tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-73703502740796158312024-03-04T21:07:36.787-08:00No More 3x5'sStriving to be part of the solution.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-68001341178911429642013-09-30T08:32:00.000-07:002013-09-30T08:37:57.520-07:00To Those of You I have Met:<b></b><br />
<b>If I met you while I was in Elementary School:
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When I was in Elementary School, I was one of those kids who was "bigger than my body gave me credit for" (to quote a bit of John Mayer). I was overflowing with ideas and personality. I was a bit intense, and I appreciate those of you who were my friends through that time. I was always sure that my ideas were brilliant, and that everyone would always have a great time if they just followed my lead. I was quite bossy. I was quite stubborn. I am sorry to everyone who played with me....I am sure I was not the easiest person to have as a friend.
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<b>If I met you in Jr. High:</b><br />
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</b>I hated being "the Smart One". I didn't want that label, so I did what any self-respecting twelve year old would do to avoid a stereotype....I became a different stereotype! I am sure it was not enjoyable to be around me while I was constantly playing the "Dumb Blonde". I am sure that it made you want to punch me in the face every time I obsessed about my looks and my weight. I am sure that my obsession with "this boy", or "that boy" got old really fast. I was mean to many of you. I was self-absorbed. I know that adolescence is a difficult time for most people, and I had my share of crap to deal with, however as I look back, I frequently mistreated those I was the closest to. There were so many of you that I looked up to, and yet...I struggled to show it. Thank you for being there even when I was not a great friend.
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<b>If I met you in High School:</b><br />
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While I had pulled myself together quite a bit, I brushed many of you off so that I could hang out with "this boy", or "that boy". I know that many of you were concerned about my behaviors with they boys, and tried to talk some sense in to me, but alas, usually this just made me angry...and I probably yelled at you, and then refused to talk to you for a few days. The sad thing is that you were right, and I was walking a frequently dangerous line. I just didn't want to be told what to do. I am sorry.
I am also sorry for being "that friend" who was so frequently that bad influence. I am sorry for how often I pressured you in to skipping class with me. I think I was just a "misery loves company" type in those days. I was filled with teenage angst and had more than a little "rage against the machine" mentality. We all had a lot of growing up to do, and we all made mistakes...I am just sorry for dragging you along with me in mine.
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<b>If I met you in College:
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Thanks to you, I began to figure out who I really was meant to be. You ladies that I lived with were my fantastic little "pseudo family". I know that I was kinda wild, and that many of you thought I had taken my "wildness" about twelve steps too far. I probably did, but I needed to explore who I was to become, and you ladies gave me the forum to do so. I thank you!
I also really have to apologize to the men I ran across during that time period. I was needing to discover that I had some kind of control over my life, and a lot of that discovery was done at your expense. I treated a great many of you with quite a lot of disrespect. I justified it at the time by thinking that previous guys I had dated held all of the power, and were very domineering. I wanted to set my life back in balance by "settling the score" so to speak. It was all about me, and I didn't really take your feelings in to consideration. I am sorry that I treated you so poorly. <br />
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<b>If I met you in my 20s:</b>
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Once I was married, and had children VERY soon afterward, I was VERY lonely. My life had been such a fun whirlwind in college, and settling in to Motherhood was a really difficult transition. I was so afraid of not being "up to scratch" with other mothers. I was filled with doubt and loneliness. To those of you who took my under your wing and showed me that everything was going to be alright, I thank you from the bottom of my heart! You were Godsends at that time for me! It is sad the way we as mothers tear each other down and make our insecurities twelve times worse, however, you ladies were paramount in helping me to overcome those insecurities and be a better mother. I love you and am forever grateful to you!
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<b>If I met you in my 30s:</b><br />
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It took my 30 years to figure out how to accept myself for who I am. This is largely due to the fact that it took me 30 years to figure out exactly WHO I am. I learned that I spent way too much time as a square peg trying desperately to fit into that blasted round hole! I became unabashedly my own person...however, as it was in my youth, I am "bigger than my body gives me credit for". I know that many of you don't understand the reasons behind my life choices. I have decided that it is ok not to be understood. I know that I am a favorite source of gossip, and I have decided to be happy to supply you with fodder.<br />
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To those of you who were in a band with me, I have to thank you for challenging my perspective on everything. You boys were and are a lovely part of my life/family! My experience making music with you brilliant gentlemen was one of the most challenging and rewarding things I have ever done! Thank you for the opportunity!<br />
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To those of you who are in my circle of close friends, I thank you! I know that I overschedule myself and burn out and fall off the planet, and don't give you the time you deserve. I am grateful you are my friends anyway. I know that I am not one to share my "deepest darkest", and I struggle to be truly close to people. I appreciate you being there for me despite be being difficult to connect with. <br />
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I am grateful for the person I am today, and I am grateful to everyone who became part of the rich tapestry that is my life! I am sorry for the ways that I have hurt you, and am continually blessed for your current or previous part in my life! Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-51109019185633139442013-06-21T10:20:00.002-07:002013-06-21T12:24:02.313-07:00ModestyThere has been a lot of interest surrounding a topic that I have very strong feelings about of late. This is the topic of modesty. Many people have been stating that if a woman is a true "follower of Christ", she will abstain from the wearing of "immodest clothing" on account of what it will "do to the men". I have also seen a woman who is selling her own line of clothing (beware of any information given by someone who stands to gain financially), stating that only those with lowered standards would wear a bikini. I was raised with this thinking. "You just don't know what that type of clothing does to a boy", or my favorite, "Don't you think we as women have a greater responsibility than the men to keep their minds' pure?" were favorite lines of my parents and youth leaders. While I understand that they were truly trying to assist me in my learning and growth, as I went from girl to woman this thought process became damaging to me. I found myself in situations where I was taken advantage of by men, sometimes violently, and I felt the weight of the responsibility and shame of these situations as I had apparently "done something" to these men to "make them" behave in the way they had. My femininity was obviously to blame for the actions of the men, as my body "made them" think and act in ways that they could not control. "Boys will be boys...."
My first child was a son. As I began to raise him, I realized that he is an amazing little human, with a kind of "old-soul" presence. He is very logical and intelligent. As he is now a teenager, I am grateful for the realization that he is not, in fact, some sex-crazed maniac. I worked in the field of Ob/Gyn for a number of years, and as I am comfortable with the topic, sexuality has not been a shameful subject in our home. My son has spoken with me very candidly about his sexual feelings and any questions. I refuse to believe that my son lacks the capacity to pull it together, and control his thoughts and actions! I refuse to teach any of my children that their thoughts are not their own. Sexual thoughts, feelings, and impulses are good and natural, however, it is not the person who is being thought about who is at fault for any fantasy. We can have influence over other people, however, we are not responsible for their thoughts and actions. I, for one, will not degrade my son by teaching him he is nothing more than raging hormones within a sack of skin. He is an intelligent human who is responsible for his actions.
The second part of the problem with the way that we are teaching modesty, is that we are once again teaching women that they are nothing if they are not beautiful in some form or another. My value is NOT is the way I appear to other people! This is NOT my only contribution to society! I am saddened by the countless ladies that feel their only power is in their sexuality. If you are comfortable in an article of clothing, you should feel free to wear it, however, it is reasonable to assess the reasons for your clothing choices. If you are wearing something because it speaks to the world about who you are as a person, feel free to wear it. However, of you feel that you need to wear something that does nothing but get you sexual attention, you are part of that problem telling everyone that we as women are nothing more than our bodies...and our bodies are only useful as sexual objects. You are perpetuating the idea that once you are no longer sexually attractive, you have lost your place in our society. Ladies, let us re-train everyone to see us as human beings! Dress in a way that shows the world who you really are! The more we state that certain items of clothing are "overly sexual", the more we train our society in an almost pavlovian way that the items in question are sexual, therefore, handing people the thoughts that we are so concerned with. PLEASE evaluate why you are making the clothing choices you are. Do not let society dictate who you are, and DO NOT buy in to the notion that you are only a body! Dress in a way that is not an advertisement for a moment of sexual gratification for another person, rather, dress in a way that helps people understand who you are as a human.
I refuse to teach my son that he is just an animal, and I refuse to teach my daughters they are just a body! I refuse to teach any of my children that there are "bad" parts of their bodies! I refuse to refer to sexual acts as "dirty" or "filthy"! I want my children to think of sex in a positive light, and I want them to feel that they are in control of their lives! Ladies, let's show everyone that we are worth more than just our sexuality! Let us make clothing choices that are not tainted with society's rules. Let us show the world our wit and wisdom! Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-76607147643311383282011-11-04T12:09:00.000-07:002011-11-04T12:30:18.748-07:00MusicI have music in my soul. I am just one of those people. I have recently been talking to my students about the power of music. We did an experiment to see if they could literally feel music enter and later leave their bodies. It was magical! I played a very upbeat song for them and told them to remain absolutely still. They had a very difficult time doing this. I pointed out to them that music has the ability to create energy. Very few things have this capasity, for example, if you are in a large croud of people who are collectively yelling, this will create energy. However, my class was remaining completely still. They were focusing their minds on being relaxed. They were not in and of themselves the source of the energy that was created. The music did it to them. Suddenly, they were filled with a need to move. They had to find a way to express the energy that filled their bodies, and their bodies became anxious when they were unable to do so. There is a great power in this. I then had them listen to the same piece of music while focusing intently on the way that the energy filled them. I had them remain still after I turned off the music, and had them pay particular attention to the way they could actually feel that same energy leave them. (If you have never done this, I urge you to try. It is pretty amazing). <br /><br />I explained that music is not a force to be taken lightly. It has the power to create energy as well as take it away. It has a profound effect on our emotions. I for one, have been moved by music on countless occasions. The first time, I remember having the experience was when I was probablly four years old. I was watching a children's program where a montage of scenery was displayed to "Adagio for Strings" by Samuel Barber. I remember crying and not understanding why. I have always felt that music has the power to speak to us in ways that other forms of communication cannot. Victor Hugo said it best when he said, "Music expresses that which cannot be said, but upon which is impossible to be silent."<br /><br />I often hear people say that they wish life was a giant musical. I believe that it is. I believe that all of the music I allow into my soul is the soundtrack to my life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-61043047164111488712010-11-04T16:46:00.000-07:002010-11-04T17:26:23.506-07:00Why I Hate Christmas MusicAs many of you know, I LOATHE Christmas music!! I can barely stomach Christmas shopping because of it. I take a lot of flack because of my feelings toward it, and I am lectured every year as well. Everyone always says, "I can't understand how ANYONE can have a problem with Christmas music.", and, "How can you not want to have the Christmas Spirit all year?". It is because of this, I have decided to take a moment and justify my feelings. <br /><br />First of all, let me put Christmas music into two <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">categories</span>: Cheesy/<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Sugary</span>, and of Holy/Religious. <br /><br />The first <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">category</span> I feel is self-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">explanatory</span> for anyone who knows me very well, but for the rest of you, I will explain. I am not really that "sugary sweet" kinda gal. I prefer things that are a little dark, or thought-provoking. I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">despise</span> puns and that sort of silliness. I wouldn't usually listen to a shallow, predictable melody about goofy unicorns or fairies planting sugar flowers or something....I feel that I have moved on to more adult kinds of music. I really don't care about care about the roasted <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">chestnuts</span> on the open fire, or the blasted silver bells on the street corners, and seriously, I throw up in my mouth a little bit <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">every time</span> someone whiles about their heart that they gave to some jerk last Christmas and their plans to give it to someone better this year. However, I know that there are people who love the simple sweetness of some of the more "sugary" of Christmas songs, and on that, we will just have to agree to disagree. <br /><br />The second <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">category</span> really is the one that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">frustrates</span> me the most. I have a hard time with what I call "Bumper-Sticker Religion". I have never felt that the rear window or a car or the like is really the place for my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">declarations</span> of faith. My faith is very personal to me, and I honestly want to hold it in a place of highest value. I think that religion and faith should always be held as sacred, and only reserved for times when it can be expressed with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">utmost</span> reverence. A beautiful gold cross, or a Star of David on a chain, or a CTR ring worn as an outward reminder of faith is, in my mind, an appropriate show of faith, however, maybe "Jesus Saves" on a mudflap is a bit much. It is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">because</span> if my problem with this type of attitude that I have a problem with the Religious/Holy type of Christmas music. I love to sing it or listen to it in an appropriate and worshipful setting, but somehow the music looses something when it is performed by a boy band. I RARELY hear "Top <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Forty</span>" type artists treat holy music with the respect that it deserves, and it upsets me to hear things that I hold as sacred in a callous and casual setting. <br /><br />So, those are my justifications. I really don't hate the season. I love the spirit of the season and the goodness that it brings. I just never am a fan of the dorky cheesiness, and I just want the sacred to remain so.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-81242623082027550372010-10-10T15:35:00.001-07:002010-10-10T15:57:33.137-07:00Assuming Good IntentI have been doing a lot of soul sear<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">ching</span> of late. I try to give people the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">benefit</span> of the doubt and assume that their intentions are good. I don't think that very many people are <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">truly</span> evil, or to quote myself, "No one wakes up in the morning and says "You know what I am gonna do today? Suck!" " <br /><br />My problem comes when I have come to that point where someone has hurt me to a large degree, or taken advantage one too many times. I am realizing that I have a very difficult time returning to that place of assuming good intent. I assume that if someone has hurt me, and I have chosen to let it affect me, their intentions can never be good again. I look for reasons that the individual could be trying to hurt me again. This is an unfair <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">assessment</span> of people, and I realize it is a hypocritical position for me to take because I believe so strongly that people really do intend to do good in general. I also realize that I have a difficult time trusting people, and when I refuse to allow people to have good intentions toward me, I am a part of the problem, and not a part of the solution. As long as I have this attitude, I will not be able to trust people.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-75783023298547930052010-08-11T14:20:00.000-07:002010-08-11T15:26:34.436-07:00Things I Have Learned From Being a Waitress...So, I am just like everyone else. I have been to a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">restaurant</span> and thought to myself, "Why can't that blasted waitress just refill my soda? This job isn't rocket science after all...it's not like it requires a degree of some sort. I mean, seriously, how difficult can this be?"<br /><br />Well, as Karma would have it, I find myself recently employed as a server at Mimi's cafe. I figured that I could do the work...after all, "how hard can it really be?", as I have asked myself on numerous <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">eating</span> out excursions. I have worked for years in the medical field balancing blood draws and lab tests and billing and keeping pregnant and other hormonal women happy...I should certainly be able to handle bringing food to people, right?<br /><br />I quickly learned that my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">frustration</span> with serving staff was a direct result of my lack of understanding of situations. My server might not <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">refill</span> my drink immediately because as she was off to get my soda, one of her tables may have accused her of stealing their debit card, or other such nonsense. Here is a list of what I have learned in this position...<br /><br />1. I was unprepared for the lack of respect that people have for servers. Contrary to popular belief, I am an intelligent and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">educated</span> person...NOT your servant. <br /><br />2. I work TOTALLY on tips. Server wage is TWO DOLLARS and HOUR!! ALL of my paycheck comes from you. Even if I wasn't <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">flawless</span>, please be generous with your tips. Imagine going to work all day and having your boss yell at you and tell you that today you get to go home with nothing because you suck so bad... <br /><br />3. The cooks and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">bussers</span> and hosts get paid...your server does not. If your food is incorrectly prepared, or your table was not cleaned off properly, this was NOT the fault of your server...so he/she should not be penalized by you. <br /><br />4. If you can't afford to leave a tip...stay home or eat fast food. <br /><br />5. Your server really does want you to be happy...if you aren't, please tell them so they can make it right. <br /><br />6. Servers HATE "Girl's Night Out". Often, they fight over who has to take these tables. Let me explain something to you...a server is given a certain number of tables to wait on during a shift, and if you take up a table for HOURS ON END you should <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">probably</span> tip your server extra, because you are LITERALLY causing them to loose money. Also, groups of girls/women traditionally try to "out under-eat" <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">each other</span>, so the amount that you are going to tip will already be less....however, these groups usually require A TON OF BABYSITTING, so really, just be aware of what you are doing.<br /><br />7. Don't assume that your server is an idiot. Believe it or not, I have a college degree. <br /><br />8. If your server if forgetting something, just remind them in a polite way. They really do have a million things going on, and may have just had a table chew their face off and insult their parentage, which may have <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">legitimately</span> caused them to forget. Again, they really do want you to be happy. <br /><br />9. If your food is not tasting the way you would like, it is fine to mention this rather than just sit and seathe. Again, what everyone really wants is for you to be happy, leave a decent tip, and come back again. <br /><br />10. Mistakes will be made....are YOU flawless?<br /><br />11. No one is gonna spit in your food...we are really just too busy.<br /><br />12. Consider getting an appitizer and a soda. I know it costs a little more, but we really get reamed by our bosses if we don't sell a certain amount. Also, if we have a little scripted thing that we have to say...just let us say it. If a manager happens to be listening and we don't say everything we are supposed to....we may get yelled at. (And truely, we get yelled at a lot). <br /><br />I totally understand that I have been guilty of many of these things pre-server...and it was because I really didn't understand the job. I am glad that I understand a bit better now, and hopefully you won't have to go through the hell that serving can be before you learn. Payback's a bitch.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-28538536164705223482010-07-29T09:22:00.000-07:002010-07-29T10:00:44.851-07:00What To Do With The Time That Is Given YouI am very blessed. I have an amazing husband, beautiful and healthy children, a lovely house, an education, friends, and the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">opportunity</span> to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">pursue</span> whatever I wish in life. I have been reflecting of late on why it is that I have been so blessed. What is it that separates me from others that have not been so lucky? Is it fate, or perhaps luck? Is it really something that I deserve on my own merit? I believe that the answer to all of these questions is, "No". I am one life experience away from prosperity or disaster. Therefore, what right do I have to do nothing while others suffer? How will I choose to use my blessings? Will I lock them away in my house and provide nothing to others whose circumstances are different than mine? Do I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">truly</span> believe that my responsibility is to those who are a part of my family only? Am I so prideful that I believe that I am superior in some way to those who were not afforded my life experience? What if it was their own doing that placed them in their current situation....is it really for me to judge whether or not they are deserving of the punishment?<br /><br />I recently read a book that provided the theme "People who change the world are neither sinners or saints. They are simply people who had the courage to 'Do'". It suggested that when an individual sees another providing for those less fortunate than themselves or engaging themselves a great cause, the individual will call them a "Saint" or "Crazy". This is a form of "passing the buck". If you can rationalize that that individual is different than yourself, then you are off the hook. You can get by doing nothing. If you admit to yourself that people making a difference are <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">exactly</span> like you, than it is also your responsibility to change the world. <br /><br />If I am a God-fearing woman....than I believe that it is my duty to make a difference because it is what God desires of me. If I do not believe in God...than it is my responsibility to do something because no "supreme being" will be there to intervene on their behalf.<br /><br />I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">am a</span> God-fearing woman, and I have come to the conclusion that I am blessed so that I have the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">opportunity</span> to give. I believe that I will be judged on what I have done with the blessings I have <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">received</span>. 95% of the world's wealth is in the hands of 5% of the world's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">population</span>....and that gives that 5% a responsibility to the other 95%. Remember, you are one life experience away from being out of that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">category</span>.<br /><br />You are always part of the solution, or part of the problem....there is no middle ground.<br /><br /><br />All we have to decide is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">what</span> to do with the time that is given us. -TolkienUnknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-35336220506541762082010-04-28T12:11:00.001-07:002010-04-28T12:26:41.754-07:00You Know Who You AreSo, this last year has been a particularly difficult one for me...for multiple reasons. There are reasons that people know about, and many that no one knows about. I am a very private person when it comes to my pain. I deal with things better when I am in control of every aspect and therefore am not one who shares my pain with others.<br /><br />I am, however, learning that there are people in which I can trust. I have been amazed of late how the exact right people can show up at the exact right time in my life. I am so grateful for friends who know me well enough to notice red flags and just ask if I am ok...even if I am not up to sharing. I have been touched by how concerned friends have been, and their willingness to go to my defense even if they don't know why. It is nice to know that there are people who are on my team. Thank you for being there for me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-83143157747152905602010-04-25T14:37:00.000-07:002010-04-25T15:08:44.631-07:00So, I FREAKING APOLOGIZE, then!!!I know who I am. I know that I don't fit into the perfect mold of this community. I know that I don't have the ability to blend in with every crowd that I am a part of. I am not a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">chameleon</span>. I am the same person regardless of who I am with. I know that I can be loud, I know that I can be opinionated. I know that I can be a bit much for some people. I know that there are a lot of people who disagree with the things that I do and have done. I know that I hate intolerance to the point of being "intolerant of the intolerant". I also know this makes me a hypocrite. I know that I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">over schedule</span> myself. I know that I am a perfectionist to the point of being unable to continue with something if I can't do it perfectly. I know that I am sometimes wound a bit tight. I know that I can't type worth my salt. I know that I don't actually know my right from my left without thinking about it for a sec. I know that I am terrible at parking. I know that I don't <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">immediately</span> trust people. I know that I have trust issues and daddy issues. I know that I don't have a healthy way of dealing with any big emotion. I know that I have a lot of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">surface</span> friends, and very few real ones. I know that there are very few people who know the real me, or care to, for that matter. I know that I hate to look like I am not put together. I know that I am not good at sharing emotion. I know that most people like me...but don't really want to be friends with me. Which really brings me to my point. I know that I am a very flawed person. I will straight -up own my crazy. No one really needs to point out every little flaw that I have to me. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Every time</span> I screw up, it does NOT need to be brought to my attention (over and over and over). I would LOVE it if someone would take TWO SECONDS and see what I do instead of what I don't. I feel like there is quite a bit I do for people, and yet, that never seems to be recognized. I would love to be praised for the work that I do instead of chewed when it is not. I know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">exactly</span> who I am. I know that there is more to me than just my flaws. I just wish that people could maybe come to that realization as well. If you really can't just love me, I would really appreciate if you could PLEASE refrain from continually pointing out all of my faults. I try really hard not to point out yours, and would love if you could find it in your heart to grant me the same courtesy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-38816015581732877312010-01-01T08:46:00.000-08:002010-01-01T08:55:43.498-08:00The Spooks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTmLXB_nDh1Qbfhrjfd-MXcqGaVxygD2UU6GaflSgyyhCpJM5n9e_IH9ZnSGgJwLKZXKzD1H09RUuSL5Zuw3peAzzTXDUUfenE4fQ99JlyOnEScVZiv4f1snuAg985PQRV048mjZJEA/s1600-h/halloween09.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421815103211515026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCTmLXB_nDh1Qbfhrjfd-MXcqGaVxygD2UU6GaflSgyyhCpJM5n9e_IH9ZnSGgJwLKZXKzD1H09RUuSL5Zuw3peAzzTXDUUfenE4fQ99JlyOnEScVZiv4f1snuAg985PQRV048mjZJEA/s200/halloween09.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Halloween was AWESOME this year! My kids are HYSTERICAL, and I love to get involved with the craziness. This year, I had a crazy reptile, a bat, and Little Red Riding Hood. The kids went out <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">trick-or</span>-treating with cousins, Tornado, and Princess. It was great. Yep, Halloween is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">defiantly</span> the favorite! How can you not love the fun and creepiness of this holiday?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwVnJdUs-vQhroOynRySNN_LBguoLFe7X5jps-BZJIqzsuoeeXfriup8-k8HPMoXi9RoXkK9N9rAtRVnJodzQAnaRV7p8aezSZLrOEk3XQYvoS1vkMqynQRgXe1QGZWNa-5g0bfI73A/s1600-h/IMG_3544.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421814731194107314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirwVnJdUs-vQhroOynRySNN_LBguoLFe7X5jps-BZJIqzsuoeeXfriup8-k8HPMoXi9RoXkK9N9rAtRVnJodzQAnaRV7p8aezSZLrOEk3XQYvoS1vkMqynQRgXe1QGZWNa-5g0bfI73A/s200/IMG_3544.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhUBiPAIlXH1O-4XahXOU4OpzTDu6s_DLDvR_jyQOT42Lne9ABbiAIf3SKg9wx3HriOdPqDgFKfqoLHpUwPE9u3TnCVH_9Rfq3BcB1Aut94xaHtwc4I_Y34uGV1yQh7Pjd-u8La5nAg/s1600-h/IMG_3533.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421814437111521026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQhUBiPAIlXH1O-4XahXOU4OpzTDu6s_DLDvR_jyQOT42Lne9ABbiAIf3SKg9wx3HriOdPqDgFKfqoLHpUwPE9u3TnCVH_9Rfq3BcB1Aut94xaHtwc4I_Y34uGV1yQh7Pjd-u8La5nAg/s200/IMG_3533.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrt3xRsHTlpel9ONC2pD0156ByJeyr4_JLduFUzlONms-SD_SpqZkNCiEy7TvMXx2SEGJ4mcwDQPgf6x77pYUfKCIMX7SNuwQildRi5HpllK8LNcC-DDmH5bh7NWRSBOqXw4iUmKtkdw/s1600-h/IMG_3532.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421814169327328882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrt3xRsHTlpel9ONC2pD0156ByJeyr4_JLduFUzlONms-SD_SpqZkNCiEy7TvMXx2SEGJ4mcwDQPgf6x77pYUfKCIMX7SNuwQildRi5HpllK8LNcC-DDmH5bh7NWRSBOqXw4iUmKtkdw/s200/IMG_3532.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-91197557961553259402009-10-13T13:12:00.000-07:002009-10-13T13:50:52.792-07:00The Scariest ThingSo, as you may know, my very favorite <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">holiday</span> is fast approaching...and so I thought it fitting to write about what scares me. I know that there are many who are afraid of ghosts and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">cemeteries</span> and other such things, but I have never really been scared of them. In fact, I recently visited an actual haunted house with some friends, and have spent a night in a graveyard. (I know, something is wrong with me...if you feel the need to point this out, I suppose you can. Also, the video of the recent haunted excursion and a full report are <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">forthcoming</span>). These things really don't terrify me. I am not going to say that a creepy spider doesn't make my skin crawl a bit, or that a ghost wouldn't make my heart stop for a fraction of a second, but they don't keep me up at night either. However, the thing that really freaks me out is (and I fully u<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqy7_uCBjFNXbTwV64BdXAD6pTh8tnxsEOahF-84_GsEI0QuDlOcOeBk-T_RpW-LzYfRuYy8NO1oFxys15Dcf4z5yBvOPmikYSh7ulovAp2iA1nIrUJtxcT4zXUEUtMQrR8eLhyphenhyphen7_TJg/s1600-h/ring+girl+tv_thumb.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 114px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392189146572538834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqy7_uCBjFNXbTwV64BdXAD6pTh8tnxsEOahF-84_GsEI0QuDlOcOeBk-T_RpW-LzYfRuYy8NO1oFxys15Dcf4z5yBvOPmikYSh7ulovAp2iA1nIrUJtxcT4zXUEUtMQrR8eLhyphenhyphen7_TJg/s200/ring+girl+tv_thumb.jpg" /></a>nderstand the mocking that is comming my way for this) unnatural movement. Let me explain this a bit. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcClPHYzwxfmMozx-H1vfeMJDkWWdr32jL23yV6tAskIqMn3H_MLmu3IYtWbW3NeJA9Njti25wHZd4_-4VDDEctdykoD_JPkzA_vkSW_u8cBQXcIdxNooeKh2LvehLsiarr6f1h0i2Cw/s1600-h/Exorcist-spider-girl.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392188395255896402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcClPHYzwxfmMozx-H1vfeMJDkWWdr32jL23yV6tAskIqMn3H_MLmu3IYtWbW3NeJA9Njti25wHZd4_-4VDDEctdykoD_JPkzA_vkSW_u8cBQXcIdxNooeKh2LvehLsiarr6f1h0i2Cw/s200/Exorcist-spider-girl.jpg" /></a>You know when you are watching a movie, and suddenly the camera is sped up making someone move really fast and jerky? Or when someone is all bent inhumanly? That freaks me out to no end!! I know...it is the weirdest thing ever, but I can't watch that part in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">exorcist</span> where the girl is backward bend/walking down the stairs. It freaks me out for days! I can't watch The Ring...and not because of the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0yF5p_UTNONyg-_fXnp2g0BdmOqbRFdblnxF6G8_OYKy9OXGrhGmxCUTXO2pLSvyk-JFp5lwTFosQsinBTTCVAPFlk3-0n4wBXXFqxBEPG_GJBHoL4hVRViFPfaPaoxZcESET6ix8A/s1600-h/Snow+Monster.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392188599818293026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP0yF5p_UTNONyg-_fXnp2g0BdmOqbRFdblnxF6G8_OYKy9OXGrhGmxCUTXO2pLSvyk-JFp5lwTFosQsinBTTCVAPFlk3-0n4wBXXFqxBEPG_GJBHoL4hVRViFPfaPaoxZcESET6ix8A/s200/Snow+Monster.jpg" /></a>plot or other creepiness...it is really just the way that that blasted girl comes out of the TV! I am not gonna lie, sometimes even <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">claymation</span> gets me. I am still kind of afraid of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Abominable</span> Snow Monster in Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. It gives me the flipp<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3Wji9jkhh6VmegTR3a_IxWxIXUGmjgteMoCghoeTCOdXXIU3IfvbdUCUcmrB6PKCyStK-13MhESnuadNFKSs7C56edxbK701lBfa8dECkqCB3u9h7tKsM7aFPKTNveGiIGbXgBc2YQ/s1600-h/king_kong_1933-24.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392188212098451874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX3Wji9jkhh6VmegTR3a_IxWxIXUGmjgteMoCghoeTCOdXXIU3IfvbdUCUcmrB6PKCyStK-13MhESnuadNFKSs7C56edxbK701lBfa8dECkqCB3u9h7tKsM7aFPKTNveGiIGbXgBc2YQ/s200/king_kong_1933-24.jpg" /></a>ing <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">heebies</span> when he first climbs over that mountain...and on that note, so does the old King Kong. What the crap is up with those creepy eyes, and the jerky way that me moves!?!? So, while I may not ever be scared of "What Lies Beneath", or any of the classic slasher movies like "Halloween" or "Scream", just know that I won't sleep without the lights on if you ask me to watch "The Grudge", or even, potentially "Rudolf".Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-50375731819717252082009-09-17T14:17:00.001-07:002009-09-17T17:26:34.192-07:00Sectum Sempra<div><div><div><div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LXsfv13sLgVXpKobZdFIk2dl8x-lbkT_tKaiUZCY2gYEVZFy1YzoY8wUjVzp7yJGDWH52LekWiZzessSzFRHNhVHokgjB0ggBFHrzual3bywiAUGfBepVUfUdgkymTUJY5GMaXhyLQ/s1600-h/089.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382593357765721058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6LXsfv13sLgVXpKobZdFIk2dl8x-lbkT_tKaiUZCY2gYEVZFy1YzoY8wUjVzp7yJGDWH52LekWiZzessSzFRHNhVHokgjB0ggBFHrzual3bywiAUGfBepVUfUdgkymTUJY5GMaXhyLQ/s200/089.JPG" /></a>So, I totally forgot to write about the HP6 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">extravag</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2YWPlzL-WeE2bi1rIb2yovL4E6i2EPGU3n8nWOc5PV4TTyo6kxozUAwEPlhbHzj_r3I5RcjFZTclCRlQK6ME4uKUxl2fC81L-HzWHimGnBfmGTgckzvQYeDbD5wTE1hZVSWxagLa_w/s1600-h/091.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382593974291021666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2YWPlzL-WeE2bi1rIb2yovL4E6i2EPGU3n8nWOc5PV4TTyo6kxozUAwEPlhbHzj_r3I5RcjFZTclCRlQK6ME4uKUxl2fC81L-HzWHimGnBfmGTgckzvQYeDbD5wTE1hZVSWxagLa_w/s200/091.JPG" /></a><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">anza</span> that I had. (Harry Potter, and the Half-Blood Prince). I was asked by a friend of mine, Jordan <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Quist</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Goodson</span>, to volunteer at the HP6 party that the Jordan commons was having. I met Jordan at a few other midnight movie <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">premiere</span> camping <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">crazinesses</span> that I<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb84K5s6H5lRuvpGwGe8J_t8J4BUR1clnjdm5qjalOj1iJlQWJc5LHYXCgqzhylGfDmCIlXV1pwdPMrGtTYS9LmKkcS7LCLQqI3cpPNLRCpZtPl3DWIjmApulRQxSZ9D24dLQBaIRryg/s1600-h/092.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382594864115934034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb84K5s6H5lRuvpGwGe8J_t8J4BUR1clnjdm5qjalOj1iJlQWJc5LHYXCgqzhylGfDmCIlXV1pwdPMrGtTYS9LmKkcS7LCLQqI3cpPNLRCpZtPl3DWIjmApulRQxSZ9D24dLQBaIRryg/s200/092.JPG" /></a> have been to. and so he knew that I was a but nutty for this type of thing. He also asked that S<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5KJArc4R7vJzcZTjyeN9Wyqmpk3d7XVXH-0bORcZDblRqRAOr_LXYa0ZqIjbNyAMLiCIgW4mpajRsx72b6tGKy9Y8ex8fo630Kr8JXearmUTTMxihPluuKAh98ZBNfg6cmW5sNh4iA/s1600-h/094.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382595328862570082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt5KJArc4R7vJzcZTjyeN9Wyqmpk3d7XVXH-0bORcZDblRqRAOr_LXYa0ZqIjbNyAMLiCIgW4mpajRsx72b6tGKy9Y8ex8fo630Kr8JXearmUTTMxihPluuKAh98ZBNfg6cmW5sNh4iA/s200/094.JPG" /></a><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">tef</span>, (The <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cap'm</span>) join in the fun, as well as invite two others who could volunteer with us. I asked my sister-in-law Jen and her husband Devi<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhay3-k6wwMspwH48tae5j4RxR9lR6bNQcPJYCyCFkcqZ07KTbvJdFVM8QJlC0KKVXLiVE2-FjzNDkit_TEA-422Cvh8rCEtBqo1Fn85V6irx3WHl7Yzhni1xLOGQGoF_Vuf4EVs2h9SQ/s1600-h/093.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382594871291606754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhay3-k6wwMspwH48tae5j4RxR9lR6bNQcPJYCyCFkcqZ07KTbvJdFVM8QJlC0KKVXLiVE2-FjzNDkit_TEA-422Cvh8rCEtBqo1Fn85V6irx3WHl7Yzhni1xLOGQGoF_Vuf4EVs2h9SQ/s200/093.JPG" /></a>n if they could help us out. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Stef</span> and I dressed up as the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Weasley</span> twins, Fred and George, and Jen and Dev were Mad-Eye Moody, and Professor <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">Trewlany</span>. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Stef</span> and I handed out Pygmy Puffs, and candy from the "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Weasley</span> Wizard Wheezes" store to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">random</span> people. We were assigned to check VIP people in. Jen and Dev ran the "Hogwarts Express". The evening was complete with <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">butterbeer</span> and cauldron cakes. By the time the movie started, we <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">wer</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdfnPsaJ9YYVuI3FN7ZQxsc7pgxBt7_wez8Tk92Mx-wEjw4LXTFJzswkt6BJUdhZTtQQd2YdHzzHa-cZJzOZLdKw0GLE4yzPHiOCxQzaGrrWxMNW6NE2K9wnb5IaLBcKkjsotVS87Rw/s1600-h/095.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382595842326226674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdfnPsaJ9YYVuI3FN7ZQxsc7pgxBt7_wez8Tk92Mx-wEjw4LXTFJzswkt6BJUdhZTtQQd2YdHzzHa-cZJzOZLdKw0GLE4yzPHiOCxQzaGrrWxMNW6NE2K9wnb5IaLBcKkjsotVS87Rw/s200/095.JPG" /></a>e all exhausted, but has had a really <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ApqSh8PBwn4QddkOk_4la_J8zqGvUDcft47UZd3syKS5R58i4-NulWLJc6N_nECDjaiwsg1mD9rVgXMVIhMm8aR3r-XeFo8NI57M0kH50BsLjoYEC-6UAWBYezgZV1tmy75ZfmJ9tQ/s1600-h/096.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382595850094702546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ApqSh8PBwn4QddkOk_4la_J8zqGvUDcft47UZd3syKS5R58i4-NulWLJc6N_nECDjaiwsg1mD9rVgXMVIhMm8aR3r-XeFo8NI57M0kH50BsLjoYEC-6UAWBYezgZV1tmy75ZfmJ9tQ/s200/096.JPG" /></a>great evening. </div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-79350857124647137952009-09-17T13:53:00.000-07:002009-09-17T14:03:34.044-07:00Practice What You PreachThis is another gem that I found in a parenting magazine. I have had it hanging on my fridge for a few years (it is from the September 2005 edition), and it is pretty hammered. I decided to post it here so that I can finally throw it away, but share it with you as well. <br /><br /><strong>Practice What You Preach</strong><br />Are you sending mixed messages about good values? See if any of these little <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">slip-ups</span> sound familiar.<br /><br /><em>You tell your child it's nice to help others, </em>but you never drop anything into your supermarket's food-drive bin.<br /><br /><em>You shout,"Turn off those cartoons", </em>but you spend every evening watching TV until bedtime.<br /><br /><em>You tell your child she's perfect just as she is, </em>but you're obsessed with your weight.<br /><br /><em>You explain that people come in all shapes. sizes, and colors, </em>but when a neighbor tells a racist joke, you laugh.<br /><br /><em>You tell your child to be a better listener, </em>but you interrupt his stories to answer your cell phone.<br /><br /><em>You say it's polite to take turns,</em> but you hog the remote control.<br /><br /><em>You tell him to control his tantrums, </em>but you curse at anyone who cuts you off when you're driving him to school.<br /><br /><em>You say, "Use your words!", </em>but when you're angry at your partner and he asks what's wrong, you snap, "If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."<br /><br /><em>You urge your child not to compare herself to others, </em>but you get jealous if your neighbors take fancier vacations than you do.<br /><br /><em>You teach that it's wrong to steal, </em><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">but</span> you take towels home from the hotel.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-19105575322031622672009-09-11T11:41:00.000-07:002009-09-11T12:28:12.650-07:00Things Every Mom Should Know (or, What I have Learned From Motherhood So Far)I found most of these in a parenting magazine. I thought that they were really good. <br /><br /><br />1. Do household chores while the kids are awake. Using up <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">naptime</span> to clean the bathroom or wash the dishes is truly soul-crushing.<br /><br />2. Embrace your children's quirks.<br /><br />3. Put Band-Aids on everything your kids want to...why not?<br /><br />4. Lay with your kids in bed if they ask. It will be too soon before they stop asking. <br /><br />5. Don't forget to play board games with your kids...sure you will have to suffer through Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders, but Connect Four and Disney Scene It are actually pretty fun. And who can resist a good game of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Jenga</span>?<br /><br />6. Find out all about stuff that your kids are interested in, even if it doesn't interest you. Then, when they talk about it, listen intently, and have intelligent things to say about it.<br /><br />7. A trip through the washing machine and a run under the iron can work wonders on DI clothes. <br /><br />8. Try to like the books that they do. It sucks when it's "Bob the Builder", but is awesome when it is Harry Potter, or Lemony <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Snicket</span>. <br /><br />9. Buy kids <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">deodorant</span> before they need it.<br /><br />10. Don't administer a punishment that hurts you more than it does them.<br /><br />11. Make sure you know how your kids like their burgers and eggs cooked. This will save so much time when ordering at the diner.<br /><br />12. Expose your kids to a variety of foods early and often. You will squash <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">pickiness</span> early.<br /><br />13. You're never too old to dress up and decorate for Halloween. It is more fun for everyone if you are in to it...and it also entitles you to some candy. :)<br /><br />14. Give awards for actual achievements.<br /><br />15. Just throw away the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">poopy</span> underwear.<br /><br />16. Read to your kids in the morning at breakfast. Also use this time to practice spelling words. (Then check two things off of your To-do list). <br /><br />17. Eat somewhere nice(er) instead of a fast food place, and order one entree for you and your kids and split it. This will save you money, and is not as gross. <br /><br />18. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">Independence</span> is a wonderful thing for everyone...and so is together time. Make sure you have a healthy dose of both.<br /><br />19. Volunteer in your child's classroom. You can help the teacher, as well as observe how your child interacts with the other children in the class. <br /><br />20. Teach your children healthy eating <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">habits</span>, and then don't beat yourself up when you have Cold Cereal occasionally for dinner. <br /><br />21. It is OK to have your own hobbies.<br /><br />22. Don't compare your kids to others. Just love and embrace the child that they are.<br /><br />23. Expose your children to different races, religions, and ideas than your own. (Especially if you life in a community that is filled with people who all look and act the same as you.)<br /><br />24. Don't compare yourself to other moms either.<br /><br />25. Love every day with your kids. Don't pine for their <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">infanthood</span>, or babyhood too much, or your run the risk of missing their childhood. Find joy in every stage they go through. <br /><br />26. Motherhood makes you a crazy person. Accept it and move on.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-78878270541305834192009-09-11T11:10:00.000-07:002009-09-17T14:16:19.234-07:00FYF<div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjI5Xy5hpf8hpzLT17F-nMZqtudOWe5WQ9X9-ugpz5XIh37jx3icVWfqggvCWl-4seB5QQeCL6HRlKFstARgnQqh1OrDFFwSrkN4aVAOB0shmvAjEYArhwd-rveNzbUT4T6MpUnHIFTA/s1600-h/Cafe+Madrid.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382546089225409042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjI5Xy5hpf8hpzLT17F-nMZqtudOWe5WQ9X9-ugpz5XIh37jx3icVWfqggvCWl-4seB5QQeCL6HRlKFstARgnQqh1OrDFFwSrkN4aVAOB0shmvAjEYArhwd-rveNzbUT4T6MpUnHIFTA/s200/Cafe+Madrid.bmp" /></a><br /><div>So...I have to take a minute and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">publicly</span> declare to the world what a wonderful husband I have and how grateful I am <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4avY-LpdYKeIJ2cwTLQEdwZXv7DC6ZQlW5wD7wcoQLqpjs9vhE9Y5uCxRI2Oz2EP7_p9_RT5aDnz-Sp671GcN_fXVO3du-PaVcPkDyKIBFvNqg9R7L_9NEDotirAnTNkhbm9CJXDQw/s1600-h/031.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382547236149498914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-4avY-LpdYKeIJ2cwTLQEdwZXv7DC6ZQlW5wD7wcoQLqpjs9vhE9Y5uCxRI2Oz2EP7_p9_RT5aDnz-Sp671GcN_fXVO3du-PaVcPkDyKIBFvNqg9R7L_9NEDotirAnTNkhbm9CJXDQw/s200/031.JPG" /></a>to him. I was attracted to him from the first moment I saw him...and have not ceased to be since. I can't think of anyone else in the world that would be a<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksPd7J4KLcXNd7x8hj8qrDxDK0V76T8VecnM_zqdSd4Ujtm-eOnkU6IGJA-gVvvt_RQeX6plu3AzZU8JiLqHFTbhEWpjVuwObFg7ETD7ayEW_9peQxZmuKHJj_WCcJjSdrWUJfiqFgg/s1600-h/IMG_3017.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382547715269039106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgksPd7J4KLcXNd7x8hj8qrDxDK0V76T8VecnM_zqdSd4Ujtm-eOnkU6IGJA-gVvvt_RQeX6plu3AzZU8JiLqHFTbhEWpjVuwObFg7ETD7ayEW_9peQxZmuKHJj_WCcJjSdrWUJfiqFgg/s200/IMG_3017.JPG" /></a>s supportive of all the crazy things that I do than he is, and the knowledge that I have left my children in the most capable hands possible when I do go out on an adventure is invaluable. I appreciate how hard he works to make this family have every comfort <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">imaginable</span>, and that he does so without complaint. I love that he can listen to me talk to him <span style="color:#000000;">for</span> hours, and still listen the entire time. I love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWupqRtv3mHOc6PIezRlJrthNAAOGdQcC-fY4y2CAp-VhY0qR3bQGDRPbTZ5Sc8Cab05bHijj0trr1iIkPDsUA-hOC98rHKv5rpEA6jVlQZdDBMFGpMy_pzfeIol3aRLk2zSojwheNeg/s1600-h/JAn-May+2008+016.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382546321152247058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWupqRtv3mHOc6PIezRlJrthNAAOGdQcC-fY4y2CAp-VhY0qR3bQGDRPbTZ5Sc8Cab05bHijj0trr1iIkPDsUA-hOC98rHKv5rpEA6jVlQZdDBMFGpMy_pzfeIol3aRLk2zSojwheNeg/s200/JAn-May+2008+016.jpg" /></a> that he still flirts with me, and teases me the same way that he did when our relationship was new. I am so glad that I can be so in love with him...and so infatuated with him at the same time. I love that he is such a driven individual a<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3emJsjaHqTU_LDI8NsUCuimfAKZ5yUlxQdy9iYPidYak_xB5Hh_3IhsxsYMNQT18E3xg0a7BHAfL1nS3YF3JtmSalW5OgS72xmrIQz9iCqSgoytEvy7BYJt2ni57yCrRDgXp2pzTPQ/s1600-h/IMG_3002.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382547706500780802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN3emJsjaHqTU_LDI8NsUCuimfAKZ5yUlxQdy9iYPidYak_xB5Hh_3IhsxsYMNQT18E3xg0a7BHAfL1nS3YF3JtmSalW5OgS72xmrIQz9iCqSgoytEvy7BYJt2ni57yCrRDgXp2pzTPQ/s200/IMG_3002.JPG" /></a>nd is not afraid to push himself to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">accomplish</span> whatever he wants. I love his amazing runner's <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">physique</span>. He is never one to say anything <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">negative</span> about me, and I am so appreciative of that. I love the way that he gets so passionate about something new. I love to watch him play with the kids when he gets home from work. He has never been above doing th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-tV3-FwpBFFVTrfFJvgDVxtY9JC6urstMRbkh2ltVIJ08ZrDHeBV4Sb7ElJ4veELQj3QFTcjBvP1E4d-IpigHP-H3vaCgzaoez9E5ZK5WeGvpKYZfZ96y1EID7NmK6-6i5EAIVja_dA/s1600-h/Jan+09+-+March+09+198.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 150px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382546684162909106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-tV3-FwpBFFVTrfFJvgDVxtY9JC6urstMRbkh2ltVIJ08ZrDHeBV4Sb7ElJ4veELQj3QFTcjBvP1E4d-IpigHP-H3vaCgzaoez9E5ZK5WeGvpKYZfZ96y1EID7NmK6-6i5EAIVja_dA/s200/Jan+09+-+March+09+198.jpg" /></a>e dishes after dinner...and he has done them 95% of the time in our entire married life. I am sorry ladies of the world...I married the best!.</div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-14197466821783555182009-09-11T09:10:00.000-07:002009-09-11T09:36:36.204-07:00The Mayan<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE2FABSUH0CyJPSrPA6_gUIGZLn54Ek5FGsLZ7iuvSchfaQq09Mjwk-NKfYbcy_KQzm8ChwMD6WvfSPLjDhvxIik2j1KP95c3COUffg48sgHbdcvuLgq1i00pTqBpd_555j_WjAnncw/s1600-h/IMG_3101.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380243904134884866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmE2FABSUH0CyJPSrPA6_gUIGZLn54Ek5FGsLZ7iuvSchfaQq09Mjwk-NKfYbcy_KQzm8ChwMD6WvfSPLjDhvxIik2j1KP95c3COUffg48sgHbdcvuLgq1i00pTqBpd_555j_WjAnncw/s200/IMG_3101.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2I3zRka70RUCbWtcZ6q6cEhrbSUCj6xx6CC6tfLU9u1VixRZjs3OOIkLDltsjqYxATj3Ifo0srymxRckl4ei2Fzhg86tfVLYg3z4FTk3poi68AXWAvcZjHoM2bumCfxmcAEI_P_8tFw/s1600-h/IMG_3103.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380243913958972482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2I3zRka70RUCbWtcZ6q6cEhrbSUCj6xx6CC6tfLU9u1VixRZjs3OOIkLDltsjqYxATj3Ifo0srymxRckl4ei2Fzhg86tfVLYg3z4FTk3poi68AXWAvcZjHoM2bumCfxmcAEI_P_8tFw/s200/IMG_3103.JPG" /></a>So, Bryan decided that it would be fun to take the kids to The Mayan for lunch on Labor day. I have to say that The Mayan is one of my favorite places. The food is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">OK</span>, but every time that I eat there, I feel like I have stepped into some kind of Disneyland extension. The kids love it as well. I love<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoQZY7EX_XtiND0U1zGatcTVNVh-kEhgnRMagjFkL1hpyfSgg1yXHtdSjI5hF0KpL3LuZDKewsUL5t0t7tzBOqGQ4yQBVOT31qEmGe5R5UivziVPv26tWEbSleb5WKqP6G7g-nb66Ew/s1600-h/IMG_3110.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380249583010836482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggoQZY7EX_XtiND0U1zGatcTVNVh-kEhgnRMagjFkL1hpyfSgg1yXHtdSjI5hF0KpL3LuZDKewsUL5t0t7tzBOqGQ4yQBVOT31qEmGe5R5UivziVPv26tWEbSleb5WKqP6G7g-nb66Ew/s200/IMG_3110.JPG" /></a> doing fun family things, and feeling like a bit of a kid again myself. I am also so grateful for a husband who values time with our family as well. I am a very fortunate individual. I also love having a family who is not afraid to embrace the ridiculous a bit as well...as you can see from some of Liza's pics. :)<br /></div><br /><div><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioYpCXDPI6_mAEZsC4dnEYKCndmA-L_8mnSku8YLsCpTnvusJscLARHrpMpSRYsEkiy_Oa8ykM8oLuONByV78jg9uox2WLcNSXMF8yKFjSfPJ4ejpLsbouDTtJuYZN_4ZfzKoXNimEQ/s1600-h/IMG_3114.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380243898584997314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiioYpCXDPI6_mAEZsC4dnEYKCndmA-L_8mnSku8YLsCpTnvusJscLARHrpMpSRYsEkiy_Oa8ykM8oLuONByV78jg9uox2WLcNSXMF8yKFjSfPJ4ejpLsbouDTtJuYZN_4ZfzKoXNimEQ/s200/IMG_3114.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmI3fwukKVeMuCbM5uZVYdJMSvrY1esufSA36wxJdT8dFi7zzF4TVSw8kk3IbOdV4SKQ2pqJOsNTt52if0fZp3LUhdp7J7KRolyu8-Fc8nrbDKSE5998cSnfBQ7wp3rv2QH7kaDHRmYA/s1600-h/IMG_3116.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380243888476954034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmI3fwukKVeMuCbM5uZVYdJMSvrY1esufSA36wxJdT8dFi7zzF4TVSw8kk3IbOdV4SKQ2pqJOsNTt52if0fZp3LUhdp7J7KRolyu8-Fc8nrbDKSE5998cSnfBQ7wp3rv2QH7kaDHRmYA/s200/IMG_3116.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOEbYzBpTpeOg2kyrjilDpyyMDEQcIUsnlKAYZJvTYiVFqvdJAy2tMd_XimD9TLhY-2WVsqGh_5bGqrhZL5VnuI7CXQ9hMI41r1-T3agNWhns5fnlDUL-IR3AENv0MxYY28PocZq14g/s1600-h/IMG_3122.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380243877526201410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGOEbYzBpTpeOg2kyrjilDpyyMDEQcIUsnlKAYZJvTYiVFqvdJAy2tMd_XimD9TLhY-2WVsqGh_5bGqrhZL5VnuI7CXQ9hMI41r1-T3agNWhns5fnlDUL-IR3AENv0MxYY28PocZq14g/s200/IMG_3122.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-32459880696034424812009-09-11T07:33:00.001-07:002009-09-11T09:09:57.394-07:0009/09/09So, my birthday was a day filled with a lot of craziness. First, My sister brought me some breakfast (which was LOVELY...strawberry and cream cheese muffins). <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aChgiZ7ZXIbGJsZRDWfHaGiRFc6EQzZ6vkFjcgC_TU8684J6lVg69DI4DV62BP1A5YmOQQG9ZtcDUNxAUn0bq8pucf5NkqGxlwo6hMSWvXf-ElxJ_a0-k_i2XKW1jN-SceIccHnwNw/s1600-h/IMG_3135.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380223393890473890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7aChgiZ7ZXIbGJsZRDWfHaGiRFc6EQzZ6vkFjcgC_TU8684J6lVg69DI4DV62BP1A5YmOQQG9ZtcDUNxAUn0bq8pucf5NkqGxlwo6hMSWvXf-ElxJ_a0-k_i2XKW1jN-SceIccHnwNw/s200/IMG_3135.JPG" /></a><br />Then, my mother and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Marf</span> took me out to purchase a skirt from the mall.<br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ldDKsEBuLp7ny-AMr39BdH-opb5CefxhpD2A0ovlxs6K9fO_KmHgmE9SVd1HmugvjqMYV6VXydZorD5cPlfp25-RyEYV_8eKxvWfrTGUznnFdQQFlA2rdjzZVl0jm8wsldGAkkjI7w/s1600-h/IMG_3138.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380223410151736386" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ldDKsEBuLp7ny-AMr39BdH-opb5CefxhpD2A0ovlxs6K9fO_KmHgmE9SVd1HmugvjqMYV6VXydZorD5cPlfp25-RyEYV_8eKxvWfrTGUznnFdQQFlA2rdjzZVl0jm8wsldGAkkjI7w/s200/IMG_3138.JPG" /></a></span></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error">Marf</span> was very excited to try skirts on, as you can clearly see from her picture. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwoQsQImSPtMGnzgGQKG4faZ72Jp4GOv-lR6WsUHg7eORidv_GCMfH0R4m4a339eyH_BoDznM1n2SEbWrsnRdSh-mhoP9qy27WHB4FwhtEbuKg1grPI-zLaqrtt6ITZA8X-LODvOcRg/s1600-h/IMG_3137.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380223402465108354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSwoQsQImSPtMGnzgGQKG4faZ72Jp4GOv-lR6WsUHg7eORidv_GCMfH0R4m4a339eyH_BoDznM1n2SEbWrsnRdSh-mhoP9qy27WHB4FwhtEbuKg1grPI-zLaqrtt6ITZA8X-LODvOcRg/s200/IMG_3137.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQosrtcWqzGFPCYGgE3ikl99V00bmn8FXuY6RongKaQS_dW5Oa0Gwb9Gc9VqE5MV756wQxyZ-tOJ_s97gYyBBtyc0-V-lKkCDn3MeRW2Ag9aRUZTLMasQx_YYt45MxkoP2VNL82RgVg/s1600-h/IMG_3145.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380223420297882066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFQosrtcWqzGFPCYGgE3ikl99V00bmn8FXuY6RongKaQS_dW5Oa0Gwb9Gc9VqE5MV756wQxyZ-tOJ_s97gYyBBtyc0-V-lKkCDn3MeRW2Ag9aRUZTLMasQx_YYt45MxkoP2VNL82RgVg/s200/IMG_3145.JPG" /></a>I can't remember why we were looking melancholy in the picture, but whatever. I did find a really cute black skirt, though. <br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgUbJ9-5ZtPzG-Qmm1xvC1hAffzQooiO27KkRuLK-36gCsjJ54VVmxyX-RYAP2k7j6LExg7Lp0sZU0-M6cXQIQBBhj6v4KE25iI7CXL1XuNL9_br5FiqH12hsO39l1D677VI6uQjfdg/s1600-h/IMG_3158.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380224571197982530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRgUbJ9-5ZtPzG-Qmm1xvC1hAffzQooiO27KkRuLK-36gCsjJ54VVmxyX-RYAP2k7j6LExg7Lp0sZU0-M6cXQIQBBhj6v4KE25iI7CXL1XuNL9_br5FiqH12hsO39l1D677VI6uQjfdg/s200/IMG_3158.JPG" /></a></div><div>Next, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bry</span> and I went to lunch with his mom. It was lovely. We ate at Red Robbin, and I had some kind of Asian Rice bowl or something. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIbmxYE3yoiwyQvu70iOqh9rEe3Fqv0CPmX5y1nYP4k5um4ZlHWq3LBXnLhMLN_If7lmqHRv_P-e1qqLfDmMjAFMDug1B6yKDSC0YN2gr-ioGlJar78HkvdQonAn0M3YHr6w_qSGx-w/s1600-h/IMG_3159.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380224577361613282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEIbmxYE3yoiwyQvu70iOqh9rEe3Fqv0CPmX5y1nYP4k5um4ZlHWq3LBXnLhMLN_If7lmqHRv_P-e1qqLfDmMjAFMDug1B6yKDSC0YN2gr-ioGlJar78HkvdQonAn0M3YHr6w_qSGx-w/s200/IMG_3159.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1hrNHlz0f3UQck8Bg4_u4TLeqG6c0qYG3DK75rufd97XiT5E9lNqg8j9XgVRPnoZL4GMId5L5Pc4zXeTZvIwD4XQ2C1w84-F4A0-LDE5ys_rp7oonfDesxt4X9i9DwcUAmOUpw8R9ig/s1600-h/IMG_3165.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380224583853765938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1hrNHlz0f3UQck8Bg4_u4TLeqG6c0qYG3DK75rufd97XiT5E9lNqg8j9XgVRPnoZL4GMId5L5Pc4zXeTZvIwD4XQ2C1w84-F4A0-LDE5ys_rp7oonfDesxt4X9i9DwcUAmOUpw8R9ig/s200/IMG_3165.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"></span></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"></span> </div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2aSEn_8VH6x2Flyt-gAf06DBLO_Bw94vFJDK8yaCHwFgHYXXM_g7WSaeBjzQo65oVWo0xND5vqTTzSVCdh8yCv2ksvPwcUcSxSwwEIc-gphQsBBjHJMGFICet2g1_7WG2knzeQIHeA/s1600-h/IMG_3166.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380224592854446962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ2aSEn_8VH6x2Flyt-gAf06DBLO_Bw94vFJDK8yaCHwFgHYXXM_g7WSaeBjzQo65oVWo0xND5vqTTzSVCdh8yCv2ksvPwcUcSxSwwEIc-gphQsBBjHJMGFICet2g1_7WG2knzeQIHeA/s200/IMG_3166.JPG" /></a>Marf</span> had decided that it would be a good idea to try all 31 flavors of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Baskin</span> Robbins ice cream, as I turned 31. I have to say that I don't recommend this. Although I was certain of the flavor that I wanted by the end, I had a bit of a stomach ache for a while afterward. It will be a while before I crave ice cream again. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZ2PR4aL7AmMgm7JufU4pCWwmrfgiG30FjCCcXKsEIIORTYFDG8-PUZMcBTnOBGl94S_1RykIlKlgCaHwI4CCqwPEV3GIK8IasqxJQdXIDNwiatAkdqoAYaXJy-cWaAe4-7645Ky6Nw/s1600-h/IMG_3167.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380227648455413218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqZ2PR4aL7AmMgm7JufU4pCWwmrfgiG30FjCCcXKsEIIORTYFDG8-PUZMcBTnOBGl94S_1RykIlKlgCaHwI4CCqwPEV3GIK8IasqxJQdXIDNwiatAkdqoAYaXJy-cWaAe4-7645Ky6Nw/s200/IMG_3167.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzuwo_utnZxvksGW6njCZE_yRqWsfyxSvQryNBVes37GXTHpbBDwbQVSickUoHLvpFROLRoUpcxIJ1MNglXtQ9KypJ10WYUkDgnAA7i8-LKrYQsMXBohQ11-X1ZbTsMy-n8nv4AUslw/s1600-h/IMG_3169.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380227659429211106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQzuwo_utnZxvksGW6njCZE_yRqWsfyxSvQryNBVes37GXTHpbBDwbQVSickUoHLvpFROLRoUpcxIJ1MNglXtQ9KypJ10WYUkDgnAA7i8-LKrYQsMXBohQ11-X1ZbTsMy-n8nv4AUslw/s200/IMG_3169.JPG" /></a><br /><br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WTTYBra0N5jUn4dcYOTekqUhDTxA-xOj0o_lqcTblJQUW8HJSD_ghgP_je5_CBSV7QrgS_IB6DHy9dypJAMzffTOdGldRuiTZww5sZGl1WOBm74VCyQDw3-KuT9YJ7faknmAkf7nIQ/s1600-h/IMG_3210.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380227683476362194" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8WTTYBra0N5jUn4dcYOTekqUhDTxA-xOj0o_lqcTblJQUW8HJSD_ghgP_je5_CBSV7QrgS_IB6DHy9dypJAMzffTOdGldRuiTZww5sZGl1WOBm74VCyQDw3-KuT9YJ7faknmAkf7nIQ/s200/IMG_3210.JPG" /></a></div><div>The next event was a pie fight at the park. It was HYSTERICAL FUN!! (However, adding to my aversion to things cold, sweet, and creamy for a while). For those of you who were not in to getting this messy, I have to say that you totally missed out!! It was a scream!<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBRwX8IZ6V_jgnU22cLw-MEnhR-NifFW-p3F_h3eLYwQVflvtMmz4wtKxQAspnyAvB5fPzrgzikvYlig9I8DeOA4gYIyOqKr2Uc4bNAPzR-vcTs8USATV4rzsTV2_s2r13VGFh4fI1A/s1600-h/IMG_3205.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380227666033318818" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVBRwX8IZ6V_jgnU22cLw-MEnhR-NifFW-p3F_h3eLYwQVflvtMmz4wtKxQAspnyAvB5fPzrgzikvYlig9I8DeOA4gYIyOqKr2Uc4bNAPzR-vcTs8USATV4rzsTV2_s2r13VGFh4fI1A/s200/IMG_3205.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmF1hIKS5Q9vFlD2Z1psIPeG-korJF_ROoKz-zi_6s7sQtIdvW-RwscHjMFFPhTGwgBRoN35a0Z_qtAW8tcf-RQ6hvE8QJCjNOeSJQRdSXCejhqj77Q4F1-jM4HnpphxHu_05mrxl0MQ/s1600-h/IMG_3206.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380227675086519170" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmF1hIKS5Q9vFlD2Z1psIPeG-korJF_ROoKz-zi_6s7sQtIdvW-RwscHjMFFPhTGwgBRoN35a0Z_qtAW8tcf-RQ6hvE8QJCjNOeSJQRdSXCejhqj77Q4F1-jM4HnpphxHu_05mrxl0MQ/s200/IMG_3206.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br />The final part of the day was a movie night with a bunch of people. I d<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">on't</span> know <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">what my</span> problem was, but I asked the kids to take the pictures of that event, and there were mostly pictures of the dog, and the treats that were brought, but none of people...so I apologize. We watched "Twilight" with a Riff Track. It was HYSTERICAL!! (For those of you not in the know about Riff <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Trax</span>, they are tracks that you can buy that play along with movies and make fun of them. They are done by the same people that did Mystery Science Theatre back in the day.) I highly recommend watching that movie that way. And, if your have a husband that didn't <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">originally</span> want to watch it, he would watch it this way. :)<br /></div><div>I had a great day, everyone! Thank you for making my AWESOME 09/09/09 birthday amazing!!</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-72243824641498252552009-09-11T06:53:00.000-07:002009-09-11T07:23:11.640-07:00These Are a Few of My Favorite Things!!!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwatG6zhPYRqu6Uz2NSgIzVFyUb1X-t1MZ1-WCzj3L6tIaCvpeiUSxQC2cyJ_gLBIcNN8F7GvOFI-JIf7Iw8g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>I woke up on Sunday morning to find my kids doing this ridiculous thing. I think you will agree that it not only needed to be videoed, but shared with the world as well...Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-28429349069143131512009-08-31T09:15:00.000-07:002009-08-31T09:25:10.349-07:00...It Smells like Horse Poop!<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw4QZv3K0cc1ijvpTZFkiSLL_3EAocfOCRT5QKa1hW-y5_LJAwvVSEsOTQd-c825ObZpHqMyxiiADrB06W7hA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>This was a funny comment by Belle during the parade.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-12708780384515138272009-08-31T09:04:00.000-07:002009-08-31T09:26:20.397-07:004th of July EventsThe 4<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">th</span> o<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAbgwDss2_zlP7mJoIEfBwEMvz6Dw-4_eXPdqMRXAPbDdqxqMmHKH1METfqoO29U8akfTsmqq4fpaWBpWIw9qcbcHFpmlTDz9uqiJX77s94OkESzuBDLawi2Hzsx8Hxa3KyRWcPZ9Ww/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376160531186149970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzAbgwDss2_zlP7mJoIEfBwEMvz6Dw-4_eXPdqMRXAPbDdqxqMmHKH1METfqoO29U8akfTsmqq4fpaWBpWIw9qcbcHFpmlTDz9uqiJX77s94OkESzuBDLawi2Hzsx8Hxa3KyRWcPZ9Ww/s200/002.JPG" /></a>f July was an eventful day for our family. My girls were cheerleaders in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kaysville</span> Parade. They were absolutely darling! <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bry</span> and I got soaking wet in the water portion of the parade, which was followed by a giant "slip n' slide" event at the Hess Farms Park. Then we all went to the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kaysville</span> city fireworks in the evening. It was an awesome way to celebrate the birth of this country. (...and yes, I cried at the fireworks). :)<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2iN_OY1rO_eRXHbjrEF2MFl5O3oUlkuhOs93MujKbGmciD8HGesOQz-xJacBSoryehYXMnfxqKFQC24ejrOvVP19DecHJ9txia9BMFm2vZX3a2zXB2VBj2xmqpsNZfpxbZ4UtwMjzQ/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376160539483285746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB2iN_OY1rO_eRXHbjrEF2MFl5O3oUlkuhOs93MujKbGmciD8HGesOQz-xJacBSoryehYXMnfxqKFQC24ejrOvVP19DecHJ9txia9BMFm2vZX3a2zXB2VBj2xmqpsNZfpxbZ4UtwMjzQ/s200/033.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6MTaZaetAu_0ugLauOLab-PophidN7067I-nDFIxTa3xxN5h2mWR6Og7wOYwEJUWWr5nPbyKD_sPIbn7_EQhgrK8_7PNbRbowzunwReR5BSju63fvqu1TehJvzJTjQlgirdzxyUMjA/s1600-h/044.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376160546825438066" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6MTaZaetAu_0ugLauOLab-PophidN7067I-nDFIxTa3xxN5h2mWR6Og7wOYwEJUWWr5nPbyKD_sPIbn7_EQhgrK8_7PNbRbowzunwReR5BSju63fvqu1TehJvzJTjQlgirdzxyUMjA/s200/044.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIW_eXD3A5pIUILJK2hGTfrfEJD4gl9_z5srhWs-llSlyRJ-NmKvk154dp2HfqwRqDqmKK8OXpu3KxYCZ5DbexDDWh3hwBwttf1l5Zwwgg2oW5ltQk3QEKke-9y0lW_eyjwI2mTCSSvw/s1600-h/085.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 150px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376160555788196082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIW_eXD3A5pIUILJK2hGTfrfEJD4gl9_z5srhWs-llSlyRJ-NmKvk154dp2HfqwRqDqmKK8OXpu3KxYCZ5DbexDDWh3hwBwttf1l5Zwwgg2oW5ltQk3QEKke-9y0lW_eyjwI2mTCSSvw/s200/085.JPG" /></a> <div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-1744416803093635462009-07-02T12:56:00.000-07:002009-07-02T13:10:27.940-07:00The Pledge of AlliegenceI have volunteered in my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">children's</span> classrooms since my oldest entered school, and on a recent volunteer day, had the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">opportunity</span> to say the Pledge of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Allegiance</span> with my daughter's <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">kindergarten</span> class. I remember <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">beginning</span> each school day with The Pledge, but I was either too young to understand what I was saying, or had said it so many times that the words had lost meaning. I found myself tearing up as I pledged my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">allegiance</span> to our flag on that day. I realized that I really mean the words that I state each time I recite The Pledge. I love this country and everything that it stands for. I know that it has its faults, and is far from perfect...but it has never failed me, and I am proud to be an <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">American</span>. I look forward to celebrating this country's birth this week and will cry as I watch the fireworks just like I always do, (and my husband will roll his eyes and say, "Tell me that fireworks really don't make you cry", even though he knows that they do, and always will). I have made a Pledge to the Flag, and to the republic for which it stands. I believe as do many that this is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">truly</span> one nation under God, and will pray always that it remains indivisible, with liberty and justice for all...as I have pledged to do on countless occasions.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-56905472836204460482009-05-03T09:04:00.000-07:002009-05-03T09:22:41.938-07:00The Best Job<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331630067090222978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxEBTImki9K6Q9uHmnON6t4yhyHYKb_EeoZFev0KebkLgUVE6MQZEwMoyyto99JEZisHA_sa7M6sEm3lsq7hp9bjFt9bGPYfqyVasdq-matV51N64PA_7hyphenhyphenPSXLexhKOmYBAOXfCtKSQ/s200/March+09+-+April+09+100.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div><div><div>I will never understand the obsession with getting into the kennel with our dog...but I have to say, I love it! I know that every parent feels this way, but I love watching my kids grow up. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gMT5XhK8Vl0zOTrlEZVnbF0EafJxbkrvCNUB30yvRhbln91_5aE1dBpmEDdADt_AT7feza1K9LzNWwk72ytij8Q4y7os2wfi1KxQF8J4BcXlz7p-6yX2IyrJJoTtKYCCtN-US8gTGg/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331630036622211026" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_gMT5XhK8Vl0zOTrlEZVnbF0EafJxbkrvCNUB30yvRhbln91_5aE1dBpmEDdADt_AT7feza1K9LzNWwk72ytij8Q4y7os2wfi1KxQF8J4BcXlz7p-6yX2IyrJJoTtKYCCtN-US8gTGg/s200/March+09+-+April+09+012.jpg" border="0" /></a> I love the way that by morning, both of my girls have ended up in my room to sleep...and that I can hear some nintendo playing in the background from my son who has arisen earlier than everyone else so that he can play. I love the way that my son senses when I am nearing the end of my rope<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jxbL3Fmv069GZD4e5hp5dnChHBWTQGVvrE3cAT9-mTmjD72ICQXrS2NDKypsjAFGJnITOicqGNha1Yfhcbc-FOLFhaEo1cNQQ6jlNw5bDrqHKnUJEVpyVTA1eYC3GwUdb-hMjIpXPA/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331630033039944466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-jxbL3Fmv069GZD4e5hp5dnChHBWTQGVvrE3cAT9-mTmjD72ICQXrS2NDKypsjAFGJnITOicqGNha1Yfhcbc-FOLFhaEo1cNQQ6jlNw5bDrqHKnUJEVpyVTA1eYC3GwUdb-hMjIpXPA/s200/March+09+-+April+09+011.jpg" border="0" /></a>, and always takes that moment to give me a hug and tell me that he loves me. I love the way that my older daughter tells me "Thank you for this wonderful dinner, Mommy" everytime we sit down to eat...whether we are having something that I have slaved to create from scratch, or cold cereal. I love when my baby sees me getting ready for the day and says things like, "Mommy, you are so tretty.", or "Mommy, it looks dreat in here." after I have straightened up a<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus2ijcQiUjXJ9nWbZDrX6TJXizML9o6FW1AmDRTlu079ymgtjswMTKpdEQD_0fQHsizWO6KwqvyDxSMVl9FOLu65fKs9G0Ooibn6KrYvN2CjJdJwKLm11KJv5pGZnDlHKyl1QMWXClA/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+127.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331630063527473378" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjus2ijcQiUjXJ9nWbZDrX6TJXizML9o6FW1AmDRTlu079ymgtjswMTKpdEQD_0fQHsizWO6KwqvyDxSMVl9FOLu65fKs9G0Ooibn6KrYvN2CjJdJwKLm11KJv5pGZnDlHKyl1QMWXClA/s200/March+09+-+April+09+127.jpg" border="0" /></a> room. I smile as they choose parts to "The Mysterious Ticking Noise" in the car and recite the entire thing as we drive, and then explode into fits of laughter when the entire cast is blown up by the pipe bomb. I laugh at the wrong words they sing to songs like "American Lumbo" (American Woman), and "In Stand an Oval" (Istanbul). Don't get me wrong, our lives are filled with the same whining, and fighting, and craziness that everyone else's are. I am just choosing to take today and focus on how gratetful I am for the children that I have, and how much I enjoy being a part of their lives. <br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpxeW_J0fcbvgI4T95y8LloIWL0Gh0TyjILKKJ9vZku27XdH2h-jqka5BLceHjrUSketc8APhMLWLUdBJuHv-GIfGb8P1UEbU331PoSmvbfrmy2aLw619ISD6H8sFQiH1xrj6y3_G5Q/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+006.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331630028603356002" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpxeW_J0fcbvgI4T95y8LloIWL0Gh0TyjILKKJ9vZku27XdH2h-jqka5BLceHjrUSketc8APhMLWLUdBJuHv-GIfGb8P1UEbU331PoSmvbfrmy2aLw619ISD6H8sFQiH1xrj6y3_G5Q/s200/March+09+-+April+09+006.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-73509828237672179762009-05-03T08:37:00.000-07:002009-05-03T09:03:34.808-07:00Lonliness in a Crowded RoomSo...I know that everyone goes through those times where they feel alone. I don't think that knowledge helps when you are feeling that way, however. The problem is self-inflicted, in my case, as I don't ever choose to share my struggles with anyone. I have a problem with trying to appear like I always have everything put together, which I assume everyone has. I just never share anything, and so when I have difficulties, I feel very alone. <br /><br />I have learned of late that this is a ridiculous behavior. I don't know why I never share my struggles with others, because there are people who are willing to be there for me when I need it. I really do know amazing people...who are not so self-invloved that they wouldn't take time to be there for me. I am in the wrong for not allowing them to be there for me if I need it. I am learning that friendship goes both ways. I know that I am forever willing to be there for those that I love, and would feel very badly if they did not feel that from me. While it is difficult to admit that I am weak, I can take the oppurtunity to lean on those that are strong. I love you all.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-13596055670515427052009-05-03T07:55:00.000-07:002009-05-03T08:03:57.352-07:00Easter<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2UF4uyObt5o9jTK5GfFiwWRKPXiG622Dx9YVar2eWjuiMXAwUCNJorZeWgxuU7m1dWlIdn_9LtYoHAUIMoRW37pBKJzpDPyLB5VYBM7EziE3YPxa4O8YzVf7hOPdClmTNOkGyVunVHw/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+105.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331612490916393298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2UF4uyObt5o9jTK5GfFiwWRKPXiG622Dx9YVar2eWjuiMXAwUCNJorZeWgxuU7m1dWlIdn_9LtYoHAUIMoRW37pBKJzpDPyLB5VYBM7EziE3YPxa4O8YzVf7hOPdClmTNOkGyVunVHw/s320/March+09+-+April+09+105.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-jiv_w4YCtPp_sXTb1LNG-sHHQw_UF822pfovOPH2TL7z00CzWhjLNqZW8feMkqY3Xpo6UG6d21EGgBGQ7UYwucsr6s8j_GfIN-run5H_g83aKzgsQsYxK6jj6PoVHIUcA25_qjsPA/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+111.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331612482927370786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS-jiv_w4YCtPp_sXTb1LNG-sHHQw_UF822pfovOPH2TL7z00CzWhjLNqZW8feMkqY3Xpo6UG6d21EGgBGQ7UYwucsr6s8j_GfIN-run5H_g83aKzgsQsYxK6jj6PoVHIUcA25_qjsPA/s320/March+09+-+April+09+111.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ph-M1pJSV2nD9NuWMfS8_FctlIGHhzt_BfkyykH4h697vAbV_bCxqPHkwe5QHmiTOHl1ttXfd1sqfLiKpFzf8Q4qWk6oSYJUjzAkEehFrpsetmiK7gAOdTiqBuj1g9h8i5Z4zi5JVQ/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+107.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331612485106780194" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ph-M1pJSV2nD9NuWMfS8_FctlIGHhzt_BfkyykH4h697vAbV_bCxqPHkwe5QHmiTOHl1ttXfd1sqfLiKpFzf8Q4qWk6oSYJUjzAkEehFrpsetmiK7gAOdTiqBuj1g9h8i5Z4zi5JVQ/s320/March+09+-+April+09+107.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdUjKvaRcQRCH0HcxWT2AcdFGpxiUefdmcKLC0Slq6AawTtUC5-VUuSJEHR3vCFHvXSEguakP2AQHPKh6mPFbglBLlactQfnKaAL6nj99xl1AEmRy2DuiuyEqsIGuKNsPJ1AeYfDh2A/s1600-h/March+09+-+April+09+102.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331612479949758722" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRdUjKvaRcQRCH0HcxWT2AcdFGpxiUefdmcKLC0Slq6AawTtUC5-VUuSJEHR3vCFHvXSEguakP2AQHPKh6mPFbglBLlactQfnKaAL6nj99xl1AEmRy2DuiuyEqsIGuKNsPJ1AeYfDh2A/s320/March+09+-+April+09+102.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7370350274079615831.post-70147825933830628872009-05-02T17:54:00.000-07:002009-05-02T18:54:25.160-07:00...And I Know it Wasn't You, But Even So...So, as many of you will recall, I posted back in September about singing with a local band. As the majority of you will also know, I still sing with the aforementioned band. Bry recorded us singing the origional song that I was asked to sing with them at a recent acoustic performance. If you remember, I said something in the first post that I wrote, I said something about it being the most difficult somg that I have ever sung due to it's quick moving line, and VERY many words. Now, you can hear the song if you would like for yourself. I apologize, the sound on our small and dorky camera doesn't really do the song justice...but it is the best that we have at the moment.<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dw_XOIJiXVfXhZaPPsvIFIv1o-7ti5IliYaOp88FWRLjYudRC27kjf4KNWa0yGjju4M4L-cB7qQJgapMQBcJw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0