game-changer for me. It changed everything. I may or may not know you. You may or may not be itching to shake up your life right now. If you are, I hope I might in some small way convince you to consider the possibility. Perhaps a thought or two in the stories that follow might nudge you toward a new path in your own life. In any event, I hope you enjoy the images.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 12px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As always, I never claim to be an expert in areas of human behavior, spirituality, or even small business ownership, so I trust you'll filter my ideas through the same sand sifter you employ with anything you read. I don’t know you like I knew my little buddy Ted, but I can still imagine you sitting at the counter of my shop, dark chocolate almond sea salt ice cream dripping down your cone onto your hand as you leaf through this book. If one story makes you think or smile, my effort will have been an overwhelming success. I thank you in advance for listening. Let's get back to it, shall we?</span><br />
<br /><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ice Cream Parlor Wisdom is now officially on sale. Have a look next time you're at Mt. Tom's for a cone or a bag of Swedish fish. While you're here, check out the show on the wall. It includes images from the new book! </span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Hope to see you soon.</span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>Jim</em></span><br />
</b><br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-82616190419940291782014-05-29T13:48:00.000-04:002014-05-29T13:48:22.130-04:00Words to the new grads..'Tis the season for graduation speeches, and Williston Northampton School up the road always seems to have really great ones. This year was no exception. Local artist, author, and former Williston teacher, Barry Moser took the podium last weekend. Awesome speech and important message. Well worth sharing..<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/wQnD9y8Ukw8" width="560"></iframe>
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<br />
Just as I was careful not to compare my speech to Alan Alda's when I wrote it a few years ago, I would never even consider trying to compete with Barry's. Having said that, I though I'd repost a link to my attempt at a graduation speech. It's a little dated, but I like to share it with my new grad scoopers most years, so here it is. If you haven't already seen it, you're welcome to give it a read...<br />
<br />
<a href="http://icecreamdiaries.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-graduation-speech.html">http://icecreamdiaries.blogspot.com/2011/06/my-graduation-speech.html</a><br />
<br />
Happy almost Summer to you!Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-7633226116133362652014-05-07T13:27:00.000-04:002014-05-07T13:27:39.872-04:00How I got into ice cream, unabridged version.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSlZ2_Jg-hXi-AYRDO0r1uXFZr3gAYbWoE0GZBxoUUhCCOMESa-V-Cyg-txwBJb5vbtmewrKZyCngAiGWjjXoC1MyAokEgpOdto2yEqKq6bPpzIHgIadzOunFzvZizFMZjKhmlQ/s1600/146_4663.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfSlZ2_Jg-hXi-AYRDO0r1uXFZr3gAYbWoE0GZBxoUUhCCOMESa-V-Cyg-txwBJb5vbtmewrKZyCngAiGWjjXoC1MyAokEgpOdto2yEqKq6bPpzIHgIadzOunFzvZizFMZjKhmlQ/s1600/146_4663.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQWnPdEELBL2hkxcei4Y_q-fiVzKeSVbwqCANm8gAXCZed3hYMgnp0WNE1eYSj27Y-mYvTM_iw3jLPKfuGyAuKAUbKdodoZWBks4wU3zu6vmiKbEUZXb2RQW6vyGxnjfKqVgVvQw/s1600/142_4201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">I'm
often asked, 'how did you get into ice cream?'</span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">The
most accurate answer is 'because a manager I hardly knew didn't
consider me for a promotion'.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">But
that's never the answer I've given. Until now. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">At
first glance, my foray into ice cream might seem like a no-brainer.
My Dad worked his whole career in the dairy field. He and my Mom
built and operated a couple of successful ice cream shops back when I
was in my twenties and thirties. In business school, I even wrote a
business plan about a small ice cream shop. But I was an
engineer. I had an undergraduate degree in engineering, along with
a similar engineering master's degree and an MBA. I'd been working
at the prestigious Bell Laboratories for over a decade. Heck, I'd
just gotten my third week of vacation and had a nice 401K and
pension. The work was fairly interesting and the company had
treated me well. But I felt stuck. There had to be more to
(work) life. I wasn't unhappy. I just wasn't excited about the
work and the predictable life I'd built around it. Unfortunately, I
wasn't unhappy enough to do anything about it. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">That all changed one otherwise unremarkable Tuesday in April. I had heard through the grapevine that I wasn't a candidate for a promotion that I felt extremely qualified. The hiring manager, at the advice of her boss, wasn't even considering me for the job. The truth was this blackballing boss barely knew me. I'd become a victim of office politics. That was it for me. The next day, I uploaded my resume to monster.com. Within a week, I got a call from a promising tech startup. Within another few weeks, I would leave that big, safe company life for a risky new start-up, full of scary smart people with what seemed like a really good idea.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span> </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">I
think you can probably guess how the start-up experience went. It
was really fun and exciting at first, full of promise and big
paychecks. The ride was fast and stressful and was over in a
little more than a year. I'd given up security and comfort for risk
and excitement, and it landed me on the unemployment line. I
learned a lot at that start-up and enjoyed the experience, but the
day I remember most is the last one.</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">This
is how it replays in my mind..</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="docs-internal-guid-fd42da42-42f7-a083-2a6e-433428b2a800"></a>
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">It
was more than a decade ago when I found myself walking on a beach in
southern New Hampshire in the middle of the day on a Friday. I
skipped stones on the water and contemplated the events that had
unfolded so unexpectedly an hour before. What had started as an
innocent meeting after lunch with my boss saying, ‘follow me’,
had become a moment that would completely change the direction of my
life. As soon as I walked into that conference room and saw my human
resource director sitting on the other side of the big oak table, I
knew what was about to happen. I remember that feeling of shock and
utter helplessness as he explained the terms of our breakup. As I
walked on that beach that day, filled with rejection and anger at not
having seen it coming, I made a vow to myself.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">I
will someday look back at this day and be able to say was the best
thing that ever happened to me.</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">Sitting
here now, in the middle of my little ice cream venture in the coolest
little town on the planet, I can wholeheartedly say it truly was the
best thing that ever happened to me. And by 'it', I mean not getting
that promotion.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFzCi_vCPH36oeeTv1LUeagfKSj3PYlamcbVDcze1kzB7NHjxwb19qzGBr7n5jW751vCdRTMqJQzlVvufmqRQDf0n0IzIT-5GailChbhcdwWOHl57VvlDiAV-22H1_hoEW5mQjQ/s1600/149_4944.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFzCi_vCPH36oeeTv1LUeagfKSj3PYlamcbVDcze1kzB7NHjxwb19qzGBr7n5jW751vCdRTMqJQzlVvufmqRQDf0n0IzIT-5GailChbhcdwWOHl57VvlDiAV-22H1_hoEW5mQjQ/s1600/149_4944.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">'It' made room for nearly two years of amazing travel, the conception and
birth of the business I always wanted, and a new way of
life, free of the creative confines of a factory floor and a
claustrophobic cubicle.</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">The
first part of my ‘life after layoff’ involved driving
cross-country in my little Acura Integra. I bought an oversized road
atlas at WalMart. (think: pre-GPS, pre-Iphone days). I excitedly
highlighted a route from Boston to California and back. Into my trunk
went a tent, a sleeping bag, a handful of t-shirts and shorts, some
camping gear, a laptop, a camera, and my trusty journal.</span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">It
was a morning in May that I pointed my car in the direction
of the left coast and began what would become a nearly three thousand
mile adventure, taking me to thirty-eight states including Alaska,
fifteen national parks, countless friends’ couches, seedy
campgrounds, and Motel 6’s. It was a summer of the road, just my
thoughts and me. I had no timetable. I had a rough idea of where I
wanted to go, who I wanted to visit, and what I wanted to see, but
after working ‘for the man’ for fifteen years, I was determined
to let this summer be about just ‘going with the flow’.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">What
followed was an amazing, spiritual, eye-opening, cleansing journey
that took me to the best places our country has to offer, from the
Badlands to Grand Canyon to Telluride to Mitchell’s Corn Palace. I
met many interesting people and reconnected with distant friends and
family. I took thousands of pictures. I ate incredible amounts of bad
food. I survived a dust storm in Utah that made driving through a New
England blizzard feel like a walk on a tropical beach. I mountain
biked with bald eagles in the Kenai Peninsula of Alaska and drank 25
cent cups of coffee at the infamously tacky Wall Drug tourist
respite. Cathartic is the best word I can think of to describe it. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<br />
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">And
it was where ‘Hand-me-downs’ was born.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span> </div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">If
you haven’t leafed through the ice cream-tattered copy on the
counter of my ice cream shop, 'Hand-me-downs: Some little used tips
on life for my little brother', is a coffee table book I created
right around the time I opened the shop. I was inspired to write it
by my little brother. Not one of my own little brothers, although
neither is little anymore, but my ‘little’ from the Big Brother
program. His name is Ted, and we have been buddies since we were
introduced through the program when he was eight. His parents were
heroin addicts, and he, along with his four brothers and two sisters,
were raised by his saint-like grandparents. Despite all the adolescent
challenges that go along with growing up in such a high risk
situation, he turned out to be an amazing person. My role in that was
simply to spend some time with him every week and try to be a good
role model for him.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;"></span></span></span></span> </div>
<div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 114%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">I
can say without hesitation being a Big Brother for Ted and my
association with that program has been one of the most satisfying
things I’ve ever done. I’ve gotten as much, if not more, out of
that experience than my buddy Ted. In the spirit of that feeling, I
wanted to create something that might serve to continue that role
after our lives began to head off in other directions. Hand-me-downs
began during those long rides across Kansas and Nebraska. I asked
myself, ‘if I was sitting with Ted on the night before he graduated
high school and about to start his life in ‘the real world’, what
kind of advice would I give him?’ What are the lessons I’ve
learned along my journey that might be helpful to him. What
observations could I ‘hand down’ to him that might help him
direct his life and his decisions in the future?</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">With
that thought in mind, I began to write down one-liners into a
notebook. ‘Be aggressive.’ ‘There are plenty of unhappy people
in big houses.’ ‘See the world.’ At first, the pen couldn’t
capture my thoughts fast enough. I went inward to retrieve all the
life lessons buried inside. I read inspiring books and articles
on-line to lubricate the process. I looked for signs along my
cross-country journey. I took pictures that would eventually become
part of the presentation of my ideas. That process continued for the
four months I spent living out of my gold semi-sports car.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">When
I finally got weary of the road and traded in my tent for the comfort
of my own bed, I opened up that notebook full of thoughts,
affirmations, and inspirations and began to fill in the details. I
recalled and wrote about moments in my life that taught or reinforced
these beliefs I wanted to share with my little brother. It was a
long, slow process, but one I recall as fondly as my cross-country
adventure and the Australia/New Zealand backpacking trip I took
shortly after my return from my trek across America. The process of
capturing ‘the world according to me’ was not only satisfying for
its original purpose but helped me visualize the kind of life I
wanted going forward. I knew my life would never read as perfectly as
my thirty-eight little lessons with accompanying photographs, but
each were and still remain helpful reminders when my life gets bogged
down in the mundanes of daily life.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">It
was nearly ten years ago when I gave the one hardcover copy of
Hand-me-downs to high school graduate little brother Ted. I look back
on that day with pride and satisfaction. I felt like I had offered
Ted and the world something of value. A tiny voice born out of the
experiences and observations of my life. I don’t know if Ted has
picked up that book since that day. I hope he has, but that’s out of my control now. It was the process that brought me joy - the
struggles of channeling my thoughts into a form that could be used
again by someone else. By me. It was immensely satisfying, and I
still get a charge out of seeing a customer leafing through the
tattered copy while they eat a cone of cookie dough. I smile every
time someone buys one for themselves or for a graduation gift. I
guess it’s a validation that my words mean something and that my
images bring them pleasure. I don’t make any money when I sell one,
but that doesn’t matter. It’s never been about the money. Aside
from having enough to pay the bills and feed your family, I've always
believed it should never be about the money anyway.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">It
occurs to me that the life I had leading up to that day I shared the
book with Ted barely resembles the life that followed. I completely
reinvented my life to the point of being unrecognizable from the one
I enjoyed all those years before it. I left the confines and comfort
of corporate life for the challenges and insecurity of small business
ownership. It’s been a wild ride of learning, trying things, and
constantly adjusting the sail. Starting something new puts you out of
your comfort zone. It’s scary and uncertain, the prospect of
success or failure hinging on the decisions you make and the way you
direct your efforts. It’s also immensely satisfying and rewarding.
Creating something from nothing. My baby.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">During
my annual winter break this year, I took a trip to the Galapagos
Islands. Located five hundred miles off the coast of Ecuador, this
ring of tiny islands is both breathtakingly beautiful and
fascinating. Teeming with wildlife that harbor little fear of humans,
these underdeveloped volcanic islands provide a rare opportunity to
see and interact with marine life. Sea lions lounge on park benches.
Marine iguanas scurry about on the beach. Playful baby sea lions swim
along with the adventurous snorkeler in a lagoon. Giant hundred year
old tortoises lumber along the side of a dirt road. It’s a natural
habitat unblemished by the progress of human civilization. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Ls_ZoTA-47d7VOlJGiD2IwSFd-agN-dJm_sqCIfU-u1bJZeiObH5rujXewj51JAhungawGDtDlQr3CN8mYVpcxIsUSSSpfmzc6V8SQ1gZ8bj_65cdxQXQs619owrs3M3v-uPoQ/s1600/g44.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Ls_ZoTA-47d7VOlJGiD2IwSFd-agN-dJm_sqCIfU-u1bJZeiObH5rujXewj51JAhungawGDtDlQr3CN8mYVpcxIsUSSSpfmzc6V8SQ1gZ8bj_65cdxQXQs619owrs3M3v-uPoQ/s1600/g44.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">It’s
also the birthplace of evolutionary theory. Charles Darwin visited
Galapagos in 1835. It was here he noticed the subtle variations in
similar species from island to island, particularly the beaks of
finches. Darwin collected massive amounts of samples and data. This
data would eventually become the basis for his landmark thesis, ‘The
Origin of Species’. He observed that in just a few short
generations, the beaks of finches had changed to be better suited to
the unique environments of their island home.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">They
evolved. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">That’s
where it hit me. Isn’t that what life is all about? Evolving.
Darwin called it natural selection. Whether it be on a soccer field
or the thoughts in your mind or in a bird's beak. We are constantly
evolving. I’m not the same person I was ten years ago, and neither
are you. My basic philosophies may be similar, but life has molded me
into something different. Our cells are constantly dying and being
replaced by new ones. Life’s experiences teach us lessons, point us
in new directions, and show us what works and what doesn’t. A
decade ago, I steered my life onto a new path, and that’s brought
me new lessons and experiences. New teachers have come into my life.
I’ve made some of the same mistakes but I've tried to learn from
them. In a word, I've evolved.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">The
day I decided to leave the big company job was the beginning of my
evolution.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">Forcing
myself out of my comfort zone was the game-changer for me. It
changed everything. I may or may not know you. You may or may not
be itching to shake up your life right now. If you are, I hope my
story might in some small way convince you consider the possibility. You can do this. Time goes by fast, best get to it. I find it hard to believe it's been ten years since I peeked at my future through the window of 34 Cottage Street. It's been a great ride so far. I thank you for listening and for allowing me to continue to do what I do. The pleasure and honor is mine. Truly.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">Stayed tuned for the long-promised follow-up to 'Hand-me-downs - Some Slightly Used Tips on Life', 'Ice Cream Parlor Wisdom', due to be completed sometime during the summer of 2014. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">Hopefully. :)</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: none;">And I hope you can stop by on Saturday (May 10th) to help us celebrate as my baby turns 10.</span></span></span></span></div>
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Jim </div>
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Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-62430600965581306512014-05-02T14:26:00.000-04:002014-05-02T14:26:03.901-04:00Life advice from an ice cream god.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6_5i6ua6IfK6XceRN_TRiYa27dHpe81i6nehjWaoVaKlwRg5K4tJiwgmETFC03Q75bnsLxwRwwhheYxW682IJ9qW53L7hHXTP1yFYMBhPm-GGa0PpvEfaKO7f7zsdUonvAP13A/s1600/Photo+Apr+09,+10+45+17+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT6_5i6ua6IfK6XceRN_TRiYa27dHpe81i6nehjWaoVaKlwRg5K4tJiwgmETFC03Q75bnsLxwRwwhheYxW682IJ9qW53L7hHXTP1yFYMBhPm-GGa0PpvEfaKO7f7zsdUonvAP13A/s1600/Photo+Apr+09,+10+45+17+AM.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"></b><div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-e21ecbdc-be06-4458-8760-b3425aa2691a" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Have I told you about the time Ben Cohen was in my shop?</span></b></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yes, the Ben Cohen of Ben and Jerry’s Ben Cohen. So what was he like? Was he cool and funny and did he tell funny ice cream war stories? Well, the truth is I never actually met him, but I am still 99% sure it was him. He stopped into the shop one day last summer, wrote the note you see above, sealed it in an envelope addressed to ‘the proprietor’, and dropped it into the suggestion jar. Also included in the envelope were five crisp twenty dollar bills. Yup, a hundred bucks in cash and wise advice from an ice cream god. Coolest suggestion ever, by far.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">As you could guess, Ben Cohen wasn’t the first name that popped into my head when I opened the envelope. There were a few clues that led me to the godfather of super premium ice cream.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">1. The words ‘chocolate matrix’ and ‘inclusions’. The only people I know who describe the ‘stuff’ in your scoop of ice cream as inclusions are ice cream makers. Just like I wouldn’t expect you to describe that chocolate swirl in your fudge brownie cone as variegate. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">2. A hundred bucks is a lot of money to just drop into the suggestion jar at your local ice cream shop. That certainly got my attention. It took me a long time to actually take the twenties out of the envelope and even consider spending them. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">3. A friend had recently gone to a fundraising event where Ben made an appearance. This friend, a small business owner on Cottage Street who sells records (<a href="https://www.facebook.com/platterpusrecords?ref=br_tf" target="_blank">Platterpus</a>), chatted with him about, among other things, local ice cream shops, and mentioned my shop to Ben.</span><br /><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnCVvflZoFUzb5-jwisn1SA3zqFFJ_shhWA3paaazKKfqOglS084Fdui_3A1UALob_v3Z_KDRkYDjjWGtqVSfF4vGunm5A4IXOuGugZK-N3eyAsuI6uG_OJRzfxV1iGYF6KM0jg/s1600/dave1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJnCVvflZoFUzb5-jwisn1SA3zqFFJ_shhWA3paaazKKfqOglS084Fdui_3A1UALob_v3Z_KDRkYDjjWGtqVSfF4vGunm5A4IXOuGugZK-N3eyAsuI6uG_OJRzfxV1iGYF6KM0jg/s1600/dave1.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">4. I’ve heard stories from other small ice cream shop owners having a similar experience.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This seemed like more than enough evidence to convince me I’d been visited by the one and only Ben Cohen. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d actually bought a cone. And did he like it? When you’re in the food biz, you’re constantly being evaluated and critiqued, if not on yelp or someone’s Facebook page, certainly in the minds of your customers. All opinions matter, and if they didn’t, what would be the point, but the opinion of Ben Cohen would, well, do I even need to say?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Since he signed it ‘an admirer’, I’ll just wallow in the fact that he liked something I did here. Even just for the fact that he knows how much hard work and commitment goes into what we do.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So the question you probably have in your head now is did I spend the money on developing a chocolate matrix and not-hard mint inclusions or wine, women, and song?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I did what I thought Ben would want me to do of course.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I spent the first bit on his ice cream idea, and the rest on his other fine suggestions.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A most unexpected work-life balance lesson from Ben Cohen. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The hundred bucks is long gone, but his words continue to remind me of the important things in life. Work hard, always try to do better, but don’t forget to have fun along the way.</span></div>
<br /><br /></b><br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-9836724852393323422013-03-14T11:30:00.000-04:002013-03-14T11:30:24.426-04:00Ni Hao China - It's a Wrap.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhgLLCy3ZpZye9f4GaqSy76bSAFc6xhVtpRe6GRFS6DOt4ED_O6zbB9p4zZu6W6t52PEYE6Tnu65D8ZJJNeNprcmQ0SwMpUvcErp-7iAYSpQPtwo0RY3GZ7_x5KZKi1eu2WSJMA/s1600/i+1602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" psa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRhgLLCy3ZpZye9f4GaqSy76bSAFc6xhVtpRe6GRFS6DOt4ED_O6zbB9p4zZu6W6t52PEYE6Tnu65D8ZJJNeNprcmQ0SwMpUvcErp-7iAYSpQPtwo0RY3GZ7_x5KZKi1eu2WSJMA/s400/i+1602.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Well, I hope by now I've given you a pretty good feel for what it was like to be lost in translation in the People's Republic of China. I may need a thesaurus to come up with new adjectives to describe it if I go on much longer. I've tried hard to explain, and show, what it feels like to be dropped in a country so far away and different. China's history is measured in thousands of years where ours is in hundreds. From our view seven thousand miles away, it's hard to know exactly what 'communist country' means, especially when you read about how fast their economy is growing. They are definitely spending a considerable chunk of their surplus on infrastructure. Construction is everywhere. Most may not earn much from their government job, but all that are able are working.<br />
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The more obvious reminders of communism could be found in their one newspaper, The China Daily. You won't find any stories of protests or alternative political viewpoints. Try to access Facebook or Blogger or YouTube, and you will be greeted with an error screen. My brother is only able to post his blog through a VPN in San Francisco somewhere, and even that's been difficult lately, as the government has been trying to crack down on that method of access to the outside world.<br />
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I never felt unwelcome by strangers. It just seemed like more of an apathy. Most were just going about their daily routines and didn't seem to care much about the guy packed in the subway car next to them who had facial hair and an American passport. They couldn't speak English, and I could communicate only as fast as I could type into Google Translate on my phone.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hYvRCufuE4FCZtl-pNvJ-E_7d-HqPBaH9EzFiu46j5GpHgWF18aX3ekGcmwphqDOqdMPNpl8Hu0SfLWc5sLADG0Yhw4kGr-sLBDR2-2-FziNJMsIjKEBvhaNT0L9778TEyYTAQ/s1600/i+1386.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" psa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4hYvRCufuE4FCZtl-pNvJ-E_7d-HqPBaH9EzFiu46j5GpHgWF18aX3ekGcmwphqDOqdMPNpl8Hu0SfLWc5sLADG0Yhw4kGr-sLBDR2-2-FziNJMsIjKEBvhaNT0L9778TEyYTAQ/s320/i+1386.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I wasn't a big fan of the loud throat-clearing and spitting. I understand it's seen as a method of cleansing, and as you or I wouldn't give someone blowing their nose a second look, the Chinese seem to have made peace with their phlegm.<br />
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My last day in Beijing was filled with pagodas and markets and harmony temples, made much more interesting by the company of Tea, (pronounced Te-uh), a burly woman from Croatia. She was a foreign diplomat and had a deep, gravelly laugh. She taught me important worldly lessons like never give a Russian person the 'thumbs up' and made me laugh when she said, 'I hope this meal does not have consequences', in her thick, raspy Slavic accent, after our tour lunch at a place that definitely made both of us gastronomically anxious. She spoke about a dozen languages, and I recently found her on the Croatian conciliate website, so I know she was the real deal.<br />
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I was even more grateful for her company when I met a guy from Minnesota who was sitting next to us during lunch at the dark and dirty Chinese restaurant. He was eating silently with his local tour guide. I said hello, and we all chatted for a little while. He was ecstatic to be able to speak English to someone, since his was a tour of one. He too was visiting his brother, who is working in Beijing for Caterpillar. He was a farmer and only had one arm, which fascinated me, and made me wonder two things. What piece of farming equipment took his arm, and two, how hard must it be to be a farmer with only one arm. Ah, the characters you meet when you travel outside your comfort zone.<br />
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Here are a more few images from day two of my Beijing tour..<br />
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Some of the Guard leaving the Forbidden City..<br />
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One of the hundreds of ornate giant vessels found all around the Forbidden City. In pre-plumbing days, these were filled with water, ancient fire hydrants if you will..<br />
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Friends who have been to the Forbidden City, when they see this photo, are amazed how empty it was on this day. I guess traveling to China in January wasn't such a bad idea after all.<br />
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This was during my brother's visit in September...</div>
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Old lore has it that there are 9999.5 rooms in the City, just less than the 10K rooms in heaven's version, but truth be told there are actually only 8707.</div>
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Another stop on our tour was to a pearl market. Who knew cultured pearls could number in the 40's for a single oyster. Even the oysters are crowded in this country! It's no wonder natural pearls are so much more valuable.<br />
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Next stop on our cultural/shopping tour, a silk market. Here a woman explains the life cycle of the silkworm. Made me miss the giant mulberry tree that fell on my garage last October during the Halloween blizzard.<br />
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Pulling the silk into a swanky new blanket..<br />
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It was a fascinating, and often challenging three week adventure, and as I mentioned earlier, was an experience that has settled into my memory quite nicely. I admire my brother and his wife for accepting the challenge of living there. Their children will soon be fluent in Chinese which shouldn't be a bad thing to have when they hit the working world. The smog situation is actually worse than you might imagine, and I fear for their little lungs though. I really do hope the government uses some of that extra cash to solve that growing problem.<br />
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This was shot on the fast train somewhere between Beijing and Shanghai. And it was much worse in the city. Like a fog that never lifted. And had a subtle odor of the downwind side of a campfire.<br />
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Thanks for indulging me while I relived and recorded my observations. Like most of the rantings in my trusty Ice Cream Diaries, I hope to someday thumb through them again like an old, tattered journal with yellowed pages stumbled upon while cleaning out a long forgotten box in the attic.<br />
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I leave you with a large Chinese cabbage made out of jade. Why, you ask?<br />
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The Chinese people consider cabbage, a staple of their diet, to be a symbol of prosperity.<br />
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And there's something else I didn't know before I got on that long flight to Shanghai.<br />
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May your 2013 be bursting with cabbage.<br />
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I'm not sure what next January has in store, but I look forward to it already..Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-23792426803878862013-03-07T08:37:00.000-05:002013-03-07T08:40:45.083-05:00Ni Hao China - part 5 Beijing.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think when I left you, I was walking nervously towards the giant new train station in Xi’an. My brother and his family were off to the airport to fly back to their home city away from home of Shanghai, back to work and school and their regular ex-pat lives. And I was off to Beijing on a really fast train. Thanks to this sweet ride, I would be walking through the Beijing train station in four and a half short hours. No hard car overnight sleeper for me.</div>
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I looked forward to walking on the Great Wall and seeing the Forbidden City and all the other touristy sites Beijing had in store for me, but it was hard to not be anxious about all the challenges that it would take to get there. First off, finding my train and getting on it successfully within the ten minute window I would have from boarding call to push off from the gate. Thanks to the magic of the Internet, I at least knew how to read my ticket.</div>
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My brother had instructed me to simply find the big board in the station and watch for my train to arrive and be called. Of course, it turned out there was no such board in this brand new station, but I was still able to find the gate with my train number on it. Phew. The train eventually arrived, my ticket worked in the turnstile, and I was able to find my car and seat without incident. Small victories. I was on my way.</div>
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The Beijing station was a whole different scene. Dark and cold and chaotic, this place was the stuff of murder mysteries. I stayed focused, however, and made my way through the smoke from the smokers on the platform, through the station, dodging all the questionable Chinese men offering rides in their taxis, and into the half mile long legit taxi stand. Luckily, there were hundreds of China-issue taxis, so I was able to get in my own with only about a twenty minute wait. I handed the driver a copy of my hotel reservation, he mumbled something back in Chinese, and off we went. <br />
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Fifteen minutes of death defying driving chaos later, I was all checked-in and gleefully standing in my own little Crown Plaza Beijing nest. It was good to see the minibar well stocked with all the important things.<br />
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Having used up all my adventurousness getting there, I decided the 7-11 next door would be as far as I would venture that night. A movie in the room and convenience store snacks worked just fine. I had two big days ahead and wanted to be well-rested.<br />
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The pastry looking thing to the immediate left of my tall can of Budweiser, (how do you say 'redneck' in Mandarin?) turned out to be, instead of a cheese danish, a hot dog with mayonnaise. Not exactly what I had in mind for breakfast the next morning. The item to the right, a stack of dust masks. I must confess I actually didn't wear one outside the confines of my hotel room. I just figured of all the things that might kill me, it probably wouldn't be two days of Beijing smog, as bad as it was.</div>
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I had booked a two day tour when I was back in Shanghai, so all I had to do was meet the driver in the lobby the next morning. Tours are usually for twenty to thirty people, which means you may spend the first hour or more of your day just picking everyone up from all the different hotels. As luck and winter would have it, tours on both days had only one other tourist besides me, so not only did we save a bunch of time in pickups, no clunky white van for us. We got our own car. Two tourists, a driver and an English-speaking guide, great for us the customers but much less profitable for the guides (seemed to be one of the few time tips were actually expected), I’m sure a lot less stressful for them to keep tabs on two as opposed to thirty. It did seem hard for them to turn it off though. I felt like a foreign spy on surveillance at times, but then again I felt like that in most places I visited in China.<br />
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My travel buddy for day one was gentleman from the <a href="http://www.thekingdomoftonga.com/" target="_blank">Kingdom of Tonga</a>, a tiny country consisting of 176 islands, only 50 of which are inhabited, about an hour and a half flight from Fiji in the South Pacific. He was on his way to Geneva, Switzerland to conduct a bible study with the <a href="http://www.oikoumene.org/" target="_blank">World Council of Churches</a>. Good guy, and nice to have an English-speaking travel buddy for the day. Conversations on the way to the Great Wall ranged from his thoughts about who's actually to blame for Adam and Eve getting kicked out the Garden of Eden (he thinks Eve gets too much of the blame) to Michelangelo's risque use of nudity in his paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. This is one of the things I really love about travel. You just don't meet interesting characters like that at the local pub. Sure, they may be colorful, but chances are they didn't grow up on a tiny island in the South Pacific and have a wife they met at a bible summit in India.<br />
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Our first stop, The Great Wall, Badaling or ‘North Pass’. It took about an hour to drive there, and since we didn’t have to pick up twenty-two other tourists, we got there nice and early. The smog had cleared, and although it was brisk, we couldn’t have asked for a better January day to walk on the Wall. I’ll let my photos do the talking here.. Suffice to say, walking on the Wall was bordering on spiritual - peaceful and awesome and humbling. The trail to get on it was steep and the stairs on the wall even steeper. It was hard not to think of all the slave labor it took to construct this nearly 4000 mile man-made wonder.<br />
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Walk with me for a little while..<br />
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As you can see, it was more like the Great Stairway of China..<br />
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It's said that over a million men worked on the many different portions of the Great Wall, with the most famous portions built around 200 BC by our friend from the Terracotta Soldiers, Qin Shi Huang, first emperor of China. The wall was built in separate portions over many dynasties and were ultimately connected to form a continuous barrier from the nomads of the north. Builders were peasants, criminals, and scholars with opinions that didn't quite match up with the regimes. The work was brutal and hazardous. Nearly one in three men worked on it, and if you were 'invited' to partake in the backbreaking work, you had only a three in ten chance of returning alive. I tried not to think about the many bodies entombed in the wall underneath my feet.<br />
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And no, the Wall is not visible from the Moon. I'm sure it shows up on Google Earth now, but then again so does the barbecue in my backyard.<br />
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The rest of the tour almost seems insignificant compared to that walk on the Wall, but here are a few shots to round out the day.</div>
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Next stop, a Jade Market. Turns out Jade is a pretty big deal here.</div>
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I tried not to become prey to the many 'purchase optional' stops on our tours, but I just couldn't resist picking a souvenir 'Happiness Ball'. It's crafted out of a single piece of jade and has two carved balls that move independently inside a fancy outer shell. It's meant to represent happiness throughout the generations of a family.<br />
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We also stopped at the Ming Tombs. Interesting, but as you might guess, I was starting to get a little pagoda fatigue at this point..<br />
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Tea tasting at a real Chinese tea room (exit through the gift shop of course)..<br />
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Since we were still running ahead of schedule, we got to end our first day tour at a Chinese alternative medicine hospital. A local doctor explained a number of alternative methods such as acupuncture and healing herbs. To prove these methods work, we were treated to free foot massages (the only other time I heard the word 'tip' used in China). <br />
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Most of the rest of the day was spent exploring the local markets near my hotel and scaring up something tasty on a stick for dinner.<br />
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But you already know about the <a href="http://icecreamdiaries.blogspot.com/2013/02/ni-hao-china-part-3-food-episode.html" target="_blank">dinner part</a>.<br />
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That was a pretty great day.<br />
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Well, it seems I won't be able to get my entire Beijing visit into one blog post. Thanks for staying with me this far. One more entry should do it. Stay tuned. <br />
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I'm hoping to include a little wrap-up along with my collection of China trivia I gathered like sea glass along this journey..Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-3908587782423310042013-02-28T15:47:00.000-05:002013-02-28T15:54:58.938-05:00Ni Hao China - Part 4 - Terracotta Soldiers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
"All genuine knowledge originates in direct experience." - Mao Tse Tung</div>
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After spending a week in Shanghai, it was time to hit the road. Or the air, to be more exact. A quick train ride to the airport, and by quick I mean 250 miles per hour on a <a href="http://www.travelchinaguide.com/cityguides/shanghai/getting-around.htm" target="_blank">magnetic levitation train</a>, very cool. My brother and his family had never been to Xi'an, so they decided to come along for the second leg of my three city tour. In the interest of travel time, we opted for China Airways. I'd heard some horror stories about domestic air travel, but it's come a long way in the past few years. Aside from traveling with all Asian fliers, it felt pretty much the same as a normal flight from Hartford to Orlando to visit the folks. The only real difference I noticed was they don't seem to buy into the concept of lining up and boarding by row. People crowd the front of the gate at least a half hour ahead of time, and when boarding is announced, it's every person for themselves. Come to think of it, that was the general feeling I got throughout my travels in China. A friend had recently described the Chinese as 'rude', but I just felt like people were just doing what they had to do to get from point A to point B. Let's face it, a billion is a lot of people to crowd into one country.</div>
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Thanks to my brother's frequent traveler status, we got to enjoy celebrity check-in from the cushy chairs in the executive lounge. Free Tsing Taos and fancy snacks. Xi'an, so far so good.</div>
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In case your China geography is rusty, Xi'an is north and slightly west of Shanghai, and as you can see from this map, almost on the way to Beijing, my next destination..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Kd7IOD7NBo0tiZfGmC5nzfOmJ6uHRTgzdDfhpa0LOdleNy8l2IFZBfWPuC2WaOj3a8lkZbcg7znbnthADuZAQaFQGlhiywdRB392dtfLKlAjTqchwrgBkkBTgnbK4O2EYpi5eg/s1600/mchina.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5Kd7IOD7NBo0tiZfGmC5nzfOmJ6uHRTgzdDfhpa0LOdleNy8l2IFZBfWPuC2WaOj3a8lkZbcg7znbnthADuZAQaFQGlhiywdRB392dtfLKlAjTqchwrgBkkBTgnbK4O2EYpi5eg/s320/mchina.gif" width="320" /></a></div>
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Aside from the big wall around the perimeter of the downtown, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Xi%27an_Montage.png" target="_blank">Xi'an</a> looked like a typical chaotic, bustling and overpopulated Chinese city. Its population is around four million, about half the size of New York City. Shanghai is China's largest, at 15 million, and Beijing sits around 11 million. Here's a view from our fancy <a href="http://www.sofitel.com/gb/hotel-5949-sofitel-xian-on-renmin-square/index.shtml" target="_blank">Sofitel Hotel</a>..<br />
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Tourists mostly come to Xi'an to see the famous Terracotta Warriors, and we were no exception. A long day of planes, trains, and taxi's didn't stop us from wandering over to the Muslim Quarter to grab a bite and take in some of the local culture first though. We passed the Drum Tower and Great Mosque, but unfortunately both were covered in scaffolding and closed to the public. The Quarter was still well worth the twenty minute walk and death-defying street crossing to get there.</div>
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This photo doesn't really capture its energy. This walking street was buzzing with activity. Street food vendors were everywhere (I already talked about the food here in the <a href="http://icecreamdiaries.blogspot.com/2013/02/ni-hao-china-part-3-food-episode.html" target="_blank">last installment</a>). Trinket shops and markets lined the streets. This is where I learned you never pay full price for anything in the streets and markets of China. In fact, it became a bit of a competition among family members to see who could get the best deal on souvenir mini Terracotta Soldiers.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4nRQBOkiE4fLSTpft9fpiQk2zrj507wbNFukdLnSdkh5pq0GpfXpUBAsF0Vd1fDoC7mx7NbbmHHWgXHtEx32xF6dlPZonDe5IpVNcHgroQt4_EsztE-LG24NwTVU2eekUPlNZA/s1600/mchina2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4nRQBOkiE4fLSTpft9fpiQk2zrj507wbNFukdLnSdkh5pq0GpfXpUBAsF0Vd1fDoC7mx7NbbmHHWgXHtEx32xF6dlPZonDe5IpVNcHgroQt4_EsztE-LG24NwTVU2eekUPlNZA/s320/mchina2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Which brings me to the main reason we traveled to Xi'an, to see the Terracotta Army.<br />
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Discovered in 1974 by a farmer digging a well, the Terracotta Soldiers have become a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terracotta_Army" target="_blank">major tourist attraction</a> in China. And for good reason, they are impressive. Built in 200 BC for China's first emperor, Qin Shi Huang, the Terracotta Army is a collection of 8,000 life sized soldiers and hundreds of chariots and horses. Emperor Huang thought that by building this faux-army and assembling it near his tomb, he would be able to bring them all along to his afterlife and be able to kick butt there too. Ok, so he may not have said 'kicked butt'. The hollow statues were made by government laborers and craftsmen. Faces resemble actual warriors. I'd seen pictures, but I was excited to see them in real life, in the actual place they were first assembled, now one of the world's most well-known archaeological digs.<br />
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My brother had worked out a little arrangement with a Chinese colleague who provided a driver and an English-speaking guide to take us to a few of the local sites and to the Warriors. He called it 'Guanxi', which basically means my brother owes him a big favor.<br />
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First stops on the way. The <a href="http://www.travelchinaguide.com/attraction/shaanxi/xian/banpo.htm" target="_blank">Ban Po Museum</a>, an ancient settlement, and by far the coldest museum I've ever experienced.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGESah4dGLL4Uh9L62DVm1VWB3lq4q2_8ULwez26SkoAKMVHOwsCVJgnY8Rt_is-jBTA5A8m5beoqK8AEwFnV4E-Ligc8CNtEdJwtHibKdl9E-X6O7jlNZ3_hyPT_YVwO7Wn42Q/s1600/i+1458.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsGESah4dGLL4Uh9L62DVm1VWB3lq4q2_8ULwez26SkoAKMVHOwsCVJgnY8Rt_is-jBTA5A8m5beoqK8AEwFnV4E-Ligc8CNtEdJwtHibKdl9E-X6O7jlNZ3_hyPT_YVwO7Wn42Q/s320/i+1458.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Next, it was off to the Huaqing Hot Springs, beautiful..<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-rmcvvxFTejjEn2iJJg3jiontxMOiUPFG22lfBaEEMYJ1DpmW1gI5kc59YUcYUn1hHvuw_QPZiBXX-qqNjpv62QFPKcL0FE3kfJYavbLe3DO88QQ6HkgA0UM70Vhlc-J4v4idw/s1600/Photo+Jan+12,+3+06+22+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" gsa="true" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO-rmcvvxFTejjEn2iJJg3jiontxMOiUPFG22lfBaEEMYJ1DpmW1gI5kc59YUcYUn1hHvuw_QPZiBXX-qqNjpv62QFPKcL0FE3kfJYavbLe3DO88QQ6HkgA0UM70Vhlc-J4v4idw/s400/Photo+Jan+12,+3+06+22+AM.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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And a good place to warm up our hands..<br />
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On a side note, the Chinese locals loved to get their picture taken with my nephews and niece. Especially my niece. Strangers would constantly ask, some more aggressively than others, to pose with her. She was always a good sport about it. Here she is, summoning her inner rock star...</div>
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Now without further delay, we get to the site of the Terracotta Warriors..</div>
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Understated but definitely built to support large crowds, the grounds did little to give away any hints as to what lay in the pits we were about to see.<br />
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There are three pits, and although pits two and three were interesting in their own ways, pit one was what we'd come to see.<br />
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A small museum gave us a close look at some of the figures, through glass...<br />
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We entered the giant airplane hanger from the back. Here's the staging area where soldiers are painstakingly brought back to their original form. The paint is gone, but all the other detail remains.</div>
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No small feat when you consider the condition many of these figures were in when they were first unearthed. There was a revolt just be the emperor died. His mausoleum was ransacked and burnt. Guess the working folk were just tired of being forced to make all those soldiers for their death-fearing dictator.<br />
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Here we all are. As I've said, long johns and a ski hat were my devoted travel companions for most of the trip.<br />
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And here it is...<br />
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Side View..<br />
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Not sure if this giant army made out of terracotta actually helped China's first chairman in his afterlife, but a pretty impressive display nonetheless.<br />
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The weekend in Xi'an ended with my brother and his family waving goodbye to me as I anxiously walked toward a crowded train station and an awaiting bullet train to take me to Beijing, the grand finale of my tour...<br />
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Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-78071744218327604122013-02-23T13:18:00.000-05:002013-02-23T13:18:15.835-05:00Ni Hao China Part 3 - The Food Episode<br />
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I think I left you looking at a display of bugs on sticks in a street vendor’s booth. There was one small detail you couldn’t tell from the picture, if you look closely...</div>
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Needless to say, I passed on that one. I was much more partial to dumplings, noodles, and ‘normal’ meats on sticks.<br />
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I wouldn’t consider myself a ‘foodie’, except perhaps in matters of desserts frozen of course, but I do believe food should definitely be a big part of any travel experience. I think you would agree. Luckily, I spent the first week in China with my brother and his family, so I had help with immersing myself in China's culinary culture. They’ve been there for almost a year now and although I wouldn’t call them fluent yet, they can speak enough Mandarin to navigate a menu and answer a taxi driver’s basic questions. No small feat in either case, as I discovered.<br />
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Our first adventure to downtown Shanghai took us to the top of the Oriental Pearl tower. <br />
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The highlight of that was the floor with the glass floor. The kids were fearless, but we adults took a little longer to feel comfortable walking on glass a few thousand feet in the air.</div>
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Next was a walk down East Nanjing Road, a popular pedestrian street somewhat larger a version of Boston’s downtown crossing but with thousands of Asian people scurrying about. I’d been warned to not be swayed by locals peddling ‘massages’, however you imagine that experience, but we didn’t encounter any of that.<br />
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Of course, when I went back there a few days later by myself, it was a whole different story. It seems a foreigner male walking alone may as well have a big X on his back. “Dvd's, watches, massage?’ These guys (the ladies who would perform such services were kept safe in whatever room they would bring you too, should you be foolish enough to accept their offer). After being followed and re-accosted five or six times in a four block stretch, I figured it was time to retreat to the safety of my brother's ex-pat bubble.<br />
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But I digress. We were talking about food. This was another top five meal in China..<br />
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I must confess, although I rarely do fast food here at home, a couple times while on my own I just wanted simple and easy. Most of the servers at Mickey D's and the even more common KFC still didn’t speak English, but at least they had a laminated placemat with pictures of all the meal options.<br />
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Another helpful visual aid for food ordering was the ‘exhibit A’ approach. At this local fast-food place, you just point to the dishes you want as the server writes them down. After you take that list to the cashier to pay, your food is cooked and brought to your table.<br />
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This was another one of my favorites, the anatomically-correct squirrel fish.<br />
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As I mentioned, many Chinese have no kitchens, which would explain the nearly two block stretch of street food vendors I came across in Beijing. So many choices. I usually kept it pretty simple with dumplings and what I’d hoped was either chicken or beef on sticks.<br />
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Here’s a shot of my brother ordering a bunch of stuff on sticks for us. <br />
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The server took our order outside where this guy cooked it up for us on his grill.</div>
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The last night in Shanghai, my brother and I went to his favorite local Chinese restaurant. It was a Tuesday night and the place was jammed. I knew we were in for a treat when we walked by a room full of aquariums, fostering at least one of our entrees.<br />
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It was certainly odd to see people smoking at their tables. Made me appreciate the smoke-free lifestyle we enjoy in our country. Large groups of what seemed like Asian businessmen sat around tables overflowing with dishes of food and Tsing Tao beers. My brother told me about the business dinners he attends nearly weekly where they just keep bringing out dish after dish. It’s impolite to not toast and empty your glass when someone raises theirs to you. He confessed he'd left many a dinner stuffed and happy to have a taxi drive him home. Our dinner was tasty and filling, but we saved room for a nightcap or two on the way home.<br />
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For that, we went to my brother’s go-to place - The <a href="http://www.bigbamboo.asia/" target="_blank">Big Bamboo</a>, his pub away from home. Smokey like the restaurant but full of Budweiser-drinking ex-pats and chicken wings. It was like stepping out of China and into the Brass Cat. A table full of Canadians screamed at a hockey game on a big screen. My brother and I tossed down a couple Coopers Pale Ales as he told me all about life as an American in China. It was long 7000 mile trip to get to that bar stool but well worth it. Skype just couldn’t do that conversation justice.<br />
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Since this has become the food issue, here are a few of my favorite food shots...<br />
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An original 'pop-up shop', fresh pomegranates from the back of a bicycle..<br />
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Cornish Game Peking Ducks?..<br />
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Roasted chestnut anyone?</div>
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My nephews enjoying, none other than, Dairy Queen Blizzards. What can I say, it must be in the genes...<br />
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One giant burger (meat imported from Australia), Blue Frog, Shanghai. Mmm.<br />
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Ok, one more, from the <a href="http://www.carrefour.com.cn/Shop/ShopEng_190.htm" target="_blank">Carrefour</a> supermarket near my brother's house...<br />
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Not sure what you would do with one of those, but intriguing nonetheless.<br />
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Not sure if that made you more or less hungry than you were when you started. Suffice to say, eating in China was an adventure in itself, not to mention having to learn how to operate chopsticks in a hurry. I was glad I took a few chances in that area without being reckless with my insides, taking my brother's advice, 'when in doubt, don't ask what it is until after you've eaten it.'<br />
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Next up, taking the fast train to X’ian to see the Terracotta Warriors and on to Beijing to walk on that big old wall. Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-27321491136414461682013-02-18T14:01:00.000-05:002013-02-18T14:01:42.412-05:00Ni Hao China - Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib31cqTzZFcMIhzMsAvs_oyjA5IGk0ZXufu0Xrld2zcJ5Ri69t965s0NJE4xg5W0paC9hHSHjF33c1zYAFUdA_bfcKJX7E3szFQanBkZ8uEn8I8H57OdYOrOuByNFUUBl9u7g0xA/s1600/Photo+Jan+04,+9+09+14+PM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib31cqTzZFcMIhzMsAvs_oyjA5IGk0ZXufu0Xrld2zcJ5Ri69t965s0NJE4xg5W0paC9hHSHjF33c1zYAFUdA_bfcKJX7E3szFQanBkZ8uEn8I8H57OdYOrOuByNFUUBl9u7g0xA/s320/Photo+Jan+04,+9+09+14+PM.jpg" uea="true" width="320" /></a></div>
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With all the restart activities and Valentine's Day prep behind me, I can get back to my China travel blog. Now where was I...<br />
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It’s been a few weeks since I returned from China, and if I’ve seen you, some of my stories may sound familiar, so apologies in advance if I repeat myself. A lot of people have asked me ‘how was it?’, and it’s hard for me to just say, ‘it was awesome, unbelievable, amazing’ without a little bit of hesitation. My trip is settling in nicely as time goes by though, and it's now approaching awesome status in my mind. When I was there, it was hard to not feel at least a little bit on edge most of the time. China is just so different. Signs looked like ancient hieroglyphics and words coming out of people’s mouths had about the same meaning as a dog's bark to me. There was no way to blend in. It’s hard to describe the feeling of being the only non-dark-haired non-Asian in a crowded subway car. I consider myself fairly well-traveled and even got to live in France and the Netherlands for months at a time back in my corporate days, but I’ve never felt so illiterate and an island as I did in China. Things I took for granted, like taxi drivers speaking English or understanding the specials your waitress is describing, were just not going to happen, and I quickly realized that the sooner I accepted that, the more I would enjoy this little adventure on the other side of the planet. </div>
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I also realized adding international data roaming to my cell phone service and the Google translate app to my Iphone might not be a bad idea.<br />
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While getting into a taxi with only my passport, phone, a stack of Yuan, and a taxi card with my desired destination written in Chinese on it became an adrenalized-infused adventure, both for the fact that I never really knew if I was going to end up where I planned and that driving in China was absolute mayhem, such challenges turned out to be the defining experiences of my trip and the most memorable. Especially since I lived to tell the tales.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqJwyxR5W77Rda14Aq46a2Aqw4dT1w6ZKcqFzYxgQQpCOUFCX55ydU5GLQ-BkTRicI32Vlu7UT4sgaYGvQ0x9JtCCres-pNOwotbkmYIvhRwx1l442fXe92zVd6SayJDnDaXJbw/s1600/i+1689.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHqJwyxR5W77Rda14Aq46a2Aqw4dT1w6ZKcqFzYxgQQpCOUFCX55ydU5GLQ-BkTRicI32Vlu7UT4sgaYGvQ0x9JtCCres-pNOwotbkmYIvhRwx1l442fXe92zVd6SayJDnDaXJbw/s320/i+1689.jpg" uea="true" width="320" /></a></div>
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Sure, it was amazing to see the giant pagodas at the Ming Tombs and walk through the Forbidden City in Beijing, and I will get to all that, but it was the feeling of being immersed in a culture so foreign and far away that really made it for me.<br />
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One of the biggest eye-openers was seeing how most Chinese people actually live. It’s pretty well known that China has been enjoying a huge trade surplus for a number of years and been floating us loans to cover our growing debt. It wasn’t hard to notice they are definitely spending some of their cash on improving their infrastructure. New highways, vast arrays of high rise apartment buildings, airports and train stations could be seen in varying states of construction everywhere I went in China. From first glance, it seemed China really was in a state of unabashed prosperity. Not to mention that a good portion of the Shanghai skyline is less than twenty years old!</div>
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The part I wasn’t expecting to find was that the majority of the population lives in what you and I would call poverty. It’s difficult to know how accurate statistics are but <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poverty_in_the_People's_Republic_of_China" target="_blank">World Bank estimates</a> 70% of the population lives on less than $5.00 per day. For most, this means living in an unheated house with no kitchen and a bathroom they share with their neighbors. My brother has a housekeeper who takes a shower in their house, because she doesn’t have one at home. I will say, though, I rarely saw a homeless person or a panhandler. The government supports their citizens in need, but there are no free lunches. Everyone gets a job to earn this support, even if that job may involve sweeping a fifty foot swath of sidewalk with a hand-thatched broom all day long. Poverty rates are definitely declining, but there still exists a large gap between lower income and upper. In fact, one of their major challenges is trying to create a real middle class. It will be interesting to see how they do at that. Obviously, there's a lot more to this, but in the interest of your time, I'll leave it there for now.</div>
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The first day my brother took me on a little bicycle tour of the local neighborhood near his home. The interesting part, and it’s hard to say without sounding condescending, is I never felt unsafe. A similar neighborhood in the U.S. would definitely not make me feel that way, even on such a Sunday morning. We visited a ‘wet market’, appropriately named for the liberal use of water to hose down floors, keep produce wet, and of course have tubs for the live fish to swim in. </div>
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My brother picking out some fresh edamame.<br />
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This first immersion excursion also included my first taste of ‘street food’. A tasty, crepey thing with egg and some mystery sauces from an old plastic bowl and painted on with an even older paintbrush, cooked to crunchy perfection on a big flat hot plate. A good friend had warned me it wasn’t an ‘if’ but a ‘when’ I’d get sick from the food while I was there, and I was fairly certain her prophecy was about to come true. </div>
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Darned if it wasn’t some of the best food I had the entire trip, and it passed through me without a hitch. I think it cost about a buck, and I split it with my brother. A definite confidence builder for my street food adventurousness. Bring on the stuff on sticks!</div>
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Much more to tell, stay tuned..Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-8558414389087855292013-01-25T16:42:00.000-05:002013-01-25T16:42:41.382-05:00Who goes to China on vacation anyway?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hello from the middle of my break. I'm back from the other side of the planet and am currently relaxing by the pool at my parents' place in room temperature central Florida. It's not quite pool weather here, but I'll take 68 degrees over single digits any day in January. Until I returned from China last week, I always considered jet lag to be just an old-wives' tale at best, at worst a minor nuisance that just made you feel a little more tired when your wristwatch said midnight and your California rental car said 9 pm. Since crossing back over the international date line the end of last week, I've found myself wide awake at 2 am and dead tired at 2 pm ever since, having been schooled firsthand that jet lag is very real. They say you get about an hour closer to normal per day, so I hope that by the time I reopen in a few weeks, I'll be, as advertised, well rested and ready to go.</div>
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In the meantime, I thought I'd drop in here and start to tell you a few tales of my big adventure to the Far East. As expected, this year's getaway was very different from my usual tropical escape. I'd be lying if I didn't admit there were a couple times during my winter wander through China I fantasized about a beach, 30 sunblock, and a tropical drink. I'd just have to remind myself, 'you're in China, how many people (who aren't Chinese) get to experience that? I'm sure you'll be able to find a happy island next year.' China was everything I'd hoped for, anticipated, and feared. And then some. It was fascinating, awe-striking, stressful, humbling, satisfying, and eye-opening. I got to walk on the Great Wall, the only man-made object that can be seen from the moon. I gazed across a giant sea of terracotta warriors, only recently unearthed from their sacred burial near the tomb of Qin Shi Huang, first emperor of China back in 200 b.c. I wanderlust'ed through the Forbidden City and the Temple of Heaven and climbed the Oriental Tower in the center of a vibrant downtown Shanghai. I saw enough pagodas to last me a lifetime, ate squirrel fish, and I even got pretty good at operating chopsticks.</div>
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But none of that defines what this trip was really like for me. Sure, all those places were amazing. I have some great photos to share, and I learned a ton about the history of China, from the ancient emperor days to the turbulent times of the recent cultural revolution. For me, this trip was more about being out of my comfort zone for a full two weeks. I was a complete stranger in a foreign land, able to communicate with few besides my brother and his family, my hosts. Their housekeeper didn't even speak English. Street signs and lunch specials sandwich boards served as constant reminders of my illiteracy in this crowded country. </div>
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Rarely did I even see a non-Chinese person. Simple things like telling a taxi driver where I wanted to go or ordering a plate of dumplings became daunting tasks. It was stressful and challenging, and when it was done, I felt an unexpected sense of satisfaction just for having done it and returning unscathed. </div>
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Why would I go to China in the middle of winter, you ask? As you could probably figure out, as an ice cream shop owner, my annual travel window coincides with the cold weather you see outside your window right now. Climbing the Great Wall required long johns and a winter hat, but being there without the summer season throngs of tourists turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The Summer Palace in Beijing gets nearly 200,000 visitors every single day. My tour guide described walking through the long corridor in season - 'there are so many people, you can't stop walking because you'd be knocked over'. The day we went felt like a midweek trip to the Holyoke Mall, just picture it full of Chinese tourists with cameras.</div>
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The other part of the decision to go to China this year was because I now have a brother living there. He took a job with GE last year that sent him to Shanghai for three years. About this time last year, he and his wife were packing up their house, readying their three young children, house hunting in Shanghai, and taking GE culture classes in Michigan. It wasn't a decision to be taken lightly, but the dream job, leading a team of engineers in a joint venture with a Chinese company building a 737-like commercial jet from scratch, and the adventure of living in a foreign land proved too tempting for him and his wife Elspeth to pass up. </div>
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GE set them up well - a beautiful, spacious house in a gated community full of ex-pats, a great international school within walking distance for each of their kids, and a healthy travel allowance for taxis and other forms of public transit (since they wouldn't be driving themselves). I'd been keeping up with their ex-pat life experience via <a href="http://theshanghaiway.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">their blog</a> and the occasional email and Skype, but I just had to see this new life of theirs for myself. I'd come close a few times back in my corporate jet-setting days, but I'd never been to the Far East, and I had an open window of January travel this year, so I figured why not. I booked a flight and ordered up a travel visa back in October, and although I surfed a little bit on it over the months leading up to my trip, I must admit I arrived in China woefully unprepared for the challenges that awaited. </div>
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My primary travel objectives were simply 1,) get a taste of my brother Mike's new life 2.) enjoy some quality Uncle time with my two nephews and niece 3.) walk on the Great Wall and see a few temples 4.) not get sick from eating the local food.</div>
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In my next installment, I'll let you know how I did and share more photos, stories, and observations. </div>
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<br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-27456801466301984652012-12-01T13:46:00.000-05:002012-12-01T13:46:31.164-05:00My High School Reunion.<br />
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Last week, I went to my high school reunion.<br />
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It was a blast seeing all the pals from the good old days of my youth. It was a casual affair, at the local Elks club, which used to be the post office, itself a throwback to a younger version of my hometown. Father time was kinder to some than others, but everyone there was in great spirits as we each bounced around the room, reacquainting with all the old mates. Where do you live? Do you have kids? What do you do? It was a lot of fun and surprisingly without a hint of one-upmanship to be seen. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to be back in the same post office together, nearly two teenage lifetimes since we'd said our goodbyes on graduation day.<br />
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Whoever said 'time flies' wasn't kidding.<br />
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We told stories from the high school glory days and laughed about all the stupid things we did when we were young and stupid. And we talked about our lives today. In the interest of time, most of the conversations seemed to skip the decades in between and cut right to the current chase. Of course, I never get tired of telling my story of what I do for a living. Short of my friend Jimmy who flies one of those F15's overhead every few days, I still think I have the coolest job around. And who doesn't like to talk about ice cream, right?<br />
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As I drove back from my old hometown of Mansfield, Massachusetts, after the obligatory drive by the house I grew up in, I sorted through the many conversations I'd had over the course of the night. One in particular stuck in my head. My best friend in first grade was a kid named Franny. He and I were inseparable back in those wonder years. He was the precocious artist, and I was the kid who could tell time in first grade. And of course, I was also the kid who always had ice cream in his freezer on account of his dad worked for Howard Johnson's. Needless to say, few were surprised when I confessed I now worked in 'ice cream'. Franny lived on the left coast for most of his adult life, so we haven't been in touch except for one time when we hung out during a business trip I took to California back in the 90's. Turns out, he got laid off a couple years ago and had to move back. With the job market working against him, he became truly the starving artist and was forced to relocate to his parents' house in Mansfield. The image of him living under his parents' roof now brought it all back for me. </div>
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That's exactly what happened to me about a decade ago.</div>
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If you're a long-time reader of the Ice Cream Diaries, you've heard this story eighteen different ways, so I'll try to keep it brief. Around a dozen years ago, I was living quite comfortably as an engineering manager at a promising telcom start-up. I wouldn't say I was living my dream life exactly, but it was a pretty good life nonetheless. The money was great. I was living in downtown Boston. I worked a lot of hours and had a long commute, but the work environment was fun, exciting, and full of promise - the next big thing. I had a eclectic circle of friends and made time to mountain bike, take pictures, write, and do all the other extracurricular activities I enjoy.</div>
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Then one unassuming Tuesday, the rug was literally pulled out from underneath me. Suddenly and without a hint of warning (OK, there probably were signs, but it seems I wasn't paying attention), I was unemployed. I remember that walk of shame like it was yesterday, box of desk trivia clutched under my arm, walking zombie-like toward the exit door, mind desperately trying to process what had just happened and how could I not have seen it coming.</div>
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Minutes later I was sitting on a beach. I pondered who to call first as I licked my wounds like a deer hit on a country road and left for dead by a stranger in a white Buick. What happened next was a moment that literally changed my life. Like when the Grinch realized he hadn't actually stolen Christmas, and his heart grew out of his chest.</div>
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I made a decision.</div>
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And in that moment, I turned a devastating, humbling, ego-shattering experience into an event so empowering for me, I am still feeling its effects more than a decade later.</div>
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I decided that this was going to be the BEST thing that ever happened to me.</div>
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I took stock of my situation in the most positive terms I could muster. I was single and didn't have a family that would go hungry in a few weeks. In fact, I had been living below my means for most of my adult life and had a nice financial cushion to fall into, along with a decent severance and unemployment that would soon be coming my way. I comforted my ego by reminding myself the company was failing. It had yet to build a real product, and the first prototypes had turned out to be prohibitively expensive. Sure, there were things I could have done differently at that job, but I did the best I could, and being laid off was probably inevitable. This turn out to be fact when the company faded to black less than a year later.</div>
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By the end of that fateful day, I was overflowing with an energy and excitement for life I hadn't felt in years. I could DO whatever I wanted. I could BE whatever I wanted. I could GO wherever I wanted. I quickly decided I would seize that moment for the entire summer. I had always wanted to drive cross-country. On the way back to my apartment in Boston, I bought an jumbo road atlas at WalMart.</div>
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That summer took me to 37 states, 13 national parks, including Alaska and Hawaii. I returned rejuvenated, refreshed, and reacquainted with many lost friends and relatives. I also returned with countless priceless memories, thousands of photographs, three full handwritten journals, and a rough draft for a book for my little brother. It was an amazing journey, equalled only by the three month trip to Australia and New Zealand I took two weeks after I returned from my tour of the USA.</div>
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Those truly were days of living in the moment.</div>
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I must admit, though, after almost a year of vagabonding, the thought of trading in my cubicle for an ice cream kitchen still hadn't popped into my idled mind.</div>
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No, that happened a few months after I'd returned from the other side of the planet and was living with my parents. Yes, living with my parents. In my 30's. Just like my friend Franny from first grade. That's another moment I can remember like it was yesterday. Dad and I were sitting at the kitchen table. We were drinking Folger's coffee and reading the Boston Globe. He had sold his own ice cream shop just a few months before. I don't really even know where it came from, but the next words out of my mouth were the ones that would redirect the entire course of my life.<br />
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'So what do you think about me opening my own ice cream shop?'<br />
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Hang in there Franny, everything happens for a reason. Take it from a guy who knows.<br />
<br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-29290708684668545882012-11-15T16:11:00.000-05:002012-11-15T16:11:27.205-05:00Don't Wander. Be Happy.<br />
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In an attempt to escape election season propaganda overload last week, I found myself wandering around one of my favorite sites <a href="http://www.ted.com/">www.ted.com</a> in search or relief and inspiration. What I came across was the video below. Matt Killingsworth's 'Stay in the Moment'<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" mozallowfullscreen="mozallowfullscreen" scrolling="no" src="http://embed.ted.com/talks/matt_killingsworth_want_to_be_happier_stay_in_the_moment.html" webkitallowfullscreen="webkitallowfullscreen" width="560"></iframe><br />
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It's well worth the 10 minutes it takes to watch, but in case you're at your desk at work and without headphones, I can summarize it for you. They are conducting a study to gather 'happy data'. You can read all about it at their website <a href="http://www.trackyourhappiness.org/">www.trackyourhappiness.org</a>. Over 15,000 test subjects from all walks of life (gender, income, marital status, age, etc.) installed apps on their phones that allow Matt and his team to send them random messages throughout the day. When a subject gets a message, he or she simply responds to a short list of questions - what are you doing right now? are you enjoying it? are you thinking about something else? After collecting over 650,000 sets of data, they've started to study it for meaning.<br />
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What they're discovering is very interesting. People were happy around 66% of the time when they were focused on the task at hand. When their mind was wandering, they were happy only 57% of the time. The data also shows that people are less happy when their mind wanders even while they're doing something they don't enjoy, like commuting.<br />
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The data further suggest that while there is a strong correlation between mind wandering now and being less happy later, there is no correlation between being unhappy now and mind wandering. In other words, people aren't just daydreaming to distract themselves from an unpleasant present. In fact, more often they let their minds wander off to think about unpleasant things like worries, anxieties, and regrets rather than happy things like their last vaction or a giant hot fudge sundae. <br />
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If you're skeptical, pay attention to what you're thinking about when you're not entirely focused on making that sandwich or writing a TPR report or taking a shower. Are they happy thoughts or something else?<br />
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It may sound like one of those crazy studies you read about all the time that brags to prove what would seem obvious - like exercise is good for your health, and drinking a lot of soda is not.<br />
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So what can we learn from the results of this study that we haven't been told a hundred times by Ram Dass ('Be Here Now'), Thich Nhat Hanh ('Life is available only in the present moment'), or Dalai Lama ('Focus on the present moment, and that moment alone.')? Every moment holds a choice for us - to be in it or to be somewhere else. This study seems to show when you're daydreaming, you are more often going to a place that's less enjoyable than the one you're in at that moment. One obvious solution would be to try to pay attention to your thoughts and when a worry, anxiety, or regret come up, simply try to think of something more upbeat.<br />
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The other solution is to try to stay in the now. Neither the past nor the future actually exist. They are merely figments in our imagination. Images of what has already happened to us, chock-full of self-critique and second-guessing, and stressful visions of future outcomes that may not even happen. Neither is taking place right now. The only thing that's real, the only thing happening to us at all, is what's happening in this instant. Even the beginning of this paragraph is already a piece of your past.<br />
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Eckhart Tolle, the guy that looks like Benjamin Linus on Lost, in his book The Power of Now,<b> </b>describes it this way - <b>"This moment is your life.</b> – Your life is not between
the moments of your birth and death. Your life is between now and your
next breath. The present – the here and now – is all the life you ever
get. So live each moment in full, in kindness and peace, without fear
and regret. And do the best you can with what you have in this moment;
because that is all you can ever expect of anyone, including yourself."<br />
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This moment is the only one that's real.<br />
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this one.<br />
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now this one.<br />
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Stay in it. That's where the action is. Or so say the scientists and mystics and Zen'ny ice cream makers.<br />
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Thanks for staying with me on that one. I'll try to keep it lighter next time, must be a Daylight Savings thing.<br />
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Namaste.<br />
<br />
jim<br />
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<br />Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-52115297588252560672012-10-03T09:02:00.000-04:002012-10-03T09:02:14.776-04:009 years but who's counting.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Long time no speak.</div>
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As predicted back in July, I've allowed
the time demands of owning and operating an ice cream shop get the
best of me again. A number of blog ideas have come and gone since
then, with a few even making it as far as one of my endless index
card to-do lists. The chaos of the summer scoop season has finally
waned, the new crew members are up to speed, and with the help of a
dark and rainy day, I find myself with a little free time to crack
open the trusty Ice Cream Diary.</div>
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I hope this entry finds you well.
And that this summer brought you many days of 'fun in the sun'. We couldn't have asked for
much better weather, that's for certain. That, along with continued
great word of mouth, many BearFest 2012 visitors, and you, all helped
make this another record-breaker for your favorite scoop shop. And for that you have my sincerest
thanks. As I've said since day one, I've got one of the greatest jobs on the planet. Sure, it's a ton of work, but it's
way more than a ton of fun to be able to make a living providing happiness in the
form of frozen homemade goodness. </div>
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Speaking of day one, a friend emailed
me today to wish my baby (Mt. Tom's) a happy birthday. She turns 9 today. It's hard for me to wrap my head around that
number. Time truly does fly when you're having fun. I remember
when I first decided to do it, I said to myself, 'give it five years,
and if it's not a success or I'm not having fun, I'll get out and go back
to engineering. Or try something else.' Well, it seems I blew right
by that five year checkpoint and am rapidly approaching a decade
behind the apron.
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That thought just makes me realize how
fast time goes by and precious it really is.
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<a href="http://happiness-project.com/" target="_blank">Gretchen Rubin</a> is dead-on when she says 'The
days are long, but the years are short.'</div>
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During one of my Mondays off this
summer, I took the folks on a hike to the top of Goat Peak on
Mt.Tom.</div>
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It was a beautiful sunny day, and the view of our happy
valley from atop the fire tower was radiant. </div>
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On the way home, I
suggested a stop at the dinosaur footprints on route 5. We walked
down the short path from the parking lot on the side of the road to
the long flat rock face where the footprints are captured. If you've never
seen them, you shouldn't go with the expectation of crawling around
Prius-sized craters in the shape of two-story high Tyrannosaurus Rex
paws. No, these are much more modest prints. The more impressive
part is their age. Their makers walked the Earth
nearly 200 million years ago.
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That's more than 2,000,000 lifetimes ago.</div>
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And yet, they still remain. A
tiny slice of our planet's history preserved within a giant rock. Pretty cool.</div>
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As we walked back to our car, we came
across a muddy section of the trail. Within that mud were a number
of human footprints in various shapes and sizes. To which my Mom
commented casually, 'I wonder who will be looking at those footprints someday
in the future?'</div>
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That thought made me feel both
insignificant and hugely significant at the same time.</div>
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We're all given such a short time on
this earth. A millisecond in the grand scheme of things. The footprints we leave today may be here in a hundred
million years, or they may wash away in the next rainstorm. Time
inevitably moves forward into the future, a future formed from what
we do in this very moment - the footsteps we take, the decisions we
make, the door we hold open for the stranger behind us.</div>
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The blur that has been the past few
months and nine years reminds me how fast time really does
go by.</div>
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And how important it is to spend that
precious time doing the things you want to do, are meant to do, with the people you want to do
them with.
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It's easy to get caught up in the daily
grind of living, with our new-found abundance of mind-numbing distractions on the screens in our pocket, on our desk, and sitting in the corner
of our living room. Life is not always easy, and sometimes what we
want and what we have don't always match, but they are all the result
of decisions we've made leading up to this moment. These first eight
years of peddling ice cream and all things sweet have been a
challenging, exciting, and immensely rewarding adventure for me, and
I wouldn't change a thing if I could. I'd say that's a pretty good
sign. I still don't know where it's all leading, and I've definitely got
some work to do on that pesky work/life balance thing, but I'm still
very much enjoying the ride.</div>
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And let's face it, it really is all
about the journey.
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Thanks for listening.</div>
Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-6360582346399799542012-07-26T13:28:00.001-04:002012-07-26T13:28:26.740-04:00Summer Vacation Memories.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qmrIBaWG13fueyUmummIrl4lk0wKNskTYGsQyx82QRrg8OVEA7Gc5x6dNebO-3hbnHsZ6cNn1FWNNBFzsDLskL34_pDxGzK49HfqpzjWnF7bMn4_7CqUG7G3hSY4kXfIcZLjKw/s1600/logcabin.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5qmrIBaWG13fueyUmummIrl4lk0wKNskTYGsQyx82QRrg8OVEA7Gc5x6dNebO-3hbnHsZ6cNn1FWNNBFzsDLskL34_pDxGzK49HfqpzjWnF7bMn4_7CqUG7G3hSY4kXfIcZLjKw/s320/logcabin.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I hope you're enjoying your summer. I try never to gloat about great ice cream weather, since this is New England, and the weather can change faster than you can say clam chowda. Having disclaimed that, it's some great ice cream weather we've been having, seems like since March. I know there's more to do on a sunny 90 degree day in July than eat ice cream, and I hope your summer has been full of all the fun things that go along with it, whether it be frolicking in your favorite secret swimming hole, golfing a quick nine before the sun gets too hot, or sparking up the bbq with friends. <br />
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This is about the time of the summer I start getting a little road weary and begin to fantasize about all the fun travel adventures I'll be having in January. I won't go so far as to say I wish away the rest of the summer for a return to a little more balanced life; I long ago figured out that with ice cream'ing as in farming, you make hay until the sun stops shining. I really can't complain. My crew is awesome, and I've been able to sneak away from time to time to do all the fun things normal people do in the summertime.</div>
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I recently got a chance to spend an afternoon paddling around one of the lakes in the DAR in Goshen. If you haven't been there, you really should. It's peaceful, beautiful, and just a great place for a hike, a camp-out, or a swim. <br />
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It reminded me of a little lake I used to go to as a kid. My parents would rent a log cabin on a small lake in New Hampshire. I think it was called Horace Lake. There couldn't have been more than a dozen of these authentic old log cabins. Open to the roof inside. Wreaked of smoke from the giant stone fireplace in the center of the living room. Porch off the back that overlooked the lake. Each cabin had its own dock with a row boat, by far the best part as far as my two brothers and I were concerned. I couldn't have been more than 8 or 9 years old, but I remember ever detail of that woodsy slice of paradise like it was yesterday.</div>
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Each cabin was about hundred yards from another and none more than a five or ten minute walk to the sandy beach at the end of a narrow dirt road. We were probably less than a few miles from the closest small New Hampshire town, but it felt like the end of the Earth. In a good way.</div>
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Mom would pack all the food and band-aids we'd need for a whole week, so we never had to leave our Shangri-La until check-out the following Saturday.</div>
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We swam at our petite private beach all day, maintaining our strength with all the culinary delights a barbecue could offer. 'All' being being hot dogs and hamburgers of course. Right around dusk Dad would take his three sons out on the rowboat to catch catfish. It was one perfect day after another.</div>
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We'd always go with a few of my parents' friends and their kids, so there were more than enough players to field a couple of capture the flag teams or find a sparring partner for a spirited Parcheesi board games with if it rained.</div>
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Every couple of days the owner and chief caretaker, Mr. Russell, would come around to pick up the trash from every cabin. He would always let us ride on the tailgate of his pickup truck as he made his way along the dirt road. It was the coolest thing ever. I'm sure it made our parents a little anxious, but our grins were enough to let us get away with it.</div>
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There was a giant wall of fish tanks and terrariums that rose out of the sand just at the entry to the beach. The rusty sand beach was full of maroon Adirondack chairs, a dock with a diving board stood enticingly just beyond the American flag that waved confidently just above a big screen used to show movies and nature slide shows at night.<br />
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This was no Club Med.</div>
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It was better. Way better.</div>
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I don't know how much my folks paid per week for it. I think we only went there three summers or so before the owners got divorced and were forced to sell the land to developers. Those cabins exist now only in our memories and a few photographs that look like Instagrams. But I remember with great fondness the fun that was had during those weeks on the lake. Of course, we all eventually grow up, and life gets much more complicated. Who's got the time or the money for a vacation.</div>
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I hope you still do.<br />
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Your kids will remember. This is one grown-up confirming that is true. Without a doubt. Nearly every detail.</div>
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Go.<br />
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Book it.</div>
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There's still time left. Borrow a neighbor's camping gear. Book a hotel at the Cape. Rent a house. Worst case, rent one for next summer. Do it now.</div>
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Of course, I want you to stay around so you can come eat ice cream, but this is important. And you'll only be gone for a week, so we'll just see you when you get back.</div>
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As always, thanks for listening.</div>
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And thanks for letting me relive a few sweet childhood vacation memories. I enjoyed that.</div>
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<br /></div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-88124216585924217682012-06-18T09:00:00.000-04:002012-06-18T09:06:36.247-04:00Pizza, Cool Kids, & the Meaning of Life.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last week, the drawing above was delivered to me by an articulate young man named Dylan. He found me in my ice cream den in the back of the shop and proceeded to explain he'd nominated me for a 'Kindness award'. He told me all about a group he belongs to at Easthampton's Center-Pepin school called the Junior Leadership Club. Their assignment was to find someone they thought was 'kind' and invite them to a little pizza/cake party to be held during the next meeting at their school. He went on to describe why he thought I was kind - that it was nice I gave away all that ice cream during last October's freak snowstorm, and that I brought enjoyment to Easthampton with my shop. To say I was caught off guard and humbled by this confident young second-grader would be an understatement. So when I turned over his drawing to discover on the other side an invitation to their Kindness Party, I knew where I was going to be that following Wednesday afternoon.</div>
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I really had no idea what to expect from a meeting of first and second graders, but I knew I couldn't disappoint my new friend Dylan. The meeting started with the twenty or so members sitting in a circle on the floor of their cafeteria. Sitting with them were parents and their nominated invitees. After a brief overview of the club, Jane Lohmann, organizer/volunteer/parent extraordinaire, explained that the theme of the club this year was 'kindness'. Throughout the school year, they played games and completed projects that all related to kindness. This included demonstrating acts of kindness through skits and building a giant bulletin board to display the many acts of kindness they've observed..<br />
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Then it was time for each member of the club to introduce their guest and explain to the group why they thought this person was kind. Dylan repeated the same pitch he gave me in my kitchen the week before, without a hint of shyness. A future leader I have no doubt. Others described the kindness of their guests - 'because he's my best friend'. 'Because she's really nice to me.' 'Because he lets me play with his stuffed animals.'<br />
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Guests included grandmothers, teachers, mothers, fathers, and friends.<br />
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I felt honored to be in the company of such kindness.<br />
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After all the nominees were introduced, we played a game, 'what's your favorite ice cream flavor', (I've played that one once or twice), then ate pizza and cake, kindly donated by Antonio's and Big E's. It was an hour well spent with the future leaders of our free world.<br />
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Of course, as I walked back to my shop, I couldn't help but let my mind wander, as it often does, to the depths of my deep thoughts on life and happiness. Wouldn't it be nice if kindness and sharing and childlike wonder weren't things we so often outgrow? I thought back to a l<a href="http://www.marcandangel.com/2011/12/04/95-questions-to-help-you-find-meaning-and-happiness/" target="_blank">ist on finding our own meaning of life</a> I'd recently surfed into. Who are you? Why do you matter? What's your life motto? What's the key to happiness?<br />
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Kindness.<br />
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Could it really be that simple?<br />
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I thought about the simple criteria a second-grader uses to find kindness in others. A nice teacher like Ms. MacKensie who listens with genuine empathy. A friend who shares their stuffed animals. A buddy who eats lunch with them every day. A grandmother who reads to them.<br />
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Then I started to form a list of my own... That employee who stays late so I don't always have to. The friend who spent ten hours building a working volcano with her son for a school project. The customer who chipped in a handful of change to the kid in front of them who didn't have enough to cover that bag of candy they'd meticulously assembled. The many volunteers of <a href="http://easthamptonbearfest.com/" target="_blank">BearFest 2012</a> who gave countless hours of time and hard work to make such a fun day happen and continue to happen all summer-long. That guy Pat we all know who started the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Easthampton01027TheGoodNewsPage" target="_blank">Easthampton Good News Page</a>. The friend who said goodbye to his simple artist life by adopting a young child. The buddy who's been selflessly taking care of his estranged wife fighting an unwinnable battle with cancer. Jane, along with partner Megan Harding, who volunteer their time every week to teach a small group of kids the meaning of kindness.<br />
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These are the acts that define us.<br />
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Maybe it is all about kindness.<br />
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I'm reminded of an old video store saying that used to be plastered to the side of those VHS tapes back in the 'old days'.<br />
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<b>Be Kind.</b><br />
<b>Rewind.</b><br />
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Well, the 'rewind' part has gone the way of the dodo bird and the video store, but I think the rest is still some sound advice.<br />
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<b>Be Kind.</b><br />
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Thanks for reading. And thanks to Dylan for the nod, you are our future and a genuine source of my optimism for it. </div>
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<br /></div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-32513442066737768942012-06-04T09:04:00.000-04:002012-06-04T09:04:58.361-04:00Notes to Self.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Well, it seems my blog posts are getting further and further apart. I'm sure I'm not alone in this phenomenon. Lack of uninterrupted writing time is usually the culprit for me, especially from April through October, but I do still think about blogging often, like the friend I've been meaning to call but for whom I just never seem to make the time. More recently, though, I've found myself having an existential conversation in my head about blogging in general. Nine years ago, when my little biz idea I named Mt. Tom's Homemade Ice Cream was hatched, the Ice Cream Diaries was the perfect way to capture and share the excitement of starting a new business. It began as a hokey little <a href="http://www.jdi-images.com/mttoms1.html" target="_blank">mass email</a> to friends and family. I think blogs had been invented at that point, but it took a few 'hey, you should make this into a blog' comments for me to finally stick my toe into the blog pool. </div>
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The ICD was my own little personal journal, albeit one I left on the bedside table open to the latest scribbled page, for anyone who might click on by. And like any journal, as I wrote it, I imagined picking it up when I'm relaxing on my retirement wicker rocker and sipping an afternoon aperitif. Those first years really were an adventure, and although I don't feel like I work any less hard now, I take satisfaction in having successfully parented my baby through its infancy, making adjustments and learning 'the ropes' while it grew to become a healthy toddler that might actually be able to provide me with enough income to live on, and perhaps even buy a house and a new turntable someday.</div>
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So I suppose part of the writer's block I suffer with this blog is my baby isn't doing the cute little new things it was when everything was new and cute. Sure, there are plenty of cool and funny moments, and I do still love what I do. I will concede now, my Dad was right when he told me how much work and time it would require. Perhaps he even underestimated it a little, a prospect I wouldn't have even considered back at that breakfast table ten years ago when I first pitched him the idea of my ice cream shop to be named later. </div>
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Now, my role as Chief Scooping Officer is more about trying to solve the work/life balance problem I have then scheming about new capers for original protagonist Root Beer Rudy and his pals. No less interesting to me, but likely a bit less exciting to read about. Which leads me back to the whole idea of blogs.</div>
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I believe people do still read blogs, and there are definitely a few I continue to visit on a regular basis. But I'm guessing cyberspace is a veritable junkyard of abandoned blogs by now, most to be awakened only by a wayward googler looking for how to make a mojito or the best way to clean their cast iron fry pan. I may be completely off base on this, but they just seem to be so 2010. So what's next? <a href="http://www.tumblr.com/blog/eaticecream" target="_blank">Tumblr</a>? Instagram? Pinterest? The return of hand-written notes passed around class?</div>
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My in-box is still full of comments to be moderated, but I'm pretty sure links to Russian bride sites and lengthy nonsensical responses in German aren't actually witty points on BearFest 2009 or the Arcadia Winter Solstice bonfire photos I've posted. Statistics show people do still read my blog, and when I'm not putting pressure on myself to write a post, it's nice to know I have a little creative outlet, parked over at blogger.com, patiently waiting for some food for thought, even if just a morsel. I'm tempted to blame it all on Facebook, and it's hard to argue the intrusion of that social networking behemoth hasn't changed the way many of us interact on a daily basis, for better or for worse. Let's face it, it just takes a minute to jot a few lines into the Facebook status box and hit enter. Link it to your twitter account, and your message gets right into the pocket of hundreds, tens of hundreds, of ice cream loving friends and customers instantaneously. Done. Sometimes a picture alone is all you need to make a point.</div>
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So where am I going with this? Am I stalling before I announce the closing of the trusty Ice Cream Diaries? </div>
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Do I have a point at all?</div>
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No, I'm not going to board up the ICD just yet. I can't say when my next post will be - could be next week or sometime in August. Perhaps I'll dabble with Tumblr or Pinterest or whatever the current flavor of the month is next week. Any suggestions? If I don't respond right away, it's probably because I'm still translating the forty-three other spams your comment is trapped under.</div>
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As always, thanks for reading and hope to see you soon.</div>
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By the way, this post was originally going to be a plug for my newest little coffee table book, but as is often the case with blog rants, you gotta go where the words take you. In any event, this just out. Perhaps a good topic for my next entry. Look for that next week or sometime in August.</div>
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</div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-38308500399082911552012-02-21T09:30:00.013-05:002012-02-28T17:56:11.641-05:00R&R&I.<img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710833956477408898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3r7fgKapFQpGPyZwi9K1W_cdWxC6ln0zdL32Gevhe7VdPbl6fe41Y5ZgUthnkdrFzBLiwph08_kv5XnEaCsbvP0IvAAX5pNT0t6KgCEHN9EZihVW3X2_1wmqyjnNAKpBtA1R_UA/s400/hi61.jpg" /><br /><br />Well it seems another winter break (or January of Jim as I like to call it) has come and gone. This year it seems I didn't miss much in the way of winter weather like last year, but who can regret a solid month of leisure after eleven months of making, scooping, and doing all the other behind the scenes things that make Mt Tom's go. It was a great break, full of getaways, catching up with friends, cleaning out closets, and just chillin'. It's a month when I get to shut my brain off from the perpetual list of things to do that swim around my head during a typical day. Even if you don't own an ice cream shop, I'm sure most of you know what I'm talking about.<br /><sp><br />So here I am, back at the helm, making ice cream and steering the ship like January never happened. Valentine's Day is in the rear view mirror, and I finally find myself with a little writing time. Of course, I should be preparing the books for my annual meeting with the tax man, but I just don't really feel like it. I'd much rather relax with a good strong espresso, the trusty Ice Cream Diaries, and a head fresh full of Hawaii memories..<br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710585572621852610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtlfoCBdMjNnkS_fRP9utHgky0j7JM63foBq_-FInywHpbcHQ1lVCerdmuvTqDx-sizREXEcp85w7glDUNNEaKpYHs0kccfTvlATBtv1rK4rxgrz9RllBj3Ug5L0pmgqdsPmb0wg/s400/hi-6.jpg" /><br /><br />I've been thinking about how to encapsulate my vacation in a blog entry. The photos do a pretty decent job at expressing how beautiful it is there, if you haven't already seen them on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3182240751381.2153813.1126587481&type=1">Facebook</a> or my phone..<br /></p><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710832893840443730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN1tKM9IMToWUohElcrS57L5D6371l2RAkzPBr-4apWKYSYxhEyHlWo1YUIT2xx0o1J2Q51YMMAw9fXc5FBBR10XfMi12L2YAAyXwOmI7sXArdzYzg0Dmz8qjMyWmh4fF4GmDNWg/s400/hi171.jpg" /></p><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710832135598272434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQWW3sIeivqfeg5ONcj-JpfCJezv3r54kj0kMjAAouMw9tr4-MAf2nSsIsi4PnakRgFtKaOIabcGWVs6i4MyaPHq5E0fAl2gNx5Pg9ViCXyhBXY0l5uF0uYW4TNFCC5DERCmxcg/s400/hi302.jpg" /></p><br /><br /><p><sp>I think you get the general idea.<br /><sp></p>The part you don't know from the photos is I actually went to the big Island of Hawaii to visit relatives - Aunt Joyce and Uncle Jim. I think their story is much more compelling than my circumnavigating a block of lava the size of Connecticut.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710832126365377842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgks-ZqhFu5dJtAcH1IAQGq-1W6jq3JG6Yla_TcrOCLiK7i2oCfWzjvkk3AqZ4H122NfiWFi5n9vnnNfs32Rd28TIdjYSgJnLO1UhXpjJXkQHZTk6a3DofxZfwk5Bbym9zOV9Pcxg/s400/hi115.jpg" /><br />I've always believed there are two kinds of people - the ones that talk about doing things and the ones that just do them.<br /><br /><p>My aunt and uncle, Joyce and Jim, are very much the latter.<br /><sp><br />A number of years ago, their daughter was living and working in Oahu. Joyce and Jim were then living in a small town in Connecticut. If you're a longtime ICD reader, you may remember Jim as the master carpenter who built the ice cream kitchen where I now spend most of my waking hours. From the first time they set foot on the tarmac of our fiftieth state, they were enthralled. During that first trip they decided Hawaii was the place they wanted to be, and no one was going to talk them out of it.<br /><sp></p><br /><div>Just a few years after that first visit, they were back and looking to buy a small piece of paradise to call their own. They had owned a small parcel of land in North Truro on Cape Cod, and thanks to good market timing, were able to make a tidy profit to use toward purchasing land in Hawaii. The trick was they needed to find that land within forty-five days of the sale to avoid giving a good chunk of that profit back to Uncle Sam.<br /><sp><br />This is what they found.. 17 acres on the green side of the Big Island.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710832117383084642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii0NNx8YipHinu7qlfSpZrNyg4U9RVnFXkmA0uQFT6ogKtGnTwWbXmzoV6kxfv3ppwevweoMWHupWfX2AzIdHx0aK-rBMvrdXe93gQU_nFFU9fcATVZAvmZCHbPfsM0LEynX_DoQ/s400/hi82.jpg" /><br />Turns out, that was the easy part.<br /><sp><br />With land like this, you don't just connect to town water and public electricity at the end of your property. They are truly 'off the grid'. A half mile road needed to be built. Water comes only from the sky, captured in catch basins from the roof, and stored in three thousand gallon tanks. Electricity, well, that is a luxury enjoyed only with the help of a giant generator from Michigan. This happens only at night for cooking and recharging phones,computers, and such. The house is very much a work-in-progress, as you can see, it's one step above camping, but it feels like a small sacrifice when the Pacific is your front yard.. </div><br /><br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710833525433283906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimrrXWT3-Nt-Ecyq0x8NAAznVgZv3QYRAkv0KFiQnvrU2oyM-6tLGW0osVJY03DF849wEPVBnALcNt8NJrS-Y_ePwK7Tmv_WwzWddkDfykQUh4GDcE3fPLDew1zkSSYTGkmznG5g/s400/Photo+Jan+28%252C+12+49+25+PM.jpg" /><br />Having gone through a life reinvention of my own a few years back, I have huge respect for anyone who is willing to send their life in a new direction. In case you're imagining two people with a ton of money buying a house in Hawaii and retiring there, this is definitely not the case. My aunt and uncle sold nearly everything, put what was left into a couple of cargo containers, and moved to a piece of land. Literally. In fact, they lived in their new neighbor's dome tent for the first year while they built the structure that would become their house slash furniture maker's workshop.. </p><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710832095519271522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY2O7nnkFyZcissnV_039LlnNjan6guZ1cn1zwB1CfKHOOqDWmonHPkqt_xz4mE_dmz2KQTJJCLWZvtYCLGYU3kfHmUlylb1f8ZyGQU2FBLCEM8ZlYte2R5mHyeur6oxepXo_vJg/s400/bi14.jpg" /><br />My uncle now works as a carpenter for hire on the island and has more work than he can handle. Turns out, a reliable and skilled carpenter is hard to find there. He works, makes some money, and then buys materials for the next stage of their own house-building project.<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710833960152900290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgub0VBIWVSp53FOJ5zO6RNZIZPHRX9x8bEDNDw0fWJwZ3_x8oT_S1N2_3e8ke2PTJLNbQt_6-wgXdaRgBW4DvlmoBK2HFKDFEkDcJzWizxuPdxB9tAzqPTVxfhgmAL1kwxGeE90w/s400/hi70.jpg" />The house may never be truly done, but that's ok. Most of their cooking is done on a either a barbecue or a gas camping grill. Bedtime comes early when artificial light comes in the form of kerosene lanterns and flashlights, and you're up with the sun. Even what seems like a carefree life has its own forms of stress, and although the island life may not be for everyone, it's still very much an existence to be envied. <br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710585632561396098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtl8w0Rff0L0fBF9YN7jVf40NX7hd9jfIwwbdSDe8NpR_KQJwOPbxwl7fsk5_bVS61j6Jk_jY5DKunP0GsbSMqvH3C9UE440q-8aywCUTJwrz10mXnEVnrwSxrvp9-ZlFzEPiLyw/s400/Photo+Jan+28%252C+12+38+55+PM+%2528HDR%2529.jpg" /><br />Joyce takes hula lessons once a week, tends to the growing orchard, and assumes many of the responsibilities of keeping herself, Jim, and their two dogs nourished and cared for. Jim builds stuff for people on most days, and when there's a break, he channels some sweat equity into making their compound a bit more comfortable. There's no smog or traffic or reality tv to watch. Their new hometown of <a id="top" class="title1" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laup%C4%81hoehoe,_Hawaii">Laupahoehoe</a> has 581 residents, and when we went out to the one little restaurant in town, it was clear my aunt and uncle know just about all of them.<br /></p><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710585662486703970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZhRpQNmCCLSpj2kji5cTvfuyGLgLq_yuCPKp8-6PrV_YRyaqxfzIC5ApYueU-TBCyqc8vMjdHB-_KdV3EZC9K3Rw0ygd7qIMhYXC7NkZ6ldUWqXjjxRwFMXuGDAMeFbr9yhIs-g/s400/Photo+Jan+27%252C+9+27+43+PM.jpg" /><br />I got to get a brief taste of the life they created for themselves, and I must say it was as sweet as the lychee fruit I snacked on all week. My uncle Jim may not be quite as close to official retirement as he might have hoped when they got there, but it definitely helps that he's not swinging a hammer atop a ladder on Cape Cod in January as a bitter on-shore breeze chills him to the bone. Next on the agenda for them is solar power, and with that come more comforts to their home, not that they seem to miss much the ones they left in Connecticut.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710585676313216434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9YYvGcuvMi5GTMgypq0OeqLeVujwgmD9FlWu_o_EOBsiIp6Ll6GrZ15n6T9iPoe0NCZKCRjmn463sPJ2g2k-EOpA_0U9bQnUSUPqdc0jQwZ3Bip-fZs9n_FAFqYXj0y0HOrUrKQ/s400/Photo+Jan+30%252C+9+21+04+AM.jpg" /><br />It was a long journey to get there and be able to wake up to a great cup of local Kona coffee from their Lanai overlooking the ocean, but it was worth every second. I left relaxed, recharged, and inspired. They had a vision of the life they wanted, and they made it happen. Pretty great.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710585603364932914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP4z6pMFlQOSWdzg5qM6pJXdS74sdKuV37YDQ6CoE8zdaH8VRasQdfoAxFWFHMixuFB4RSCM1B1Hw-GreLdS8rhQO8J-QVFLuMg4baU-wwCulBBkEqg2zMJPbzBX8Rq0QOeCzlWQ/s400/Photo+Jan+28%252C+12+39+55+PM.jpg" /><em><strong>"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined." </strong></em>- Henry David Thoreau<br /><br /><div><sp><br />Kudos to Joyce and Jim for doing just that.</div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-60687506565442448202011-12-31T12:20:00.001-05:002011-12-31T12:25:18.816-05:00Goodbye 2011, Hello 2012, It's nice to meet you.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcJYgz8a4KLIq8gTDputS0l4OQGCDGxqTmBUvvsrYV_Zp5Kb7bNlgFqN3XrmlNxnjeOBbxppo26-rxqTt8j1WRdOQLqeMeyeju731vg0J5A2VMRIPv-t_blU_EVSXV1PrW1KU6w/s1600/NYEcake2011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691686925407298978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 388px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEcJYgz8a4KLIq8gTDputS0l4OQGCDGxqTmBUvvsrYV_Zp5Kb7bNlgFqN3XrmlNxnjeOBbxppo26-rxqTt8j1WRdOQLqeMeyeju731vg0J5A2VMRIPv-t_blU_EVSXV1PrW1KU6w/s400/NYEcake2011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Well, here we are again, knocking at the door of another year. Does it seem like each year goes by faster than the next or is it just me? This one, while fraught with highs and lows, was a blissful blur.<br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5691686930360120130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 258px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfWc_KVt2-St2IL0BeqmGsW-EagKwmZrJE9EMOjPK6sVUeQ1fadE0l8FGuetVIzGZcO19EPhV6EzMCuwlJRXaKBbbpaMoM1UH8DAtD-JcsUS-gkaZXCIV3JLumFY7SbTVMa4TJnw/s400/weatherchannel1.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>From the marketing high of scoring a spot on the Weather Channel back in July to the October Blizzard slash blackout and resulting ice cream Armageddon, this year was one wild ride. </div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692338836852473906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9DJgVJvubrbBa2Dqb8eJmrgj5xNJamBajaRY4WzV4SkwEebf7D3Z8NclQ3FCWWYBnOdDNTIscwAnaYessSg5L50h63e0fsl88zq7fGABy_SH_3ik3sk22hW5881yrAXJISUUXiw/s400/blogstorm13.jpg" border="0" />While the cool rainy Spring made for a sluggish start, the stellar dry, warm, but not too hot Summer weather made for another record year of cone sales. Thanks to all of you who were part of that. I do this gig to pay my mortgage and a couple other bills, but the pleasure of making people happy with what I do is where the real satisfaction lies for me. Rarely does it actually feel like work, and for that I'm the luckiest guy I know. It's demanding and the hours are long, especially from May through October, which explains the need to claim January to recharge the batteries, but it's still great fun, so into year nine we go!</div><br /><br /><div>Of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't give credit to my awesome scoop crew for all their hard work and kind-hearted service all year. People often compliment me and Mt. Tom's about how nice the people are that work here. That one always makes me feel good (of course so does the one where people tell me they like my ice cream better than that other place in Northampton ;), because I really do want people to have an enjoyable experience when they come here. </div><br /><br /><div>Special thanks to Hannah, Mimi, & Amy for allowing me to have at least a little bit of a life during the Summer.</div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692340061201178658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBf7I7C9ZMDGzSUhVs23SGic-EvIfPlu_zlKXjvXEiGDNSQi04B8e7rr_dN1XHtcJQeC65g0d5aakQ9OK5GXPoXbvm03JTTHjJlR7LcVX6pEHvmi2v0xI-anDYDDRzNqjeUSjoQ/s400/crew2011.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>So as I sit here and reminisce over all that's happened this year, it's easy to let the news get you caught up in all the bad things that happened. tornadoes, earthquakes, hurricanes, blizzards, notable deaths. I'm sure we've all made a choice or two we'd like to take back. But as they say, what's done is done. And with the turning of the clock at midnight tonight, a shiny and untainted new year arrives, full of hope and expectation. What does it have in store for us, well, that is unknown.</div><br /><br /><div>And as I learned from a quote on a chai tea bag given to me by a good friend, 'When you are in tune with the unknown, the known is peaceful.'</div><br /><br /><div>May the new year bring with it all your heart desires, and may the unexpected turns that make you stronger do only that.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692336541007815394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghpcVb10hoXCdohYxtGQzAo5c1N72GVa8K3e-nG1PPZ4xWyeddbujJAS0xHFABMORWKhIQevC9lB0_Ow37zkVxSe47fnkqMrFTFB2xuQPYWZ_mA6nZh9DQAyz7Ro0Es9KcvgXsIQ/s400/NYEcat.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Happy New Year!!</span></strong></div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-61442995557181528672011-12-22T09:30:00.000-05:002011-12-22T09:30:00.824-05:00Finding the Holiday Spirit.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKgglfRsAGYT9G980mAsRWvUqjr1FXZvZuRGGqiP4BxC6ucNgF_TOwzdXFSIfaiWXNEOpvxKz3I0hwRmKRVyAINnn1zhMeNswYTMHEQZEVQDAF1xu0u5neGUnIPGo_VvvBJx7Tg/s1600/aadec122208025b.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 245px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 230px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687280521262881986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFKgglfRsAGYT9G980mAsRWvUqjr1FXZvZuRGGqiP4BxC6ucNgF_TOwzdXFSIfaiWXNEOpvxKz3I0hwRmKRVyAINnn1zhMeNswYTMHEQZEVQDAF1xu0u5neGUnIPGo_VvvBJx7Tg/s400/aadec122208025b.jpg" /></a><br />Season's greetings from my little ice cream workshop here in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Whoville</span>. Dogs are barking Jingle Bells on the shop radio. The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Festivus</span></span> and eggnog flavors are stocked and ready for scooping. I'm surrounded by half-eaten Christmas cookies and a small stack of holiday cards while behind me hundreds of jars full of sweet colorful goodness anxiously await the hands of many <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Santa's helpers</span>. Before I get to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">pepermint</span> stick, er candy cane, ice cream pie making, I thought I'd jot a few thoughts into the trusty ice cream diary.<br /><br />I'm sure you too are right now immersed in the sights and sounds and events that make this time of year so hectic. It's no wonder the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas go by so fast. Just too much to do - presents to buy, wrap, and ship. Cookies to bake, box, and share. Parties to plan and attend. And if you're in retail, this is it for you, make or break. That's a lot of pressure all around. No wonder why it can be such a stressful time of the year.<br /><br />Having said all that, I also think it really is the most wonderful time of the year. And here are my whys...<br /><br /><b>It's a time when people think about others more than themselves. </b><br /><br />What should I get for Mom? I just need one more little gift for my brother. A gift for the boss. At the surface, it may seem commercial and perhaps it's your least favorite part of the holidays. But thinking about everyone but yourself for a week or two can't be a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all.<br /><br /><b>Christmas day is the ultimate 'being in the moment' moment.</b><br /><br />I remember when I was a kid, I looked forward to Christmas morning so badly it hurt. It was just about all I could think about. Is Santa going to come through for me? Was I nice enough for that Death Star Lego Set? Time seemed to move backwards for those days leading up to C-day. And when you finally woke up on Christmas morning, well before the sun and probably even before the dog, and dashed down to the living room to see what treasures lay beneath the tree, it just didn't get any better than that. And Mom and Dad always seemed to take forever to get out of bed. Once the eggnog began to flow and the gift opening frenzy finally began, it was pure and innocent bliss, even though it was over in an instant.<br /><br />Christmas morning is the time when you don't wish for any other moment. You're in it. You're not thinking about the day before or December 29<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span>.<br /><br />Christmas makes living in the moment look easy.<br /><br /><b>People are generally a little nicer. At least when they're not fighting for a parking space.</b><br /><br />If you consider <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span> a virtual mood ring as I do, there seem to be less status updates of woe and bad politics and more of an uplifting nature this time of year. Like the one I just read about a friend who was in Rite Aid with her young son. He was playing with a little Matchbox car in line until they got to the checkout counter where Mom made him put it back. When she began to pay for her items, the cashier told her the man ahead of her in line had left money for the little matchbox. By that time, he was long gone, never even turning back for a thank you. How can that not make your day.<br /><br /><b>People make time to spend time with their families.</b><br /><br />When I was a kid, our family would go to Grandma's in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Fitchburg</span> every Christmas eve. Dad's entire family would congregate there for a day of winter holiday fun. Sledding and snowball fights served as appetizer for a giant Finnish dinner, culminating with the arrival of Jolly Ole Nick, usually in the form of a poorly disguised missing uncle. With all the predictable fanfare, Uncle Santa would ho, ho, ho across the lawn as he shook a belt of bells, giant pillowcase of presents slung over his shoulder. As a young believer, it was a brush with greatness. Eventually, it became more of a warm and entertaining photo opp, played out in the same way every Christmas eve shortly after the consuming of the roast beast and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lanttulaatikko</span>. Santa would stay just long enough to pass out a single present to each person.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687278495466777618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz1feuVcgzrmZLjtn4lpr1hz8EUOqEmmCwruh5iXRrhBwj3CpzAoX_XeXx_ovrY2dGk7WMClZcwJb53FaUndmD9Nidbr1AnVGmqp8RWpisvjuCEE21cZSVxYfNZHc7orAFIGZdkg/s400/146_4626.JPG" /><br /></div>When his pillowcase was empty, Santa would stand up, wish everyone a very merry one, and dash out the door, disappearing back into the darkness of the backyard like a ballplayer in Field of Dreams.<br /><br />Soon after, my brothers and I would be tucked into our action figure sleeping bags in the back of the station wagon, and home we would go. All along the way, we'd gaze out the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa's sleigh darting across in the sky. I remember thinking we saw him once, only to later be told by Dad when we got home to our still unvisited home that it was probably just Skylab.<br /><br /><b>It's a Wonderful Life.</b><br /><br />What would a holiday season be without watching that timeless classic at least once. The line "No man is a failure who has friends" pretty well sums it up for me.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 390px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 337px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687593365527809314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqghzatgestYcQA1IBuxkE-nSGIjHPKvWuDLGJT-VkdzybGAd4sBCe3r1aIvzb7aGIJumLhAxreEgKqy79Aw2j_QCFBD-WshjENMxJ5GBrI6pnJYNQc-INkxlYxsjeSZNpsPuSGw/s400/its_a_wonderful_life_stort.jpg" /><b></b><br /><br /><b>We dress up our houses to look bright and cheery.</b><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687279575522219698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyynytZ6v2x37awRsYz4NKJVptloJSjWXhbTzgz0E46NnqwMXZE6_SBwlcXwt_VMqL_Xf53r8aTHvB-ubYJaeGFLR0mEU9ywfpVU7BfnVCCU5CaEeJKkkeDIwd5nfgU-wIJydOog/s400/aadec122208008b.jpg" />You may think it's crazy the way some people cover their entire house and yard with lights and inflatable animated holiday characters, and perhaps you'd rather weed your lawn for six hours on a 90 degree day in August than stick a giant <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">snowglobe</span> on it. I will say, though, that I found myself last Christmas eve, sitting in my brother's SUV, over on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Lawler</span> Street, with he, his wife and their three kids, watching the thousands of lights flicker in time to the music playing on the car radio. I know it made me feel warm and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Christmassy</span> and a bit like a kid again. If you don't believe me, I recommend you do a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">driveby</span> tonight yourself.<br /><b><br />Our houses smell like the forest, only warmer.</b><br /><br />A Christmas tree is the original aromatherapy.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 215px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 344px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688359183808530866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimx7kbVJEtzva4ReaaGHcHnLmC7I5oiQbTqbLtIHPPsShGhvJVycvQgukAo1BWSGxDKxTNWgvcvhlVC9EM0HuvXlsrgIEVe7FwjzLBQRAMydG6FGBpypgUla3qVrnCi8JwE7MG2A/s400/dec2010031b.jpg" /><br /><br /><b>While it's nice to receive, most of us really do find it better to give.</b><br /><br />I don't know about you, but when I've found that perfect gift for someone, even if it's just a three dollar <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">whoopie</span> cushion for my brother to use to compete with the sounds his six year old son makes with his mouth on the side of his arm, it's way more enjoyable than opening up one of my own.<br /><br /><strong>People reach out a little bit more to those less fortunate.</strong><br /><br />If only homeless shelters and food kitchens had as much help on a cold day in February as they do on Christmas or Thanksgiving day, this world would definitely be a better place. I suppose the same could be said about church or other structures of worship, but that's a whole '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">nother</span> topic. While it's hard to knock anyone for wanting to do something good on any day, wouldn't it be great to discover a way to harness that awesome giving spirit a little longer, even just to help get us through the cold New England winter.<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688359181327594658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYZ4KYl0tUniI_ZwYayyyi3RzadrnCBZP6wQHMpe2OpVFQg5wjmZzlxCdECq5d84bd7JEoOqwz4j5Qvw4aB5W8rLWN030LGQQRPbX9vFyqHoNOeGiltRLCFGPMrRz_dteuWT2_xA/s400/dec2010056b.jpg" /><br /><br /><b>A shiny new year is just around the corner, ready to offer up a fresh start.</b><br /><br />Much more to say on that topic, but perhaps I'll wait until next week for that one.<br /><br />In the meantime, I hope the spirit of the holiday season finds you and immerses itself deep in your soul right through into next year.<br /><br />Life is just a precious collection of moments, and may these holidays bring with them a few more for yours.<br /><br />From the entire crew and myself, Happy Holidays!<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688347499195591442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAWvfujVsBEXIREtdRlK8Ob4KUBKP7Kj2QN3LF6PZZJ87cLBos5Jrz4I4rWICbYLlGAv7JJ5HYabE8G8umbyK1-j3vfKtENVjUhbnxKAD4DhFr9pfHQSig3QVlTQ8xjAxcNe3ANQ/s400/332552_292377337466158_109659439071283_712985_1813230010_o.jpg" /><br /><br />Peace.Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11856672.post-22629915775380129232011-12-09T16:00:00.000-05:002011-12-09T16:24:32.810-05:00A Sunny Thanksgiving.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkl48Yu_S8IkJofpNTi7cQvKlMa3TEXUyuoOWW72mX5di-VcM6CnYZ7lX888UtZw9mNjCOivyUnPqEkQbSlfjeoT2oxoy3B6vfCQmL3sXCdf6hKtXa0a4xevU8Hc03z2-d91WhNg/s1600/fla2011-23b.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkl48Yu_S8IkJofpNTi7cQvKlMa3TEXUyuoOWW72mX5di-VcM6CnYZ7lX888UtZw9mNjCOivyUnPqEkQbSlfjeoT2oxoy3B6vfCQmL3sXCdf6hKtXa0a4xevU8Hc03z2-d91WhNg/s400/fla2011-23b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684235328009241810" /></a><br /><div></div>As the wrath of winter continues to elude us (hope I didn't just jinx it) and December rolls on somewhat uneventfully, I thought I'd post up a few photos from my recent trip to Florida for Thanksgiving. <div><br /></div><div>It was a quick but very fun long weekend full of quality family time, amazing food and drink, beaching, and even a trip to the zoo.</div><div><br /></div><div>I hope yours was equally as fulfilling. And if not, there are a couple other holidays just around the corner to get it right.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought I might share a few in hopes that it might give you a brief respite from the doom and gloom of your daily news and status updates. Worked for me anyhow.<br /><br /><div>After all, life is just too short for gloom.</div><br /><br />My niece living in the moment...</div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmN8wBCbpHIce3D8y5US3QsMOyonBD0cDbEQiZrps2EleAYya6ld8HM8RVHd1Yu-gfOzRH4wMLh47Cv9tZN5_tgY0wWOiUDCvNui_7dF40kjFCpuZwNeqbwdMfs5aor4pXvfH8EQ/s1600/fla2011-15b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682337533149601714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmN8wBCbpHIce3D8y5US3QsMOyonBD0cDbEQiZrps2EleAYya6ld8HM8RVHd1Yu-gfOzRH4wMLh47Cv9tZN5_tgY0wWOiUDCvNui_7dF40kjFCpuZwNeqbwdMfs5aor4pXvfH8EQ/s400/fla2011-15b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Come here often?<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnCMdf-r-I7oOaHZ4_txubFiBWOtayb8y3Ss3Xqz0PHS2S67Ec1MZrgUeZGNDAU8qTUzXfh8wOezssRlL2GMwSoM4c-poxVlHnMifrXdxtxGTSs9_r2qd2BbA5t-1PnU4_dgsuA/s1600/fla2011-11b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682337520618778386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfnCMdf-r-I7oOaHZ4_txubFiBWOtayb8y3Ss3Xqz0PHS2S67Ec1MZrgUeZGNDAU8qTUzXfh8wOezssRlL2GMwSoM4c-poxVlHnMifrXdxtxGTSs9_r2qd2BbA5t-1PnU4_dgsuA/s400/fla2011-11b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Such a cool zoo that lets you pet the giraffes. Just don't linger or you'll feel the fury of the crazy lady in the red shirt..<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdZTKYLbzUa5jqge7dJxhbgAEUsqyt-Yx6zywQVbmG9M-Vz26jNCOQpdH5_giKB3DDh6eB0OApI2bwLgajQQZoQ8acnJiEL0g9V_HDso5OdfZ9TbjcRUDx7Db4IEh55ULNadniw/s1600/fla2011-2b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682337516047879522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTdZTKYLbzUa5jqge7dJxhbgAEUsqyt-Yx6zywQVbmG9M-Vz26jNCOQpdH5_giKB3DDh6eB0OApI2bwLgajQQZoQ8acnJiEL0g9V_HDso5OdfZ9TbjcRUDx7Db4IEh55ULNadniw/s400/fla2011-2b.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Five nephews/niece and counting..<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegRKnsXDc7D7cUubP2lKQfAFG5FYx1aiZzVpYgtV57InArMbvBo6w2nn32wi0KQFSzmQe01EmohSRM3vbqx3YRW7QYDHWdFHRKHbkRhVEJoqw_kLvba1c_gt6jhG3UHn7MlO76g/s1600/fla2011-44.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682335644223316530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgegRKnsXDc7D7cUubP2lKQfAFG5FYx1aiZzVpYgtV57InArMbvBo6w2nn32wi0KQFSzmQe01EmohSRM3vbqx3YRW7QYDHWdFHRKHbkRhVEJoqw_kLvba1c_gt6jhG3UHn7MlO76g/s400/fla2011-44.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Cousins out for a sunday drive...</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilfyhWm71ASsF8mE1Je8zsQKo8u-xMgLBPc9u4trcdj85cqm48F3S2-BXoX8RMBSjTY5unpuEzFEZ2liL0_v-QRC6x4ZmZ6Bmu2I9qDoWKyjpiqIBbnS4ZRwYVikoY-GzCcnsGVw/s1600/fla2011-39.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682335625012729586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilfyhWm71ASsF8mE1Je8zsQKo8u-xMgLBPc9u4trcdj85cqm48F3S2-BXoX8RMBSjTY5unpuEzFEZ2liL0_v-QRC6x4ZmZ6Bmu2I9qDoWKyjpiqIBbnS4ZRwYVikoY-GzCcnsGVw/s400/fla2011-39.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Table under the mango tree..</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gdoiypUSGxtRzeLYRNRP27sv47Vk56MCdIw4T1DxUqYnPDLXwK2If-GX9UDampTUGZfm5JC5AQyinQ0nrFozTFgOc1OwhkWwXZN1QSWrWZIJ-qRB_m1mO5ey9i-hXJyBDM9kbw/s1600/fla2011-37.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682335622121188962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gdoiypUSGxtRzeLYRNRP27sv47Vk56MCdIw4T1DxUqYnPDLXwK2If-GX9UDampTUGZfm5JC5AQyinQ0nrFozTFgOc1OwhkWwXZN1QSWrWZIJ-qRB_m1mO5ey9i-hXJyBDM9kbw/s400/fla2011-37.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />We may never know whether he was pushed or just fell into the pool during the group shot. In any event, the rest of the kiddos got a good laugh out of it..</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc6HMyNclIwnce4slytlTZdpmoUPPbathyphenhyphenuH2Es_zGyv9kYaDQ3QjzLlNcJ0x7dairD2JWRLjb_nVGvghA82FEWT0EGYF5cTCrBiIgMmgJTubw5m1KpR9XFsExlnoVEJvG3RnRQ/s1600/fla2011-30.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682335599845893842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifc6HMyNclIwnce4slytlTZdpmoUPPbathyphenhyphenuH2Es_zGyv9kYaDQ3QjzLlNcJ0x7dairD2JWRLjb_nVGvghA82FEWT0EGYF5cTCrBiIgMmgJTubw5m1KpR9XFsExlnoVEJvG3RnRQ/s400/fla2011-30.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Rock, paper, scissors, shoot...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Ikt_ryzAnWUXsfdU0uhkh4yyM9lkK5faFsCdGg1aUPfld8St4b6-DYUTWiw9itVSPbcoB-wmNmiIXms0-3SIWclqatV7Q8lYn-UwopdRHLuJvxDwkVG_bmVFKFlHS52tEuTOqQ/s1600/fla2011-34.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682335593246865234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2Ikt_ryzAnWUXsfdU0uhkh4yyM9lkK5faFsCdGg1aUPfld8St4b6-DYUTWiw9itVSPbcoB-wmNmiIXms0-3SIWclqatV7Q8lYn-UwopdRHLuJvxDwkVG_bmVFKFlHS52tEuTOqQ/s400/fla2011-34.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div><div><br /></div><div>I know these next few weeks get pretty hectic with shopping, parties, wrapping, trimming trees, and making cookies, but I hope yours are only the best kinds of hectic. Full of good family, friends, and cheer.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy!</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>jim</i></b></div>Jim Ingramhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12881244948655100455noreply@blogger.com0