<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class="">Brenda: <div class="">Thank you for sharing your life’s story with us. You are an amazing woman. Very strong. I do not believe i could have endured your hardships. You are and will be an excellent mentor to young addicted people today. You can show them how, yes, they can survive and thrive once they overcome their addictions.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Chris<br class=""><div><br class=""><blockquote type="cite" class=""><div class="">On Apr 8, 2020, at 7:38 PM, B.Lisk via Women <<a href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" class="">women@fuusm.org</a>> wrote:</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div class="">
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<div class="">Hi everyone! </div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">This is a great topic, I hope I can manage to keep it brief. Reinvention of
oneself is very painful, but I consider the result very worthwhile. As a teen
Mom, “my” son from a short lived teen marriage, was born a month prior to my
17th birthday. It did not take long for me to discover I could not bear to allow
myself to follow into the family footsteps of Mommy and Housekeeper, tending to
a man and children. Not at least before I had any chance to live out in the
world. I seemed to have been born with itchy feet. I was very restless and
discontent. My high school sweetie and teen husband was the kind who would be
content to stay in one place, one job, one mindset forever.That projection has
proven to be true. That was not me. I did not end that relationship in a nice
way, but did end it. I am embarrassed to say I allowed my parents to raise my
son while I became footloose and fancy free for the next 10 years. </div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">A few years after graduation I remarried during the Vietnam war, and “we”
became part of the counter culture of the late sixties and early seventies,
going where he pleased, doing what he pleased. Freedom was the word. I adored
him, made him my higher power, became co-dependent with him, losing my never
fully developed identity to him. I did not know what I wanted, only to please
him. Keep in mind this is retroactive thinking and understanding.</div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">Actually, we had many adventures and much fun and I did not realize I had
no goals of my own, other than the ones I thought I once had, which had faded
away into just following what he wanted. (The song My elusive dreams comes to
mind) along with (Me and Bobby McGee). Somewhere along the way some things
seemed traditional, having a little rented house, him working steadily and
coming home at regular times to regular meals. We decided to start a family and
had been told that was not going to happen without medical assistance. About
this time the family disease of alcoholism reared it’s ugly head, early stages,
and life began to gradually fall apart. This was not fully realized, due to lack
of understanding and education regarding the subtle changes taking place and how
addiction slinks into lives. I did have some intuition that it would not be a
good idea to start a family, so we did not pursue that avenue. The traditional
way of life did not last very long, and we hit the road, selling everything we
owned, in order to do more experimentation with other substances. Seeking new
adventures and places. The year 1974 brought trauma for me and my primary
family when my hero brother died as the result of a gunshot wound he received in
a bar fight. After his premature death, I became more and more depressed and as
a result I tried to self-medicate with assorted substances. I had never been
able to drink like my husband. I seemed to have a physical aversion to alcohol,
becoming sick after only a few drinks. I thought MJ was the answer for me, I
believed it was “God’s” cure for alcoholism because my husband was not nasty if
he smoked, rather than consuming alcohol. This went on far too long and I
finally realized life was passing by with no accomplishment on my part in
anything. All we did was get high, living off his earnings from self employment,
we watched pictures on TV while listening to music and making up stories in my
head, or writing books in my head and never remembering the next day what great
ideas I had thought of to write about. We visited only other people who were
doing the same things and accomplishing nothing. I could not stand anymore and
realized I was wasting not only time, but my own life, and my intelligence.
(Song: Highway to Hell comes to mind). I made up my mind to save money and
leave, to go back to Texas where I had been working with UT students (I was only
25) prior to my brother’s death, and get a life of my own and to leave my
husband behind. That did not happen.</div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">My Higher Power,or Spiritual Guide, whatever you want to call Shim
evidently had some other things in mind because after just over 7 years into
this second marriage,out of the blue, while making these plans to leave, I
became pregnant. WE were all stunned, but very happy about the prospect of
having a baby after all these years and having been told this would not happen.
So, YES, reinvention needed to happen, to me HAD to happen, because the
lifestyle I was living was not acceptable to me for a baby to join in. Many
changes took place in the year of expecting her arrival, just about everything
in fact. I needed to learn to transition from being a dope smoking, pill popping
hippie to becoming a real socially acceptable Mommy. Unfortunately, Daddy did
not make the necessary changes and after her second birthday, many more
transitions had to take place.</div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">A second pregnancy, my return to college to gain credibility and skills to
work. To get over my awkwardness and fear of regular folks, to learn how to
function in life in the business world. Because for the next 10 years my role
had to become head of household, Mommy & Daddy both most of the time,
working, going to classes, being there for them as the disease took my husband
to the depths of HELL, but I can tell you, he made it through with his life and
he is recovered and in recovery and we are active in recovery programs, trying
to help others from our own personal experience. We have raised our girls and
made a good home for them. We are one rare couple who managed to stay together
through the ups and downs of addiction and the mental, physical and spiritual
bankruptcy addiction causes. They are all grown now and they love us.
</div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">I know the Wednesday meeting is over now and there is a lot more to talk
about regarding the transitional periods, but enough for now. I love all
of you, miss you and wish we can all be together very soon. Please stay well in
the meantime. I find FUUSM folks part of the solution, rather than the
problem.</div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">All the best regards to you,</div>
<div class="">Brenda Lisk</div>
<div class=""> </div>
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<div style="font-color: black" class=""><b class="">From:</b> <a title="women@fuusm.org" href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" class="">Karen Binkley via Women</a> </div>
<div class=""><b class="">Sent:</b> Tuesday, April 07, 2020 3:58 PM</div>
<div class=""><b class="">To:</b> <a title="women@fuusm.org" href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" class="">A List
for the Women of FUUSM</a> </div>
<div class=""><b class="">Cc:</b> <a title="karenebinkley@gmail.com" href="mailto:karenebinkley@gmail.com" class="">Karen Binkley</a> </div>
<div class=""><b class="">Subject:</b> Re: [Women] April meeting</div></div></div>
<div class=""> </div></div>
<div style="font-size: small; text-decoration: none; font-family: Calibri; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal; display: inline;" class=""><br class=""><br class="">
<div dir="ltr" class="">Sent from my iPhone</div>
<div dir="ltr" class=""><br class="">
<blockquote type="cite" class="">On Apr 7, 2020, at 2:57 PM, Suzyn Mills via Women
<<a href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" class="">women@fuusm.org</a>> wrote:<br class=""><br class=""></blockquote></div>
<blockquote type="cite" class="">
<div dir="ltr" class="">Laura, I personally will miss your wonderful smiles, your
spontaneous energy, glee, and your amazing hugs. I feel like I just barely got
to know you and now you’re gone! My heart breaks for that brief encounter, but
I’m sure your heart knows where it needs to be. We will always remember and
cherish your brief time in our lives!
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">Suzyn<br class=""><br class="">
<div dir="ltr" class="">Sent from my iPhone</div>
<div dir="ltr" class=""><br class="">
<blockquote type="cite" class="">On Apr 7, 2020, at 1:24 PM, Annie Warmke via Women
<<a href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" class="">women@fuusm.org</a>> wrote:<br class=""><br class=""></blockquote></div>
<blockquote type="cite" class="">
<div dir="ltr" class="">
<div class="">Laura; We will miss you so much!</div><div class=""> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div>
<div class="moz-cite-prefix">On 4/7/2020 12:53 PM, Laura Grolla via Women
wrote:<br class=""></div>
<blockquote cite="mid:1951245.2089752.1586278411201@mailyahoo.com" type="cite" class="">
<div class="ydpbe9cd880yahoo-style-wrap" style="FONT-SIZE: 16px; FONT-FAMILY: garamond, new york, times, serif">
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">Hello all, this is Laura Grolla, recently
a Marietta resident and now returned to Texas. I felt such connection with
you all that I thought I'd add a brief share about reinvention as I am
right in the middle of it. I must admit my soul picked a strange time but
my soul has been in charge and the path continues in its odd miraculous
unfolding.</div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class=""> </div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">I agree with Annie that reinvention is
uncomfortable and a lot of work. I came to Ohio to help my beloved mother
pass and thought it would be a year to two or three and decided to quit my
job as a Victim's Advocate and paralegal in a small town in Texas and let
God do with me what he or she would. It was exciting, no, thrilling, to so
surrender to the divine. There was a peace and certainty to it that has
stayed with me, the wonderful feeling of being swept up into a wave of
purpose in behalf of a wholehearted act of love. I had a dream that I
should go to Marietta and I woke up, quit my job and began packing. It
took two months to compress my two bedroom house and studio into what
would fit in my beloved Sequioia and I hit the road.</div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class=""> </div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">When I got to Marietta, I did not unpack
but simply lived out of my suitcases while I jumped in to taking care of
my mom for 6 to 10 hours a day. It was heartbreaking and heart warming at
the same time. I got to read Gloria several books while we looked up words
together on Google and shared laughs over the excellent writing. We are
both writers, artists and poets and I got quality time with a quality
soulmate. Best of all, when she had lucid moments, I got to tell her
specifically and completely what I loved and admired about her and how
grateful I was for her mothering. This was all I could have asked and
more.</div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class=""> </div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">Sadly, my step-father seemed envious and
hostile and began an almost daily resistance to me and my efforts that
resulted in me getting kicked out three weeks before Christmas. I was
terrified as I knew no one and the proximity to the holidays meant that no
one in my family had the money to lend me to get a place. Enter our
wonderful UU ladies and Anita Newhart's offer to stay with her.
There began a new and very scary chapter of living purely by faith and
finding all the love and help I needed from strangers. I questioned
why I was now in Marietta. I'd lost my purpose for being here but found a
job and listened to my soul. Good and bad things happened. I made great
friends and began to do art for the UU cookbook. I sang "The Gloria" with
the Marietta College Oratorio in honor of my mother but was never allowed
to see my mother to tell her. In fact, at every turn, my step-father
refused to let me see my mother. One night, deep in prayer, I
realized that my bitterness and resentment of my step-father was making me
sick. I sent a text saying I needed to forgive to let go. I got back a
nice reply and found, two night later, that my Soul had given me another
dream and I woke up knowing I had to go back: my job had become available
in Texas.</div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class=""> </div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">I have been back a week now and the
reinvention continues apace. And, yes, its very uncomfortable. "A mind
once stretched never returns to it's original dimensions." Marietta
and UU expanded me far beyond the person who came here six months ago. I
am a different person as I prepare to step back into my old role. I have
experienced a sort of falling-in-love with Spirit because I surrendered so
completely to my intuition, to that inner voice. It is no coincidence that
a dream brought me to Marietta, a dream called me back to Texas, and now I
am writing a book about dreaming.</div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class=""> </div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">Texas is warm and sunny and I am glad for
my big skies and the light that I love as an artist, but truly, the hearts
of Marietta were the brightest and the best I've ever experienced. I would
like to keep in touch. And if anyone would like to work with me on dreams
and dreaming, I would love it. My grandmother had "the sight" and I
learned to work with dreams from childhood and this book fulfills a
lifelong pursuit. Thank you, all, for your warmth and support. I will miss
you.<br class=""></div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class=""> </div>
<div dir="ltr" data-setdir="false" class="">~Laura<br class=""></div>
<div class=""> </div></div>
<div id="ydpc9d4d87yahoo_quoted_6781342092" class="ydpc9d4d87yahoo_quoted">
<div style="FONT-SIZE: 13px; FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica Neue', helvetica, arial,
sans-serif; COLOR: #26282a" class="">
<div class="">On Tuesday, April 7, 2020, 12:15:52 PM EDT, Martha McGovern via Women
<a class="moz-txt-link-rfc2396E" href="mailto:women@fuusm.org">mailto:women@fuusm.org</a> wrote: </div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class=""> </div>
<div class="">
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<div class="">
<div class=""><font size="4" face="Calibri" class="">When was a time in your life when you had
to start over? Yes - a very thoughtful question. Thank you for
raising it.</font></div>
<div class=""><font size="4" face="Calibri" class="">I'll speak to the time that brought me to
the Mid-Ohio Area. I had had a lot of practice starting over because
Pat and I had agreed that his career decisions would take precedence over
mine. So, we had been in New York, Pennsylvania, and many locations
in Ohio. Circumstances changed, though, when he retired and I,
having completed my doctoral studies, accepted my first position at
Georgia Southern University. I really liked the overall university,
the location was close to one of Pat's daughters and her young family, and
my teaching assignment (language development, methods of teaching reading
and language arts, and supervision of pre-service teachers in the field)
was a good match. The problem was the person who was the head of our
division within the College of Education. After three years, the
work dynamics made life unbearable. For my own mental health, I
needed to leave. There were other issues, too: my mother's failing
health, Pat's first bout with cancer and other ongoing health concerns,
our dissatisfaction with the HEAT and social dishonesty of the
South. Anyway, I asked myself where would I choose to live?
The answer was the Marietta area. I had attended a conference here
in years past and remembered its atmosphere. When I looked in the
Chronicle of Higher Education, there was an advertisement for a position
at WVU at Parkersburg with a split responsibility in the Humanities
Division, especially Developmental Education (teaching strategic skills
for reading, study, and writing for success in college) and in the Teacher
Education Division (methods of teaching language development and
literacy). It was my dream job, in my first choice of
locations. In the interviewing and visiting process, I met Rebecca
Phillips and learned of her connection with FUUSM. Pat and I had
"flirted" with UU-ism over the years, but now I could see a coherence in
my future -- a job doing all the things I liked to do, in a good
institution, in a location close to my family, and with connection to a
compatible spiritual community. We moved over Christmas break in
2000 -- a tough and cold transition -- and I started the new job in
January of 2001. That start-over decision was the best one I ever
made. Being part of this Beloved Community had made all the
difference. Thank you. Martha</font></div>
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<div id="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377yqtfd06685" class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377yqt2844043628">
<div class=""><b class="">From:</b> <a href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true" class="">Annie Warmke via Women</a> </div>
<div class=""><b class="">Sent:</b> Tuesday, April 07, 2020 11:06 AM</div>
<div class=""><b class="">To:</b> <a href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true" class="">women@fuusm.org</a> </div>
<div class=""><b class="">Cc:</b> <a href="mailto:annie@bluerockstation.com" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true" class="">Annie Warmke</a> </div>
<div class=""><b class="">Subject:</b> Re: [Women] April meeting</div></div></div></div>
<div id="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377yqtfd35380" class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377yqt2844043628">
<div class=""> </div><div class="">What a great topic! I started over (a farmer's wife) in 1981 by
hiding in a battered women's shelter and leaving everything but my 5 year
old daughter behind. I re-invented myself after that so that I
graduated college, founded 22 battered women's projects/3 women's funds/17
women freed from prison who acted in self-defense, and created lots of
cultural/social change through that work. <br clear="none" class=""></div><div class=""> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div><div class="">Next time I re-invented myself was in 2002 when I left the US with
nothing but our 6 year old granddaughter that we'd raised from
birth. It felt like someone had taken a giant eraser and wiped out
my career, my friends, my goals but I'd promised Catlyn we would be there
for her. During the 3 1/2 years we fought in court for her I
stumbled often but I found my way by writing for a newspaper about life in
a small town (first France and then England) as a way to protest the
invasion of Iraq after 9/11. I volunteered at Catlyn's school to
teach English to French 5 year olds, and I translated the SOS FEMMES'
prostitutes health and safety "Little Blue Book". I grew an amazing
garden, made friends, traveled everywhere imaginable, and tried not to
loose my mind as I mourned the life I left behind.</div><div class=""> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div><div class="">When we returned to the US in late 2004 I re-invented myself again as
the builder of an Earthship, the first one east of the MS. I learned
how to use the Internet and social media, won custody in court of our
granddaughter (that's a whole other story involving the grand jury
indicting us and more), and learned to be a goat herder. <br clear="none" class=""></div><div class=""> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div><div class="">Reinventing is a miserable experience - it's like being birthed into a
new reality and trying to make sense of what works, and what
doesn't. I had hoped not to do it again, but I find myself there
right now with our need to push our business online. We'd been doing
that a little at a time, but now we have had to push all of our classes
and workshops to the fall with the hope that things will improve for our
country's health. While we'd had a plan to speed up the process of
the transition in late 2020 we find that we must let go of everything else
and just focus on this one thing for now. Perhaps the most
nerving for me is the separation physically of those I love deeply.
It is growing difficult as the days pass with no physical contact with
people like our granddaughter, who is married and lives an hour away with
poor transportation. Jay and I have agreed we will sequester here
until it is safe, which means no visitors. It is especially
difficult to say "no" to former interns who would like to be here with us
since they are not going to work everyday, but if we are to remain
reasonably safe we need to honor our agreement to each other.<br clear="none" class=""></div><div class=""> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div><div class="">Perhaps there will be one more re-invention as I grow older and have to
stop being a goat herder, and a farmer. That work sustains me so I
am making plans for how I can continue to hand on to that part of my
life. But then the best laid plans often are not how things turn
out. I hope to hear more stories from each other you. Annie<br clear="none" class=""></div><div class=""> <br class="webkit-block-placeholder"></div>
<div class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-cite-prefix">On 4/6/2020 9:10 PM,
Rebecca Phillips via Women wrote:<br clear="none" class=""></div>
<blockquote type="cite" class="">
<div style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: calibri, helvetica, sans-serif;" class="">Great
topic!</div>
<div class="">
<div style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: calibri, helvetica, sans-serif;" class=""> </div>
<div id="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377Signature" class="">
<div id="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377divtagdefaultwrapper" style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: calibri, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;" dir="ltr" class="">
<div class="">"If you have a garden and a library, you have everything you
need."-- Cicero</div></div></div></div>
<div class="">
<div style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: calibri, helvetica, sans-serif;" class=""> </div>
<hr tabindex="-1" style="WIDTH: 98%; DISPLAY: inline-block" class="">
<div id="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377divRplyFwdMsg" dir="ltr" class=""><font style="FONT-SIZE: 11pt" face="Calibri,
sans-serif" class=""><b class="">From:</b>
Women <a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-rfc2396E" href="mailto:women-bounces@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">mailto:women-bounces@fuusm.org</a>
on behalf of Gillian via Women <a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-rfc2396E" href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">mailto:women@fuusm.org</a><br clear="none" class=""><b class="">Sent:</b> Monday, April 6, 2020 8:04 PM<br clear="none" class=""><b class="">To:</b> A List for the Women of FUUSM <a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-rfc2396E" href="mailto:women@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">mailto:women@fuusm.org</a><br clear="none" class=""><b class="">Cc:</b> Gillian <a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-rfc2396E" href="mailto:gillianabbo@gmail.com" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">mailto:gillianabbo@gmail.com</a><br clear="none" class=""><b class="">Subject:</b> [Women] April meeting</font>
<div class=""> </div></div>
<div class="">Hello
<div class="">As the host for the now cancelled April Women’s Group meeting it
was suggested that I still pose a question for discussion as we do at
our gathering. We can email any response that you may wish to share. I
was talking with Caitlin and it is her topic.</div>
<div class="">Hugs Gillian</div>
<div class="">
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class=""> </div>
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class="">Women’s
Group Topic of Discussion:</div>
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class="">Though
these are strange and difficult times, a promising future still lingers
on the horizon. The sun is shining its face, the birds are singing in
their choirs, and the flowers are beginning to stretch their arms
skyward. Spring is upon is. And with it comes rebirth, renewal, and
hope.</div>
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; MIN-HEIGHT: 14px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class=""> </div>
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class="">This
leads me to my topic of conversation for the week. When was a time in
your life where you had to start again? Find a new beginning? Start a
new chapter in your life? Was it through circumstance forced upon you,
or was it perhaps spurred through your own free will? </div>
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; MIN-HEIGHT: 14px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class=""> </div>
<div style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Helvetica
neue'; MARGIN: 0px; LINE-HEIGHT: normal" class="">There
are many such occasions in an individual’s life, but I hope that we can
focus on the positive. In these difficult times it’s good to remember
how much we’ve already overcome and how we’ve thrived regardless. Like a
dandelion through the pavement’s cracks, we will all see the light
again. </div></div></div></div><br clear="none" class="">
<fieldset class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377mimeAttachmentHeader"></fieldset> <pre class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-quote-pre">_______________________________________________
Women mailing list
<a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="mailto:Women@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">Women@fuusm.org</a>
<a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org</a>
</pre></blockquote><pre class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-signature">--
Annie Warmke
Farmer, activist, consultant, writer
Blue Rock Station/Warmke Farm LLC
<a class="ydpc9d4d87yiv4558087377moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="http://www.bluerockstation.com/" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true">www.bluerockstation.com</a>
(740) 674-4300 or (740) 252-6295 Mobile
Radio: When the Biomass Hits the Wind Turbine
WOUB Digital Wednesday 9 am
WGRN Digital Friday 11:30 am & Saturday 8:30 am
Publications:
The Business of Goat Herding (BRS Media)
The Journey Toward Nothing (BRS Media)
Naturally Healthy Goats (BRS Media)
Podcasts: <a href="http://bluerockstation.com" class="">bluerockstation.com</a>
When the Biomass Hits the Wind Turbine
Arriving at Blue Rock Station</pre>
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<div id="ydpc9d4d87yqtfd48228" class="ydpc9d4d87yqt2844043628">_______________________________________________<br clear="none" class="">Women mailing list<br clear="none" class=""><a href="mailto:Women@fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true" class="">Women@fuusm.org</a><br clear="none" class=""><a href="http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org" shape="rect" rel="nofollow" target="_blank" moz-do-not-send="true" class="">http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org</a><br clear="none" class=""></div></div></div></div><br class="">
<fieldset class="mimeAttachmentHeader"></fieldset> <pre class="moz-quote-pre" wrap="">_______________________________________________
Women mailing list
<a class="moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="mailto:Women@fuusm.org">Women@fuusm.org</a>
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org">http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org</a>
</pre></blockquote><pre class="moz-signature" cols="72">--
Annie Warmke
Farmer, activist, consultant, writer
Blue Rock Station/Warmke Farm LLC
<a class="moz-txt-link-abbreviated" href="http://www.bluerockstation.com/">www.bluerockstation.com</a>
(740) 674-4300 or (740) 252-6295 Mobile
Radio: When the Biomass Hits the Wind Turbine
WOUB Digital Wednesday 9 am
WGRN Digital Friday 11:30 am & Saturday 8:30 am
Publications:
The Business of Goat Herding (BRS Media)
The Journey Toward Nothing (BRS Media)
Naturally Healthy Goats (BRS Media)
Podcasts: <a href="http://bluerockstation.com" class="">bluerockstation.com</a>
When the Biomass Hits the Wind Turbine
Arriving at Blue Rock Station</pre>
<div class=""><annie.vcf></div><span class="">_______________________________________________</span><br class=""><span class="">Women
mailing
list</span><br class=""><span class=""><a href="mailto:Women@fuusm.org" class="">Women@fuusm.org</a></span><br class=""><span class=""><a href="http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org" class="">http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org</a></span><br class=""></div></blockquote></div><span class="">_______________________________________________</span><br class=""><span class="">Women
mailing
list</span><br class=""><span class=""><a href="mailto:Women@fuusm.org" class="">Women@fuusm.org</a></span><br class=""><span class=""><a href="http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org" class="">http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org</a></span><br class=""></div></blockquote><div class="">
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_______________________________________________<br class="">Women mailing
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_______________________________________________<br class="">Women mailing list<br class=""><a href="mailto:Women@fuusm.org" class="">Women@fuusm.org</a><br class="">http://fuusm.org/mailman/listinfo/women_fuusm.org<br class=""></div></blockquote></div><br class=""></div></body></html>