Category Archives: More Inspiration

Shopping In Hawaii

Where in the World has Alesiablogs gone now?

My girlfriend caught me telling her, "No more pictures please!"  She laughted at this photo so I thought I better share.

My girlfriend caught me telling her, “No more pictures please!” She laughted at this photo so I thought I better share.

So I guess you know where I am at..right???????????????????????????????????????????????????????? Now to my blog post…..

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How You Made Me Feel


This photo was taken the day before we got our first snow here in Seattle.  It has been freezing ever sense..Brrrrrrrrrr

Do you remember that first love?  Sadly many of us have been burnt in our first ever love experiences.  There is no way to define in human standards how love looks from one individual to another.

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From My Blog To Yours

Occasionally I look at my stat page on Word Press and see what  I have written that has the most views (spoiler alert at end).  I wonder is it the writer that you come to visit or my subject matter?  Since I write a majority of the time about my experiences, I find that the writing and myself is one and the same.  You see it is in my words that I am finding myself.

I often question is it good to use my life as a subject matter on my blog.

I often question is it good to use my life as a subject matter on my blog.

When I Word Press my life story, I wonder out loud, “I hope this helps someone out there.” I figure what the heck. It is helping me to just write it. It also becomes apparent  that my world is colliding with someone else that it would never have had a chance to before.  Who would have ever thought I would have a conversation with another blogger who strips for a living. That was eye-opening!

How about the interaction I have had with Chris who amazes me everyday with his bike excursions around the globe.  He is raising money for cancer research.  I also have ran into the 15-year-old blogger who has more sense than half the grown ups I know!

Recently I read a blog from a lady right here in my home town Seattle.  She is a photographer and  inspires me.

I realize you are sitting at your own desk and recognize my blog because you have read me before.  You are the blogger  living in a small town in Canada, Australia, or perhaps somewhere in Japan.

We connect.

We inspire.

We found each other through invisible wires that absolutely make no sense to me, but here we are.

Today my stats were measured and this is what I learned.  Most of my views over the year were my archives.  I was amazed by this stat because it was close to 3500 views. It spoke to me because more than likely you went to my archives because you read something current I had written and you found me interesting enough to pull up my other stories. Thank you.

My second most popular stat showed you wanted to know who I am. You went to my “About Alesia” page  and viewed what I had to say.  I realized today that  I need to make it more current. I will get to working on that.

My third biggest stat views was from an adventure I took entitled, “The Haunting.”  Over a thousand views of that alone shocked me.  Gee.  All I did was go to one of the most haunted cemeteries in the United States and report about my findings!  I guess there are a lot of morbid people out in the blogosphere.

My fourth largest viewed page was titled “MEN!”  Oh my God, that was scary.  I know nothing about men except they have a penis and typically can’t seem to see too far past it. (Just a little joke. Do not get your panties in a wad fellas).

My fifth most popular post(s) deal with my son with autism. This makes sense.  My son inspires me more than words can tell.

Luke has autism, but it does not define him. He is pure joy!

Luke has autism, but it does not define him. He is pure joy!

Other posts that came in close sixth place were my photography and inspirational posts. That made me smile.So there you have it. Do I really know you? That is totally a loaded question.  I know you might be sitting in your home looking at your I pad and reading my post in India.  Or you might be looking at your I phone on a break from your job in England. Quite possibly you are hiding from your abusive parent dreaming about a different life  and come across my blog. Maybe you are a 40-year-old woman  in rural Kentucky laughing at something I wrote.  And just maybe you needed that laugh because you sure are not getting enough of it in your own home.

Who ever you are, I am glad you are around and I do look forward to having you come back. Stats are fun to look at, but your comments are much more entertaining because it is there that I really get to know you. Please leave a comment. I want to know you.

Becoming A Nurse

Aunt Jeanette and Alesia

Today’s post is a letter I received from one of my aunts when she became a nurse. I wanted to share it in honor of her 86 birthday coming up very soon! As a nurse myself, I felt it was inspiring. I hope you do too. I have two retired aunts that were nurses in my family and including my career in nursing we have over 100 years between us of taking care of the public in their time of need:

The year was 1964. I am a high school graduate-the mother of five children ages one to seventeen. I am thirty-eight years old and we live in a farming community. My husband’s income is minimum wage. I am a good manager, but I can no longer make one small paycheck meet the needs of our growing family.

My inspiration is to find a job that will enable me to help meet those needs. I’d never in my life had any desire to be a nurse. My experiences with nurses was very limited and I liked it that way! I’d admire them from afar-and the farther the better.

In spring of 1964, a notice in the local newspaper said a nurses’ assistant class would be taught at the local hospital. It would last six weeks and those accepted in the program would receive seven dollars per day and a certificate of completion of the course of learning. I applied and was accepted.

I was on my way. I had two dollars each day for the babysitter, gas for the car, lunch, and one uniform that was starched and ironed everyday! I would describe myself as hopeful, prayerful, and squeamish, but determined.

Then I met my first Florence Nightingale. She was Ms. Anderson, RN from Hopkins County, KY. She told us what. She showed us how. She told us why. She then watched until she knew we understood. She was the first of many I’d meet in the years to come.

My first job was as a surgical technician and emergency room nurse with on the job training and vocational classes at night. I graduated from that vocational school. I worked my first nursing job for 19 years in the hospital. I then worked in a nursing home for five years. I returned to the hospital part time for five more years. I retired at the age of 67 with a nursing career spanning 29 years. The hard work and opportunities I never expected to have with experiences that inspired far beyond my imagination and memories I have now to look back on. Memories that remind me of hopes that are fulfilled and prayers that are answered. I am thankful.

The Boston Marathon’s Other Story

Simply put the horrific bombings of the Boston Marathon will never be forgotten. What many of us can not seem to get over is the senseless act of these terrorists. Did you ever think to wonder what the news would have been like if the bombings had not occurred? While walking yesterday with my fitness trainer, I was privy to a story not too many folks got to hear and it is worthy of noting.

The Boston Marathon was an exciting event for approximately 30,000 folks that ran it. Many of them were running for the very first time. My fitness instructor was one of those first timers. Her story is probably like so many others. She flew from out-of-state which just so happened to be my home state of Washington to run in the most prestigious event that one can imagine.

Becci told me she was thrilled beyond words to have been there and in fact at one point before the race began, she had to sit down to gather her composure as she was so overtaken with emotion. She had dreamt of being a part of this race for a very long time.

Arriving early for the race, Becci and her husband took in some of the sights of Boston. She had never been to the Atlantic Ocean. It was a mesmerizing experience for her. A better part of her weekend was mentally getting prepared for the race. She and her husband drove to where the starting line and the finish line would be at. The starting line was in a small town. On the actual day of the Boston Marathon, Becci was amazed at the organization of the event and how many police officers she saw all over the streets with volunteers at every checkpoint you could even imagine.

The only complaint Becci had was that the line to go to the bathroom at one point was way too long and it took almost an hour to just pee before the race began.
The contestants started their race in stages. She began her race in the wrong group by accident and was for her pace in a slower crowd. Becci actually had to weave in and out of the contestants as they were running too slow for her. She figured out that she actually tacked on quite a bit more running because of the side to side jogging of going in and around other runners.

As Becci was approaching the finish line, she went across with an exhilaration that perhaps she had never felt before. She looked for her husband and then they went together a short distance from the finish line to receive her medal. It was only 10 short minutes later that the first bomb went off. Someone yelled it is only a transformer. Twenty seconds later the second bomb went off. Becci’s husband said, “That was no transformer!” At this point they both decided to try to leave and get back to their hotel. They noticed people were beginning to run in shere pandemonium.

My fitness instructor’s cell began to go off crazy with one phone call after another of people asking if they were all right. They were able to share with family and their three children that they were fine. Then there was silence. No more cell reception for anyone. The fear was that the bombers might detonate another bomb from a cell phone.

What began as sheer beauty and joy for Becci turned into a nightmare for many. Luckily my friend and trainer came home safely to her family. She had her medal and was so proud of it. I said to her, “If you had not been weaving side to side between other runners, you could have been crossing the finish line right around when the bombs went off.” Becci looked at me and said, “You are absolutely right.”

Without a doubt this was a horrible day for runners. Yet there is a resilience in a runner like Becci. She is thinking of going back next year. She said, ” When you tell a runner they can not do something, they want to prove you wrong.”

Yes. Becci. I think you and many other runners will do just that next year. Terrorists are not the story here. It is the accomplishments of so many that dreamed of going over that finish line in Boston for the very first time. There were probably 4500 folks that did not get a chance to cross the line according to Becci, but in my mind they are all winners. You can not stop the dream of someone with big aspirations. I mean NO ONE!