"Weaver's Dream" ~ the only woven wall art I own. (Pictures by Marylin Warner)

“Weaver’s Dream” ~ the only woven wall art I own. (I had to adjust the overall color to show the “mistake”–in reality it’s only slightly different in hue from the rest of the weaving.)

Mom's bird sampler quilt ~ the only quilt she ever made.

Mom’s bird sampler quilt ~ the only quilt she ever made.  (All photos by Marylin Warner)

The 2003 movie/docudrama, EDGE OF AMERICA, is based on the story of a black teacher who is hired to teach English at Three Nations High School in Utah. He’s never been on an Indian reservation, and to make ends meet he agrees to also coach the girls’ unsuccessful basketball team. He is the teacher and the coach, yet he’s the one learning many of the lessons.

One of the most important lessons is about making mistakes, and his biggest one is the demand for perfection. Based on his own experiences, he teaches the girls that out in the real world, their only chance is to first achieve perfection on the basketball court and defeat the prejudice of white players.

The tribal Wise Woman has been weaving rugs all of her life. She says that each is slightly different, leaving openings in the design for growth. This is seen as an imperfection by some, but she believes imperfections are actually spiritual outlets. “Imperfection is beauty,” she says, so in each rug she weaves a mistake…on purpose. Otherwise, “The spirit becomes trapped in perfection…”

EDGE OF AMERICA is an excellent movie; it is also a compelling clash of cultures, philosophies, beliefs and values. I dare say that many of us grew up adhering to the dictionary definition of mistakes: “actions or judgments that are misguided or wrong.” And even Einstein’s well-known comment–“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new”–implies that mistakes are necessary in learning, but not desirable for ongoing intentional spiritual outlets. 

My mother’s first quilt was a series of bird patterns. It took her several years as a teen to create twenty blocks of different birds, each hand sewn with a series of basic and combination stitches. It was a training quilt, an introduction to perfecting stitches and developing discipline. When all the blocks were correct—with mistakes carefully taken out and re-stitched until the birds were perfect—then her mother and great aunt helped her piece together the blocks with pink and green accents and borders, and then quilt the design top to a solid pink fabric back.

Years ago I found the quilt neatly folded away among blankets in the closet. It was Mom’s only quilt; when it was finished, she was never interested in doing more than just assisting in others’ projects. It was later that I realized from her comments that the requirements for perfection had dulled her joy of creating. I think she would have agreed with the Wise Woman in EDGE OF AMERICA: “The spirit becomes trapped in perfection.”

I own one hand woven wall hanging. It’s called “Weaver’s Dream” and contains one “mistake.” I have no idea how the weaver accomplished it, but I was assured it was not added on, carefully bleached or altered to look different. It was woven into the pattern…intentionally. The vendor told me the “mistake” had made many buyers choose other wall hangings. I chose “Weaver’s Dream” because of it. It’s a matter of perspective, and although it may be a flaw in my character, perfection has never been my ultimate goal in anything.

Be careful what you wish for.  Personally, I wouldn't waste coins wishing for perfection.

Be careful what you wish for. Personally, I wouldn’t waste coins wishing for perfection.


One block from a quilt of "The Flying Windmill" pattern.  Turn it on it's side and it's the Nazi symbol.

One block from a quilt of “The Flying Windmill” pattern. Turn it on its side and it’s the Nazi symbol. It’s a matter of perspective.



Filed under art, art projects, Dementia/Alzheimer's, lessons about life, lessons for great-grandchildren, Lessons from birds, Quilting projects, sewing, special quotations, Spiritual connections

76 responses to “LESSONS FROM THE EDGE

  1. I gave up several things because I was worn out by the demands of perfection; one was competitive swimming, the other was Biology. The demands were ones I placed upon myself, most likely. Learning to let mistakes lie is a constant struggle but a necessary one, in my case. I have a few pieces of artwork which have deliberate mistakes. I like them all the more because of them. How sad that your mother didn’t want to continue quilting; sad but understandable.

  2. I am prone to being a perfectionist in some matters but I can also see when it isn’t necessary and doesn’t add value. Sometimes ‘close’ is good enough. I like the idea of choosing specifically for its flaw. Good for you, Marylin. And I love the bird quilt.

    • It sounds like you have a balance, Andrew, and know when perfection is necessary and when “close” is good enough. Sometimes I don’t realize the difference soon enough, so I err on the side of making it good enough and going on.
      The bird quilt hangs in the bedroom set up for the grandchildren to use when they visit. It covers the better part of an entire wall, and the birds are delightful. I wish my mother could see it and understand that this was the quilt she made, and now her great-grandchildren enjoy it.

  3. Jane Thorne

    Perfection is judgment and I shy away from both. What a great post Marylin and I love your woven wall hanging. I remember another parent, when our little ones were growing up, and she would Tippex out any mistakes her children made on their thank you letters, so that they would be perfect. My heart cried out to her not to do that to her young ones. Perfection is the killer of joy, and we are all perfect with our imperfections. We live in love, create in love and share passion in our creations with love. i just know that you and your Mum share that belief. Much flowing ❤ to you. xXx

    • Jane, you always have such lovely way of expressing your words, and this comment says things I wish I’d included in the post.
      Like you, having a mother white-out (I assume that’s what Tippex is) her children’s mistakes in their thank-you letters would be a soul crusher. And as someone who cherishes every misspelled word and error in notes from children, I would be disappointed in every correction. Much flowing love to you, too!

  4. Gwen Stephens

    I love this piece, Marilyn. What fantastic connections you make between the docudrama and real life (the movie sounds fascinating – I need to look into this). I must say you’re very lucky to have not been cursed with the perfectionist trait. It’s something I struggle with daily in almost every aspect of life. Sadly, I see it in my oldest daughter, too. I love “the spirit becomes trapped in perfection.” I’m going to remember that. xo

    • I think you would really enjoy this movie from 2003, Gwen. The coach didn’t apply the rug weaving mistake to himself, but to the way he’d played high school and college basketball to reach perfection. The movie has some great lessons and very touching–and surprising–scenes.

  5. Marilyn … You wove together a beautiful story linking the movie to life lessons.Thank you for this reminder: “The spirit becomes trapped in perfection.” I know that’s what’s keeping me from reaching my goal. I will work on this. I’m convinced it’s not too late to change. 😉

  6. Your mother’s quilt is beautiful, Marylin. I’m so happy you discovered it tucked away among other blankets. “The requirements for perfection had dulled her joy of creating.” This statement resonates with me as I have perfectionist tendencies I battle each day in my day job. The great thing is, I’ve learned to let it go when it comes to my writing and just enjoy the process, as I believe you do as well. Lovely post, Marylin.

    • Thank you, Jill.
      I like your sense of balance, doing what has to be done in the day job, but letting the perfection go when you write and enjoying the process. Yes, that’s what makes writing so special for me, too.

  7. What infinite patience your Mom had Marylin, her quilt is beautiful. Then again, so is yours with it’s deliberate flaw.I’m sure that Moslems employ a similar rule when making things, especially carpets where a design flaw is made to prevent perfection as only Allah is perfect. I think the flaw lends something special to it so that it”s not routinely boring.
    xxx Massive Hugs xxx

    • I hadn’t realized that the Moslems allow the flaws in their rug making to prevent perfection…as only Allah is perfect. Thank you for sharing that!

      To me, the mistake in the wall hanging I bought reminds me that beauty is in the eyes of beholders, and maybe there are many out there who also give it their best and go on, too, and are still proud of what they’ve created. Hugs to you, too, David.

  8. My mother has a Mexican sarape acquired from the earlier years of her marriage to my dad. I remember gazing at the black border to see rectangular bars of red-white-green, red-white-green, etc. until my eyes landed on red-green-white. Once she explained the imperfection as you so beautifully told above, it remained a metaphor for when one of us growing up wasn’t so perfect. Thank you for such a beautiful story with so many elements woven into it.

    • And thank you for the example of your mother’s serape, Georgette, and the confirmation it made for you and your family. There are so many examples of the intentional mistakes and their lessons, and I love learning about them! 🙂

  9. You sum it up in your final comment – it’s all a matter of perspective. I have a very gifted, talented granddaughter almost paralysed by her perfectionism into not even attempting things she could accomplish with just the merest effort. I feel some grandmotherly counsel coming on 🙂

    • And your final comment–“I feel some grandmotherly counsel coming on”
      –has me smiling. With my grandchildren, I watch them spontaneously and happily work on some projects, then tighten up and worry about getting assignments just right, even sometimes just quitting. It’s a hard balance to understand, and we grandparents do want to help.

  10. JIm

    Love it, Marylin. This will be my newest, most favorite blog entry of yours. (I have run out of fingers and toes to count all my favorites.) What a valuable thought for many of us to remember, and not just to release the creative spirit. Consider, for example, how the ability to accept imperfection and to keep on going will allow us to do better with those pesky “New Year’s Resolutions” that will soon be making a repeat appearance. 🙂

    • And my favorite examples of lessons we’ve learned are from recipes. When I’ve “sort of” remembered a recipe, and then it’s wrong, and how we can laugh and quickly add more possible ingredients. And it always ends up tasting just fine. We’ll remember the cooking examples with the New Year’s Resolutions…if we decide to make any this year! Thanks, honey.

  11. I’m not a quilter but I love quilts and their history. I assume you know that quilts were directions and instructions on the Underground Railroad by hanging them on a line or over a porch rail. Amazing stuff. I had a pieced Flower Garden top made by my Oklahoma great grandmother. I finally could afford to have it hand quilted by an elderly lady who always wanted to do a Flower Garden. She said she would Never do one again after this one, too intricate a pattern. She also found the imperfection Flower Patch which of course was made as meticulously as the rest of the pieces. My mother said Great Grandma alway did this to let the Evil Spirits out. I am not sure if she was influenced by her Native American neighbors or if it was an old Irish belief….but the quilt is not quite perfect at any rate. It is cold here in MIdwest…and way too soon! Might see snow tomorrow…oh, NOT my idea of November! Hope you are warm.

    • The imperfection to let the Evil Spirits out! I’d never heard that, Claudia! I do remember some of the quilts of the Underground Railroad, and the last time I visited Mom I learned from the young woman who cut my hair that where she grew up in Burlingame, KS (on the route I drive after visiting my mother) there are still homes from the lat 1800s that have interior hidden walls where runaway slaves were hidden and protected until it was safe to go on.
      We had a really nice morning today, but by 2:00 the temperatures dropped and the icy pellets began. It’s been bitterly cold this past week, here in Colorado as well as in southeastern Kansas. This could be one of those Novembers… 😦

  12. calvin

    I must agree with this. If I didn’t my ship would have sunk decades ago.

    The quest for perfection a seemly honourable quality, one we all cling to, only in the end to fail, as we succumb to the notions’ inherent/adherent Achilles. Perfection, more of a desire or feeling, and as I get older something I fear rather than revere. Insightful is the artist, who sees the bits, remnants or colour splatter on the floor and places them on the wall to replace what others would equate as the ‘finished’ object. It is the process of discovery, of living in and with something that is alive and evolving -always unique and profound because of its imperfections, not despite of.

    This post of yours is about the ‘process’ and not about the ‘end’. Thank you telling it. We forget don’t we?

    • And thank you for your comment, Calvin. As I read it I thought of Sisyphus, only with the need for perfection being the stone we sometimes doom ourselves to roll up the hill…again and again and again.

  13. Don

    “The spirit becomes trapped in perfection. ” One of the best quotes I’ve heard for a long time, Marilyn. I don’t think there is anything more destructive to the human spirit than the obsessive drive for perfection. There is beauty in the flaw. Good post Marylin.

    • Thank you, Don. When I heard the Wise Woman in the movie say that as she continued weaving the blanket on the upright loom, it was so stunning and pure in its truth that I knew I had to write about it.

  14. juliabarrett

    My favorite quote, or bit of advice (Voltaire) – The perfect is the enemy of the good. Accidental imperfections- in art and in life – are cherished by many cultures. I cherish imperfections. What would be the point of life and living it if we were perfect? On the other hand it is true that minorities often need to be better than everyone else in order to get the same opportunities as everyone else.
    Regardless, it is imperfection that makes us human and binds us in our common imperfect humanity. (Some of the time!)

    • As the Wise Woman in the movie reminded the girls when they lost another basketball game, it is the effort of the heart that determines our success. Our best efforts keep us grounded; imperfection keeps us connected to Mother Earth. If the Wise Woman had been a reader, Julia, I think she would have agreed with Voltaire’s assessment. Thanks for sharing it.

  15. I read your post carefully looking for a mistake! I only found one split infinitive – that must have been deliberate 🙂 Susan quilts and she often finds pieces that don’t fit as perfectly as she would have wished. She will love this post.
    I also like the application of this idea to the work and life of communities. I once preached about the need to “watch our big buts” (They may have heard “big butts”) meaning those little comments that are made – “I thought the xxxx group did well, but, if they had just…” “He is a nice man but…”
    It’s the imperfections in groups that make them special – and individuals too. Can you imagine living with perfection (poor Susan 🙂 )

  16. Molly

    Mom, this is a phenomenal blog. I knew I came by creative ways honestly, but now I know why I can’t do counted cross stitch or crafts that require such perfection. I also think this rubs off on my teaching. I push my students to always try…even if they completely mess up, I feel very strongly that they are better for having tried.

    Thanks for the wonderful thought-provoking blog.

    • My mom–your grandmother–encouraged us to enjoy creative projects instead of measuring every inch and counting every stitch to try to make it perfect. We both can thank her for her praises and hugs, her laughter when she found mistakes and said, “Well, this in very interesting. I like it!”
      How you care about and treat your students reminds me so much of Grandma, Molly. She would be so proud if it weren’t for the dementia, but I don’t think she’d be especially surprised. You’ve always had these wonderful qualities, sweetie.

  17. The tribal woman has the same idea as the rugs woven in India and other parts of Asia – they leave an unfinished line or slight mistake on purpose to indicate they are still striving for ultimate perfection that only happens when they reach nirvana …
    I guess striving for the best we can be is enough, perfection would be boring!

    • Doing the best we can is plenty, or so I’ve always thought. Maybe you’ve had students in your classes who were like some of mine, Jenny, especially the honors classes. Nothing with a mistake was every good enough; those were the students I knew would have terrible struggles in college and careers, demanding perfection of themselves. It took such a toll on them.

  18. I know when I come here to read your posts Marylin that I am going to have to read, re-read and re-read again because you always make me stop and think…and remember. So it’s mutual my friend! Firstly, your mother’s quilt is beautiful but I am fascinated by the fact that she never did another one because of the requirements of perfection. This grabbed me all the way to Christmas let me tell you. Wow! Like right between the eyes. In fact, so much so that I’m going to have to go away to think more on this. Secondly, I am intrigued by the ‘imperfection’ of ‘Weaver’s Dream’. I remember the first time I came across a Navajo reservation in Arizona and was shocked at the poverty there. We bought a Navajo, hand woven ‘rug’ from some friends of ours who were missionaries and lived among them for some years. My ex husband kept it. Now I’m thinking about that too. Thirdly, and finally, I love that you remind us that being perfect isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Thank you for that Marylin 🙂

    • When you remember that rug from the reservation, Sherri, do you remember if it had any mistakes? The movie made me wonder if weavers generally no longer allow a mistake to diminish the appreciation (and the price), and if they put in the mistakes for only the rugs they create for themselves and those who have the same understanding.
      My big question about perfection is this: how do we really ever know if what we do is perfect? There are so many different standards and critics.
      So doing the best we can–and enjoying it–instead of trying to do something perfectly, seems like a much better choice for me to make.
      Whatever insights you have, I’d love to hear them, Sherri. You have a genuine and thoughtful approach to making sense of things.

      • Interestingly Marylin, I was trying to remember when I replied to your first post. For some strange reason I do seem to remember that there was a ‘fault’ with it and mentioning it to my ex at the time. It seems so long ago, I wish I could look at it now, he still has it. You’ve really got me thinking about this and I agree with you about the weavers’ philosophy. I seem to remember there being some kind of story behind the Navajo rug and the weave itself. It was primarily red and black.
        Well, that is a huge compliment my friend, I so often think I have no idea what I’m prattling on about, ha! But I would definitely say just the same as you about perfection. I was always told by my mum to work my hardest and do my best. So long as she knew I was doing that, then she didn’t mind about the end result. Consequently, I was always very self motivated to try to do well. However, I also seem to have received a lot of personal criticism in my young life and that drove me to this darn thing called perfectionism. Your way is so much better, because you don’t lose the joy along the way. Perfectionism destroys that. It makes me so angry that there seem to be so many ‘standards’ by which society holds us. I’ve always felt but why do we have to all be the same? And yes, as you say, how do we really know what true perfection really is? We don’t. Enjoying life, working and playing hard, loving, living, praying, thanking. Being. Well, what can be more perfect than that? Thought for the day, haha 😀

      • A friend sent me an email pointing out that there’s a danger is not encouraging perfection, in telling our children that as long as they’re doing their best, that’s good enough. She said that sometimes that becomes an excuse, and children don’t even realize what their “best” is until they really push for it.
        There’s a part of me that agrees with her comments; another part wishes that maybe my parents had pushed me more just to test and see what my “best” really was. But overall, Sherri, in balance I was glad that they neither mentioned nor pushed for “perfection” at all.

  19. I always told my students that mistakes are part of the learning process. Another meaningful touching post. Thank you.

  20. “Imperfection is beauty” – isn’t that so, this I love Marylin.

  21. Great post, I always think of perfection as stagnation (though I constantly struggle against perfectionism), but I love that way of putting it ‘the spirit becomes trapped in perfection’.

    • Perfection is stagnation. Interesting statement. I was thinking that perfection in one thing set the expectation for the next thing and therefore was unending. And actually, that would be stagnation if it keeps you from attempting other things.
      Thanks for sharing that perspective.

  22. What a great post Marylin! I will definitely be watching this docudrama. I have to echo Jill here and say that ‘The requirements for perfection had dulled her joy of creating’ really hit home for me. I didn’t write for years because I thought I had to be as close to perfect as it is humanly possible. Your post reminded of Kintsugi which is the Japanese art of repairing shattered or broken bowls with gold to create a perfectly imperfect piece of art. There is definitely beauty in imperfection.

    • I’m so grateful for the variety of comments on this post, Yolanda.
      I hadn’t heard of Kintsugi. What an image: repairing shattered or broken bowl with gold to create a perfectly imperfect piece of art. Amazing.
      What a profound example.
      I’m so glad you didn’t let the stress of perfection to keep you from writing, Yolanda. You have good things to share, and I certainly thank you for sharing about Kintsugi!

  23. Hi Marylin, what a beautiful post. I love the idea of weaving in an imperfection and I believe I read recently that the Amish do this as well.
    I used to be such a perfectionist until I could no longer balance all the demands I made upon myself. My faith is in a good place now and i honestly believe that God does not expect me to be perfect. It is so much easier to let myself off the hook when I have truly done my best. A friend of mine gave me a little plaque that says “Good enough is really good enough.” How true.
    xo Joanne

    • I read a devotion recently that said our struggles for perfection close a door between us and God. And I think that makes sense, Joanne.
      Isn’t it wonderful when we finally realize that doing our best–and enjoying it because it is our best–is so much better than striving to be perfect?
      The plaque’s message is a good one to remember!

  24. Loved this post, Marylin! I felt flawed for NOT striving for perfection – for being fine with good, interesting, unique, fun. Not anymore! I love this perspective that it is a gift to NOT be trapped in that (mostly) unattainable pursuit. Some years back I saw two beautiful wooden crosses in the garbage in my husband’s workshop. When I asked about them, he showed me where they had broken. I asked him to glue them back together so I could hang them on my own wall. He had been making them for gifts and would never give something so flawed. It was the beginning of my cross collection. I liked the symbolism of it representing my own brokenness and how (in my belief’s) Christ was broken for man. I took each of my husband’s “mistakes” and added them to my collection along with other crosses I picked up in travels or that were gifted to me. It is a thing of beauty.

    • Your cross collection is what, I believe, crosses are meant to be: proof that pieces of wood couldn’t stop the truth. Combined with the crosses you picked up during travels make a powerful arrangement.
      I’m still smiling that you felt flawed for not striving for perfection. Now, that’s a great flaw, Shel!

  25. Today we open Mother’s chest to inspect her quilts and divvy them out. I wonder what beauty (and flaws) we will find.

    This post will sharpen my perspective – to see beyond the obvious. Thanks, Marylin.

    • Blessings on you and your family as you divide your mother’s quilts, Marian. Oh, the memories you’ll share!
      Years ago we found a wonderful old quilt that had worn, torn and stained places. I claimed it and carefully cut out good pieces in the shapes of hearts. I used a soft cotton backing, filled the hearts with pillow cotton, and on the back wrote my grandmother’s name and the date my mother remembered it being made. I gave them to my cousins, and when I look at my heart pillow, I remember my mother pointing out what clothing remnants were used. Guilts are memories.

  26. Beautiful post, Marylin. Now I must see the movie. The imperfect discards we come across are often the ones with the most character.

  27. I just ordered the movie from my library. I can’t wait to see it.

    I tend toward perfectionism, and I must say, it often robs the joy from an endeavor.

    I’m really working on letting go of that tendency.

  28. This is my first visit to your blog, and I enjoyed reading your insights (and viewing the pictures of your mom’s quilt and your woven wall-hanging.) I sometimes have that perfection-or-nothing attitude, but – ironically – it’s not what I preach to others.

    As a teacher, I’ve had students who will keep resubmitting assignments until every single item is correct. Because I want them to value the learning rather than a letter grade, that type of perfectionism is tough on both the student and me. I currently teach a pass/fail course at a local college, and from the get-go I stress the value of the class is in the learning, not a number/letter grade (required to determine if student has passed or failed.) Some of them need to be told often that “sometimes good enough is good enough.” I should follow my own advice. 😉

    • Welcome, Natine!
      I’m still smiling at your comment. I taught for 30 years, and many times I caught myself realizing that I should follow all same advice I shared with my students. Good enough is often good enough. We can encourage them to push a bit more until they are truly satisfied with what they’ve done, but I think we do our students–and ourselves–a huge disservice when we make the goal be perfection.
      Please join us again.

  29. Nancy Parker Brummett

    Great reminder to let go of perfection, Marylin–especially when we are approaching a time of year when we may expect too much of ourselves!

  30. At the end of year tests when I was 12 years old, I received 299 out of 300 for arithmetic. The teacher had taken one mark off for me missing a decimal point. She did not believe anyone should ever receive a ‘perfect’ mark. I have been looking for decimal points (ie perfectionism) ever since and it drives me crazy! I don’t know who is to blame here, me for reaching for perfectionism even though I am unlikely to ever achieve that; OR the teacher for not letting me have that taste of “perfect” – just once.

    • Very interesting question, Elizabeth. To me as a former 30-year teacher, if a student did achieve a perfect score, I wouldn’t have even considered counting off a point to prove that on one should ever receive a perfect mark. You know how well you did–what an amazing score!–so I hope you realize your exceptional talent and ability…even without the teacher’s acknowledging it.

  31. Ah, perfectionism has much to answer for. The closest thing we will ever find to true perfection is in nature.
    Lovely post!

    • I think you’re right. And even in nature, often what appears to be a surprise or doesn’t quite fit, is astoundingly close to perfection. My mother always taught me that when nature grew unusual flower blossoms or colors within the garden, it was something very special to be observed and appreciated, not seen as a mistake.

      • Before I got to what your mother said, I was going to say the so called ‘imperfections’ are simply individual prints like fingerprints, that which renders someone/something unique! Thank you for stopping by! Léa

      • Nicely stated, Lea. Imperfections are actually just differences, as unique as fingerprints. Therefore, they aren’t mistakes, right? I like that.

  32. We are agreed on this one, Marylin, am not going to waste any coins waiting or looking for perfection

  33. And yet, when I see a little wishing well or fountain, I’m not opposed to tossing in a few coins and making wishes…just not for perfection! 😉

  34. I wonder if anything in the universe could meet some standards of “perfection.” And if we could agree on a definition of perfection and were to obtain it, then what would be left to live for? Like others who have commented, I’ve struggled with the concept of perfectionism in my own life—I’ve always been my harshest critic. But as I get older, I’m trying to be more accepting and appreciative of what I do. I think seeking to improve ourselves through time is likely to be more satisfying and doable.

  35. You raise some excellent issues.
    Agreeing on a definition of perfection would be horrendous; it would make congress agreeing on anything look easy! 😉
    Even without striving for perfection, I was my own harshest critic, sometimes in being “good enough.” But as I’ve gotten older, I think I’ve grown wiser about that, and actually, I don’t especially care how others judge me so much any more, which makes me judge myself less harshly as well.

  36. I really enjoyed seeing the quilt with birds on it that your mother made. I also saw the little imperfection but would never, as you mentioned have noticed otherwise. I like how you tell your stories, including your mother and your own thoughts and discoveries. Each story is a treasure, Marylin. I like your perspective on life. I would embrace a wall hanging and find that part one of the things I liked about it.

  37. Wow, this piece of writing is nice, my sister is analyzing these kinds of things,
    so I am going to convey her.

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