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red clay ponderings

Hmmm… what shall I ponder on today?

2nd Amendment Truth

 

The words below were written by my son, Garrett Able, and shared on his Facebook page. I like what he had to say. I believe he’s a wise young man. 

 

February 19, 2018
“I’m not fully conservative, I’m not really too much left, either.
 
But to the gun owners and non-gun owners:
 
Neither of you have the correct argument about the 2nd Amendment in our Bill of Rights.
 
“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.”
 
This isn’t about hunting, home protection, conceal-carry, or schools with or without weapons.
This is about citizens of a government being prepared to fight the government that spirals out of control. This is about Trained, licensed, (regulated) people who are ready and willing to protect and provide for WE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES of AMERICA. This is about your neighbors, the elderly, the sick, the disabled,those not able to protect themselves.
When the left says “get rid of guns”, let them. They are angry. And they SHOULD be.
When the right says “we need MORE guns”, let them. They are angry, and they SHOULD be.
 
But understand, BOTH sides are scared.
The answer isn’t more guns, it’s not less guns. It’s not guns in strategic places, it’s not metal detectors. These are deterrents, not solutions.
 
The answer is the 2nd Amendmenta regulated and properly trained militia of citizens. Guns should go to those with proper training, knowledge, and a readiness to defend.
 
Too many different personalities, and levels of skill, have too much access to weapons. Period. Not just guns. Violence will not stop with new laws, curfews, or even high end regulations. People will always kill people. Sad but true.”
Garrett Able
Goodstuff2

#carryon365

Some days are better than others. Through God’s grace and mercy, I hope your better days outnumber your bad days.

No matter how bad a day gets….most of us manage to pick up and move forward. We carry on. Even though, on some days, it takes Herculean effort to do so.  I think those efforts should be recognized.

A few years ago, my friend Cindy Harter Sims (Cindy Harter Photography) posted a daily photo of something she was thankful for….something she captured during her day, with her camera. She did this every day, for two years. She called her project, The Good Stuff. I looked forward to her daily posts. Sometimes I participated in her project, other times, I was an observer.

She’s doing it again this year, and I’ve decided to participate. Fully. Because I have so much to be thankful for. I witness an abundance of goodness, yet daily, I fail to recognize most of the Good Stuff. I find that, often, I focus on the things I can’t control, rather than the things I experience that are so, so good. Or, I may remember an adventure, without remembering the individual, beautiful moments of the day. I wish to improve on this…
Also, currently, someone close to me is losing memory. My dad wants to remember the good stuff. I want to remember.  Don’t we all?

So, for these reasons, and more, I’m joining Cindy’s project in 2018. I’ll be a Memory Keeper. Photos and music help keep memories alive, I’ll post my Good Stuff photos here, and on my Danita Clark facebook page:  http://www.facebook.com/danitaclarkAuthor/

I hope you’ll share your photos and daily memories with me.

Danita

Day 1
Today, I’m grateful for my visiting grandpup, Bogey!
I’m feeling a bit under the weather, and he’s staying close, as if he understands.

good stuff

Day 2

Garrett stopped by this morning. While he was here, he took my trash to the large can in the garage. It may seem an insignificant act. But to me, it’s a tremendous gesture. Before I had any physical limitations, I failed to appreciate my abilities. Who in the world counts thinks of trash when thinking about the Good Stuff? Who declares to be thankful to take a bag of garbage to the garage? I never gave it a second thought. Not until it became a troublesome task, one that requires planning and strategy …. assessing size, weight, balance… “will the size throw me off balance and cause me to stumble? Is it light enough for me to lift? What if the mayo jar breaks as I’m clumping down the steps?”

Today, I had two bags. And I had let the first one get too full, too heavy. I was dreading the task of transferring some items from bag 1, to bag 3.

In one swift motion, Garrett was able to pick up all the bags of rubbish, and take it on his way out the door; his arms were loaded with other things too… Samantha’s Christmas and birthday gifts that were still here, a duffel bag full of clothes, a dog leash.

I’m always grateful for my children, today I’m very grateful for Garrett’s act of kindness. That’s the Good Stuff for sure.

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 Day 3

Recently, Instacart began grocery deliveries in my rural area. What a blessing it has been!
Today, it was very cold in North Georgia, and I didn’t want to leave my warm house. It was truly Good Stuff to be able to log on, order, and set a time, of my choosing, for my groceries to be delivered to my house…. and brought inside.

I almost feel like I’m a city dweller. 😊
instacart

Day 4

These two are my Good Stuff today! Humphrey and Bogey, a Band of Brothers… always ready for a treat.7A676C4D-7AED-4351-9A27-2AB91FF68191.jpeg

 

Day 5

This is my very good, Good Stuff today. I had never heard of this young woman until today, but has she ever reminded me of the many promises of Good Stuff from my Father, the Creator.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 6

This photo is a screenshot from a televised news report.

A few days ago, I wrote a blog article about a friend, her deceased husband, and the Georgia Bulldogs. I titled the article:
The Bulldog’s #1 Fan

Somehow, an Atlanta news channel read the article and contacted her. I hadn’t told Pam in advance that I was writing the article. She was shocked and so was I, when the reporter called her. Understandably, she was slow to believe the call from Channel 11 was anything other than a prank call.

But it wasn’t a prank. The segment aired today and will air again tonight.

The Good Stuff from this has been watching others cheer for the Dawgs, because they want this National Championship win for Pam and Chip. ♥️🖤

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Day 7

One of my favorite things is a clean house. Clean is not my current situation. But I’m getting there…

My good stuff today is having almost all the holiday decorations put away.

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Day 8

This sweet bundle of love has been the Good Stuff all week, but especially today. He’s been good for my soul.
His parents will be home later tonight.
I’ll miss him, even though he lives right next door!

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Day 9

My Good Stuff today is a gift card.
My son and daughter-in-law gave me a gift card for Christmas. After a very long day, I was happy to go through Zaxby’s drive through, and not worry about cooking dinner. 🐥
Yay for all the Good Stuff!

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Day 10

This is truly the Good Stuff.

This morning I received a Congratulatory email from the home based company I work with. Today is my 4 year anniversary.
This day for years ago was a big step, and a big sacrifice for me. I had saved for two months, so that I could have $45 (yes, it took 2 Months to save Forty-five dollars), to start my skin care business.

Prior to that day, my life had fallen apart. Life had been falling down around me for years, but 4 years prior, it had finally crumbled.
For four more years, I had been dependent on family and friends to survive. I was tired of being a burden to people.
During those four desperate years, an old friend kept telling me I could change my life through the business she was working with. I didn’t believe her.
But one day, I knew I had to try. As they say, “nothing changes if nothing changes”.

January 10 was a turning point in my life.

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Day 11

The Good Stuff…. This week, I’m supposed to be doing the Daniel Fast with a friend. I backslid today.
But it sure tasted good!

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Day 12

After Thanksgiving, I found this Diet, Canada Dry Cranberry Ginger Ale at Kroger. It is so good, and quenches thirst in just the right way.
This was can #12… out of 12.
I savored it.
It was my Good Stuff today.

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Day 13

I’ve been waiting on the FedEx guy all day, and he finally showed up at 6:56. I could have hugged him!
This stuff is comfort to my lips, and I’ve been out for two weeks.
It’s the Good Stuff. 💋

http://www.danitaclark.myrandf.com

#Redefine #LipRenewingSerum

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Day 14

Today, straightening up my dining room, I was reminded that God even cares about our most insignificant wishes. And that is Good Stuff.

I love JR Cooper Pottery, and have been gathering pieces of his art since my late twenties.

I also love the work of Mr. Cooper’s teacher and mentor, W. J. Gordy. But I’ve never been able to justify the price of a Gordy purchase.

Several years ago, I accompanied someone to a couple’s home, friends of a friend. The friends were remodeling an old home, and were in the midst of clearing the house of items left behind.

As we sat on their back porch, enjoying the spring weather, the wife turned to me and said, “I went through a trash can that had been left in the yard. Don’t ask me why I went through garbage, because I don’t know! But in the can I found two Gordy mugs. I’m using the one with the broken handle, I like the way it fits in my hand. Would you like the other mug? It’s in perfect condition.”

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Day 15

The older two stopped by today. They are the good stuff.
Life for them is different these days, and I’m thankful they are still with us. Our family is fortunate in that regard.

* The longest married couple in our family, and the most recent newlyweds.
Photo courtesy of Cindy Harter Sims

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Day 16

The last 24 hours have been tough. I had a hard time even thinking about a Good Stuff Photo today.
But I looked around and found something good, draped across my legs… and this is it. A quilt my mom gave me a few years ago.
It’s soft and comforting, and feels kind of like a hug.

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Day 17

* I didn’t take this photo, and this isn’t my house.

I don’t know when this happened, but someone placed a protective cover over my outside water faucet, to keep the pipe from freezing!
I had been so concerned, because I knew it needed a cover, but the location of the faucet is difficult for me to get to.

Someone saw a need, and took care of it. Without fanfare or seeking recognition. That’s really Good Stuff!

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Day 18

For a long time, my brother was unable to do things most of us take for granted.

The last two years, he’s made tremendous effort to improve his life. This year, for the first time in his adult life, I believe, he went Christmas shopping. He’s 53 years old. He was so happy to surprise us with gifts. This is one of the gifts I received from his. But his presence was the best present of all

He calls me almost daily, just to say hello. That’s the Good Stuff.

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Day 19

Today, I realized how really good it is to have a washer and a dryer… and a home. It is truly the Good Stuff…

I had to go to Big Mama’s Coin Laundry, because my comforter is too big for my machine.
I dreaded going. But the laundry facility wasn’t bad at all. And I learned a lesson in gratitude while waiting for my comforter to wash. From inside a warm place, I watched a homeless man…. it was so obvious that he was homeless… walk the sidewalk outside, looking in trash bins. Scanning the sidewalk for change. He pushed an old bicycle, loaded down with stuff. Probably his whole life, hanging from that old bike. He was dirty, his hair was everywhere; he was not wearing a coat. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and he caught me looking. I know I saw shame, embarrassment in his eyes. And it broke my heart, I’m still aching for this man. I’m praying he has a warm place to sleep tonight.

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Day 20

Today I got to celebrate my sweet friend, Susan. (By the way, her heart is as beautiful as her face!) She’s lived in NC the last 18 years, but this weekend she’s in Atlanta.

Her friendship is the good stuff.

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Day 21

The Good Stuff today was spending a Sunday afternoon with friends, and singing a duet with Ray on the drive home.

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Day 22

My Good Stuff today was in the form of a text message early this morning, from one of my longest friends. We’ve been friends since we were 8 years old. She moved away from the area a few years ago, and she isn’t on Facebook, or any other form of social media. She had no way of knowing that I’ve been dealing with a difficult situation, pertaining to the very thing she mentioned in her text.

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Day 23
The lady in red is one of my mentors. I’ve learned so much from this little dynamo! She’s the good stuff.
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Day 24

Today’s Good Stuff is technology. 
I was able to have a live, face to face meeting, with friends in different parts of the country… without leaving my kitchen #JustLikeTheJetsons

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Day 25

This week I’ve been so busy, I’ve had no time to spare. Late in the afternoon , I finally found some breathing room… so I settled on my sofa and lit a candle. This candle was a gift to me from
Angela Howard White and her girls… Christmas 2016. I burn it at least twice a week, and it still has lots of Good Stuff left in it!

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Day 26

I don’t have a curio cabinet, so extra special items find a home in my China cabinet.

In the past couple of years, each visit with my great-aunt, my only living great-aunt, ends with her asking me to “wait right there just a minute”. She leaves the room and returns a few minutes later with a gift, something she wants me to have. A recent gift was these little bottles you see here… a Coke, a Pepsi, and a Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer. The bottles were on display in my great-grandmother’s Knick-knack cabinet my entire life. They were a gift to her from my grandpa. As a kid, I longed to have those little bottles. I finally have them.

The dark urn, painted with the likeness of sea turtles, is a gift from my son, a treasure he brought home from Costa Rica when he was 15.

Little treasures that trigger memories are Good Stuff.

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Day 27

*I didn’t take the photo.

One of my dearest friends lost her only grandchild two years ago. Since that time, because of the Cardinal Legend, seeing one at her window has given her joy and peace.

This morning, she phoned to tell me about her doctor’s visit. I saw her name on my phone’s screen and answered. As I said hello, I looked out my kitchen window, and in that very moment, a beautiful Cardinal flew onto my back deck and sat on the rails.

When she finished telling me about her visit with the doctor, I told her about my little visitor. 
She took it as a good sign, and so did I.

That’s Good Stuff!

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Day 28

My Good Stuff came by way of St. Augustine today… a visit from my great-niece and great-nephew, and their mommy and daddy.

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Day 29

Even baby steps are the Good Stuff. I’m hoping to regain some leg strength and ankle flexibility, and right now, this home-office companion is my workout buddy.

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Day 30

I’ve been at my computer all day. But there is a big window behind me, and every time I looked up, I saw the beautiful day we were given.

Really good stuff.

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Day 31🎉

The good thing about being a terrible sleeper, is you get to see things you might otherwise miss while in deep slumber. Like the Blue Moon this morning. I woke and thought I had slept longer than normal, because my room was filled with a soft light. An unusually bright, soft light. I got up and looked out the window, and saw the beautiful moon looking back at me, peeking through tree branches (I had not heard we were to have a Blue Moon this morning).
Unfortunately, I took in the moon and all its peacefulness, but I didn’t take a photo. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to take the time to get my phone. Later, when I thought of all the people who missed seeing this moon, I regretted my decision.
I’m sorry I don’t have a photo for you today….
but in honor of the Blue Moon, here’s this:

 

 

The Bulldog’s #1 Fan

The Dawgs had an unseen assist in the Rose Bowl.

I met Pam Bowman when I was a Delta Delta Delta pledge, a hundred or more lifetimes ago. Bowman, as the Sisters called her, was to be feared. According to the Sisters, she would rip you to shreds if you messed up, and no infraction went unseen:  failed a test, partied too much, didn’t party enough, went out with the wrong guy, behaved in ways unbecoming to the Sisterhood. Whatever it was, Bowman would know, she would deal with you, and it would not be pretty.

Each pledge was granted a meeting with her, I don’t remember it being an optional encounter, but maybe it was. Either way, the meeting was to learn more about what was expected of us, academically and socially, as Tri Delta pledges. I had heard of her before I met her, and what I heard would make Scarlet O’Hara quake in her riding boots. I was expecting to meet Cinderella’s evil stepmother’s younger sister. Or Snow White’s evil Queen.
My appointed time arrived, and I braced myself before entering the meeting room. To my surprise, there was no evil queen in there. What I found was a beautiful, statuesque blonde, a bright, friendly smile, and Southern grace. She was a straight shooter, no doubt. But I respected and appreciated that about her, immediately.

My second year, I transferred to an out of state school, and I never came across Pam again. Not until Social Media became a thing. There are some good things about facebook, and reconnecting with old friends is one of the good things.

Pam and I became “Facebook Friends” five or six years ago. I have loved catching up with her, I had thought of her often over the years and wondered how she had fared in life. I’ve enjoyed getting to know her family through her stories and photos. I especially loved hearing about her husband’s love of the Georgia Bulldogs. She has some good stories. Funny stories. But last year, Chip, Pam’s husband, suddenly, without warning, passed away.
This past fall, Pam mentioned him often, during Georgia’s march to the West Coast and the Rose Bowl. On New Year’s Eve, the eve of the Rose Bowl, she posted something that is worthy of print.

From Pam, December 31, 2017 / 10:52AM

“As many of you know my husband, Chip passed away this year from a heart attack and UGA Dawg cancer. He lived his entire life with a severe case of stage four Dawg cancer. One good thing, even though there was not a cure for Dawg cancer, there was treatment. He knew EVERYTHING there was to know about the Dawg football program from way back in the day until the day he died. One of the worst cases of Dawg cancer I have ever seen. Plus he knew every stat about every UGA sports team. He even watched old games. He saved those games. That’s bad. If they’d had a poker team, he would have even known about that program and stats as well. It was incredible. An extremely bright man. For the family, the aftereffects of a Dawg chemo treatment was either real nasty or real good. If they won, he was ecstatic. If they lost, he would not speak to anyone for almost a week. No kidding. If they played so so or not up to their potential, he didn’t have very much enthusiasm. He hung in there whether the Dawgs had a good or bad season for 59 years. Anyone that knew Chip, was well aware of the fact he did not talk much. To know him was to love him. He was a very quiet and introspective person. One of those type of people, that when he did talk, you’d jerk your head around in disbelief and listen. I spoke more than enough for the both of us anyway. One thing he always said was that the year he died, the Dawgs would win the National Championship. Just to make him mad. Me, Matthew  and Kathleen knew when the season started, this would be the year. Come on DAWGS. #godawgs #UGAgrad #forchopper #forchipprengaman ”

 

By the way, the University of Georgia won the Rose Bowl. #GoDawgs 

Do it one more time, on January 8, 2018.  #forChipPrengaman

 

 

 

“You weren’t old back then.”

Cooper is four years old, and she loves looking at old photos. She asks questions about the people in the photographs, sometimes she makes a statement about the photo. She’s done this since she was three, at least.

“That’s you and Lindsey when she got married”, Cooper, age 3.

“That’s you when you were a baby. With your grandma?), age 3.

Me: “Yes, and she’s your great-great grandma”.

Thanksgiving week, my nephew and his family once more made the

journey to North Georgia, out of Florida. As usual, sweet Cooper showed interest in several photos. But not the ones she had studied last time she visited. Once she’s learned a lesson, she moves onto the next.

“Who’s this, Diffy?”

Me: “That’s your dad when he was a senior in high school.”

Cooper, as she shows the photo to her dad, “Look at you, Daddy. Look at you”.

She brought more photos for inquiry. Her blonde curls fell around her shoulders as she moved about. After a while, she started toward me with another old photo, one in a shiny silver frame. Before reaching me, she stopped in the middle of the dining room, intently studying the picture. I could see her wheels turning, trying to figure out the identity of the people in the frame. Finally, she asks pointedly, “Who are they?”

Me: “Oh, that’s Garrett when he was two years old. And me”.

She stood in place, but raised her face toward mine, and let her eyes move slowly across it, coming to a rest on my hair. She looked down at the photo again, studied it a while longer, then looked up and locked eyes with me. And in a very sympathetic, but matter of fact voice, she said, “You weren’t old back then”.

Her mom may have wanted to cringe, but I laughed! I’m smiling now, thinking about her innocence. Cooper wasn’t being mean or insensitive, there was no malice in her words. She was simply stating a fact.

It’s a real life fact, that if we are fortunate, we live to be old. I remember when I was four, Cooper’s age, when 57 sounded like it might be the age of Moses. Now it seems so young.

The hardest thing for me isn’t age, though. It is realizing how I wasted time in the 53 years between 4 and fifty-seven.

Too many wasted years spent in a bad relationship…. years sitting in Atlanta traffic two-three hours per day… years wishing I had gone to law school, telling myself it was too late… years thinking I was not as gifted or talented as everyone else. Years of bulls$&¥.

So this is for you, if you’re living a life not exactly doing what you want to be doing… Get up and get going, change. It’s not too late. Do the hard work that it takes to make the change, and see it through. Reconnect with old friends. Tell yourself you are talented, gifted and something special. Because you are.

And then go do what you want to do. If the people in your life don’t support your goals, surround yourself with those who do. If you can’t find anyone to cheer you on, be your own cheerleader. Leave the self-centered, negative people behind. Because #aintnobodygottimeforthat .

Live your life fully. Live it now. For one day, sooner than you know… you’ll be on the other side of an old photograph.

The Thief

He snuck in quietly, unseen. No one in the house was aware of his presence. He hid behind familiar things, in plain sight, and stole from us. He took art and music, stories. He stole a little everyday, yet we didn’t notice.
We were all so busy with our own lives, seldom taking time to stop by the familiar white house. So busy. When we managed to find time… Christmas, Thanksgiving…. we were in the holiday hustle, and didn’t notice what was missing. We didn’t see the thief, even while he sat down at the table, and ate Christmas cake. We didn’t see him.

But she…. she had become aware of the thief. She tried to hide him, cover his tracks. She hoped he would leave, without taking more, for his sake…for hers. Ours. She didn’t want us to know he was there. She wanted him to go away, the thief. But he refused to leave. He stayed. He has moved in.
And it’s heartbreaking.

My brain doesn’t work right anymore “, he told her.
It’s as close as he’s come to acknowledging the thief.

Alzheimer’s, dementia…. may be the cruelest of all diseases. The body can remain healthy, muscle memory still remembers how to mow the lawn and split firewood. Drive a car. The face looks the same, but the brain has changed, memories shifted. The person no longer fully there. He has been stolen. Both people in the house… robbed of their golden years.

My dad had not played his guitar for many years. But on Thanksgiving, this year, he agreed to play and sing for us. And in a short span of time, mere minutes, he began to resemble the music man I grew up with. I was amazed at the transformation made by music, and I want to share the video here for you to see. I want to preserve it, so I can watch again, and remember.

NannyPoppy
Cindy Harter Sims took this photo of my parents a few years ago, as The Thief was moving in. At the time, my dad told Cindy, speaking of my mom, “I just feel better when I’m with her”. She is his comfort zone.

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Photo taken by Garrett Able, Thanksgiving 2017

NP2
Photo courtesy of Garrett Able, Thanksgiving 2017

The Great Pyramid of #RF

Rodan + Fields is a Pyramid Scheme.

I hear that from time to time. And I do get it….I understand why your knee-jerk reaction is to believe RF is a scheme. Believe me, I’m aware of all the snake oil sales companies out there. They rope you into their lair with hype and then require you to lug their merchandise around to home parties…. and then you learn you have to make deliveries to those friends who felt sorry for you and purchased what you were hocking. And the incurred cost they forgot to tell you about…. It’s shocking to learn that you are required to go into debt every month buying junk you’ll never use. That isn’t a sustainable way to operate a business. One month you’re loaded up with new goods, displayed like a shrine on your dining room table. Six months later, the same shrine is set up on the back wall of your hometown Goodwill store. And your Visa is maxed out.  No thanks.

Rodan+Fields isn’t like that. First of all, Pyramid Schemes are illegal and I would never be involved in any sort of illegal activity. So if we are family or friends, and you call my business a Pyramid Scheme, I will assume one of two things.

  1. I only thought we knew each other. Or…
  2. You haven’t done your RF homework, therefore speaking from an unaware point of view.

Rodan+Fields is a legitimate company and RF Consultants are legitimate, home based business owners. In truth, most companies actually are structured like “pyramids”, right? If you’re looking at a company’s payroll by levels of income, it’s probably going to resemble a pyramid. The owner is at the top and earns the highest salary, everyone else trickles down.

Right out of the gate, we are different.

Rodan+Fields is the namesake, legacy business of Drs. Katie Rodan and Kathy Fields…. I’ve been told they don’t take a salary from RF. (They probably earned a few dollars with the other company they created. You may have heard of Proactiv?). Dr. Rodan and Dr. Fields are intelligent women who saw a need and set about finding a solution. They are generous with their time and company rewards. They reinvest RF profits into their consultant’s businesses, they fund quality product development, and they give to charity.

They change lives.

In regard to earnings, the playing field is level in Rodan+Fields. For instance, a Harvard trained attorney and a high school drop-out can earn the same income with RF… the drop out can actually earn more than the attorney if she/he is teachable. With Rodan+Fields, empires are being built and legacies are being created. They are being created by teachers, stay at home moms, doctors, dentists, chefs, hair stylists, scientists, baby sitters, maids, and lawyers…the diverse list goes on. It’s a wonderful work from home company, one empowering men and women from all backgrounds. You know, you could actually become my business partner tomorrow, and if you’re willing to do the work, you can build an empire with RF. If you work, you will see success. By work, I’m not talking about pushing out 40-60 hours of labor each week. Work, in RF, means you are willing to talk about our clinically proven products. Work means you aren’t worried about what someone thinks of you for sharing before and after photos of our customers. (May I add….those people you’re worried about don’t pay your bills?). It’s easy work, but it takes a commitment of more than a few minutes here and there to build a lasting legacy (did I mention our RF businesses can be willed to our family). However, if building an empire isn’t your dream and you simply want to earn a few hundred dollars a month, that can easily happen with very little time invested.

No, we aren’t a Pyramid Scheme. We aren’t even like other Direct Marketing companies. We are beautifully unique.
Here’s a link to my personal RF product journey: https://redclayponderings.com/2015/04/14/scarface-undone
I would be happy to tell you more.

Sincerely,

Danita

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Go Away OJ

OJ: “I’ve always tried to be a good soldier.”▪️Hush your mouth, OJ. You don’t have the honor of calling yourself a soldier. 

OJ: “Basically I’ve lived a conflict free life. I mean, I never got in fights on the street.”

▪️That’s right, Juice. No street fighting for you…not where men might get the better of you… where your public image would be tarnished. You were having none of that. The Narcissist knows when, where and with whom to wear his mask, and he chooses when he’ll remove it. 

You removed your mask for few. 

You saved the ‘beat the hell out of you fights’ for women, for wives and girlfriends…behind closed doors. Until the night Nicole took it to the street and revealed the monster behind the mask.  
I watched the woman in the courtroom yesterday, the one who misspoke your age…she was charmed by you. Fooled by you. But those who have dealt with the likes of you were sickened by your false display of humility. 
I can’t imagine what the families of your victims felt when they saw you sitting there…the blubbery thug who hijacked their lives. I can imagine, for the brief time that you were incarcerated, they felt their loved ones were seeing a bit of Justice, though the sentence was never on their behalf. Still, it must have provided…something. 
But now, here you are, forced upon all of us again. 

Relentless news coverage of your life. We are sick of you. 

Just Go Away Orenthal. 

Let these two have peace.

Aimee 

Have you ever met someone who, without even trying, changed the way you perceived yourself? Until today, I’ve never had such an encounter, not in this profound and positive manner. And to be frank, I’m astounded by the emotional growth I’ve experienced in a mere six hours. I know, I know…such things are bursts of energy, not a lasting, change. 

But I’ve had a mindshift, and it’s everlasting. 

I met Aimee Copeland this afternoon. But can I tell you, I felt her presence before she introduced herself? We had an appointment to meet at the Chattahoochee Nature Center near Atlanta. She was already there, waiting outside, when I arrived. It was as I first walked toward her, that I felt it. “You must be Danita”, she said. Think what you will, but I promise you, a very confident, strong, warm, sincere and sweet spirit greeted me in the space between she and I…in advance of that verbal greeting. My friend Dani was with me, and she experienced the same. 

Perhaps her name is familiar to you. Aimee had a zip-line accident about five years ago, and as a result, lost limbs, and nearly lost her life. Given the same situation, most of us would have succumbed to defeat. But something didn’t allow Aimee to give up. I believe it was that spirit I witnessed today. Inner strength. Faith. Hope. Love of life. 

Aimee has started a foundation, the Aimee Copeland Foundation.  She has a plan to create a nature park accessible to people with disabilities. She understands how difficult, if not impossible, public parks and gyms are for people with disabilities. As a psychologist and athlete, she also understands how detrimental a life lived solely indoors is to our emotional well-being. (Maybe someone will be able to help her out…She’s looking for land on which to build her dream. Donated land would be awesome!). 

What was the purpose of my meeting with Aimee?  Yoga. 

For several years, I’ve been losing the ability to walk unassisted…the residual effects of a battle I had with Goliath. I’ve tried to hide it. It feels like another assault, it feels personal. I’ve been embarrassed by the falls and stumbles. I’ve felt the red hot sting of humiliation in asking a stranger for help out of a chair, or an arm for steadiness…otherwise risk losing my balance and falling like a skidrow drunk. I’ve sat in my car at Dellinger Park, praying, trying to will my legs to have the balance and strength they used to have, to walk the hills and trails. Or make laps around the track. I’ve cried privately to God, knowing that barring a miracle from Him, I’m going to eventually be in a chair. I’ve been able to maintain hope for improvement, but lately I’ve felt a bit defeated. Believing it was time to accept my destiny and give up unrealistic expectations. 

Then today happened. I met this beautiful young woman…Aimee. Beforehand, I knew she was in a chair. But upon meeting her, I did not see her chair. I didn’t see her prosthetics. I saw life. I saw and felt a vibrantly beautiful life. Hope. 

I did yoga with her. Outside. In a public place. On video. And I wasn’t embarrassed. I wasn’t hyper aware of my imperfections. I did not feel inferior.                                                  It felt good to be outside, moving my body again. I left there today feeling like I can conquer the world, as long as I do it in small portions, consistently. 

Thank you, Aimee. That giant has not defeated me after all. 

My sister, Ivanka

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The girl in the photo, on the right, is one strong sister. The strongest sister I’ve ever known.

“There’s a chip on your shoulder, girl
And by God it’ll make you fall
If you let it take a part of your soul”. M&S

Sisters, help me understand what’s happening here.

We told the world we would not judge Hillary Clinton by her husband’s behavior…his documented and proven, philandering ways. We told women….young girls, mothers and dads, to give HRC and daughter Chelsea a break, because they were not responsible for Bill’s objectification of women…his rape of women or the abuse of his title. We know Hillary threatened and paid some of the women Bill abused, but we asked the world to look the other way and give her a shot at becoming president….President…Even though we know HRC ignored the pleas of Patriots while they died on enemy land.

You, some of you….fought like the devil for Hillary. You claimed you were fighting for all women. You said you wanted to see the glass ceiling shattered and you cried when Hillary wasn’t the one to break it.

For reasons I don’t understand, you marched with a stuffed pillow strapped to your head, and called it a vagina. You claimed you were marching for my rights, the rights of women around the world. You said you represented all women. The Sisterhood. Really now? I’m sorry, Sugah… but no. Don’t take to the streets behaving that classless and distasteful, and claim you are representing me. You called yourselves Nasty Women and proved it to be true, because you left mountains of trash on the streets of our cities. You made a mess with your trash…you left it on the sidewalks, the streets and in the doorways of businesses….and you left it for your sisters to clean up….the women who make their living in public sanitation. That doesn’t sound like a sisterhood to me. It sounds more like a pack of spoiled, overindulged, ill-mannered, selfish younger girls, not sisters.

And now, you’re attacking Ivanka, the First Daughter. You’ve created a campaign to destroy her businesses. You’re playing a schoolyard game of “I don’t like her so you can’t like her either”. You are bullying her, why? Because you don’t like her dad? Grow up, girls. The First Daughter, a successful, intelligent advocate for Women’s Rights, a woman who will break many glass ceilings, is being bullied by the women who “marched for the rights of all women around the world”. Hypocrisy oozes from that proclamation. Your actions expose your sham. For the record: Hypocrisy is the contrivance of a false appearance of virtue or goodness, while concealing real character or inclinations, especially with respect to religious and moral beliefs; hence in general sense, dissimulation, pretense, sham.

If you are truly supportive of all women, prove it by supporting all women. 

Enter gracefully, leave peacefully.

Danita Clark Able, Author, Letters From A Whoremonger’s Wife

 

 

 

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