I’ve never wished that I wasn’t a woman. 

A powerful piece of writing from a young lady who is worth far more than all the misogynist, childish, and ignorant bullies who hide their own insecurities behind group bravado. Please do like, and comment, on the original post.

Emily Speaks

I’ve never wished that I wasn’t a woman. Not once. I’ve never envied a man or wanted to be anyone else. I’ve always felt valued and equal to my male friends, never an object or something insignificant or worthless. I’ve never felt scared to walk down a street, as a woman. I’ve never felt like my gender defined who I am or what I’ve done. I like to break the mould, the stereotype; be different and be myself. As a woman, I’ve always stood tall. I’ve always felt proud and strong.

I’ve never wished that I wasn’t a woman, until recently. Until I was jeered at by a group of men, as I walked past them. Until two men stood in front of me and my friend and wanted to tell us (and probably show us) “all the things I’d do to you”. Until I was made to feel like…

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I Loved Them Enough

For any parent whose children have yet to reach 10 years old you NEED to read this, and commit it to memory for later use.

The Chatter Blog

Each of my children, during their teenage angst years, once told me they hated me.  There was a five year age gap between them.  It was two separate occasions with years dividing the incidents.  So it wasn’t as if I was bombarded.  And each time I could see it approaching.

They didn’t mean it.

Though they were pretty vehement in their expression at the time, I knew better.

I knew they felt like they had no control.

I knew they felt like I had all of the control.

And I knew what to do.  I was ready.  Prepared.  I had this one.

I had read a story, long before this point in my life, about a parent who’s child had constantly said “I hate you”.  So when it was my turn, I borrowed from that wise parent.

When it happened I reacted with great calm.

When each child in their own…

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Dear Mr. President!

Just discovered this fantastic post from Bridget. The song is so pertinent to both UK and USA now, and probably to many other countries too. See what you think!

The happy Quitter!

Today we celebrate George Washington’s Birthday, and I would like to know what he would say right now and not just him. I can’t help but wonder what kind of advice Reagan, Kennedy, Lincoln or Roosevelt would give us. 

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The farmer, the puppy and the little boy 

A lovely tale here from Jack Fussell. There’s plenty more where this came from. Go have a look!

Fighting Alzheimer's

A farmer had some puppies he needed to sell. He painted a sign advertising the 4 pups, and set about nailing it to a post on the edge of his yard.
As he was driving the last nail into the post, he felt tug on his overalls.
He looked down into the eyes of a little boy.
“Mister,” he said, “I want to buy one of your puppies.”
“Well,” said the farmer, as he rubbed the sweat of the back of his neck, “these puppies come from fine parents and cost a good deal of money.”
The boy dropped his head for a moment. Then reaching deep into his pocket,

he pulled out a handful of change and held it up to the farmer. “I’ve

got thirty-nine cents. Is that enough to take a look?”
“Sure,” said the farmer. And with that he let out a whistle. “Here Dolly!” he…

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She’s Watching You

Another absolute gem from Colleen. Small, quiet, acts can work wonders, and they do! It does not take money, or lots of time, or complicated skills, to make a difference. This story clearly shows that!

The Chatter Blog

 

No one really knew her.

She was unassuming.  Alone.  And quiet.

She lived quietly in a small house she moved to after her father died.  He died eight years after her mother.  She cared for them both while working full time.  Her life was all about providing.  Providing them comfort and care, providing for herself financially.   When they were both gone she sold the house she had lived in with them.  And moved to a quiet street, in the small house.   An alley ran behind her house, a stream ran on the other side of the alley.

Her interactions with others was limited to work, or shopping or banking.  People were pleasant enough to her, even if they thought her a little odd.  It’s not that people avoided her, nor did she avoid people.  She and they, they just didn’t make an effort to connect.  So connections…

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