tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88192681731088399162024-02-06T18:49:11.101-08:00Band of BrothersMy Life as a Princess among 6 Handsome PrincesUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger295125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-73786849649818960892012-01-08T16:56:00.000-08:002012-01-08T17:49:20.858-08:00All strapped in and ready to go.School starts for me again in the morning, and I have every finger and toe crossed that this quarter doesn't end up like the fall. Fall quarter was a slow motion train wreck. I learned a lot, though. In those ten weeks, I found out that five classes plus institute is too many. Callings in church that require me to get the kids out the door by myself, arrive early, and have an active role all three hours don't add to the situation either. I went to crazy town and back, but I survived it. <div>My mantra for this year is balance. I know some people say that achieving balance in your life is an elusive dream that no one ever achieves. All I know is, when your balance gets seriously out of whack, it isn't pretty. I've had a month off of school, and it was blissfully renewing. It was such a relief to greet parts of me that had faded away under the stress. As days of peace and quiet passed, space opened up in my brain to reach out to others in need. I organized my cupboards, painted walls, and rearranged furniture (thanks, Mom!). I had time to think, contemplate, and curl up by the fire and read. I had adventures-- like grabbing the boys and slaughtering our turkeys and roosters with them. I purged myself of guilt and made those Christmas stockings I had been intending to sew after Kelton was born in 2001. It was lovely.</div><div>I only have three classes this quarter. I'm out of my high-demand callings at church for a while, and am focusing on making sure no one sits alone. The ground is frozen, so I don't have to think about gardening for a while. I'm starting my earth & space science minor, so I'll have labs and tests instead of papers, presentations, and portfolios to produce. Give me a test over a paper any day! I'm optimistic, this should be a good quarter if I can just keep my life in balance.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-83353830360431849572011-08-20T08:49:00.000-07:002011-08-20T10:04:38.931-07:00The year of intensity.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLFEbODA_BJVOPGi2z1pwIsq7YixVOgM2kK3LuElOAj_evulJcf5vaIHL_jG9r2zoRI4Uk5M_3cEdOi2HlUaXiw1xJ1WKMabchjTUKiCMSNWPYkb2AjUrfwh4R_OFC4PcefxRhWpJ830/s1600/157.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLFEbODA_BJVOPGi2z1pwIsq7YixVOgM2kK3LuElOAj_evulJcf5vaIHL_jG9r2zoRI4Uk5M_3cEdOi2HlUaXiw1xJ1WKMabchjTUKiCMSNWPYkb2AjUrfwh4R_OFC4PcefxRhWpJ830/s400/157.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642972756474149970" /></a>
<br />My Father-in-law asked me why I haven't blogged in so long. I had to think about that for a while. First of all, this has been the most intense year of my life. It took all my precious life force just to live it; nothing was left for documenting it. Second, crazy things have happened- things I didn't want to blog about because people would judge me and take away my mom card. Third, I've had amazing support during this year, and my need to tell my story has been satisfied that way.<div>I've had enough distance to mention some of my fun facts:</div><div>1. During my spring break, my sons rose up as one and created havoc at school. It wasn't a time of great stress at school, and the timing still mystifies me, but every child but one either got suspended, withdrawn from school, or had to call home from the Principal's office. Thankfully, most were for general tomfoolery and rascality, but still. I had to laugh. </div><div>2. I also came thisclose to having a SWAT team search my house and having a child expelled for what ended up not being a good way to impress an elementary school girl. I didn't laugh at that one. I did some deep cleansing breaths for a long, long time. It's almost funny, but it'll take a while.</div><div>3. The same week my kiddos were in revolt, my grades came out for winter quarter. I got to experience the darker side of dyslexia when my biology professor inadvertently gave my hard-won 4.0 to the student below me and gave me his 0.0. I missed making the Dean's list and scholarship consideration because of it. I was an overwrought ghost, haunting the registrar's and professor's office for ten days to no avail. I finally got sick of it and parked myself in the Dean's office and poof! Fixed in a flash. The happily ever after to this one is that I did end up getting a different scholarship, so there.</div><div>I lived through all that, but dang. They all pretty much happened simultaneously. That was one tough month.</div><div>When my brother died last year, it reoriented the gravitational pull of my life. Every day has been a push/pull experience toward fully processing those moments that were too intense to live at the time, and adjusting to the loss. Again, I'm really grateful for the support I have. Lewis has been a rock, and is always willing to pick up the slack when the work of grieving is more intense. The cool thing is, I have the best brother in the world. He is still very involved in the family so my relationship with him, instead of shrinking into the distant past, has stayed blessedly current. I know it probably can't stay like this forever, but it's enough for now.</div><div>I have also been consumed with all the 'firsts' of our little farm. We've raised and butchered chickens, learned how to/how not to keep baby chicks alive, and fended off a multitude of predators. We've felt a baby goat kicking inside his mommy, then enfolded him in a towel still wet from birth. I've gotten over the awkwardness of squeezing my goats girly goodies to milk her, and even made goat cheese. </div><div>We watched a youtube video on goat slaughter, then did it ourselves. I helped skin and butcher the demonic creature.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPlJ7PH7UxIWKeUXgEMMwwEaHe0LyU3Kim33LxeqRRZdp-SV8R5Hq1dtiwItn8PkQqqUsL6YSdMjJPcvRRuSvssYowHKu3__ipGdlZl9ag_mGt1GXWXvQzfMIR7M_QrjcGuXBzX0fC9Wc/s1600/005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPlJ7PH7UxIWKeUXgEMMwwEaHe0LyU3Kim33LxeqRRZdp-SV8R5Hq1dtiwItn8PkQqqUsL6YSdMjJPcvRRuSvssYowHKu3__ipGdlZl9ag_mGt1GXWXvQzfMIR7M_QrjcGuXBzX0fC9Wc/s400/005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642979900013037890" /></a> I canned the meat, and even made sausage. I loved it so much, I'm taking hunter's safety next month with my three oldest boys.</div><div>We were given a boat this summer (!!!) and have spent fun days tubing, skiing, and fishing.</div><div>We worked for months getting the four, eighty-by-3.5 foot garden boxes fences, filled, and planted. Now we're drowning is zucchini. It's a lovely way to go!</div><div>We road-tripped with some of our closest friends and got to bask in the sight of Bono in leather pants. Unforgettable.</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UTybpz4lsqTgR9-nS_qgW9amHGWpxvYbwbJa0F5nHQ0UyQxBUZo0x7jsW9QatfzWwwwYx_ulHjES9tVVt1mZ9HLLnRM0GEvOg25v-pfx2kK1MAKef6Lw2U3VorxzPu1LRfxP-Niwx3E/s1600/Bonobridge+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5UTybpz4lsqTgR9-nS_qgW9amHGWpxvYbwbJa0F5nHQ0UyQxBUZo0x7jsW9QatfzWwwwYx_ulHjES9tVVt1mZ9HLLnRM0GEvOg25v-pfx2kK1MAKef6Lw2U3VorxzPu1LRfxP-Niwx3E/s400/Bonobridge+copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5642981429220984626" /></a><div>I got to be in a family band and rock out to Weezer for the reunion talent show. I don't ever want to see the video, I know it would spoil my memory of Julie's and my sweet harmony- especially the part where we totally lost our place and just yelled the words.</div><div>I'll wrap up this post with the present moment. I spent the last few days hanging out with my dad, doing my best not to lose or break him while my mom's away. We've had a great time, hitting a bucket of balls, hitting our friend's frozen yogurt place, and devouring pizza, root beer, and action movies. Sorry mom, he just had cold pizza and root beer for breakfast!</div><div>
<br /></div><div>
<br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-17758067993394944642011-01-05T06:25:00.001-08:002011-01-05T06:48:29.134-08:00I'm HappyI realized this yesterday morning on my way into the science building. I had a giddy little swoop in my stomach, and I thought to myself, "I can't believe this is my life!" I love school. I love my kids, especially as they get older- so much more fun, so much less work. I love my little farm, and my plans for it. I love my sweet husband, who is always looking out for my comfort and cheering me on. These are the things I was thinking as I made my way to my first class of the day- geology.<br /> I claimed a seat in the front row of the large theater-style auditorium. I sat down, swung the desk up and in front of me, and opened my backpack to get out my notebook. Only it wasn't there. It had everything in it. Everything. Every scrap of paper for taking notes, my lab manual for biology next hour, even the classroom numbers, that on the second day of class, I still need. I looked at the clock and weighed my options. The precious notebook could be in my car, way up a long, steep ramp in the nosebleed free parking section. I had 9 minutes. Should I go for it, or cut my losses? I imagined going through 2 lectures and a lab with nothing to write on, and made my choice.<br /> I ran. Well, as fast as one can run on ice through a busy campus and not look like an idiot. I've been wanting to get more fit. Be careful what you wish for. I gasped and panted my way up that ramp, thighs in flames. I prayed as I approached my van. Please let it be in there. Please let it be in there.... It was. I was saved! I sprinted and dodged my way down the ramp through the thinning crowds. I checked the time, three minutes! I knew I wasn't going to make it, but I'd be close. I tried to control my breathing, because who wants to burst into a lecture hall late, red-faced and panting?<br /> I made it, a minute or two late. I don't know what my face looked like, and I don't want to know. The professor looked at me with concern as I darted for my desk, saved for me by my coat, backpack and text. That was my way of telling her that I wasn't really late, just, um, late for the start of class. I tried to squeeze into the space between the desk and seat. No dice, and everyone was staring at me. There was nothing for it but to take down the desk part to sit down. I tried to, but my textbook went splatting to the floor. Flame-faced, panting and perspiring, I finally settled into my seat with my precious notebook. My professor nodded to me as if asking for permission to begin again, and I experienced about five minutes of humiliation. Then I happily began to take notes. <br />Then I laughed about it inside for the rest of the day.<br />Life is good, and I am indeed happy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-10708118967542298762010-11-10T15:40:00.000-08:002010-11-10T16:11:42.780-08:00It's Been Forever!<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15.8333px; ">My son found my blog at school by searching his name on Bing, and we had a good laugh over the <a href="http://bandofearlbrothers.blogspot.com/2010/01/classic-dainon.html">post</a> he found. Time has sure flown! It seems like every time I turn around it's Friday again, which is a lot better than always being Monday.</span></div><div>School is hard. A professor explained why when she told me about dendrites, and how if you're out of school for a long time they shrivel up. When you start back to school, they're forced to reroute and regrow. So that's why it hurts. But I'm still loving it.</div><div>In fact, today is a celebration day. I got my grade for my first really real speech in speech class. It was a 99% with compliments underlined! Yes, it's a good day. Plus, there's no school tomorrow, and my parentals are coming tonight to spend the night!!!</div><div>We've had some drama though. A predator has been killing some of my beloved birds. My beautiful golden sex link was struck down IN the chicken yard IN broad daylight! I couldn't</div><div> believe it. Then, when we were in Idaho, two Barred Rocks fled and left nought but their feet and feathers. It's a good thing I'm married to a stud, I tell you. Look what he did!</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZjCdythaJe4yBR32jomqknztXkE-icHde6NFV3y4cvC0nyv-KnPneqrasVS4pFiYJb2mE_oyyiw0Ykx2qnjoWWd_Us57CXZzy12IPmZ8_GX_LSMDmXgdwksJw3PJGF_cSXJ6aUkhGLM/s400/IMG_9391.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538074964429875074" /></div><div>Lewis caught the culprit in the act. He dropped him in one shot, so animal lovers, he didn't feel a thing. </div><div>We are loving our little farm though. We have two goats, Cymbeline (a milk goat when she's bred) and Ophelia (a meat goat). Lewis built them this cute little barn we call the Garn. For goat barn, get it?</div><div><br /></div><div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1dCw9GXjC0CZe35pbFWqTMlZPD24Ho9qcGXOjfKZc4yEylFMHThnS33iZ5Zs5GZnWj8CwajDSBt7-eIPrMZz3DAAu2d11Am8vcp0WnXIPArJwDZo90FetPdGlT2L-HR4DqDj6FKcsT4/s1600/IMG_9146.JPG"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY1dCw9GXjC0CZe35pbFWqTMlZPD24Ho9qcGXOjfKZc4yEylFMHThnS33iZ5Zs5GZnWj8CwajDSBt7-eIPrMZz3DAAu2d11Am8vcp0WnXIPArJwDZo90FetPdGlT2L-HR4DqDj6FKcsT4/s400/IMG_9146.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538076690285726866" />Aren't they such cute girls? Liam has been worried that we're going to kill them and eat them. I tell him not to worry, we're not going to eat them, just their babies. Can you pre-pay for counselling?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRWN_sFvje5rv1YSW31-aYE1KSPRFQyCliqM1FcWEcE3cPFvGi0HlGju5LodmIYTGxn5_obXNdlcuBfhWGyA9xE3gvMVsZTR-dXkAJIWkZpBK90J13xeysd9eFHxvsWIDKLjpPDGb5qc/s1600/IMG_9138.JPG"></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRWN_sFvje5rv1YSW31-aYE1KSPRFQyCliqM1FcWEcE3cPFvGi0HlGju5LodmIYTGxn5_obXNdlcuBfhWGyA9xE3gvMVsZTR-dXkAJIWkZpBK90J13xeysd9eFHxvsWIDKLjpPDGb5qc/s1600/IMG_9138.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRWN_sFvje5rv1YSW31-aYE1KSPRFQyCliqM1FcWEcE3cPFvGi0HlGju5LodmIYTGxn5_obXNdlcuBfhWGyA9xE3gvMVsZTR-dXkAJIWkZpBK90J13xeysd9eFHxvsWIDKLjpPDGb5qc/s400/IMG_9138.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538076682051924754" /><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggRWN_sFvje5rv1YSW31-aYE1KSPRFQyCliqM1FcWEcE3cPFvGi0HlGju5LodmIYTGxn5_obXNdlcuBfhWGyA9xE3gvMVsZTR-dXkAJIWkZpBK90J13xeysd9eFHxvsWIDKLjpPDGb5qc/s1600/IMG_9138.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" >T</span></a>heir cozy little home.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-66443420730911457582010-09-22T14:00:00.000-07:002010-09-22T14:04:27.578-07:00My First Day of School, or Earlgirl's Descent into Hell<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0RKKZO7uyn8CKOofR3FKV5V-rlvBDoDjRG-8iBaFBI2sTEKoGMmMBul_9-rzVY1VnSvTFWUdtAHP1k2OnSGorBFqkO_AZ10Edr1teNO7BUlFI9ze1VMH_22xmC8aR7qqqeuNqNRNLSbA/s1600/IMG_8910.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0RKKZO7uyn8CKOofR3FKV5V-rlvBDoDjRG-8iBaFBI2sTEKoGMmMBul_9-rzVY1VnSvTFWUdtAHP1k2OnSGorBFqkO_AZ10Edr1teNO7BUlFI9ze1VMH_22xmC8aR7qqqeuNqNRNLSbA/s400/IMG_8910.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519846316691464194" /></a>Look at me! I'm all excited, not knowing what humiliations are in store.<br /><br />I was so prepared for today. I'd printed my schedule, walked the route I needed to take, packed my bag the night before with a bazillion pens, water and trail mix (just in case). It didn't make any difference. My day was the BOMB. Like Hiroshima. It started out great, I got pictures of me with my backpack, heading off to adventure. I left home at 8:05, which was cutting it a bit fine. That put me there with 5 minutes to make it from the parking lot to my seat. Do-able. Especially for the first day. Just as I was pulling up, I grabbed my schedule from my bag. To my horror, it wasn't my schedule, it was a receipt for my parking pass. I knew what building to go to, but I had no idea what class it was, or what room number! My heart did a little herky jerky thing, then the mom in me took over. I'd walked the route on Friday. I would remember the room when I saw it. I made it to the right building, but couldn't recognize the class room. Curses. By this time classes had started 5 minutes ago. There was nothing for it but to head to the registrar's office and get another copy. But I didn't have my pin memorized, and I didn't have it with me. I still raced to the office, and found an empty computer. I guessed my pin correctly (THANK YOU THANK YOU!) and after two tries, printed my schedule. I dashed back to the right building and made it to the exact same room I'd been hesitating over 10 minutes before. I took a deep breath, and interrupted the teacher 15 minutes into a 50 minute class. Nice. Naturally, the only seat available was front and center. I slid into it and tried to disappear. I grabbed my text and notebook and pretended that I'd been there all along. The teacher resumed his lecture, and mortification turned to horror. I had no idea what he was saying. He was using terms and symbols I didn't know existed. Was this Math 107? How could this be? Was this a dream? I need this class. NEED IT. I can't get into the Ed program without it. And he's speaking Greek in the first 15 minutes of the first day. I'm screwed. I wonder, am I in the right room? I look around me, and everyone has the same text as I do. All the while, the teacher is looking at me strangely, like "who are you?" Then I start to notice other things, like this girl to my left has pages of handwritten equations. He's calling students by name, like he already knows them. Something is wrong, very wrong. He's asking them if anyone had any problems with the homework. Then my heart stops. And I know. Today isn't the first day of school. I've gotten the day wrong. As soon as he finishes, I'm up there in a flash. "Um, you know those nightmares you have about the first day of school? I'm living one right now." I explain my mistake, and assure him that I'm actually a responsible adult and the mother of 5 sons, and an exchange student, who's waited 15 years to go to school, and I thought this was the first day, and how screwed actually am I? He laughs and fills me in on the mountain of assignments I've missed. I thank him, apologize again, and sprint across campus to my next class. Every other teacher laughed with me and got me up to speed. As I drove toward home, I was laughing hysterically. No schedule. 15 minutes late. Showing up on the 3rd day of class. At least I wasn't naked, right?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-86659182317283625342010-09-20T16:34:00.000-07:002010-09-20T16:35:34.421-07:00I'm So Jealous. I Want to be Jewish after Seeing This:<object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/KgZ4ZTTfKO8?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/KgZ4ZTTfKO8?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-66592451353612302982010-09-13T22:21:00.001-07:002010-09-13T22:31:59.136-07:00Dear Middle School Writing Teacher:Upon receiving my very own writing assignment. Logan declined to answer some very personal questions with unswerving veracity. I allowed him to complete the assignment as a work of fiction.<br />Example:<br />Who is your greatest hero?<br />Adolf Hitler, because he can grow a killer mustache. (Get it? Killer?)<br />What is your least favorite chore?<br />Plasma donation day.<br />What would be your most cherished gift?<br />My very own bed in the house, the shed roof leaks in the rain.<br />What is your favorite subject at school?<br />Lunch, it's the only meal I get all day.<br />What is your greatest accomplishment?<br />Learning to wipe myself was the best 13th birthday present I could give myself.<br />What is your greatest aspiration?<br />To be first lady of the United States.<br />Do you feel like the kids at school like you?<br />They laugh every time I come near, so they must like me a lot!<br />What is your least favorite subject?<br />Gym, for what happens to me in the locker room.<br />What is your biggest complaint about your family?<br />They make me dress in girls clothes at home.<br /><br />It went on and on, and we laughed until we cried.<br />Then she sent the assignment home for the parents to fill out. What? To test us to see how well we know our child. Nuh uh. Not going to happen.<br />I wrote this letter and stapled it to the assignment.<br /><br />Dear Teacher,<br /><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0pt 5.4pt 0pt 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0pt; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">When Logan brought the interest inventory home, he was very uncomfortable with the assignment.<span style=""> </span>He felt that his biggest fears, disappointments and embarrassments are something he’d rather keep to himself.<span style=""> </span>The sharing of personal details like that occurs best when a relationship of respect and trust has been developed, and he has simply not had the time or opportunity to develop that with you. <span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>I understand that the ability to access strong emotional experiences is vital for good writing, and such introspection doesn’t come naturally to middle schoolers. <span style=""> </span>Becoming self aware is an important process that I applaud.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style=""> </span>Inventories like this also could be valuable for assessing the mental health or family stability of a student.<span style=""> </span>Please rest assured that Logan is a valued and loved member of our very intact family.<span style=""> </span>In fact, filling out his inventory was a bonding family activity that made us laugh until we cried. <span style=""> </span>He had my encouragement to make it a work of fiction.<span style=""> </span>Writing fiction is still writing, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as we did.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span>Giving parents a writing assignment makes me equally as uncomfortable as it made Logan.<span style=""> </span>It reminds me of the time my CPS-worker sister did a bonding assessment on my toddler and me unawares, long before she became a parent.<span style=""> </span>So I guess we both found the assignment intrusive and kind of freaky.<span style=""> </span>We can’t decide; is it a nosey getting-to-know-you exercise, or a let’s see how well these parents know their kid exercise?<span style=""> </span>Either one, we’d rather abstain.<span style=""> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 36pt;">Logan loves to write.<span style=""> </span>He’s been writing fifty-plus page stories for years.<span style=""> </span>He will enjoy learning all that you have to teach him this year.<span style=""> </span>He’s a great kid with a positive attitude, and he’ll knock himself out trying to please you and perform up to your expectations.<span style=""> </span>Just don’t expect him to dish about his private bidness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Reclusively yours,</p> EarlgirlUnknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-64093771430347632702010-09-10T18:51:00.000-07:002010-09-13T22:21:06.779-07:00Sweet SeptemberWhat's sweet about September? Not much, but does roll off the tongue, doesn't it? Our big news is that a skunk killed both our ducks! Kit Kat and Sweaty Bicep, alas, are no more. We set traps and on the second night, the mystery killer was revealed. It was none other than an adorable skunk. Seriously, it had the sweetest face! Of course, I didn't see its face until after it was dead and I was in no danger of being sprayed....<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ceUeEZti9SuBB25ncd2PSbxfu1il0Bwru75ZhCGlT_htHccuaKwQAo12YBc5XR1Whwk81HbBErOSX_zG3EdzJrCPyPad66o-fq18-bOrMA839nIeBjd8TyxX2s-fzcowNpdcTeoe98Y/s1600/218.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ceUeEZti9SuBB25ncd2PSbxfu1il0Bwru75ZhCGlT_htHccuaKwQAo12YBc5XR1Whwk81HbBErOSX_zG3EdzJrCPyPad66o-fq18-bOrMA839nIeBjd8TyxX2s-fzcowNpdcTeoe98Y/s400/218.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515472357439790034" border="0" /></a>This is our dead skunk. Lewis was merciful, and put it to sleep under a tarp with fumes piped in from a tube in the exhaust pipe. It doesn't look like a vicious killer, does it?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNP68ZBPndET6_nxQmui0eUfUN5OMkuE1X0ypPxGhM0Jxw4g8X8RygqPpsOujZ0BQmk33I09FUPKDn-wAc_ZBYtTd-wBBOk1mgvvTWgvpPWfGFm6eIpcwLzGWAdA5brDnuWPepQpgHtTw/s1600/216.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNP68ZBPndET6_nxQmui0eUfUN5OMkuE1X0ypPxGhM0Jxw4g8X8RygqPpsOujZ0BQmk33I09FUPKDn-wAc_ZBYtTd-wBBOk1mgvvTWgvpPWfGFm6eIpcwLzGWAdA5brDnuWPepQpgHtTw/s400/216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515472347207135442" border="0" /></a>But this is what it did to me sweet little Leghorn that was just getting ready to lay thundreds of eggs for me.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNJIaPXbgr1yhAhmH_2AX8q-73xpl74ohWprxYFcspiFQs4qFSse7ufJyxie4NNWDfEiUUGOFy1djM1V3GTPM6ugeX8cbBxf-plPhsMIVbFjojyX5yzY_geJkYoyPpS3PgP_vogMordY/s1600/213.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJNJIaPXbgr1yhAhmH_2AX8q-73xpl74ohWprxYFcspiFQs4qFSse7ufJyxie4NNWDfEiUUGOFy1djM1V3GTPM6ugeX8cbBxf-plPhsMIVbFjojyX5yzY_geJkYoyPpS3PgP_vogMordY/s400/213.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515472335157477506" border="0" /></a>Note to Skunk: Don't come between me and my beloved chickies and/or ducks. The fumes of justice will seep in upon you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-34111926004948241242010-09-03T08:12:00.000-07:002010-09-03T08:47:39.492-07:00Did This Just Really Happen?<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnL3-V5rREstX-s47H9wFou8WSjT7_ksqPSihKEtY-h8CBSZW9C5hCTPk5PnIBJevxrlUt6QT2y2w7vPD4ahCliBgBWYbjg02Un6etsnZql35lMu_p-ebAAw8bF7fjIY-O1vAXVIN06s/s1600/Liam+Birth+005.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnL3-V5rREstX-s47H9wFou8WSjT7_ksqPSihKEtY-h8CBSZW9C5hCTPk5PnIBJevxrlUt6QT2y2w7vPD4ahCliBgBWYbjg02Un6etsnZql35lMu_p-ebAAw8bF7fjIY-O1vAXVIN06s/s400/Liam+Birth+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512711632561793074" border="0" /></a>How could time have flown like this? I went from this, in 2005,<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-J82BCiuBoTB6GfC9FaEkeruNIn6aX9BbkawhoZVfahUKlT0fQXif9wRx_hPuhbL8qD82KK4W6KgwTJ1-hhynqwpVuqiGipGCtS2o51dhyphenhyphenDDtFjQZBdjqbimsuDASu2W8ifnPlNMomXo/s1600/Liam+bus+1c.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-J82BCiuBoTB6GfC9FaEkeruNIn6aX9BbkawhoZVfahUKlT0fQXif9wRx_hPuhbL8qD82KK4W6KgwTJ1-hhynqwpVuqiGipGCtS2o51dhyphenhyphenDDtFjQZBdjqbimsuDASu2W8ifnPlNMomXo/s400/Liam+bus+1c.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512711640870639682" border="0" /></a>To this 2 year old in 2007 wistfully watching his best buddies leave him,<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQg3IwdtGRNKvxm9Xt4SlLGndWg29mfghYQO7ndEAra5QpAlpe_hKIu062NNtQ-hWgpxK_S3hY2KgncOUuwjAOFtoxdBg_3w3Ws7khXE-dQQHlUGoUhf4tKCxzhrr-1f-IxRETF2F7M8/s1600/IMG_8380.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQg3IwdtGRNKvxm9Xt4SlLGndWg29mfghYQO7ndEAra5QpAlpe_hKIu062NNtQ-hWgpxK_S3hY2KgncOUuwjAOFtoxdBg_3w3Ws7khXE-dQQHlUGoUhf4tKCxzhrr-1f-IxRETF2F7M8/s400/IMG_8380.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512707382606776338" border="0" /></a>To this confident boy, ready to take on life. I just put this kiddo on a school bus, and as he made his big leap into the wide, wide world, I felt a giant tug under my ribs.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9G52qK_crGD4QlXhDuAJb2_-GiAQPSuzXzGX-Vie4oxZeEe7PNmz6p03WsNQib6ujgyx4FQQXAnSSbPh9XauESKuisbiEu2cjig7cL_3q6nia7hvaorJW12RuO2A3O0vQDdNnvwwFc1s/s1600/IMG_8400.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9G52qK_crGD4QlXhDuAJb2_-GiAQPSuzXzGX-Vie4oxZeEe7PNmz6p03WsNQib6ujgyx4FQQXAnSSbPh9XauESKuisbiEu2cjig7cL_3q6nia7hvaorJW12RuO2A3O0vQDdNnvwwFc1s/s400/IMG_8400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512707390986915698" border="0" /></a>There he goes!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjos8QBTf6Iy93MBLELsQlgGkXPY_4QPrBiRYvPSvabD_pOiwHBuJjWzOKS5QCEi6lrqppLwAHt0AMjLOpnOBypIdYFO2gcmbehxmgz0VmwaXQIdJPc5C_WwxFt0aCgI0OCfiHXaWE2Aj4/s1600/IMG_8404.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjos8QBTf6Iy93MBLELsQlgGkXPY_4QPrBiRYvPSvabD_pOiwHBuJjWzOKS5QCEi6lrqppLwAHt0AMjLOpnOBypIdYFO2gcmbehxmgz0VmwaXQIdJPc5C_WwxFt0aCgI0OCfiHXaWE2Aj4/s400/IMG_8404.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512707396865936530" border="0" /></a>There he is, sitting next to Kelton peeking over the seat.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQg3IwdtGRNKvxm9Xt4SlLGndWg29mfghYQO7ndEAra5QpAlpe_hKIu062NNtQ-hWgpxK_S3hY2KgncOUuwjAOFtoxdBg_3w3Ws7khXE-dQQHlUGoUhf4tKCxzhrr-1f-IxRETF2F7M8/s1600/IMG_8380.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVQg3IwdtGRNKvxm9Xt4SlLGndWg29mfghYQO7ndEAra5QpAlpe_hKIu062NNtQ-hWgpxK_S3hY2KgncOUuwjAOFtoxdBg_3w3Ws7khXE-dQQHlUGoUhf4tKCxzhrr-1f-IxRETF2F7M8/s400/IMG_8380.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5512707382606776338" border="0" /></a>So proud of you Liam!<br /><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-11182797181631783982010-08-21T15:09:00.000-07:002010-08-21T15:35:07.186-07:00Making Tear SoupA sweet friend stopped by yesterday and gave me a present. When I opened it up, there was a children's book called Tear Soup. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvXMIIEc09k2bBNAq0HxEFFxcTCyR5ziZkgQ46p14GPAF2YA2eEH-WZ_DC0vQvWFrtM5S4X4zVLQBAulK07xYGy3hOb9Fl9-Dazw-rSJrPNb93PGA5sWqXgEGziIJ2HMYhYY9S5HLX6s/s1600/tear+soup.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvXMIIEc09k2bBNAq0HxEFFxcTCyR5ziZkgQ46p14GPAF2YA2eEH-WZ_DC0vQvWFrtM5S4X4zVLQBAulK07xYGy3hOb9Fl9-Dazw-rSJrPNb93PGA5sWqXgEGziIJ2HMYhYY9S5HLX6s/s400/tear+soup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507989978154104914" border="0" /></a>Along with the story, there was a journal, a very applicable copy of a conference talk, and a letter from her. She is also acquainted with grief, and her words touched my heart so much that there are puckers on the letter now. I laid down and read the story. Lewis has been out of town, so I really had time to think and ponder. I went out to the shop and dug up all the photos of Michael I could find. I started writing in the journal all the things Michael's children will want to know about him. An idea hit me, and I scoured my old email archives and found a treasure trove of communication between us. I cleaned the house and got some really cleansing sobbing done. I feel a little better for it. I found some really fun pictures too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEB5kQWg9yOBM_SYmHgHBq2LZgP3_UWGTza0IbrQy7aYHFV6Ix_XdmE4ADQ779-r4KNJyZGtaBLlRRfxsTwMkFKvaYbprvPy8ypk4fC6qP43Zgz3gQFcWASFqENL16TAAog5ejGhdl0Q/s1600/michaelt.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZEB5kQWg9yOBM_SYmHgHBq2LZgP3_UWGTza0IbrQy7aYHFV6Ix_XdmE4ADQ779-r4KNJyZGtaBLlRRfxsTwMkFKvaYbprvPy8ypk4fC6qP43Zgz3gQFcWASFqENL16TAAog5ejGhdl0Q/s400/michaelt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507992904641045058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTbmdSxUdrnk-2Sw_O6fiUH5xMRcrwfL_99GTd-ZQZt9EiEAs2Shy7VPBKlPbQJGWkFTQa4cfSKhyoEip7MCEV32LFAQ1Qlx_OAB4AezPUGlCzDU3OdJiPkF9jtuwLlE5pT0SZPZctaE/s1600/michaelu.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTbmdSxUdrnk-2Sw_O6fiUH5xMRcrwfL_99GTd-ZQZt9EiEAs2Shy7VPBKlPbQJGWkFTQa4cfSKhyoEip7MCEV32LFAQ1Qlx_OAB4AezPUGlCzDU3OdJiPkF9jtuwLlE5pT0SZPZctaE/s400/michaelu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507992887262351842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2KU6CwQDCOdcnpkRnfJYcK3BeRDvRvD9p1ZA5wYoDs-nSFQJ3tY7R7c09vzCobyEK9wOHksUMJvYAUs9GPVcyW3OFMn9_prObphIdkahHcbSDwEQTPOkafAivAqeYgvQnS0VwIYGRQk/s1600/Michaele.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2KU6CwQDCOdcnpkRnfJYcK3BeRDvRvD9p1ZA5wYoDs-nSFQJ3tY7R7c09vzCobyEK9wOHksUMJvYAUs9GPVcyW3OFMn9_prObphIdkahHcbSDwEQTPOkafAivAqeYgvQnS0VwIYGRQk/s400/Michaele.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507992871339970402" border="0" /></a>Did you know gmail keeps a record of every IM session? I didn't, and I'm so glad they do! Take a look at one I found:<br /><div id=":1cm" class="ii gt"><div id=":1cn"><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">2:54 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: Hey sis,</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: Hello Brutha'</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">2:57 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: How's life?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: busy, exciting, and stretching me. you?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">2:59 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: nice, I'm in the lull time of the day. these are the only thirty minutes of my day until I go to sleep that I can relax.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: I'm kinda doing that too.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:00 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: so, any new drama?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:01 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: yeah, an electrical inspector came by that could have cost us 20,000. But it didn't. I almost cried. Just a few lilttle changes to the basement bathroom, and all this well.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:03 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: hurray!</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>we might have made new friends,</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: yeah? anyone interesting?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: Jen has been so starved for friends she been getting a little depressed</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:04 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>they live down the street and have a great Dane 2 six feet albino boas and a bearded dragon</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: you're not friend enough for her? What is she, some kind of women's libber?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: and they shoot guns for fun!</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:05 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>I guess not</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: wow, they sound cool!</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>I know I love my friends. We've been appreciating the beauty of gerard butler today.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:06 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: I'm always cautions when I start hanging out with people. but Jen just throws herself into friendships</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>Who is that?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:07 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: who's that? Gerard Butler of 300 fame?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: ?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: Holy hunk of manliness fame? We've been watching P.S. I love you.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:08 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>You've never seen the cover of the movie 300?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: are you talking about the guy in 300?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>spartans?</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: yeah. gerard butler.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:09 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: oh okay, crazy movie</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span>yep very manily</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: never seen it.</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);">3:11 PM </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">michael</span>: clean flicks. I loved it until a bad guy forces this guys wife to sleep with him. that kind of stuff enrages me. so the whole movie has a bad taste in my mouth</span></span></div><div><span style="display: block; float: left; color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"> </span><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em;"><span><span style="font-weight: bold;">me</span>: gotta dash, kid in a tree!<br /><br />It just makes me smile. Our conversations were frequently about nothing much, but there were the ones, usually when we were walking together, that I never want to forget. I'm glad I have a special journal now to record them in. So this has been an intense weekend, but a good one. The story helped me realize that I don't have to sidestep the hard days. I'm just making tear soup and that's part of the process of healing.<br /><br /></span></span></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-26973531230542911912010-08-13T02:42:00.000-07:002010-08-13T04:07:54.585-07:00Forks in the Road<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkJb2az6zW-uKNaKoaNDiDh-GpkGFkM4-ZzSAAHvzhjfXj5WLcFs-W6zQtDd-zvJ5TJMjZTaqr0lK6M3qen8T60yIIMR0pE_J7Wj9MsPtEQ-qzgwJX_kJqOiY1BdV7IlR4gGpECqD5lU/s1600/Picture+021.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimkJb2az6zW-uKNaKoaNDiDh-GpkGFkM4-ZzSAAHvzhjfXj5WLcFs-W6zQtDd-zvJ5TJMjZTaqr0lK6M3qen8T60yIIMR0pE_J7Wj9MsPtEQ-qzgwJX_kJqOiY1BdV7IlR4gGpECqD5lU/s400/Picture+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504842506208758706" border="0" /></a><br />I feel like I've been in a super-intensive course on life in the last couple of weeks since my brother died. I've learned so very much- about what's really important, what's not, about the human condition, and what paths lead to the most peace. Here are some musings:<br /><br />I've learned from my brother that moments and relationships are not to be neglected. You'll never regret loving investment in the lives of others. You may regret busyness, time wasted, self-indulgent isolation (ahem, guilty)but never the smiles, hugs and meaningful contact.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7l1NAadPyP3ZBjGcSrm-7IRLW6YMGzoZY2mBR5Qofkf-lghaUVulCohn9Yxopewiji27LUE25I74fORC3-w4vLfHEl2mis7T4xDSmb6NA6w63ULesfKKGwXk9zXpy2Z8ftVoo3s8M70/s1600/082.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7l1NAadPyP3ZBjGcSrm-7IRLW6YMGzoZY2mBR5Qofkf-lghaUVulCohn9Yxopewiji27LUE25I74fORC3-w4vLfHEl2mis7T4xDSmb6NA6w63ULesfKKGwXk9zXpy2Z8ftVoo3s8M70/s400/082.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504843854097646562" border="0" /></a><br />I've learned that success at the end of this life really is measured on how determined you are to keep trying, and giving what you have to give. You don't need to be someone flashy, super financially successful, or with really prestigious responsibilities at church to be greeted as a heroic finisher of this test.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVnmZ5191d7_hSfjNEAyttOsGIT6zA1m0wPCTPWjNwRCDsvSBhbbTrELcTTfPUQjmdhGn3NO3s0XQtVnQXhuSzZBgMzPVqONg-c3xXgRQjAKwx4GGV0YZfpMNRrDpCEQD0wgPKdBouQI/s1600/SL380276.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVnmZ5191d7_hSfjNEAyttOsGIT6zA1m0wPCTPWjNwRCDsvSBhbbTrELcTTfPUQjmdhGn3NO3s0XQtVnQXhuSzZBgMzPVqONg-c3xXgRQjAKwx4GGV0YZfpMNRrDpCEQD0wgPKdBouQI/s400/SL380276.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504843859825270098" border="0" /></a>I'll never forget the look on my brother's face when I first saw his body. He hadn't been 'doctored' up yet, and it was a very emotionally and physically raw experience. I looked into that precious, familiar face. I saw the most beautiful hint of a smile. There was such peace, such pride and satisfaction. There was a powerful witness that this good man had finished his mission successfully.<br /> Knowing my brother so well, and we were confidants, knowing his struggles, frustrations and weaknesses, has really helped me to see my life in a different way. I've learned that feeling discouraged at your progress in life, feeling weak or ineffectual, feeling like you are nowhere near where you should be in any given area, is just part of the human condition. It is part of this mortal state that we all will leave behind when we leave this life. It's not a sign of failure or spiritual retardation- it's just life. If I'm waiting to feel totally on top of things- to feel like I'm finally picking up speed and cruising along this highway of life- as a sign that I've "made it", I'll be waiting in dread my whole life. That's just not what this life is about.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxdsZMrugeOjtysEcpLQJSCspvUWh2a7Sbnc3wTHTQaKQYaHjx6Jzq34BMM6TGx7H0FdX2NUnCsiVaawvglvRuThfhyphenhyphenLuFpW_Datyz0K8OMvh2NgD5sxLAat47MDS9WCOXpPbDZLeLRg/s1600/186.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikxdsZMrugeOjtysEcpLQJSCspvUWh2a7Sbnc3wTHTQaKQYaHjx6Jzq34BMM6TGx7H0FdX2NUnCsiVaawvglvRuThfhyphenhyphenLuFpW_Datyz0K8OMvh2NgD5sxLAat47MDS9WCOXpPbDZLeLRg/s400/186.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504847605644872226" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'm learning so much about grief. Right now, my favorite scripture is Isaiah 61:3. It talks about mourning in Zion, which I take to mean placing your grief at the feet of the Lord, and letting Him do what he can with it. If we're willing to do this, and forgo regrets, blame, and anger, He promises us "beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness." I have really, truly felt these promises come true for me. Not all the time, but enough to get through the day. The best promise is in the next sentence: "that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord." To me, this means that my family's spiritual roots will grow so deep, that this experience will give us strength and faith that will last generations.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tECbvWOczCEVGkVBJRW3quncIIDwvmClRSl1T4TG43xEr_Zzv1-NbwCm-y_IovXUnHvx6lzwLZ5_GmDLoDB3XI8QOTym8OrSVNljGSOyJtW5QgJtfPlf0Ma4Dgtxef7lhXWCUxTrkzQ/s1600/062.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tECbvWOczCEVGkVBJRW3quncIIDwvmClRSl1T4TG43xEr_Zzv1-NbwCm-y_IovXUnHvx6lzwLZ5_GmDLoDB3XI8QOTym8OrSVNljGSOyJtW5QgJtfPlf0Ma4Dgtxef7lhXWCUxTrkzQ/s400/062.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504847600272145298" border="0" /></a><br />I've also realized that every time something hurts us, disappoints us, or messes with the way we think life should be, it's like a fork in the road. We're presented with a choice, whether we're conscious of it or not. I was most aware of this during our journey to the funeral. Something had gone wrong, and it hurt. I let a few tears out, then there was almost a voice in my head. "You can choose to be hurt, or you can choose peace." I was perfectly justified either way. As soon as I was conscious of that fork in the road, it was easy to choose peace. I immediately felt better. I could let it go. I was aware today of another fork in the road. Today was a hard day, and I was feeling the loss very keenly. I spent hours on Michael's facebook page throughout the day. I pored over pictures, watched videos over and over. A friend stopped by, and our conversation turned to the heavy burdens she was carrying. My weight of grief lifted as I showed love and concern. There came that voice again, whispering that I could choose. I could turn inward and make a meal of my pain and loss, or I could open my heart and turn outward and find relief in caring for others. Again, I could be justified either way. That was a pretty powerful lesson for me.<br />This hasn't been easy. It really hurts. I'm so grateful though, really flooded with gratitude for the help, the peace, the little messages that all is well. Michael has proven to still be the caring brother he was in life. I've learned so much about him, about what is important to him, in the help and little 'jobs' we've been given. I've never been more sure of life after death. I've never been less afraid of death. I really, truly look forward to the day when we're together again.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUR2cGj10dxXDcjY90HvJ8z4GHpxbZBDak3Z4grjZh0wzxLq06fGrOQnF9GhSbtUTiKXLyCVG1EwPRk9pgSx29coekr6yYwF4GTUdWy0RxGzxgr72TFvnJ4HPB9kgHsoKITtuBMFL50Ls/s1600/Picture+059.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 336px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUR2cGj10dxXDcjY90HvJ8z4GHpxbZBDak3Z4grjZh0wzxLq06fGrOQnF9GhSbtUTiKXLyCVG1EwPRk9pgSx29coekr6yYwF4GTUdWy0RxGzxgr72TFvnJ4HPB9kgHsoKITtuBMFL50Ls/s400/Picture+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504843872206656002" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-22288106938297311742010-07-28T17:05:00.000-07:002010-07-28T17:16:25.236-07:00O Brother, Where Art Thou?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtz1yakTYHvrUACLgUAP1DaNO54LuaOEXIJcWYdKXBXwhk4-T5YryabHRZvrzzMZ5LsNpLsYMBZvQDWgAGTTZ6CdTuD-P_A2XeXS_Ad3ubXZ2Z9SXfC3j1jSG7FTcaVNnz7eJAFBgbUc/s1600/05-27-09_2209.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZtz1yakTYHvrUACLgUAP1DaNO54LuaOEXIJcWYdKXBXwhk4-T5YryabHRZvrzzMZ5LsNpLsYMBZvQDWgAGTTZ6CdTuD-P_A2XeXS_Ad3ubXZ2Z9SXfC3j1jSG7FTcaVNnz7eJAFBgbUc/s400/05-27-09_2209.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499114668717214034" border="0" /></a><br />I know where my brother is. I know he still exists. I can feel him, hear him in my mind, sometimes laughing, sometimes rueful, but always loving. I know with absolute certainty that someday, his dramatic and too-early exit will make perfect sense, and that we will be astounded at the beauty and majesty of our Father's plan for our family.<img src="file:///C:/Users/Lewis/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Lewis/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Lewis/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-2.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Lewis/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-3.png" alt="" /><br /><br />I can't introduce you to my brother. How does one describe the coolest brother in the world? One who, when he shows up, draws children out of the woodwork like the pied piper? One who plays guitar in a rock band, who has (and uses) actual ninja swords? One who can envelope you in a hug so huge you can barely see the light of day? One who always wants to talk to you, one who is always dreaming up new adventures.... I can't really do him justice. All I can say, is that it is unfathomable that the world can keep turning, that the sun can still rise without him.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-43704702334568212212010-07-13T13:02:00.000-07:002010-07-13T17:41:05.346-07:00CatchupWow, we've had some crazy days lately. First of all, we got here and Lewis got busy setting up a business to do business development consulting. He got all up and rolling, then he drove into the parking lot of a dealership. His stomach turned. I told him he didn't have to work in the auto industry anymore. We have some money left from when our house sold, so he has a little time to figure out what he really WANTS to do. How many people get a chance to do that? Take some time find what will really be fun and interesting to do. That's the short version. The longer, more painful version contains many headaches, sleepless nights, horrible stress-induced allergic reactions. To get to a place where we felt freed up to think outside the box, Lewis got a blessing from his father where he was told to "do what will bring you joy." On the short drive home from Lewis' parents house, a thought took hold of me, something totally out of the blue. Here's the result- I'm going back to school to be a high school teacher. Ahhhhhhhh!!!!!!<br />It's nothing I would have ever thought of, but I can't tell you how excited I am. I just paid my tuition today, and got a horrible picture taken for my student ID. How hilarious is that?<br />I have an easy schedule starting in Sept, at a local jr college. I leave after the kiddos leave for school, and I get back a few minutes after Liam gets off the bus. With Lewis working from home(I'll get to that in a minute), Leebee will have Daddy to welcome him home and eat his lunch with. Come January, I'll start the secondary ed program at EWU.<br />Lewis, after reading <span style="font-style: italic;">48 Days to the Work You Love</span> by Dan Miller, realized he's happiest when he's building things and using his artistic side. So, his first month giving art a try, he's secured enough commissions to pay the bills. He also is doing some independent construction work on the side, which he loves, because he gets to use his cool power tools. It's really weird, but we've been able to plan our lives from the bottom up- figure out what's most important and build up from there. Once I registered for school (and got over the freak out over that huge change) I haven't had another sleepless night. I don't worry about the future any more. A huge burden has been lifted. Life is very good, and we have SO much time together as a family, which is the most important thing for us.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6KsZjlhvrKLMkkQ3kGPOhQILBnhSOKVeJKuxPNcM75VC20x6aXouX5WRgRF8pUKOaOFajCiUEcpaSwbUB-MIo6ZibZxfO6U0zk3E9GDw9xzCb0wNY5lq3lLocHe1g-4Rg43ks8ckPzXI/s1600/Final+Dainon.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 313px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6KsZjlhvrKLMkkQ3kGPOhQILBnhSOKVeJKuxPNcM75VC20x6aXouX5WRgRF8pUKOaOFajCiUEcpaSwbUB-MIo6ZibZxfO6U0zk3E9GDw9xzCb0wNY5lq3lLocHe1g-4Rg43ks8ckPzXI/s400/Final+Dainon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493491025685525890" border="0" /></a>Here's a painting he did of Dainon; I love it. I want him to do one of me now. Can't you just picture how cool it would be to have a gigantic nude, right as you come in the door? ;)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1EwQuotdvbZjUvQrLZTXfWO0xDtEuOEf3yorynb_moryLKgUC8yGFdkbXhcTm2A7dvm8XFzH3EbZ9kunVANi6zv8pZOYhnsV_98EMFFRTEeWB9r3g3Pj9gIPK7bAEK4NPNB_hzo931ns/s1600/IMG_7298.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1EwQuotdvbZjUvQrLZTXfWO0xDtEuOEf3yorynb_moryLKgUC8yGFdkbXhcTm2A7dvm8XFzH3EbZ9kunVANi6zv8pZOYhnsV_98EMFFRTEeWB9r3g3Pj9gIPK7bAEK4NPNB_hzo931ns/s400/IMG_7298.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493490181266387426" border="0" /></a>Lewis watched 5 boys for me when I went to girls camp, earning himself a crown in heaven. Can you imagine 10 boys for 6 days?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlwOSnUjHLI2xSnW8NGZbhyphenhyphenyG6wGpz3LW-m1q6VwhkiY-j0s7MkNSOR9kOtgq7Pt_9VkOrMSOF8qM8nNewPkdmMTGaVj8ccLTcnxZAoWQApnAeR5X6lnzljfNJ4VWNpybPBx5laNQaDAs/s1600/IMG_7347.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlwOSnUjHLI2xSnW8NGZbhyphenhyphenyG6wGpz3LW-m1q6VwhkiY-j0s7MkNSOR9kOtgq7Pt_9VkOrMSOF8qM8nNewPkdmMTGaVj8ccLTcnxZAoWQApnAeR5X6lnzljfNJ4VWNpybPBx5laNQaDAs/s400/IMG_7347.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493489303630702418" border="0" /></a>Liam was in heaven too. He had so many little buddies to play with.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZpvjk1pVrXqijKb87t5kjS7oMCd4bUo0IXipOlP32EmtoGmIpj_9paQU4dwYJevbEe0TydxofiJfdoZAIuBWEhlCaJu0-InjtfnCKY0J53qLcwtKqWJfBCfcyTwfyTv_RnYN9eSPXCE/s1600/IMG_7363.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZpvjk1pVrXqijKb87t5kjS7oMCd4bUo0IXipOlP32EmtoGmIpj_9paQU4dwYJevbEe0TydxofiJfdoZAIuBWEhlCaJu0-InjtfnCKY0J53qLcwtKqWJfBCfcyTwfyTv_RnYN9eSPXCE/s400/IMG_7363.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493488727635156690" border="0" /></a>Lewis is getting ready for the boy scout high adventure, they made model trebuchets to get ready for the big one they're going to make. So life is good! We're happy, healthy, and all is well!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-53823581775740555852010-06-09T22:06:00.000-07:002010-06-09T22:22:17.910-07:00Photoshop FunLewis bought me a cool camera when our house sold, and I've been having a great time figuring it out. So far, I have the point, click and focus parts pretty much down. Aperture, focal length and ISO are pretty much eluding me, but I'm trying. Yesterday I dove into the deep waters of photoshop. I watched tutorials on youtube, and had to pause them every few seconds and rewind over and over. Photoshop is like the mind of a woman, to a man. Unfathomable depths. You can totally screw things up with some errand click you didn't realize you even did. I had to restart things several times. But I'm learning. I'll get it, I promise. Here are some of my projects today:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYtOYP2DEoqzZICxc7LEaUT1CCVGwEds94L8cMqmzM0zaVcguvbcaZ-r0bj_31Ft-BjavZxExofVW4vDHARSRECVS-ZC6XQafaru5bjcBpBHv_6U0z1vSK9GtFYolbotQ7_5DS16rRVM/s1600/Kelty3+copy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYtOYP2DEoqzZICxc7LEaUT1CCVGwEds94L8cMqmzM0zaVcguvbcaZ-r0bj_31Ft-BjavZxExofVW4vDHARSRECVS-ZC6XQafaru5bjcBpBHv_6U0z1vSK9GtFYolbotQ7_5DS16rRVM/s400/Kelty3+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481010155068787714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEE_fqCmrUXRXm6Q-Q5vNV1AFb7K5_v_b7Tg26hPytYCu2KxqkFLB0oRdDTjdkucvHI1m8yIBqN7vTR-6vKuJAhkJrgTB_jIhP1kXDMaSvIjL6IHdK3EGa5Qp2x8bdQVYpFGy1kGB3Lc/s1600/Dainon2+copy.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSEE_fqCmrUXRXm6Q-Q5vNV1AFb7K5_v_b7Tg26hPytYCu2KxqkFLB0oRdDTjdkucvHI1m8yIBqN7vTR-6vKuJAhkJrgTB_jIhP1kXDMaSvIjL6IHdK3EGa5Qp2x8bdQVYpFGy1kGB3Lc/s400/Dainon2+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481010143888451698" border="0" /></a>I know some day soon I'll laugh at what a terrible job I did on these, but today, I'm proud of myself!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-56744779440183873512010-05-18T20:19:00.001-07:002010-05-18T20:50:31.621-07:00Our Growing FamilyWe did it! We've been talking a lot lately about expanding our family, so we all went down to the feed store and we did it!<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472819018239881746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq3lx4ACAMxjfNE8zBzSJiD8ChQWWoJfubBUMaziqT60Xb8i3TzqCWLAu-GhbLYrTLvJLEI6c4eFAno4YxnndGfCdIJCsycPcRxDm87tB2eEDjllS7YLAvb2IXzrvTppFrKzT6Z0TdrAo/s400/baby+chick+and+Dall.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center">Is there anything cuter than a baby chick?</div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472819024500005330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTFnvl3waDaVh4JDjruy3AxZjkZvf20dGFFkOobea8X6SRc-u-D4SNP0KFOgTCZDG_7_qczZTgqS2d-2xIBveRFZxS5hh2I7AHXZupJElma4ocwDO_8g-fzoNkodcOTrOiMftPMwJVap8/s400/baby+duck.jpg" border="0" /></div><div align="center">How about a baby duck? </div><div>What about two of them, a male and a female, that love and cuddle each other? It's so adorable, if you pick one of them up, the other cries until you cuddle them both. They kiss when they're reunited. It's just soooo sweet! Dainon and Logan have named them Kit Kat and Sweaty Bicep. Guess which one is the boy?</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472819033191351858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2nNyC0cSmwK5QxtOSuhh6n9FK8pZdVIYwcQahwRqxg3vyyHnqWAfI1Ca4JTCi0yB9S0jC_OXDB5XI0aznM6O18JCZPqPcXKSRDPTCeMhlKHaINiA7r3bTyrpy5K0gRE-KRhrLAbStTQI/s400/just+one+bite.jpg" border="0" /></div><div>Our murderous chicken-killing dog was irresistibly drawn to the new babies. I can just hear her thinking, "Just one little bite! That's all I ask!"</div><div> <div> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG7hcwfTozA4G_6_9jnTWhC2VfqhPxfUFMoJeAVDTC5itlhU95dDrrZspTdCqariy8pco6PfC9yLxjWyZf79HyeCvIiEnBhhjQCML9M0ZMYM3IJ9Y_3SRoV652xiqjaAQt2Rmk9B_1Kg/s1600/ducks+cuddling.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472819045130604450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG7hcwfTozA4G_6_9jnTWhC2VfqhPxfUFMoJeAVDTC5itlhU95dDrrZspTdCqariy8pco6PfC9yLxjWyZf79HyeCvIiEnBhhjQCML9M0ZMYM3IJ9Y_3SRoV652xiqjaAQt2Rmk9B_1Kg/s400/ducks+cuddling.jpg" border="0" /></a> Here's Logan holding the cuddling ducks, with Jill looking on- waiting, hoping.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Rz6Ohyphenhyphens_Uf7h3TYCgt8oYeBxCocOQo2H6DACJq19XwcWTZvpfQvZKo_Lyl2EA90KRynmxp72f1PebVP0bloLmfaERor38KLOX79H0G8aS0V8G678jN0NUFEgfPkY8ZYDBaGY8Lx51eU/s1600/Jill+Tongue.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472819048460155730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Rz6Ohyphenhyphens_Uf7h3TYCgt8oYeBxCocOQo2H6DACJq19XwcWTZvpfQvZKo_Lyl2EA90KRynmxp72f1PebVP0bloLmfaERor38KLOX79H0G8aS0V8G678jN0NUFEgfPkY8ZYDBaGY8Lx51eU/s400/Jill+Tongue.jpg" border="0" /></a> "One day, one sweet day, you're gonna get lax. You're gonna turn your head for just a second, and I'll be ready."<br /></div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMG7hcwfTozA4G_6_9jnTWhC2VfqhPxfUFMoJeAVDTC5itlhU95dDrrZspTdCqariy8pco6PfC9yLxjWyZf79HyeCvIiEnBhhjQCML9M0ZMYM3IJ9Y_3SRoV652xiqjaAQt2Rmk9B_1Kg/s1600/ducks+cuddling.jpg"></a> We got a mix of eaters and layers. In just five short weeks, I get to post about the guys chopping 5 of their heads off. Eek!</div><div>The rest, ten of them, get to be ours for good. Or at least until Jill, hawks, or coyotes get them. What do you think? How long will it be until the first one moves on to its reward?</div><div>"Why ducks?" you ask. I thought they would be fun. We'll let them have little ducky babies, and either eat them, or let someone who likes baby ducks eat them. We'll keep the breeding pair around though. What's a little farm without ducks?</div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-8905987760779875042010-05-17T15:42:00.000-07:002010-05-17T17:15:02.303-07:00Catch Up<div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>I feel like I'm so behind. I've started to post so many times, but just get diverted before I'm done. So I decided to give a reader's digest version of the last few weeks.<br /></div><br /><div>*I'm obsessed with home decorating lately. I've scored big time at yard sales, and have bought a ton of spray paint. I'm having the time of my life.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472380132814891602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifYOvlpCtw7t11pQz8tHOy-VYqxy9nn5yYLbSyABF9tB31pJOsAijVbB-xAxNd21vDpa_jbIvsHkILJjpDz8FwVN2JKP8chyphenhyphenusyyjl5xVh23ZMbis0C0FGm3Fw9z0xmMVv0uwNTVdfqFU/s400/spray+paint+adventures.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><div>*I had a great Mother's Day. I scored a lilac, burning bush, heirloom tomatoes, chocolates and adorable things from my boys.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472383548333398178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gi_O5EKu0CGomCBMtSsFUkKLMaQxH7sTrUdHUYVNoLl_9AeKh7Dp7UPzT_ki6mobCM6uTcbuhca1BE1e_DP1JUfz6ket0z71ZCJHlsYfjSH_ib9Y2kPPWIeNKxetlFbZJ3jRDrnyppk/s400/mothersdayretouched.jpg" border="0" /> *I got to speak in Church on Mother's Day, along with Lewis and Dainon. I love speaking in church. I wish I could do it every week, but they won't let me :)<br /><br /><br /><div>*I hosted the whole Earl clan that very same day. We ate, and played baseball in our field. Good times, good times.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6PNUwbSmZFLFVqGtZ-FcItNNFOtY82wkGxeboRxvyUFW_FvIQ5LzrgTksgxAll3iXYmJgoiaK-vtuSnxIg4wEOnhpQUolZDeRdTf3y_LCQcFW-NsRpLYCDy_394oJWnTdiLJ1TYUpETU/s1600/family+baseball.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472384807153935634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6PNUwbSmZFLFVqGtZ-FcItNNFOtY82wkGxeboRxvyUFW_FvIQ5LzrgTksgxAll3iXYmJgoiaK-vtuSnxIg4wEOnhpQUolZDeRdTf3y_LCQcFW-NsRpLYCDy_394oJWnTdiLJ1TYUpETU/s400/family+baseball.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6Qml_XmcXGOdVB6X5LFe5cU_mHP60VhdXVTbz4mYMuTbRxQlwExP_FU1OyehRBxxWS9LHRnWzCHwEXPfrEAUjS6DJ3gxPoRlMoUFAEYKTEELLDsuXeOsZXhUIrgk7sMtOer0WLMxRJs/s1600/guitar+outside.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472386723618967986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6Qml_XmcXGOdVB6X5LFe5cU_mHP60VhdXVTbz4mYMuTbRxQlwExP_FU1OyehRBxxWS9LHRnWzCHwEXPfrEAUjS6DJ3gxPoRlMoUFAEYKTEELLDsuXeOsZXhUIrgk7sMtOer0WLMxRJs/s400/guitar+outside.jpg" border="0" /></a>*My Mom, Dad and Grandma came over for a visit. We took them all over the back of the property, even the boys' fort. They were good sports. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgag9wTpX0OY9Nf0r3Ezp7DyMf3E_MXNU_n0LqhVp5bDILFy9vNEI-XF4nz1x5RAJP_-ZCZI0tvB_FlvErgF0RV_jJ1lhuw3ponmg331lWEbz2KsL2ZMccq4_KiES5uiAssHd-2X5QMAPg/s1600/guests+in+back.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472396415650268290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgag9wTpX0OY9Nf0r3Ezp7DyMf3E_MXNU_n0LqhVp5bDILFy9vNEI-XF4nz1x5RAJP_-ZCZI0tvB_FlvErgF0RV_jJ1lhuw3ponmg331lWEbz2KsL2ZMccq4_KiES5uiAssHd-2X5QMAPg/s400/guests+in+back.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div></div><div>*Lilacs are blooming right outside my back door, leaving me transported with joy.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hjwI7VS4_aczkNKNP0LeCe7R0xd7wapbqNWGFgFQMTsD_3BPvD5_FGqe7Klnb7Fyzn_yMUsW3fOy-vf6bhRuuppGnv9StKcaeLB9xyWes6Hs351mXXtR2dQ7L1XYNc8N9teiRjK-hBY/s1600/lovely+lilacs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472389294101117714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7hjwI7VS4_aczkNKNP0LeCe7R0xd7wapbqNWGFgFQMTsD_3BPvD5_FGqe7Klnb7Fyzn_yMUsW3fOy-vf6bhRuuppGnv9StKcaeLB9xyWes6Hs351mXXtR2dQ7L1XYNc8N9teiRjK-hBY/s400/lovely+lilacs.jpg" border="0" /></a> *Fruit trees are blooming, and hidden treasures in the back forest have been found: massive elderberry trees, choke cherry bushes, and a wild apple tree. Jam, anyone?<br /><br /></div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JvMFauTqcWH3IP7uORbHymDitr91hTlyBfJsVQCwIBH3oWvzvOXPfiMHN5hocm3aWpaavwf7GoC0lVvYcn_9dwWb_hidGW4dMkaxKHcIyQ6tLaC4NMDxNB7qXXKY5YTXDqfGvQUNsHQ/s1600/rope+swing.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472389274809450626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9JvMFauTqcWH3IP7uORbHymDitr91hTlyBfJsVQCwIBH3oWvzvOXPfiMHN5hocm3aWpaavwf7GoC0lVvYcn_9dwWb_hidGW4dMkaxKHcIyQ6tLaC4NMDxNB7qXXKY5YTXDqfGvQUNsHQ/s400/rope+swing.jpg" border="0" /></a> *We're still Earls, even though we moved. So of course there is a rope swing, and kids to play with Kelton.<br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div>*I'm taking my first baby steps at decorating. What do you think? Like the little mirrors and basin and pitcher? Recognize them from the spray paint picture?<br /><br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzzgoQs73XrpXY7BYODVfYHHHC72nzgXPLk_9b-EqUlfgdXINx2wrf_N9dm_p1W28MUdM4Ttrm-m1rKlr-2Hzt1WtGsn0LSC1vDCX1GhTA_eCuqL4VnZhxUWl8X_YCMhyphenhyphenPG5NHgaTcW4/s1600/decorating+baby+steps.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472386733445734322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzzgoQs73XrpXY7BYODVfYHHHC72nzgXPLk_9b-EqUlfgdXINx2wrf_N9dm_p1W28MUdM4Ttrm-m1rKlr-2Hzt1WtGsn0LSC1vDCX1GhTA_eCuqL4VnZhxUWl8X_YCMhyphenhyphenPG5NHgaTcW4/s400/decorating+baby+steps.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>*Jill is in heaven digging everywhere for gophers. No squirrels to chase here.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTbvfkuEhmz9daKOJqlhUoUigwGNuT8kLqkHyC8uN_2tKAFET92FvtHw-U-ksoo9gNMDJ69gQ9qSt9R-FyipguG-r5cYPK2I2JAo2s0caBcE1TVf9uS-rRO10w_fFgkveNEgLqIT8CDU/s1600/Jill+smile.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472389302958986546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDTbvfkuEhmz9daKOJqlhUoUigwGNuT8kLqkHyC8uN_2tKAFET92FvtHw-U-ksoo9gNMDJ69gQ9qSt9R-FyipguG-r5cYPK2I2JAo2s0caBcE1TVf9uS-rRO10w_fFgkveNEgLqIT8CDU/s400/Jill+smile.jpg" border="0" /></a> * Isn't this picture a thing of beauty? Three cheers for having boys old enough to mow the lawn!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUz4iB8TQ97O4jZ3_G36sb4NAUBy6HSzjD7ICOFBG1cCkvvzRof9QAYva7Z-n5pJO-44JH3xY4rPzGVpf3VkjwdcxSjbq2uAKTmo1nAmmTjvPkYCtwfSRmiTrMCX0_kzy1W5osTa8a5U/s1600/earning+his+keep.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472389283817822370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUz4iB8TQ97O4jZ3_G36sb4NAUBy6HSzjD7ICOFBG1cCkvvzRof9QAYva7Z-n5pJO-44JH3xY4rPzGVpf3VkjwdcxSjbq2uAKTmo1nAmmTjvPkYCtwfSRmiTrMCX0_kzy1W5osTa8a5U/s400/earning+his+keep.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>*The boys had their Father/Son campout, which is also known as National Mothers of Only Sons Holiday. I was down with a grevious injury (I sliced the top of my foot pretty deeply) and was ordered to STAY DOWN. Which I did, so my friend Elisa brought a girls night party to me. Tons of food, lots of laughs... it was great.<br /></div><br /><div>We have big plans coming up. They involve these, ><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQkBCA-yny00tRsd0Xng8Eewp5D7OVvAeOXLRtu6090R1GwsPQ-kjfGE6197TBnNydEIf8EIcZNOLBEc4DKgkZ0X9e8tieBH7kpcfV-XZB-ItT0hJbC53uEBWA1NDxhbReuesbFNr-6M/s1600/chickens.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472393984891391282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQkBCA-yny00tRsd0Xng8Eewp5D7OVvAeOXLRtu6090R1GwsPQ-kjfGE6197TBnNydEIf8EIcZNOLBEc4DKgkZ0X9e8tieBH7kpcfV-XZB-ItT0hJbC53uEBWA1NDxhbReuesbFNr-6M/s400/chickens.jpg" border="0" /></a>and these.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpleVp9O4JUkf5l9iL5HcqTuAKwQ2VNR7o0ACiiTHWl4FNWI3mpt_l0R9vAysDcJ6VgLFPFpmrUsvxM1uP-8A7CY2OSAqSnX1tfq3C2dU2FFQIaFx2gXsGfPkBd6_bFwsH1ncWo9Tcwok/s1600/two-cows.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472393976181365634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpleVp9O4JUkf5l9iL5HcqTuAKwQ2VNR7o0ACiiTHWl4FNWI3mpt_l0R9vAysDcJ6VgLFPFpmrUsvxM1uP-8A7CY2OSAqSnX1tfq3C2dU2FFQIaFx2gXsGfPkBd6_bFwsH1ncWo9Tcwok/s400/two-cows.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And just maybe this:</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWA4KI6aL6Fbq6ZGzIVOXkvgYOuxnY-bXSDcXkR0phj8AbVhqG4T_VArLbI0zBvOyWt6TdHK0lJlazEjWCk2N1MMJO8xeURzU28U5BUi_tuQTdAo30mSiLY0ZPWItvtcmSa0t5SGpW7Cc/s1600/goatmilk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472393991606293666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWA4KI6aL6Fbq6ZGzIVOXkvgYOuxnY-bXSDcXkR0phj8AbVhqG4T_VArLbI0zBvOyWt6TdHK0lJlazEjWCk2N1MMJO8xeURzU28U5BUi_tuQTdAo30mSiLY0ZPWItvtcmSa0t5SGpW7Cc/s400/goatmilk.jpg" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-83681575837388605182010-05-08T10:19:00.000-07:002010-05-08T11:14:46.888-07:00Some PhotosOkay, I couldn't wait for my modem to get here. I decided to post a Missy-Eye view of some of the cool things here. This is the deer trail that leads off our property to where the herd beds down at night. It's a 2-acre parcel of thick brush and a huge basalt hill. There's the coolest tree that forms a natural canopy-like fort that the boys have claimed as their own. Except that one day, Dallin went busting in there to find himself face-to-face with a mama deer and her baby. He showed remarkable presence of mind and just backed away slowly. It's a wonderland back there, I tell you.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1JV5JSnmeRHmwNDOnCj0-4PMbF0F4GoH4fIYQbbpg070PB66pz5Jyrpg3NCMLdSDSfVDYMJGEvuSLTOw6m9kOlWrzLLkN_2u9VQbT4vkFieOpcmN8qb_KqFUHNU59LjfUcPrEHCA1fKw/s1600/Deer+Trail+4-27-2010+4-32-17+AM+1288x1932.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468955622712333090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1JV5JSnmeRHmwNDOnCj0-4PMbF0F4GoH4fIYQbbpg070PB66pz5Jyrpg3NCMLdSDSfVDYMJGEvuSLTOw6m9kOlWrzLLkN_2u9VQbT4vkFieOpcmN8qb_KqFUHNU59LjfUcPrEHCA1fKw/s400/Deer+Trail+4-27-2010+4-32-17+AM+1288x1932.JPG" border="0" /></a>
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkMsMql931fCENYCKi_7wrnvt3gBAOJPxd4GsiO6hJ4dikoj_bUS8i5IahHlH6NyX6-ULLPjCDgzEyGTWtjTBkZvBLjXHTHhlaMKXmsEWe1E2371ImVNtYooO3_YJyjjxOfOK-Dz5KTM/s1600/sunflower+with+bug+4-27-2010+4-30-49+AM+3113x2076.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468955398751765394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkMsMql931fCENYCKi_7wrnvt3gBAOJPxd4GsiO6hJ4dikoj_bUS8i5IahHlH6NyX6-ULLPjCDgzEyGTWtjTBkZvBLjXHTHhlaMKXmsEWe1E2371ImVNtYooO3_YJyjjxOfOK-Dz5KTM/s400/sunflower+with+bug+4-27-2010+4-30-49+AM+3113x2076.jpg" border="0" /></a> I love the sunflowers here. They're everywhere, just growing wild.
<br />
<br />
<br /><div>
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdA1d2KW8F6EhPkJcvf0pIMekHdYMNDr1mgOYimaKmPyk8SxGI8KWiobvnwXUxdbtselSijGmCF-BSaqD0JTQeRp4arRZY-aOhV_kB7XJgdQ-T4BWP7xURXWSYZpG1Rc9qSIyHIEHLmMk/s1600/Golden+Eagle+4-27-2010+4-33-37+AM+1484x993.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468954616355315602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdA1d2KW8F6EhPkJcvf0pIMekHdYMNDr1mgOYimaKmPyk8SxGI8KWiobvnwXUxdbtselSijGmCF-BSaqD0JTQeRp4arRZY-aOhV_kB7XJgdQ-T4BWP7xURXWSYZpG1Rc9qSIyHIEHLmMk/s400/Golden+Eagle+4-27-2010+4-33-37+AM+1484x993.jpg" border="0" /></a> This was my first day with my camera. A Golden eagle obliged me by circling overhead.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJlp3gwJZ-USpxX4dEREVTQrCTVlEq3xAYs96_UHRs60YakxwflpkhZIu-YETV-Wi2lRfNhUP0-NEXuqak7lNv2RN0ILnitnIrJU3BPVKdOUxtaqsOGkOoLmPzPq858O5K8Xj0zQY37U/s1600/Barbed+Wire+4-27-2010+4-32-59+AM+2372x1584.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468954446530596034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJlp3gwJZ-USpxX4dEREVTQrCTVlEq3xAYs96_UHRs60YakxwflpkhZIu-YETV-Wi2lRfNhUP0-NEXuqak7lNv2RN0ILnitnIrJU3BPVKdOUxtaqsOGkOoLmPzPq858O5K8Xj0zQY37U/s400/Barbed+Wire+4-27-2010+4-32-59+AM+2372x1584.jpg" border="0" /></a> This photo makes me so happy. The nails, the creosote on the post, the twisted barbed wire... I love it.
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBYWQPUL410JiiOrDwua6G_NBgzOn7b2tBxdMIuh_swj35fhO-2Wo7dup8d1Oi4LRFAU7_bJWA9RBXS5UwEvG98OFMBURlovB5DBpIZRKuPWd5z9Ae_avKMiks2BME_s0sItukahrfGg/s1600/HOUSE+003.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468954243071790914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBYWQPUL410JiiOrDwua6G_NBgzOn7b2tBxdMIuh_swj35fhO-2Wo7dup8d1Oi4LRFAU7_bJWA9RBXS5UwEvG98OFMBURlovB5DBpIZRKuPWd5z9Ae_avKMiks2BME_s0sItukahrfGg/s400/HOUSE+003.JPG" border="0" /></a> This is my new spice garden. I dug it myself. It was quite a feat! I'm growing parsley, cilantro, thyme, rosemary, tarragon, chives from my last spice garden, sweet marjoram, lavender, and lemon balm. I still need sage, sweet basil, mint and oregano. Except oregano might just have to be potted. Have you seen how oregano spreads? It was a weed in my last yard. I'm going to use the rest of the space as a kitchen garden. There will be no big garden plot this year. This is what the beds look like right now.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kjMvRJJnLqDoRTqfN2y3HzvKkL0upK8f_nuxLqSTPOm45iHTk7YDcjbg4pCwKCONqPlUgOoMB6ayduEW__iOjygS6SUIBu6EfNOJ0ZulS4pnkBU1sWfI1Gd9uqrfMXYTNZhmNmYvHFs/s1600/HOUSE+020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468959345034542642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kjMvRJJnLqDoRTqfN2y3HzvKkL0upK8f_nuxLqSTPOm45iHTk7YDcjbg4pCwKCONqPlUgOoMB6ayduEW__iOjygS6SUIBu6EfNOJ0ZulS4pnkBU1sWfI1Gd9uqrfMXYTNZhmNmYvHFs/s400/HOUSE+020.JPG" border="0" /></a> Fancy, huh? It used to be a worm farm. We'll need to pull off the orange insulation, the rotten wood on top, cut down the trees that have grown up, scrape out the weeds, add tons of topsoil- then we'll be ready to plant. See why I'm waiting for next year?
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssDGJcfv2UKjmXcanf2I8d5rSFakLhBoR2dT46KuwkvvXz_uezrJgWvdQdobEJOgZmfDKj0Dt8dIWqQ2Rr77g1-5aReRIjRpFNI4LU8dD1eJ0y_zu1zFtZTL9nIrxuZfIPRuagxlS3iI/s1600/HOUSE+002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468953860342909970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgssDGJcfv2UKjmXcanf2I8d5rSFakLhBoR2dT46KuwkvvXz_uezrJgWvdQdobEJOgZmfDKj0Dt8dIWqQ2Rr77g1-5aReRIjRpFNI4LU8dD1eJ0y_zu1zFtZTL9nIrxuZfIPRuagxlS3iI/s400/HOUSE+002.JPG" border="0" /></a> But at least one project is completed! I painted my shutters black. Or, I got Lewis to paint them for me. They used to be the same color as my door- Ack! Don't they look loverly?
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP24qUmdHIkgLNMqZUFAehxMeIwyhko5lwfj5YFehprTH1uoD87G5wrx9wWaxXcDe2z_YLGkcpjOnjYa0bNIPkNBRVD-fffyg5soleyO5GV2Iu3R_KiH6Nk9JcGdOT6TdlMRsojGS-Y3A/s1600/Lichen+and+Bark.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468953549051247554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP24qUmdHIkgLNMqZUFAehxMeIwyhko5lwfj5YFehprTH1uoD87G5wrx9wWaxXcDe2z_YLGkcpjOnjYa0bNIPkNBRVD-fffyg5soleyO5GV2Iu3R_KiH6Nk9JcGdOT6TdlMRsojGS-Y3A/s400/Lichen+and+Bark.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div>
<br />
<br /><div>There's so much more rain here, there's lichen all over the trees. LOVE the color! It reminds me of my carpet. Wait- I love the color OUTSIDE.
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQtFJHT1XZfpQTZcG-Q3kBt_blABhOy2ot6S85yDkRBhQ5l1n1FR1MMRPgpmTQJCgwIZ6RegldxkXD4EUVStCKMELRg5Pt9JevZCv-3XlAqFMcMXywofetYx6Kng14QCBeA3-UP7tekuQ/s1600/rain+drop.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468953343556600386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQtFJHT1XZfpQTZcG-Q3kBt_blABhOy2ot6S85yDkRBhQ5l1n1FR1MMRPgpmTQJCgwIZ6RegldxkXD4EUVStCKMELRg5Pt9JevZCv-3XlAqFMcMXywofetYx6Kng14QCBeA3-UP7tekuQ/s400/rain+drop.jpg" border="0" /></a> Remember when I said there was a lot more rain here? I love this photo.
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLgCT1izorTsTBfoeKwx7qhjVCBgi2OiQ5MeY92QfnzOH1Q6RefNr4d2PqQZruAse2UOFNDjrignhNGvfBDs9bfioxbEKHIEILwC_-raEDQzsBrW0kvRvnnBwghnD-AwfR1T2LmEMMyE/s1600/Pink+Blossoms.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468953164298368146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLgCT1izorTsTBfoeKwx7qhjVCBgi2OiQ5MeY92QfnzOH1Q6RefNr4d2PqQZruAse2UOFNDjrignhNGvfBDs9bfioxbEKHIEILwC_-raEDQzsBrW0kvRvnnBwghnD-AwfR1T2LmEMMyE/s400/Pink+Blossoms.jpg" border="0" /></a> New pink life bursting forth. What do you think- apples? That's my guess. But what kind?! It's a mystery unfolding right here.
<br />
<br />
<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4ICPJbwX6jsjbQhBFblVMIuY0tXspTdmlMLMOrlA-ASVyKzBMohS5Ytl0iKc_NpOaU0PsKCqAM6oPIWl_Gzva7yR1GE81nNdr59szoPOj4asDzITHCGdyweLmFa7XQnz7MSamFwsjZs/s1600/Blue+Heron+bw.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468952901500409730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4ICPJbwX6jsjbQhBFblVMIuY0tXspTdmlMLMOrlA-ASVyKzBMohS5Ytl0iKc_NpOaU0PsKCqAM6oPIWl_Gzva7yR1GE81nNdr59szoPOj4asDzITHCGdyweLmFa7XQnz7MSamFwsjZs/s400/Blue+Heron+bw.jpg" border="0" /></a> This is a great blue heron I saw yesterday while fishing/taking pictures with Logan. This is about a half mile from our house.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04imiDBaTX-4nz0xwWi5hbhsMYdIVPYo2h9OLS0uY8edKAfFigWGwOhMz1jdkOc97iJ43DhDzfC-tg9tOPkSSckBZ1EddAejdbian269T4zXbp6jAQo1H8JT3Ikw6qDSBdXxUEDYKiQY/s1600/HOUSE+066a.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468963682962633202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04imiDBaTX-4nz0xwWi5hbhsMYdIVPYo2h9OLS0uY8edKAfFigWGwOhMz1jdkOc97iJ43DhDzfC-tg9tOPkSSckBZ1EddAejdbian269T4zXbp6jAQo1H8JT3Ikw6qDSBdXxUEDYKiQY/s400/HOUSE+066a.jpg" border="0" /></a>
<br />This is my pile of rocks that we dug from our field. We're going to use them in our landscaping! (clapping hands giddily) I can't wait to find a home for these lovelies.
<br />So there you have it. Not any photos of inside, but as I get projects done, I'll post them. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-60165060512365860792010-05-05T19:29:00.000-07:002010-05-05T19:50:07.641-07:00Almost There.....I won't consider myself fully moved in until I have Internet access. "What?!" you say, "Haven't you already lived there over a month?"<br />Yes, I have. For many weeks I was in rebellion against confiscatory Internet prices here. Did you know, in Kennewick, I only paid $26 a month for really decent speed Internet? Here, the cheapest I could find is around $75 for not nearly as fast. I have abstained on principle. But, I just can't take it any longer. AND.... I got a rocking camera that I'm having so much fun with. I'm dying to post all the pictures of my life here. Any day now, you will see eagles soaring overhead. Piles of rocks that this chickybabe has dug from her very own field, destined to become a wall around her spankin' new spice garden. You'll see my best thrift store find ever, a delicious black leather club chair I nabbed for $20! Life is very good here. We've been busy getting to know people at church, inviting someone over at least once a week. Lewis has been working like crazy getting his business up and running, but he's still had time for planning a cabin he and his father are building this spring/summer, playing baseball with us in our field, snuggling up and watching movies... those kinds of things.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6NvQk58mZ8hGyL447aGOLP0OJvttIY75S8noGb6GKN42pXNpPjcExgscapyyEZOpQd9bcL3XnLEE_b8KhKBcArr_8iOPRQfdOEBDpj2EWENoD-t2K7OWy8EhAqrt7tU-YUE-zPlf_Bo/s1600/IMG_1246.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6NvQk58mZ8hGyL447aGOLP0OJvttIY75S8noGb6GKN42pXNpPjcExgscapyyEZOpQd9bcL3XnLEE_b8KhKBcArr_8iOPRQfdOEBDpj2EWENoD-t2K7OWy8EhAqrt7tU-YUE-zPlf_Bo/s400/IMG_1246.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467982239980553122" border="0" /></a>Here's one I took of Dall. Oh, the joys of leaving my cruddy point and shoot behind! I'm just barely learning, but it's really fun work. Hopefully, in a day or so, I can fill you in fully on exactly what our lives here look and feel like. Until then....I'll watch American Idol and fret over who gets sent home!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-22206660456081961532010-04-09T12:40:00.000-07:002010-04-09T12:50:43.224-07:00Know What I Saw Last Night?Lewis and I had a busy day yesterday schlepping the last of the stuff from our storage unit to our new home. What a windy day that was! My parents were kind enough to take a load too, and come see our house. Oh, joy! To see my parents again, in my new home really filled my cup. After the dust had settled and our guests were on their way, Lewis and I snuck out for some food. Did you know that things close really, really early in this small town? The diner closed at 7, that left a Chinese restaurant, a bar, and Mexican. We chose the Mexican, and they were just about to close (it was 8:30). They sweetly stayed open just for us, and we had a lovely meal. It reminded us so much of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Tri</span>-Cities. We chatted with the owner, and she laughed when she told us that they were the only Mexican family in town. Can you imagine that?<br />As we were pulling away from the curb, we noticed a small animal in front of the Chinese restaurant, about the size of a cat. We could tell it wasn't by the way it moved. We turned the car into the parking lot, so our lights would shine on it, and what do you know! It was a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">raccoon</span>. It stood there, looking at us, and then meandered over to a bowl on the lawn that must have been left there for it. This is a different world over here, my friends, a different world.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-50336658948167329922010-04-07T20:17:00.000-07:002010-04-07T20:41:35.133-07:00Mustache Mischief ManagedSo yesterday was a hard day. I was feeling really low, and even allowed myself a few tears. Just a few, because, like I said before, I didn't want a red puffy face for my meeting at the school. That would be so embarrassing- to look like a freak in front of the counselor, principal, and about 7 teachers. Who would want to do that?<br />So instead of crying, I messed around with my makeup in my new bathroom. Attached to the wall in my new master bath, is one of those lighted mirrors that magnifies your face like crazy. It's horribly disgusting and fascinating- every blemish, every stray hair stands out like a neon sign. I spied some tweezers and went to town, blissfully distracted from my sorrows. I glanced at the clock and gasped. How time had flown! I dashed out the door and drove to the school. I ended up being early and I took a last quick peek in the car mirror. What I saw turned my blood to ice: a bright red mustache on my upper lip, and my eyebrows were glowing crimson. Oh, the plucking!!! It's a good think I didn't cry and make myself look like a weirdo, right?<br />I cast around for an idea. "I know," I thought, "I should rub my face and pinch my cheeks so my whole face looks equally red!" Genius. I did just that. I was sporting a very, very healthy glow when I breezed into the school. I had to wait a few minutes for the teachers to arrive, so I nonchalantly strolled past a mirrored wall to check the damage. Dang! I was every bit as mustachioed! I rubbed, rubbed and rubbed some more, hoping against hope that by the time the teachers made it, my features would look normal again. Then I saw the drinking fountain. Cool water! That HAD to help. I bathed my hands and rubbed my face. As I straightened up, I saw a group of teachers had gathered, waiting for me. One approached me with an outstretched hand. "Hi! Pleased to meet you, sorry, my hand is wet." <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Doh</span>. Does it get any dorkier? I was stuck. I went into the meeting, feeling like I was on the way to my own execution. During the meeting, every time they looked at me, I was sure they were thinking, "What's wrong with her face? Poor thing, she must have a skin condition." I fancied I could see the sympathy in their eyes. I tried to cover for myself, looking contemplative and rubbing my upper lip, but I knew it was no use.<br />I drug my feet as I made my way to the car, inwardly cringing at what I would see in the car mirror. I sat down, took a deep breath, and peeked at the swollen horror that was my face. I looked totally normal- except my cheeks had a rather healthy glow. I laughed all the way home.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-44151059686987874062010-04-06T14:11:00.000-07:002010-04-06T14:16:52.518-07:00I'd ForgottenI swear, I will never, ever again forget how it feels to be new. The hope that someone, anyone will come visit. The thrill when the phone rings with an invitation. The constant replaying and questioning of every word I said. Did I sound too eager? Snobby? Dorky? Like someone they would want to be friends with?<br />I wipe away tears from my boys' eyes as they grieve for the lives they have left behind. I allowed few tears too, but only one or two, because I have to go meet with teachers soon, and I don't want a blotchy face. Who wants a blotchy face? No one.<br />I will never see a new family at church without inviting them to something, no matter how trivial it seems to me. When you're on the other end, it's not trivial, it's everything.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-19401446354453178792010-04-02T15:39:00.000-07:002010-04-02T15:47:02.298-07:00Here. For Reals.Wow. This was one long, drawn out move. But it's over now! Well, pretty much over. There are still a couple of pickup loads in the storage unit, but the old house is vacant. My new house looks like I couldn't make more of a mess if I tried. Monday I enroll the boys in school, but I lost <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">everyone's</span> birth certificates except for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Kelton's</span>. I should have copies of 4 out of 5 by then. I wonder what they'll do to my poor guy that was born out of state. Think they'll let him in? We'll see. Tonight will be our first, real life night in the new house. We've been foiled the last two nights, thank goodness for Lewis' Dad taking us in! It's snowing right now, pouring down. There have been so many deer in our yard too, in broad daylight! I have really and truly left the desert.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-73859735852728013592010-03-31T09:09:00.000-07:002010-03-31T09:36:37.171-07:00JittersToday is the day. The big one. Moving day. I'm hanging out at my parent's house, cancelling services, transferring others, and doing laundry. I can handle that. Think of it though, tonight, for the first time in many weeks, I'll sleep in my very own bed. Wow. Wish me luck today!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-3763562589435800262010-03-25T21:03:00.000-07:002010-03-25T21:25:04.601-07:00We Now Interrupt this Vacation....<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2ch7A8G_xXry1J8UHoW4TVFqNOBWVd-FVhAOUFegeM-XjjAwZ09JjZVHlc5cl_IkT4pPeEIwUGZm4DRnqf9LnvFrRTWpHKZKu41Ks4ifExdIND2rAW1UQAXl4FHBxfANV6XIA2RmzPo/s1600/phone+pics+337.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5452792920263071778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY2ch7A8G_xXry1J8UHoW4TVFqNOBWVd-FVhAOUFegeM-XjjAwZ09JjZVHlc5cl_IkT4pPeEIwUGZm4DRnqf9LnvFrRTWpHKZKu41Ks4ifExdIND2rAW1UQAXl4FHBxfANV6XIA2RmzPo/s400/phone+pics+337.jpg" /></a><br /><div>For a little update. First of all, this is our first real family vacation. Let me just say, I have learned so much.</div><br /><div>Like how a little 15 foot motor home is not big enough for 7 people.</div><br /><div>3 days at Disneyland are just about right.</div><br /><div>I can not take this degree of family closeness. All I can say, is Thank You, gender gods! At least I have time in the restrooms by myself, and I have visited every restroom in both Disney parks multiple times.</div><br /><div>Planning to cook all our meals in advance and freeze them for the trip was a good idea. But between packing, moving stuff out, cleaning, showing my home and all, it wasn't practical. Haven't made one meal. Wait- we had sandwiches at a rest stop the first day, that counts.</div><br /><div>It's expensive to eat out. We did the all-you-can-eat bbq at Disneyland, figuring we could splurge on one sit down dinner, and you know how much it was? $189. I told the boys, "Eat all the ribs you can! We need to get our moneys' worth out of this meal!"</div><br /><div>Liam isn't the baby we all thought he was. He totally earned the nickname "stones" because he has a serious pair. He rode every ride with us, even the Tower of Terror. There was one ride, Dallin and I were clutching each other, eyes screwed shut saying over and over to each other "Just pretend Dad is pushing us on the swing!" All the while, Liam was having a great time peering over the edge. We actually went on all the rides together as a family, baby rides, scary rides, we only split up for two rides he wasn't tall enough for.</div><br /><div>I've managed to take a few moments here and there to keep current. I've heard that Paige was sent home. (finally! I'm still not over Lilly and the Lambert kid getting cut) I know that health care reform was passed, and Joe Biden dropped the f-bomb during a press conference (hee hee! he's so great for comic relief).</div><br /><div>I also know that I am really, really ready to go home. And I really want to have a home to go home to.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8819268173108839916.post-80205128611066837122010-03-16T22:46:00.000-07:002010-03-16T23:14:58.619-07:00Homeless<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQlj30ZvRhkXcF11ExkcPSVfntMSv4XsM9SIqbYZS4_PJ_Jf08V9GgxW6-ah5rpuSplz2-RuWulDm7AhUWEk_0sVx5yaAWYKB_IsZ59VG-NIRJS9xrnJ8lvkSSlo_4iyGUt9GSl2_sYt8/s1600-h/HomelessSign.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 384px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 288px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449482000755948210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQlj30ZvRhkXcF11ExkcPSVfntMSv4XsM9SIqbYZS4_PJ_Jf08V9GgxW6-ah5rpuSplz2-RuWulDm7AhUWEk_0sVx5yaAWYKB_IsZ59VG-NIRJS9xrnJ8lvkSSlo_4iyGUt9GSl2_sYt8/s400/HomelessSign.jpg" /></a><br /><div>Well, I'm not really homeless, just kinda in between homes. I packed up my computer today, and took off my sheets. Eek! Ever look at your mattress top? As in, picture someone else hauling your bare mattress around in broad daylight? That baby's getting one of those zip on covers first thing in the morning! </div><br /><div>We've been through a lot of drama this week. Our house sale fell through. Then we had not one, but three plumbing/earthworks disasters. While we were showing the house. Ordinarily, just one of those would have been enough to throw me over the edge. I, however, lived through the loan process for our next house. I think it was almost as bad, and we lived to tell the tale. Towards the end, I was asking the loan officer, "Would you like a urine sample as well? Maybe a little bone marrow?" Would have been less painful, believe me. The loan guy was so apologetic by the end. "I know this is bad," he kept telling me, "I can't believe you haven't just walked away!"</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It was so gnarly because our current (former?) home was an in-family purchase without any escrow company or anything. </div><br /><div>It sounds so silly and melodramatic of me, but there have been so many days where I just have to take a deep breath and tell the universe "I choose life! I choose to live through this!" Really. I know it sounds stupid, but it's true. All's well that ends well, right?</div><br /><div>Right now, I now am curled up in the warm nest of my parent's house, and will be sleeping here until we leave for vacation early Friday morning. I'll spend the next two days doing the final packing and cleaning of the home I've lived the longest in since I was born.</div><br /><div>If you want to stop by, you'll find me there. I'll be the one brandishing a packing tape dispenser wearing crazy braids, snowflake jammies and maniacally glinting eyes.</div><br /><div>Oh, and we got three offers on our house yesterday, and accepted one of them.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4