tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-220874062024-03-23T10:48:35.393-07:00Scribbles and Scripts of a Reverent BohemianUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger681125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-91889396140662650672013-12-15T10:16:00.000-08:002013-12-15T10:16:08.425-08:00<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">2013 Little Things</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 1. I acted. First time ever. I was "Dorothy" in a skit in front of hundreds of people. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 2. I ran a 4 mile race with [far behind] my two younger sons. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 3. I saw 14 waterfalls on a hike.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 4. I lost $20 gambling in a casino.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 5. I finally went totally gluten-free.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 6. I began writing again, a little.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 7. I wore a bikini.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 8. I visited Jane in South Carolina twice.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> 9. I found a purse in a rest-stop and tracked down the owner.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">10. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I weighed less than I have ever weighed as an adult.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">11. I celebrated my grandfather's 99th birthday and went to his funeral 7 months later.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">12. I went out in a Hummer limo.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">13. I enjoyed my Springer Spaniel puppy, Rosie.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">14. I saw Trans Siberian Orchestra, went to my first Eagles game, saw America sitting between my two older sons, saw The Bailey Hounds in a cemetery with my two older sons.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">15. I rode a bike once.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">16. I watched my three children take off in a vehicle driven by my unlicensed middle child.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">17. I scored over 500 in words with friends several times, over 400, many times, over 300, countless times. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">18. I got a "smartphone".</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">19. I screamed hysterically into a beach towel repeatedly.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">20. I waded barefoot in a swamp.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">21. I watched lots of tennis matches, soccer games and track meets. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">22. I got one haircut.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">23. I had the pleasure and benefit of developing many new friendships.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">24. I made a pottery cup in a friend's pottery studio.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">25. I read The Way of Love by Anthony de Mello.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">26. I ate bouillabaisse, drank St. Germaine cordial and discovered Honey Crisp apples.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">27. I held a baby.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">28. I found out that I am no longer 5' 8 1/4"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">29. Watched my son get inducted into National Honor Society.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">30. I killed 4 houseplants.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">31. I responded in love when I felt angry, scared and hurt.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">32. I had no cell phone for 4 months.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">33. Saw my ayurvedic doctor and was helped greatly once again.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">34. Had one of those "wow, I can't believe you're saying exactly what I needed to hear right now" moments with a person completely covered in tattoos from the neck down. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">35. Found a dollar in a bin at Target with a note attached, reminding me to be grateful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">36. Bought another silver cuff at Wheaton art show.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">37. Gave a Gatorade to someone who came to my door asking for water on a hot day. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">38. Lost my silver anklet. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">39. Entered 295S at midnight and found myself driving through a terrible accident.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">40. Found that listening to my iPod greatly helps me get things done...and drowns out racing thoughts.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">41. Had family photos taken by one of my oldest and dearest friends.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">42. Learned even more about letting go.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">43. Worried for two close friends in the hospital.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">44. Answered 947 difficult questions posed to me by my youngest, usually at 7:25 A.M.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">45. Began to suspect I might be maybe starting to possibly enter into the time of life when I probably won't be having any more children. Inconceivably. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">46. Was continually gibed by Jane's boyfriend to begin dying my hair.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">47. Was flipped the bird by a crazy driver.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">48. Had many awesome and enlightening conversations at Jersey Java with a great friend and mentor.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">49. Had a really bad day that changed when a flood of friends randomly began reaching out in texts, messages, calls and visits and they didn't even know...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">50. Met many Sunday evenings with a special group of people to write two plays.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-18438892796529688362013-11-30T18:09:00.000-08:002013-12-01T05:55:36.254-08:00Good-Bye. You'll Be With Me Always.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I suppose most people have some wonderful things to say about their grandfather. Here are some of mine. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My grandfather could split an apple with his bare hands. He'd grip it, proudly and with much gusto, between his two hands that had been plowing and working since he was single digits, and then twist it before our eyes into two halves. And then he'd smile, because he knew he was an amazing man. And he was. When I went to visit my Pop Pop as a young child, I would approach him for a hug with anticipation and a bit of trepidation, because he also enjoyed squeezing us so tightly that the breath shot right out of my lungs. Truly, I have never been hugged by anyone else like my Pop Pop hugged me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My Pop Pop was strong, a bull, I think. He had worked on a farm since he was old enough to pull a weed, I suspect. And he continued farming, in addition to working in an office, until he was in his early 90's. Imagine farming every single year from 10 to 90. Pop Pop did it without a pause and we were blessed by his food. People would stop by his property after fishing in Fortescue and give him fish, oysters, clams in exchange for whatever crops were on at the time. I grew up on his sweet potatoes all winter, his strawberries in the spring, his corn and limas in the summer. Squash, asparagus, cucumbers and tomatoes. Once, when I was a new mom, he gave me a few white eggplants. They were so satiny white, so brilliant, that I put them in a bowl on my table and just looked at them for days in my kitchen. Finally, I decided that I'd better eat them because Pop Pop would not have his bounty wasted for the purpose of art or decor. I cut one in half and was agape. The tiny seeds made a perfect angel. A halo, head, triangle body, wings going up, and tiny half-circle feet peeking out from the bottom of the gown. It is still a mystery to me why I didn't photograph it. I put it in a bowl of lemon juice to preserve it as long as I could. I cut into the rest but none of the others had seeds that formed anything at all. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He was so strong, so powerful. It was odd to see him at the end of his life getting weak and thin. But in those last years, his time was redirected to his first love, the Bible. In my early 20's I worked as a nutritionist at WIC in Philadelphia and at night, a waitress. I got home late, after everyone had gone to bed and sat down at the dining room table for my third job. I put on white cotton gloves to cover my sweaty hands, opened Pop Pop's old Bible and the new large print one and began transcribing his copious notes from one to the other. Pop Pop hired me to do this when his eyes could no longer read the small print. But he also had an ulterior motive. He wanted me in the Bible. When I say my Pop Pop had notes in his Bible, you probably don't have any idea what I mean. Every single page but, I think I counted, 3 had underlined words, Greek words, cross-referenced verses, personal notes, notes from other books, etc. It took many months. I never did finish. I think I got into the New Testament and he finally took it back, paying the full amount he'd promised, and finished it himself. He loved his Bible(s). He gave them to me before he died. He wants me to study all of his notes and appreciate the Bible and all of his notes. This will surely take me the rest of my life too.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After Grammy died in 1994, my visits to Pop Pop were all about sitting down and listening to him tell me about his Bible studies. I didn't do this nearly enough. But I will never forget those times we did spend together. He desperately wanted to share with me his great love of God's word--he desperately wanted to share that with everyone! And he always repeated over and over how blessed his life was by his relationship with Jesus. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I've written all of these things about my grandfather before. I do tend to classify my memories of Pop Pop into three or four categories. His garden, his Bible, his strength--mental and physical. But mostly my Pop Pop, to me, was a force. To tell the truth, I feared him just a little as a child. Not in the sense of being hurt by him, not at all. But in the sense of not being good enough, not measuring up in a moral sense. Pop Pop had many rules--don't tread on the garden vines, don't step on the mole traps, don't say "lucky" because you're<i> blessed</i>, don't do any work on Sundays and that included picking vegetables before returning home to Pitman, don't eat before grace, don't curse, don't drink, don't smoke. I loved Pop Pop but I could never measure up to him. He lived so strongly, so assuredly, so straight, so narrow. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For some, the straight and narrow might feel confining. For Pop Pop, the straight and narrow was the place where he could be fruitful and vibrant. He thrived, he produced, he learned, he created beauty on his two acre corner, he built a house and a family and a life that worked for him and he loved his life. He <i>loved his life</i> and he steered and drove it like the plow he pushed through those rich, fertile fields by the bay every single spring. And in the fall, he tilled the dead vines and stalks back under with the certain expectation to start again when God's seasons allowed. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My last glimpse of Pop Pop today didn't look much like this man I knew but then I glanced down at those hands. They were the same strong, gnarled, handsome hands that did so much--everything he set out to do! They looked powerful even there lying still on his gray suit jacket. I will never know hands like that again, the work they accomplished, the words they held, followed, underlined, noted. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Instead of dawdling in those feelings of never measuring up to the amazingness of Pop Pop, I will leave those childish notions behind on that chilly gray hill where I said good-bye to his 99 year old body. God made Pop Pop to do Pop Pop's work. And He made me to do mine. And God already knows I'm far from perfect, that's why He sent Jesus. But God loves me, this I know. The Bible tells me so, and so did my grandfather. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-83978880914440834282011-02-17T20:13:00.000-08:002013-11-13T07:48:39.751-08:00I Happen To Believe My Mouth Is Cleaner Than A Dog's Mouth. Who's With Me?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Hello. I haven't been here in a long time. It's late. I just picked one kid up, the other is in the basement playing games and the other is asleep and I'm here, that's somewhere in between sleep and computer. So I figured I'd write a post about something inane and hopefully as it puts you to sleep, it'll put me to sleep and we'll wake up tomorrow refreshed.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It's the third one, the one asleep, that I was going to mention. The other day a little doggy bit him on the ear and it's been the topic of conversation because #3 tends to churn injuries and sicknesses over and over, for some reason. Maybe because he broke the same arm twice in a handful of months, needing casts and braces, an operation and therapy. Perhaps he began to think it was his lot in life to be under close examination by physicians. I'm not sure but we aren't making a big deal of the ear here. I mean, we're keeping an eye on it to make sure it doesn't get angry but evidently he went to school and involved the nurse. I love it when my kids go to school and ask the authorities if they should be better taken care of at home. I mean, sure, everyone needs a back-up and, great, Sean has his in line. He's no dummy, he sees what shenanigans go on around here. He knows I clip his fingernails while he eats his morning Activia.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Anyway, the nurse had finished teaching his health class and on his way out of the room, Sean asked her if dog bites can become infected. <em>Incidently, Mrs. Nurse, I've been meaning to inquire: Could a dog bite, such as the one you can observe here on my right ear, become infected? Is there something my mother - who's home eating thin mints perched on the kitchen stool watching The View - should be doing...something preventative or...something she could apply to the wound to encourage healing?</em> She replied, according to him, "No, they don't get infected. A dog's mouth is cleaner than a human mouth. I'd be more worried if you told me that a human bit you."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He relayed this to me when I scooped him up from school and was driving to the grocery store for taco shells. I was sort of surprised. "Of course it could get infected," I said, walking into the automatic door. It opens so slowly and I walk so quickly. "A scratch from a <em>paper clip</em> could get infected." "Well, I believe her, Mom, and not you," he announced, skipping along, trying to keep up. "She's a nurse." <em>A nurse without Google, obviously</em>, I thought, because I get all my information and enlightenment from googling. "All I know is, a dog licks his butt and I don't," I countered, winning the argument.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then I went home and...yeah, I googled. <strong>Is a dog's mouth cleaner than a human's?</strong> The word 'myth' appeared often but no real certain answers. Then I came upon an article that referred to a small study of 10 dogs' saliva and 10 people's saliva. On a scale from 1 to 4 (4 being grossest bacterial growth) 7 people salivas scored a 1, 0 scored a 4 / 1 dog saliva scored a 1, 6 scored a 4 and I quote: <em>The majority of the canine plates looked (and smelled) like that gunk that gets down in your garbage can after the raw chicken got left in there. One was actually green and I swear I heard it chuckling to itself.</em></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So can we all now agree that it's probably more worserer to get bitten by Fido than, say, your mother? And yes, as a matter of fact, I was trying to bite his forearm this evening. But only to prove a point.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-78108964591508387052010-12-08T10:29:00.001-08:002013-12-01T07:01:58.025-08:00Wish I Had a River<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOa1MnNi5Xfcd8BGAknavE04qWCFiOPvxgXzhojAc_kaUMGBurDr6QSrMqcqa-Zs3WDjuQvlvTihkZ0jXhzfLv86QhM7b9hYIos9bqVPgIv17xCQnUxMkV1hyphenhyphenknO8QM74y-CfDA/s1600/sethinthesun.bmp"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548388902992499122" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTOa1MnNi5Xfcd8BGAknavE04qWCFiOPvxgXzhojAc_kaUMGBurDr6QSrMqcqa-Zs3WDjuQvlvTihkZ0jXhzfLv86QhM7b9hYIos9bqVPgIv17xCQnUxMkV1hyphenhyphenknO8QM74y-CfDA/s200/sethinthesun.bmp" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 150px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 200px;" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Twenty years ago on December 8<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span> Stan and I drove out to the country and cut down our first Christmas tree on a roadside tree farm. I remember a sweet peace and happiness that day preparing for our first Christmas as a married couple. We lived in a rented house in the country that we split with Gary and Marilyn, our landlords, surrounded by trees, horses, pot-bellied pigs and a dog named Hope.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We pulled the tree in the large sliding glass door in our basement living room, turned on some music and began decorating. About halfway through, I suggested we call his dad and share our first Christmas tree with him over the phone to Indiana. At 52, he was dying of pancreatic cancer. We spoke to him, told him Merry Christmas and that we loved him, but he couldn't respond. Stan's mom got on to chat for a bit and we hung up. A few minutes later the phone rang. She called to tell us Russ had died while she was speaking to us. Stan went upstairs and changed the screen in the front door to glass. We looked into flights. The next thing we knew we were lugging our bags into his mother's kitchen that was brimming with loud laughter, lots of stories, people trying to chase their sorrows away. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIv0EY0o69te0N7LOSQNVxzl59qw0NuW77-f8xiIT2TivM6bpBxk9515nJfMY-67E8fV1J9NrkKXcnQynm5xsFYSFqUdMytmcKAmjAptvRsJq3Ok2VbYeE8XNGZLG7y347KlqYbw/s1600/sethgreen.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548388903319785506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIv0EY0o69te0N7LOSQNVxzl59qw0NuW77-f8xiIT2TivM6bpBxk9515nJfMY-67E8fV1J9NrkKXcnQynm5xsFYSFqUdMytmcKAmjAptvRsJq3Ok2VbYeE8XNGZLG7y347KlqYbw/s200/sethgreen.jpg" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 187px;" /></a></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">December 8<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> is our Christmas tree day ever since that year. Instead of making it a day of mourning we have <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">frolicked</span> about tree farms, dug out our decor, put up lights and remembered Russ and that day in 1990 in a happy way. The holidays can be rough days for people and we've had some painful holidays too. Today I carry all the Christmas boxes into the living room and get things ready for the family to put up our tree and decorate like we do every year...only this December 8<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">th</span> my Bub isn't here. I hope he comes back before Christmas. I hope he comes back healthy and determined. That's all I want for Christmas. That's all I want.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-48038075871738139652010-10-26T06:28:00.000-07:002011-04-06T15:34:52.096-07:00Book of Mine ~ Moments of Clarity<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPls9-1FiLdqpKASQ39ETHkQnZYmost1Xz-k_LOrDNIo1vHVq5JwSOZkeU9fFXPYRM1lcQ4Uh91sARFMbVwEAt3MPQgA6GC1x2TCahMW3CoNWOa8fMCjsU4vTbPdeCBL1c7AtOdA/s1600/Scan1.JPG"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531980244635386562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPls9-1FiLdqpKASQ39ETHkQnZYmost1Xz-k_LOrDNIo1vHVq5JwSOZkeU9fFXPYRM1lcQ4Uh91sARFMbVwEAt3MPQgA6GC1x2TCahMW3CoNWOa8fMCjsU4vTbPdeCBL1c7AtOdA/s200/Scan1.JPG" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">I meet with a warm group of parents once a month who've had a tough education, both formally and informally, in the realm of addiction. Occasionally a speaker comes and soon Christopher Kennedy Lawford will speak at our meeting about his book Moments of Clarity. So I ran out and bought it and the one he wrote before it, Symptoms of Withdrawal. The latter, which I've only just started, is his memoir about growing up in the world of Kennedys and fame and fortune. I was certainly curious about his experience with addiction as well as the Kennedys, plus I remembered back to this summer when I found myself at a wedding with a famous writer and couldn't say a word to her because I'd never read one of her books! Lawford's Moments of Clarity came as a response to his memoirs. Everyone kept asking him how on that certain day of that certain year did everything change for him; how was he able to get sober and into recovery <em>that day</em>? Instead of the hundreds before it. He addresses this question personally and then asks 43 other recoverers - famous actors, artists, athletes and politicians as well as your average joe. What was their moment of clarity, what happened, what changed? How did things turn around? Turns out recovery can turn the average addict's life, even ones on the very brink of destruction, into a life beyond his or her wildest dreams.</span> <span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Jamie Lee Curtis admits to being so sick that she befriended injured people to get their Vicodin. Her moment of clarity came when she realized that she was going to die and hurt her family, the thing she loved most. She surrendered and made a phone call and now she sees recovery as the most important thing she's done in her life.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Tom Arnold was changed by a tender moment. A drug-induced crazed low point where Roseanne met him with love and understanding rather than the disgust he was expecting and felt he deserved.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Martin Sheen's story is so painfully honest, he hurt his family with his rage. His moment of clarity came after pushing his son Charlie to the ground in a fit. Naked, he chased him outside to plead for his forgiveness in front of his son's friends.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">When Richard Lewis finally sobered up he went back to his old haunt and ordered seven or eight Diet Cokes and lined them up on the bar in front of him. He had something to prove and he did it in his own comedic style.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">One of my favorite stories in the book was from a friend of Lawford's, the chief operating officer of a certain amazing treatment center, a jewel nestled within white fences overlooking the hills and valleys of Pennsylvania. I heard him tell his amazing story in person once and reading it again brought the same hope, joy and peace. I love his story. It starts out with an eighteen year old Mike buying a brand-new Mustang and totaling it two weeks later driving drunk at 5pm, 115 miles an hour on a 25mph curve. He and his friend ended up in the hospital where a police officer told him that he was pretty sure he'd learned his lesson so he wouldn't be charged with drunk driving, minor in possession, etc. This future chief operating officer of a certain amazing drug and alcohol treatment center told the officer that he'd never do it again. Two weeks later, he says, he woke up drunk in his mother's car, "sliding sideways down the hill on the wrong side of the road." He had a moment of clarity too, eventually.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Alec Baldwin, Kelly McGillis, Richard Dreyfuss, Thomas "Hollywood" Henderson, Katey Sagal, Lou Gossett Jr., Senator Max Cleland, Rudy Tomjanovich, <em>She's Just Not That Into You </em>Greg Behrendt, <em>conservative economist</em> Larry Kudlow, <em>news anchor</em> Jim Vance, Judy Collins...every one of their generous accounts taught me something about being a loving, surrendered, honest human being for the benefit of others and my own well-being. And to watch for the moment of clarity that can be the beginning of change in any life.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I'm a quote-girl. I always like including things I underline in my books.</span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Jim Vance - <em>How do I deal with people in my life who need help? Carefully, quietly, respectfully, and deliberatively. My experience teaches me that you can't gorilla -- that's the word we use in the hood -- you can't gorilla an addict into doing what you think the addict ought to do</em>. </span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Aimee Liu - <em>There's a phrase that I think is very useful: trying to live inside out instead of outside in. ...pay attention to your own standards, your own needs, not everyone else's...</em> </span></p><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Max Cleland - [quoting Hemingway, who was quoted by Arthur Schlesinger in A Thousand Days, about Kennedy's presidency] <em>"If people bring so much courage to this world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good, and the very gentle, and the very brave impartially." Hemingway was right. The world breaks us all. If you haven't been broken by life, just wait a while. All of us get broken one way or another, at some time or another. And many people do grow strong at the broken places, but many do not, and that's the mystery.</em></p></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-26118204765177957262010-09-17T02:25:00.000-07:002013-11-01T08:00:53.503-07:00This Summer I:<span style="font-size: 130%;">dropped a shower door square on the cuticle of my bare second toe.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">lost half my toenail.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">read <em>A Year By the Sea: Thoughts of an Unfinished Woman</em></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">tread water during Adult Swim at the pool.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">took kids to the shore to watch a sunrise.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">ate Mack 'n Manco pizza on the boardwalk.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">found out my dog was dying.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">started writing a book.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">went to too many graduation parties and was invited to more.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">had two Jello shots at an evening porch party.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">drank 4 gin and tonics at the graduation party the afternoon before the porch party.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">saw 14 waterfalls on a hike at Rickett's Glen, PA.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">played one game of miniature golf.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">ate burnt marshmallows around a fire.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">held a baby rabbit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">scrounged up lots of junk for a yard sale that hasn't yet happened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">pulled a tick out of my 8 year old's head.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">held a baby bird.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">went to a fun fish fry with friends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">went to a fun pool party with other friends.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">went to an amazing wedding on Long Island for two amazing people who had amazing food (including lobsters!) on an amazing veranda and I was amazed to see Mary Higgins Clark standing behind me in an amazing outfit.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">had a lot of conversations with my friend about her divorce and her husband's settlement requests like: <em>copies of all their recipes except the ones with chicken</em>. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">saw the Statue of Liberty and Manhattan from the east for the first time ever.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">drove through Brooklyn and Queens for the first time ever.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">(was on Long Island for the first time ever.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">took Luke to get his braces off.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 130%;">can't think of anything else.</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-4361679443034521542010-06-24T07:08:00.000-07:002010-06-24T07:09:30.750-07:00Happy Happy Summer<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ak_anxrg9QfE9xvgfNmQfxUYWAGl_OiqK8ZQSfOW94ySQrm4UbbHvDvwq8eFXtYTmvrfmbDkxQjUB70U1sR7XP_Fp_4XQQllfeNxNiI63FlWspCnQS3leXG6hKHyl5MfRzNTRQ/s1600/Scan1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486341867914081570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 289px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Ak_anxrg9QfE9xvgfNmQfxUYWAGl_OiqK8ZQSfOW94ySQrm4UbbHvDvwq8eFXtYTmvrfmbDkxQjUB70U1sR7XP_Fp_4XQQllfeNxNiI63FlWspCnQS3leXG6hKHyl5MfRzNTRQ/s400/Scan1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="center">School's finally out.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-22859530781471759302010-06-21T05:54:00.000-07:002010-06-21T09:53:16.872-07:00Father's Day at Stone Harbor<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZbTEBfQNNH8zDhZ0jQFfXguqHqkFneOA_mAYvA8Zx367SMwyjm9CMzUkMs4TUwTLReMdW9GaImSQHwAxq0uXebK53Wpqa-pvxhHRJ33VjbPVAii_pdjBibzAwj1jGdHFjnGF8Q/s1600/stoneharbor+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210328548774930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheZbTEBfQNNH8zDhZ0jQFfXguqHqkFneOA_mAYvA8Zx367SMwyjm9CMzUkMs4TUwTLReMdW9GaImSQHwAxq0uXebK53Wpqa-pvxhHRJ33VjbPVAii_pdjBibzAwj1jGdHFjnGF8Q/s400/stoneharbor+002.jpg" border="0" /></a> We have these sweet friends who are always doing fun things. They drove down from New Hampshire for a weekend at the Jersey shore (they're originally from here) for their daughter's graduation gift and we went down and met them and another sweet family we haven't seen for a while.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7tyPPPufEcySRrVfPI6T8wT_FgFwdKymfANr5CtZAKgbjbO0KxGXnhLuVY5FK6VjzDCzk6y67Ya70ffpLrMhEfLJWRhwWESyFs1H96AAi38TGbUNZGSija4AeypEaJPmSeP7uA/s1600/stoneharbor+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210319655326930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb7tyPPPufEcySRrVfPI6T8wT_FgFwdKymfANr5CtZAKgbjbO0KxGXnhLuVY5FK6VjzDCzk6y67Ya70ffpLrMhEfLJWRhwWESyFs1H96AAi38TGbUNZGSija4AeypEaJPmSeP7uA/s400/stoneharbor+005.jpg" border="0" /></a> These four people used to be little toddling cuties together and now they're big romping cuties. I am still trying to figure out how this phenomenon happens.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib7IC1gI86fu01OkjthwpBOW_XK5cZ5AxX8bZWNXzvrnCG3zhMT6BdQIPGSJ2ZxpfYoEz_JOLwBbwq-3Af7n7HhxZ1Vb260SgoSzowlaHXk-e024xYpnDah-UcTJJlG_PjF5zklg/s1600/stoneharbor+009.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210172971058674" 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/AVvXsEib7IC1gI86fu01OkjthwpBOW_XK5cZ5AxX8bZWNXzvrnCG3zhMT6BdQIPGSJ2ZxpfYoEz_JOLwBbwq-3Af7n7HhxZ1Vb260SgoSzowlaHXk-e024xYpnDah-UcTJJlG_PjF5zklg/s400/stoneharbor+009.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sweet.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzuvZh_zfkRRIu0Cf6EB4stPBMwfJqLgCY749jVeGIOPOWw21Pz2mve8OJi-4VcggZuZ6XZv3UexCVhV-5jq5aTOp5z970IOo9ONpT3pVeLs2aNIuljK3NXZlomaG1PyRVkX_og/s1600/stoneharbor+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210164299494594" 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/AVvXsEgvzuvZh_zfkRRIu0Cf6EB4stPBMwfJqLgCY749jVeGIOPOWw21Pz2mve8OJi-4VcggZuZ6XZv3UexCVhV-5jq5aTOp5z970IOo9ONpT3pVeLs2aNIuljK3NXZlomaG1PyRVkX_og/s400/stoneharbor+011.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwNcpWnFDLXB3P548rTuBKWrTApfRJCQm-9Z5S_an6EJGHApshwCKSYoS2Q-4_XBGiEb3MHqL7Urr-PphzNC7PTE2j07DpecMgH8mfV0STNhPSicp6N-XyfVDwrlWb-3ZlMwS-w/s1600/stoneharbor+013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210149130961730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCwNcpWnFDLXB3P548rTuBKWrTApfRJCQm-9Z5S_an6EJGHApshwCKSYoS2Q-4_XBGiEb3MHqL7Urr-PphzNC7PTE2j07DpecMgH8mfV0STNhPSicp6N-XyfVDwrlWb-3ZlMwS-w/s400/stoneharbor+013.jpg" border="0" /></a> Kind of like how those two used to be five years apart and now they're twins. That's a mystery.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg05ICXb668DUDXK6U_DcrfWmY9pZy89bVJObgm-PPw5ZVRHatNo8QQndBvrxIU8toE458i1wQm0Gae5w5Dnv1NSqzvGzon9rUkZ1WU0X-bp0o75g3_5TgfBhekw1v4vXY53V4f2Q/s1600/stoneharbor+015.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210139905231314" 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/AVvXsEg05ICXb668DUDXK6U_DcrfWmY9pZy89bVJObgm-PPw5ZVRHatNo8QQndBvrxIU8toE458i1wQm0Gae5w5Dnv1NSqzvGzon9rUkZ1WU0X-bp0o75g3_5TgfBhekw1v4vXY53V4f2Q/s400/stoneharbor+015.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then on the way home everyone was starving and we didn't want to wait in line at a restaurant on Father's Day so we got KFC and drove to the nearest lake.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd-xebbVCFp6jlHSpzUFxAyjv7MYgjgan1zj3gm7YUy9HROH58JF9pJFAZzbFWyUmso-lnNSnwdvwAR22QQxGJjc-v0JCLJEzT19i_0hAAy8NBUNRPdcrAIkZtKN7d8CjCGNP2Ig/s1600/stoneharbor+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485210131630988210" 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/AVvXsEgd-xebbVCFp6jlHSpzUFxAyjv7MYgjgan1zj3gm7YUy9HROH58JF9pJFAZzbFWyUmso-lnNSnwdvwAR22QQxGJjc-v0JCLJEzT19i_0hAAy8NBUNRPdcrAIkZtKN7d8CjCGNP2Ig/s400/stoneharbor+017.jpg" border="0" /></a> I sat on a large piece of broken concrete and ate the best tasting meal I've had in a long time. And photographed it for you, of course, just to show how good fast food can be.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5FaWq9nfq53FE_Ik3Qei3uu7vl68QAIzhsNSYPKfHuU9B1otcOXAAcRFwl-2qDywXYAs381g8Br6c8yPEAeNox2YFgs5BBWr35crEWJjD0W9q3obx1n-fLsFWmntomH_YRDnOw/s1600/stoneharbor+020.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485209770257957954" 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/AVvXsEjJ5FaWq9nfq53FE_Ik3Qei3uu7vl68QAIzhsNSYPKfHuU9B1otcOXAAcRFwl-2qDywXYAs381g8Br6c8yPEAeNox2YFgs5BBWr35crEWJjD0W9q3obx1n-fLsFWmntomH_YRDnOw/s400/stoneharbor+020.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA7I3lYHlfxdgZBWAs4G4KpEDQIq63xB5RWt7QuXwPvDF6KRgzGOGSTdWJpQ9m9zaOj_rprhi7s1k3eJDtduXhhFU-MKJMMwqvP8n1_k8ia0Q3372EBxcyUx9kRpuQWVAUUFfcuA/s1600/stoneharbor+021.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485209761415274066" 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/AVvXsEjA7I3lYHlfxdgZBWAs4G4KpEDQIq63xB5RWt7QuXwPvDF6KRgzGOGSTdWJpQ9m9zaOj_rprhi7s1k3eJDtduXhhFU-MKJMMwqvP8n1_k8ia0Q3372EBxcyUx9kRpuQWVAUUFfcuA/s400/stoneharbor+021.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMp1DC9AhYG9kcEol50vN66yL7JHDncz5PRW3Oq4-7iWjYPlxmfDr9dBwZBqs3C7VGftE9plfASZ5fubGvVGKAfl55zLOcvkvfa8C65mGP6LypWQSRbx0MWX5o7UlpDcTcMyQOxA/s1600/stoneharbor+022.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485209755730065954" 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/AVvXsEjMp1DC9AhYG9kcEol50vN66yL7JHDncz5PRW3Oq4-7iWjYPlxmfDr9dBwZBqs3C7VGftE9plfASZ5fubGvVGKAfl55zLOcvkvfa8C65mGP6LypWQSRbx0MWX5o7UlpDcTcMyQOxA/s400/stoneharbor+022.jpg" border="0" /></a> Not really so sweet....<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisSmrfQHEGvg6jPjoDfUsJ81gw9GT2oSzpa-JhxuQFU_rJIcbPVCoJ5hkaAyHLsI-QpFFIwf_q9194fXuJz4e1CcUZHsVi4F5B9X4RGrtumSxR0nfVdyoGJOOUWIbnKC_kbcnWCQ/s1600/stoneharbor+023.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485209754563715282" 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/AVvXsEisSmrfQHEGvg6jPjoDfUsJ81gw9GT2oSzpa-JhxuQFU_rJIcbPVCoJ5hkaAyHLsI-QpFFIwf_q9194fXuJz4e1CcUZHsVi4F5B9X4RGrtumSxR0nfVdyoGJOOUWIbnKC_kbcnWCQ/s400/stoneharbor+023.jpg" border="0" /></a> see him holding his head?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihP2VKcW4uny3zV3AgeDYWkUXDlzPkBvYDpZIZW4qb7DEIJZWvcJMjNJAZBWowte51weDJ9euRfomshdCW2f1AiQko6drx0JETRm15sVXyfHJf59qvftCK-8NXW96l5XKOYRo6mA/s1600/stoneharbor+024.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5485209742018986978" 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/AVvXsEihP2VKcW4uny3zV3AgeDYWkUXDlzPkBvYDpZIZW4qb7DEIJZWvcJMjNJAZBWowte51weDJ9euRfomshdCW2f1AiQko6drx0JETRm15sVXyfHJf59qvftCK-8NXW96l5XKOYRo6mA/s400/stoneharbor+024.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Sweet.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-5759600684836822252010-06-16T07:18:00.000-07:002010-06-16T07:37:15.743-07:00End of the Year PartyI attended Sean's end of 2nd grade party yesterday in a neighbor's back yard.<br />It was perfect for kids.<br />He had a great time. His friend pushed him on the rope swing.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVTZrrkdzpv5bhWf5DhTtmpVrjbMBq55lHCg-wLMYDGmIEwzpXv-C97EbMGuJ7ZXuvOlxiskB26gr5KrA8JssBU8z_qEcTs9faUOWQCJ0nSsA7SLO9RQyHfROdeRNKilk64Fbe_Q/s1600/Sean's+class+party+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483376554220673986" 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/AVvXsEjVTZrrkdzpv5bhWf5DhTtmpVrjbMBq55lHCg-wLMYDGmIEwzpXv-C97EbMGuJ7ZXuvOlxiskB26gr5KrA8JssBU8z_qEcTs9faUOWQCJ0nSsA7SLO9RQyHfROdeRNKilk64Fbe_Q/s400/Sean's+class+party+003.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then he pushed him on the hammock.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHcpBAHYbDzDD0evs2PhNnILLqI7BJtyz308U8-1pdB6rDLMhYwaejQy8AU42wL5hKwc5OMkT6Lt2y2GUXCmsWgv4MbPr1VJ7JiAKxXr6HIh593CezM4lYhKriuVF-kXw6pAXSQ/s1600/Sean's+class+party+019.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483376572588187282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeHcpBAHYbDzDD0evs2PhNnILLqI7BJtyz308U8-1pdB6rDLMhYwaejQy8AU42wL5hKwc5OMkT6Lt2y2GUXCmsWgv4MbPr1VJ7JiAKxXr6HIh593CezM4lYhKriuVF-kXw6pAXSQ/s400/Sean's+class+party+019.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then others pushed him on the hammock with another buddy.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWre5NfNwBkVVjFmgCbWPkHnZ3BfHHum-zpm21rAxmCSD7bwJWs_g7VbcfnKTFBe-MZBY9rN8LW66XJZR10NdD0xM1P3IZzbK9uG2f0DhFzUmwVsGgWTCTguGRL78SRk7AGMDTA/s1600/Sean's+class+party+029.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483376597023266802" 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/AVvXsEhvWre5NfNwBkVVjFmgCbWPkHnZ3BfHHum-zpm21rAxmCSD7bwJWs_g7VbcfnKTFBe-MZBY9rN8LW66XJZR10NdD0xM1P3IZzbK9uG2f0DhFzUmwVsGgWTCTguGRL78SRk7AGMDTA/s400/Sean's+class+party+029.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then he got on the hammock with yet another buddy...<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQZavhtsKT9dantg_A7GunMLHGqYyW_vfVAGc-HA-It0aLeHCN9zKs92vmC-w_ADBuRv97nNiuSW-0iDslXqWEyppTKB2pmcQ5AFfDBItWVshjlBKC2WLYEkes5EWIlqjvN8Ciaw/s1600/Sean's+class+party+041.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483377320141553234" 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/AVvXsEgQZavhtsKT9dantg_A7GunMLHGqYyW_vfVAGc-HA-It0aLeHCN9zKs92vmC-w_ADBuRv97nNiuSW-0iDslXqWEyppTKB2pmcQ5AFfDBItWVshjlBKC2WLYEkes5EWIlqjvN8Ciaw/s400/Sean's+class+party+041.jpg" border="0" /></a> who then trampled him, as boys do.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB1daMunIdbxse-Vaeyj6g3N_lk2rqqpYh_WRKngsUPgKUq8O0BdUWjI-P5bKFIZTvl-mgxAje2aFeEs7tR-YMq9b0hiW5OZlP3-U4OAfdaeGWg9dwJxfIuKLzBeMs1vZkureNxw/s1600/Sean's+class+party+043.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483377329363906034" 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/AVvXsEiB1daMunIdbxse-Vaeyj6g3N_lk2rqqpYh_WRKngsUPgKUq8O0BdUWjI-P5bKFIZTvl-mgxAje2aFeEs7tR-YMq9b0hiW5OZlP3-U4OAfdaeGWg9dwJxfIuKLzBeMs1vZkureNxw/s400/Sean's+class+party+043.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then he stuffed marshmellows into his mouth and tried to speak.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtmsWd81ZJ33TZNKPMKwnhY806pycaGrQ42aCjzCrwNnVdt8wfbwz2L_uJZ0RiGcjZrtpKKv4ShZnHGJljXKvHr7FTHlvAmiQWhb5nkmYCSXEMhkNNzxZo5Le93du5Ua8gHWUXQw/s1600/Sean's+class+party+030.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483377312041297026" 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/AVvXsEgtmsWd81ZJ33TZNKPMKwnhY806pycaGrQ42aCjzCrwNnVdt8wfbwz2L_uJZ0RiGcjZrtpKKv4ShZnHGJljXKvHr7FTHlvAmiQWhb5nkmYCSXEMhkNNzxZo5Le93du5Ua8gHWUXQw/s400/Sean's+class+party+030.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then he made a visor, with his wonderful teacher looking on.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCyzAzlvMFxk_ZBPkXssWrMTrVvBujJdxiRz-FWx3L18X_TptkiYKtrUQfTJr7t2ZBwqPk4-nHmeoDacnOJg_l6QK7REiyXeNxO1aZI4D0E9JNcl6n3aPr2pzljQm4v13STK5Wrw/s1600/Sean's+class+party+022.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483376579344986914" 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/AVvXsEiCyzAzlvMFxk_ZBPkXssWrMTrVvBujJdxiRz-FWx3L18X_TptkiYKtrUQfTJr7t2ZBwqPk4-nHmeoDacnOJg_l6QK7REiyXeNxO1aZI4D0E9JNcl6n3aPr2pzljQm4v13STK5Wrw/s400/Sean's+class+party+022.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then he swung...or swinged...or swang, depending on how you look at things in the world of grammar.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PVifZGdLE-wd77LqG1TMeA-7zKg_I8AWVWO4E4aSQ3pG49lvUgazInns2ZQuCFtn_lC8BvURwTBlGJNnjLet8katdIwS3doyiFxY4W8JMpRdDR4K-JTYaSmy4AflAwK3LTITPw/s1600/Sean's+class+party+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483376562239850898" 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/AVvXsEg1PVifZGdLE-wd77LqG1TMeA-7zKg_I8AWVWO4E4aSQ3pG49lvUgazInns2ZQuCFtn_lC8BvURwTBlGJNnjLet8katdIwS3doyiFxY4W8JMpRdDR4K-JTYaSmy4AflAwK3LTITPw/s400/Sean's+class+party+010.jpg" border="0" /></a> Then the two classes played this game.....<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEiocnJUangZJPQPbgLuq_oi1nvlveJj3N2cVDrikSyPYVBxm21kYmOd5rxBxrO_iNiYATWoY93oubOHitKS3EIlzNscukg11W_iRvf_EwrJXsSEckeKVg9AiWpNNFXr5zBtGMw/s1600/Sean's+class+party+058.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483377516678628610" 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/AVvXsEgnEiocnJUangZJPQPbgLuq_oi1nvlveJj3N2cVDrikSyPYVBxm21kYmOd5rxBxrO_iNiYATWoY93oubOHitKS3EIlzNscukg11W_iRvf_EwrJXsSEckeKVg9AiWpNNFXr5zBtGMw/s400/Sean's+class+party+058.jpg" border="0" /></a> and hid beneath the parachute....<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFcW0dVy3mmQgEM0UCDrfO1ycOn4SHtagjtz-8SWKighr5SfdnCmjdgCksFsKq19GrKHlaIOoFjSNZ8fgcUXkdTIwBy3ZEZbAajP0YOq9VZ-kGFbiKb25Of4e2pW2kF0zd4hWEnQ/s1600/Sean's+class+party+059.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483377339959513970" 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/AVvXsEgFcW0dVy3mmQgEM0UCDrfO1ycOn4SHtagjtz-8SWKighr5SfdnCmjdgCksFsKq19GrKHlaIOoFjSNZ8fgcUXkdTIwBy3ZEZbAajP0YOq9VZ-kGFbiKb25Of4e2pW2kF0zd4hWEnQ/s400/Sean's+class+party+059.jpg" border="0" /></a> while he hid in the log cabin.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZPkummk4ZUxhCpDDLjlyfmJKU-iQESPdJ5gXSe1fyz7_rqRQdxntb5cOxsOYs8p-pI2xai_G8Mx15NKdzQoFZ7B77axfba6Jht3TsOpTquEdXwkmxGvYsBRHutYijQJpBsJxf3w/s1600/Sean's+class+party+060.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483377332023385522" 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/AVvXsEjZPkummk4ZUxhCpDDLjlyfmJKU-iQESPdJ5gXSe1fyz7_rqRQdxntb5cOxsOYs8p-pI2xai_G8Mx15NKdzQoFZ7B77axfba6Jht3TsOpTquEdXwkmxGvYsBRHutYijQJpBsJxf3w/s400/Sean's+class+party+060.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p align="center">2nd grade was good. Thank you Mrs. Forst.</p><p align="center">And happy retirement to you!</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-16743468286380536922010-06-09T18:38:00.000-07:002010-06-09T18:38:08.108-07:00Here Comes the Sun<object style="BACKGROUND-IMAGE: url(http://i2.ytimg.com/vi/Uy4mBiy9Xvs/hqdefault.jpg)" width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uy4mBiy9Xvs&hl=en_US&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Uy4mBiy9Xvs&hl=en_US&fs=1" width="425" height="344" allowscriptaccess="never" allowfullscreen="true" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-28026971598866532382010-06-09T17:41:00.000-07:002010-06-09T20:32:44.483-07:00<p>Sean (2nd grade) has been wanting to take part in the school variety show that Mr. Z lets the kids do every year, but it was always the fourth and fifth graders. This year Mr. Z opened the floodgates and let the little 'uns sing too and there were tons of little ones up there showing their stuff. Sean, as far as I saw, was the only one who brought along his own live accompaniment. </p><br /><p>A few things. One, Mr. Z - he was the high school band teacher when I was in school! Great guy. Two, every time Seth makes a mistake on the guitar, Sean looks at him. Cracks me up. He didn't have much room to play, the capo was on the 9th fret to accomodate Sean's high voice. Seth would want you to know that. Three, I wigged out and turned the thing off at the end because I thought it was off when I saw a red light. I was nervous for them and was so upset for about 20 minutes afterward, thinking I didn't get it at all. I think I'm <em>still </em>upset about it! Four, Luke, resident artist, made the signs. </p><br /><p>It was a sweet way to end the year. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-41522620496907812572010-06-07T06:47:00.000-07:002010-06-07T07:52:46.046-07:00Humility: The Beauty of Holiness by Andrew Murray<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtJ_J-ItWWXj3Ck2blEwi8bGfFWPsvfdxrZd4g9dwAq2o26yLQfRniGZbOK32uqvxszChUEaaMV8KTftQsUwk7zCddfKFYd9m1i7IGvoz7vCm8J88upfnkvIEDt2hY81JfWkoCg/s1600/Scan1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480042877181583986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 258px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPtJ_J-ItWWXj3Ck2blEwi8bGfFWPsvfdxrZd4g9dwAq2o26yLQfRniGZbOK32uqvxszChUEaaMV8KTftQsUwk7zCddfKFYd9m1i7IGvoz7vCm8J88upfnkvIEDt2hY81JfWkoCg/s400/Scan1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><blockquote>"Most gladly will I glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may<br />rest upon me; wherefore I take pleasure in weaknesses." The humble man has<br />learnt the secret of abiding gladness. The weaker he feels, the lower he<br />sinks; the greater his humiliations appear, the more power and the presence of<br />Christ are his portion, until, as he says, "I am nothing," the word of his Lord<br />brings ever deeper joy: "My grace is sufficient for thee."<br /></blockquote><br /><br />I was searching for a book that might address the idea of spiritual gifts. Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness are qualities we Christians are supposed to pour forth. But like an empty pitcher, we cannot pour unless we are filled. Going out and doing something "good" is one thing, "filthy rags;" being filled with the Holy Spirit who pours goodness through me is quite another. How to be filled so that we can pour, not merely do <em>something</em> here, here and here, but pour out something much greater than ourselves all the time, everywhere?<br /><br />Pride has to go. "And so pride, or the loss of this humility, is the root of every sin and evil." I can't have a belief in our Creator and be proud of <em>anything</em>! I can't do anything good, I didn't create my children, I didn't create my talents and gifts. How can I be proud of winning a foot race when it is God who constructed my legs? If I'm filled with myself, I cannot be filled with God; it has to be one or the other. How to step aside, or more to the point - become nothing - and be filled with the Holy Spirit?<br /><br />Jesus is our ultimate example of humility. He made himself a mere human and allowed his own life to be taken, brutally. He made himself small so that we could be made right with God. How could I aspire to anything that feeds my own pride when God Himself came and sacrificed all that my filthiness could be washed clean...so that I could be reconciled to Him? My aspirations should be only to bow to the one who saved me and allow Him to fill me with His spirit so my life becomes about Him only.<br /><br />I cannot sum up this book or barely even comment on it. Andrew Murray's writing is so rich and full that I'm left to drop quotes and question myself on how it is that I can still go about trying to raise my chin every day instead of falling to the floor and becoming nothing but a vessel for the Almighty to overcome. So humility is the answer to my search for the gifts of the Spirit, the answer to allowing the Spirit to dwell within and bring along with it love, joy, peace and all the rest. Those things do not dwell in me naturally and so without humility and without the Spirit, I cannot exhibit and share them.<br /><br /><blockquote>"Brother, have we not been making a mistake in taking so much trouble to<br />believe, while all the time there was the old self in its pride seeking to<br />possess itself of God's blessing and riches? No wonder we could not<br />believe. Let us change our course. Let us seek first of all to<br />humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God: He will exalt us. The<br />cross, and the death, and the grave, into which Jesus humbled Himself, were His<br />path to the glory of God. And they are our path. Let our one desire<br />and our fervent prayer be, to be humbled with Him and like Him; let us accept<br />gladly whatever can humble us before God or men; - this alone is the path to the<br />glory of God."<br /></blockquote><br /><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-14797749723377955002010-06-05T15:07:00.000-07:002010-10-05T06:57:23.996-07:00Tattoos<p>Isn't it weird that there are books with pictures of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">tattoos</span> in a tattoo shop? When a person is compelled to imprint something on their skin permanently, you would think they'd already know what exactly that was before they showed up at the shop. Perhaps there are two different reasons for getting tattoos. (At least.) One is - I want to have ink permanently injected into my skin. I think I'll do that in the form of a picture or words....any ideas? The other is - I love Elvis and I'm gonna have his picture on my arm forever.</p><p>I have considered a tattoo only once and not very seriously. I nursed all of my boys and often, when I'd lift their little head off my arm, there would be a cute little pink imprint of their ear on my forearm. And I would cherish the little thing until it faded away. The only way I'd be able to have that little ear on my arm forever was with a tattoo. But then I'd have to spend the rest of my life telling that story to everyone who asked, "Why do you have an ear on your forearm?" </p><p>So I just keep the little ear print in my memory and smile when I think of it. </p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-22068627493750349312010-05-22T10:07:00.000-07:002010-05-22T15:51:30.108-07:00There Was a Spring Dance in Town<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBy0M0oiKu9ffqSNmIm1DQMOMHo3u5wmk1f31Tzl2LxIG4GSaiA_k1PkSrELKHXdXjh86yUhdlqaf2GGaVRjsSHs9kd8fqBW633G-PM-XMCDeOiiWu9TBbZ3Qs2Z05eoZFWpvavw/s1600/Nina+Jane.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149971030471362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBy0M0oiKu9ffqSNmIm1DQMOMHo3u5wmk1f31Tzl2LxIG4GSaiA_k1PkSrELKHXdXjh86yUhdlqaf2GGaVRjsSHs9kd8fqBW633G-PM-XMCDeOiiWu9TBbZ3Qs2Z05eoZFWpvavw/s400/Nina+Jane.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> This is my niece Nina Jane. </span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">She said she could wear that dress every day.<br /></div><p align="center"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8Y3ByG1i7-uQN_0ni0G67NkrgORXoNGsBweOXMBJ626hNl2Hk0prghya66_sIF2XJzeSIYY5tfXlQmemCJMp6IHi4SrpMiKNFmxDb_m7LX8JIat0KSxc2OC9IhC8ggxVjOJEjA/s1600/spring+dance.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149968571845682" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8Y3ByG1i7-uQN_0ni0G67NkrgORXoNGsBweOXMBJ626hNl2Hk0prghya66_sIF2XJzeSIYY5tfXlQmemCJMp6IHi4SrpMiKNFmxDb_m7LX8JIat0KSxc2OC9IhC8ggxVjOJEjA/s400/spring+dance.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Son #2, 13.25 years, 5 ft 9.5in.<br />His hips come up to my rib cage.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RGgQPfxkeOiC7q4as3Dn0jmej4W9HBgfffDuD9vaYbq6dM5Z3RHlPDCALjsN38wSNXyLJckmRy58o3a8Qyt9JhS6lukhLBthbJvjhX2dnvtu1ACO7O3bHNw-YCZXlsiwHGQ0Mg/s1600/spring+dance2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149745587656546" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8RGgQPfxkeOiC7q4as3Dn0jmej4W9HBgfffDuD9vaYbq6dM5Z3RHlPDCALjsN38wSNXyLJckmRy58o3a8Qyt9JhS6lukhLBthbJvjhX2dnvtu1ACO7O3bHNw-YCZXlsiwHGQ0Mg/s400/spring+dance2.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-size:130%;">These are some of the peeps with whom he is educated. The girls (and there were lots of 'em) were on the other side of the property, until I mentioned that I'd like to get a picture of Luke and his "date." She happily popped right over and desegregated.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8m8uiC_xR6v93KCLBGl1G4Jg7t9UiR13XQuLL6RjJjli4P3thLev9iB-TKCfNOEVypkg6BMoNDZWQXCjoxXeF98fPbDt-5zP9GMaMjm6bZbn7fr4Ji1f3x7Gk_7kkKRDRcacyQ/s1600/spring+dance3.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149738632483394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp8m8uiC_xR6v93KCLBGl1G4Jg7t9UiR13XQuLL6RjJjli4P3thLev9iB-TKCfNOEVypkg6BMoNDZWQXCjoxXeF98fPbDt-5zP9GMaMjm6bZbn7fr4Ji1f3x7Gk_7kkKRDRcacyQ/s400/spring+dance3.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">This is the fine young lady who told two friends who told two friends who told two friends that she would like to be accompanied by Luke to the spring dance. And he said, "Alrighty!" (Or some junior high equivalent.) Though he would not act like it when mother was organizing the picture.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7Lh0JMInY57cnwqSCTxNsPcB8dIIckas6xWNUAmODOkVWLo6SN34_umQ60ZuGlbjiCt9h6UtF7ogsh5tY0tJ4JKmUMYkg0tmcYs-191S6l226AJ1HaxIztvgYIfYrjWv3a7daA/s1600/spring+dance4.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149735898920258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP7Lh0JMInY57cnwqSCTxNsPcB8dIIckas6xWNUAmODOkVWLo6SN34_umQ60ZuGlbjiCt9h6UtF7ogsh5tY0tJ4JKmUMYkg0tmcYs-191S6l226AJ1HaxIztvgYIfYrjWv3a7daA/s400/spring+dance4.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Only when her big sister did. I would wear that dress every day ...if I were her.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMMsRam4Kvr5on2dOPKOiXzq6nllPq4xtitbcwq3vPpyLmRpwcPYQbLBXiDhoi5iJzIwzc_QYgp6M3YRDWWyKXdVQ3713wTSR5R4dee9Z2Xy-ZzpLhOGZ7v-VjMgBfdzeyOXpZg/s1600/spring+dance5.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149731239458514" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMMMsRam4Kvr5on2dOPKOiXzq6nllPq4xtitbcwq3vPpyLmRpwcPYQbLBXiDhoi5iJzIwzc_QYgp6M3YRDWWyKXdVQ3713wTSR5R4dee9Z2Xy-ZzpLhOGZ7v-VjMgBfdzeyOXpZg/s400/spring+dance5.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">With Da.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4Lv87zq2myEdEf8lhMWX_sVownHW8VBIxxbzyu1RCVCtC8ghCEw31tXOhxHtlgzreUpjBX33YLcLixdCHsSjco68qRJhsozso1BFfH3GLClAEN6c25ghtjMe4rM5-RpLmuEGoA/s1600/spring+dance6.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474149721493898178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp4Lv87zq2myEdEf8lhMWX_sVownHW8VBIxxbzyu1RCVCtC8ghCEw31tXOhxHtlgzreUpjBX33YLcLixdCHsSjco68qRJhsozso1BFfH3GLClAEN6c25ghtjMe4rM5-RpLmuEGoA/s400/spring+dance6.jpg" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Calling Zack. </span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;">"Hey, we're getting outnumbered here at Julia's! Need more guys! Come quick!" </span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></p><span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;"><blockquote><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;"><blockquote><blockquote><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">News break - Luke and his older brother<br />are out right now at a park and I just received this text:</span></p><p align="left"><span style="color:#009900;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>We found a cat.</em> </span></span></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;color:#009900;">I wish<br />we lived closer to Idaho at<br />the moment. I know a fine shelter<br />there.</span></p></blockquote></blockquote><p align="left"></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;">Getting back to my Nina Jane. So the word was there were a lot of crying girls at the dance. My sister asked Nina, "Just the sixth graders?" "Yeah, the ones in my class," she sighed, "and I think it's going to get worse before it gets better." <em>Truer words.....</em></span></p></blockquote>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-2792824458334106752010-05-12T11:59:00.000-07:002010-05-12T10:54:14.931-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9v2uWrP0iWOgRBls0JtmQJG2_Jkn6a_r7CICGjd07dA-AnP63RAjBVTlxveBvyxu36dFPYCMpAnF-mO-B5lRIupoHxLKD-Kg7KT8ER4qOsxR1eEnwt12k_LW7OA2Ww7IK1TP4rA/s1600/rocks+019.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461183205464962882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9v2uWrP0iWOgRBls0JtmQJG2_Jkn6a_r7CICGjd07dA-AnP63RAjBVTlxveBvyxu36dFPYCMpAnF-mO-B5lRIupoHxLKD-Kg7KT8ER4qOsxR1eEnwt12k_LW7OA2Ww7IK1TP4rA/s400/rocks+019.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">I must get out into my yard. Way back when life was simple fresh and new I used to love my yard. Love in the verb sense of the word. I spent time rolling in the grass with my active boy and young Great Dane; I fiddled around in the tiny screened-in gardening shed pulling down cobwebs and arranging dusty clay pots; I spent weeks on my knees ripping ivy out by the roots so I could replace the pond-shaped patch with the garden growing in my mind. I planted herbs, columbine, Solomon seal, tomatoes, whatever I wanted to nurture and behold.<br /><br />My yard today has many different and distinct sections. A mossy, cool front corner, a secluded fenced expanse in the back, a small herb garden between the drive and the basement door, wide open play spaces, a long mulched area hugging the house on the south side. Sometimes I don't know where to begin with my limited gardening time. I end up raking out a messy corner or mowing, endlessly. I trim up the honeysuckle on the weedy fenceline or rip the grass growing in the driveway seams while playing a halfhearted game of basketball with my sons. There is so much to do and so little time and energy to plan, prepare, design and execute. So I bend over and grab a dandelion.<br /><br />There are dead limbs in my dogwood. The neighbor wanted the maple saplings on the border, so now years later there isn't enough sun for my annual favorite - and trademark to my garden -Mexican sunflowers. The vinca has overrun the bed along the garage office path. The azaleas I planted out front don't seem to like their home. The hydrangea near the hose has been beaten down to a stub. Thin limbs of the skypencils are hanging low from the snowy winter. I don't know what to plant in front of the porch after pulling up the old leggy bushes that grew there years ago.<br /><br />My yard is still beautiful to me, springing alive with possibility today. It's calling me, dancing in place, igniting my inspiration:</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em><blockquote><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:100%;">More herbs! </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:100%;">Sculpted bushes! </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:100%;">Bulbs for next spring here! </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:100%;">These yuccas must go! </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:100%;">Rake these holly leaves! </span></em></div><div align="left"><span style="font-size:100%;"><em>I'm a perfect empty corner for something fantastic! </em><br /><em></em></span></div><div align="left"><em><span style="font-size:100%;">Notice how the bright green and purple spiderwort found itself growing in the cracks at the entrance to your back steps....you couldn't have planned that if you tried.</span></em></div></blockquote></em></span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-76785772865067897592010-05-10T12:06:00.000-07:002010-10-05T06:59:41.254-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQb2AzH_Z53YHlzs6uv9Dclw9Ej_-WzuEkj5JrwGOpl6pBRHHwoEdPFMazyrl0wUBFE92eLJGMXvArmDsSpBYr0e7py7R6iV1QV8gbUJiVUthbMqpVixm0Xu46kIcGrWHHU1a1FQ/s1600/bionicle.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469720095306569810" 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/AVvXsEhQb2AzH_Z53YHlzs6uv9Dclw9Ej_-WzuEkj5JrwGOpl6pBRHHwoEdPFMazyrl0wUBFE92eLJGMXvArmDsSpBYr0e7py7R6iV1QV8gbUJiVUthbMqpVixm0Xu46kIcGrWHHU1a1FQ/s400/bionicle.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><p><span style="font-size:130%;">I went to the funeral of a mom today. My friend's mom. She lived down the road behind that barn with a bull painted on it in <em>Newport by the bay</em> as my Grammy used to say. She used to play Password with us. She was likely the most <em>humble</em>, Jesus-loving soul I have ever met. Someone at her funeral said she was humble and there is no better word. Lately I've been thinking a lot about humility and I realized today that am blessed with the memory of her humility in life. She was buried right here in a small cemetery with her ancestors. </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">There is a little wooden bridge over there beyond the cattails where my mother used to keep her row boat. She would ride her bike down the road, untie her boat and row out toward the Delaware Bay by herself. Later my father would take us crabbing, putting in our rowboat at the same bridge. What a final resting place! </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">She saved my grandfather's life some years ago when she checked on him. Every day since she called my grandfather, her next door neighbor, to check on him. She would say, "Hello, Good Neighbor!" And he would answer, "Hello, Good Neighbor!" </span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;">Good bye good Alynda, I will see you again someday.</span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-74253354973137600182010-05-09T06:09:00.000-07:002010-05-09T14:58:51.866-07:00Bionicle Woman<div align="left"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVOMi60HdnvOah8AKv_HW2HOWoeEUXGTyxz6HGu8Tm-d6tlwAI3txFue9ZSEBdAG4nyZwOA4-FALrJBWnylFL8TITySdV445K6gZ6EuKc4VzZIENcZ7zxf708-vWo5zYx6gXeAQ/s1600/bionicle+008.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257378481025874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrVOMi60HdnvOah8AKv_HW2HOWoeEUXGTyxz6HGu8Tm-d6tlwAI3txFue9ZSEBdAG4nyZwOA4-FALrJBWnylFL8TITySdV445K6gZ6EuKc4VzZIENcZ7zxf708-vWo5zYx6gXeAQ/s400/bionicle+008.jpg" /></a> This is an appropriate post for Mother's Day.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwp8Mk8qscLXo7crrgcc8hsFcVIb3jaseHUnAm5eDd7pHwM4CB0lAAkEWb4ah3ecUkbWBiVXDM2ImwgSZNnHJ-xI_fAP6q2irkFxsvECff-WdZWTocdk3wnlkUq_-VhIU2SMNycQ/s1600/bionicle+002.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257270564298626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwp8Mk8qscLXo7crrgcc8hsFcVIb3jaseHUnAm5eDd7pHwM4CB0lAAkEWb4ah3ecUkbWBiVXDM2ImwgSZNnHJ-xI_fAP6q2irkFxsvECff-WdZWTocdk3wnlkUq_-VhIU2SMNycQ/s400/bionicle+002.jpg" /></a> Once in a while, maybe once a year, I feel the overwhelming urge to organize every <em>thing</em> in my house. I just reorganized basement closets, shelves and cubby holes. The attic closet has a whole new outlook on life. And stuff? I have yard sale stuff, give away stuff, donate stuff.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrzhyphenhyphen8K2xdcyzjcc7HQP_eB37AXcCuumHkBFZWQKm995xkGiwOaWh1ljG0P37J_K6uDYomJ7kPuMdFivt4i7MRN0ug40VwhCdak39dPCcA1aDJtfnQ0kJLBlCLi0K0v9RRZ5Fjw/s1600/bionicle+005.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257252878638418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzrzhyphenhyphen8K2xdcyzjcc7HQP_eB37AXcCuumHkBFZWQKm995xkGiwOaWh1ljG0P37J_K6uDYomJ7kPuMdFivt4i7MRN0ug40VwhCdak39dPCcA1aDJtfnQ0kJLBlCLi0K0v9RRZ5Fjw/s400/bionicle+005.jpg" /></a> These Bionicles gave me agita. For a while there, every birthday party came with boys bearing Bionicles, every Christmas saw a few under the tree. Fun for a while, but now I have a box full of empty containers. (That sentence is ridiculous, no?) And another box full of parts, so I asked Luke if he might like to put together thousands of pieces so we could store them properly for my grandchildren. He said, "No. Not really."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8jMdg-uBJf5wdosCfHBB1cOsHiWMQgO6T0OS5zGtnJh08_pvcN1GpIyrptRJ2TKLO0ieSMmLa_IbbNg_f19hnud-B9LlB1SequMe1GGTB16ck43XZ20dxmKm4-JoYgakbCZQCw/s1600/bionicle+004.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257258008109602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF8jMdg-uBJf5wdosCfHBB1cOsHiWMQgO6T0OS5zGtnJh08_pvcN1GpIyrptRJ2TKLO0ieSMmLa_IbbNg_f19hnud-B9LlB1SequMe1GGTB16ck43XZ20dxmKm4-JoYgakbCZQCw/s400/bionicle+004.jpg" /></a> So I dumped them out, put on a movie and then I strategically asked little one if he would go ask Luke some pressing Bionicle question. Soon Luke appeared and began building.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-Ird95oTqJq5cCP1AnsUYijNyjeWNuqPNdYyylLU7zJ7BqgQyLwEdVWVs1MjK2khgFQebnoxCgrSJh_JTkeNAYrFNZwfDoYLdFf2wd5QMws6vGWTEJOJJvDWf7pU66H98RORvg/s1600/bionicle+007.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257060535695954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-Ird95oTqJq5cCP1AnsUYijNyjeWNuqPNdYyylLU7zJ7BqgQyLwEdVWVs1MjK2khgFQebnoxCgrSJh_JTkeNAYrFNZwfDoYLdFf2wd5QMws6vGWTEJOJJvDWf7pU66H98RORvg/s400/bionicle+007.jpg" /></a> Meanwhile, I sorted, but it is hard for me to sort if I don't have corresponding names to go along with the piles. Masks, faces?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcoyvvnck57DmhB4BHqMpZLwe-ro8bkc_onQ4ycYuHuXBKgFlKcQU_vmsMwVPxb2qTTtIEd8BtEy1xkbRmBdzSsjHhh3RCP8IuscKS6o9ECSANQkiQwqWwe7m8W3eFqEtJ4RhPNw/s1600/bionicle+010.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257684112788370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcoyvvnck57DmhB4BHqMpZLwe-ro8bkc_onQ4ycYuHuXBKgFlKcQU_vmsMwVPxb2qTTtIEd8BtEy1xkbRmBdzSsjHhh3RCP8IuscKS6o9ECSANQkiQwqWwe7m8W3eFqEtJ4RhPNw/s400/bionicle+010.jpg" /></a> Weapons? Ski thingys for feet? And there were wheely things that help arms move and shin area type pieces and shoulder...um....plates? Feet/boots. And bodylike area parts. I tried my best.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxHoKZwE8bOUDaTVRVGtXbZe7jpaY7Qn9npZieFB4HTbqNpWsxjiZ8gHfFFPjljkA0Xnnn4Ycgkk1Gl77Tlb92U-rHCcbcDiu1DBS1W5-XxHaiM6QbnYemX615c_FeHzj7x7Yug/s1600/bionicle+011.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257047181710050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxHoKZwE8bOUDaTVRVGtXbZe7jpaY7Qn9npZieFB4HTbqNpWsxjiZ8gHfFFPjljkA0Xnnn4Ycgkk1Gl77Tlb92U-rHCcbcDiu1DBS1W5-XxHaiM6QbnYemX615c_FeHzj7x7Yug/s400/bionicle+011.jpg" /></a> He finished a few and then he wandered off mumbling something like, "I don't want to do this anymore."<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6PJAbORSuwBPTK59ENr5TIFMIs4hPVlAtKiXRwgZ4PzEzgQENWm3HXH-dhb_ZFEe2ycBqdomNebXIdyxi9DgDm9Y3q_xTaPMPxnwrtH24yKxS6P_A17gwz_STNJgx2R5DWyZKQ/s1600/bionicle+016.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257038678799074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB6PJAbORSuwBPTK59ENr5TIFMIs4hPVlAtKiXRwgZ4PzEzgQENWm3HXH-dhb_ZFEe2ycBqdomNebXIdyxi9DgDm9Y3q_xTaPMPxnwrtH24yKxS6P_A17gwz_STNJgx2R5DWyZKQ/s400/bionicle+016.jpg" /></a> So it was me, Megan Ryan, Kevin Kline and a table full of Bionicle parts.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVtnQxhSsOcE_zvYi5-mXC88dNVT58XLkRAJahPpAsMJQnQQm41iZwcwhsnApV0dmA32aWhmwNHiclpf2HziTqqQhggk58vn9G3gryE-VwonIQtNiml9ZCgVTajAcbyzi0nkwaA/s1600/bionicle+013.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469257024074414242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrVtnQxhSsOcE_zvYi5-mXC88dNVT58XLkRAJahPpAsMJQnQQm41iZwcwhsnApV0dmA32aWhmwNHiclpf2HziTqqQhggk58vn9G3gryE-VwonIQtNiml9ZCgVTajAcbyzi0nkwaA/s400/bionicle+013.jpg" /></a></div><p>I threw it all into one box and am saving it for the next time I feel like doing a puzzle. </p><p>Or punishing Luke.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-958876659421801782010-05-03T09:48:00.000-07:002010-05-03T09:49:52.112-07:00Quadruplets<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgW91qHTDJdDZg5QgYhE5DzvNB9Ofdrj0pidGP6L2H0Gj_h7XWa_chHK_qqvHvgKvDD475xyLDoFBNSnTANqugB-QAMXosdZMGBMEQLCH74MCoyPGRiN0F87JGa3-W86QYWWctIQ/s1600/birdie+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467086838970227874" 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/AVvXsEhgW91qHTDJdDZg5QgYhE5DzvNB9Ofdrj0pidGP6L2H0Gj_h7XWa_chHK_qqvHvgKvDD475xyLDoFBNSnTANqugB-QAMXosdZMGBMEQLCH74MCoyPGRiN0F87JGa3-W86QYWWctIQ/s400/birdie+002.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZrcPyZ2kmTpF_FfBy12nDiwsoAWFYGjuPzaJDCvxbz5g_nWjvZisWOr6TI-4xiLPNODX1mLZv7THQ1yKXZZzcHDLslvb-mP5GVq6qfFAJRNCLes9xpB5rC-uxiOf9sEBDnENfQ/s1600/birdie+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467086828438482802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTZrcPyZ2kmTpF_FfBy12nDiwsoAWFYGjuPzaJDCvxbz5g_nWjvZisWOr6TI-4xiLPNODX1mLZv7THQ1yKXZZzcHDLslvb-mP5GVq6qfFAJRNCLes9xpB5rC-uxiOf9sEBDnENfQ/s400/birdie+004.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-35716069907189140422010-05-02T11:50:00.000-07:002010-05-02T11:51:23.151-07:00Hello Life!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9z5xnDrKUPCVE3rFpIKGGzn3z5wccEHSqiADJ42nIgMYWnOmPKLEmLD13YoBVrNjbmFohztBe5qcalyBcWqy_zkQSr9sfgV0ybl8RHWES7gI9zRWJOCnbl54pKpZ0FMSZDnH0Qg/s1600/birdie+004.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466747192794313202" 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/AVvXsEj9z5xnDrKUPCVE3rFpIKGGzn3z5wccEHSqiADJ42nIgMYWnOmPKLEmLD13YoBVrNjbmFohztBe5qcalyBcWqy_zkQSr9sfgV0ybl8RHWES7gI9zRWJOCnbl54pKpZ0FMSZDnH0Qg/s400/birdie+004.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8e7Q_5Bd_WU5amZDKDhbII43o4YsJ8i5lKgtGaA5c6O0SohRdDicbweKh0xNTBwLn34s4d7DRgAPpySm9pwybJhVHcGzCs3FQaBKkb2xq7cPoaD4CxhNeZRKFI5HohRIn4apGWg/s1600/birdie+003.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466747186819787298" 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/AVvXsEg8e7Q_5Bd_WU5amZDKDhbII43o4YsJ8i5lKgtGaA5c6O0SohRdDicbweKh0xNTBwLn34s4d7DRgAPpySm9pwybJhVHcGzCs3FQaBKkb2xq7cPoaD4CxhNeZRKFI5HohRIn4apGWg/s400/birdie+003.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-32691841099401167422010-04-27T20:18:00.000-07:002010-04-27T20:50:24.246-07:00Ninety-Six!<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsd4yOa5oVc9zeWgB2ZkskNbdpm_IK2MyzJAKl5SiPcm69fIRjYyQ1sbu9jeXEoRvuh9LNNn9Wi6NSHJUm0NU4SEjHcEnUzrZHGoCn9m7ff5QQebcCfjzhWFG9ds5L-UeHjaQPfw/s1600/pop+pop+96+002.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023010959122402" 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/AVvXsEgsd4yOa5oVc9zeWgB2ZkskNbdpm_IK2MyzJAKl5SiPcm69fIRjYyQ1sbu9jeXEoRvuh9LNNn9Wi6NSHJUm0NU4SEjHcEnUzrZHGoCn9m7ff5QQebcCfjzhWFG9ds5L-UeHjaQPfw/s400/pop+pop+96+002.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pop Pop is 96 today!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2V_H6zrZH_4HsH_Kztb1KX-QbR7-FrAbfaX7yz5hLCtvzY6V6uk1-ycf06uPKHRlSyie5YkdxdNQYlobz0sUzNnlurjGYUc3g0J4G5ClmAJy19y_ngwWgw_U3qL93KZPaW2RXuA/s1600/pop+pop+96+005.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465024653323880850" 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/AVvXsEg2V_H6zrZH_4HsH_Kztb1KX-QbR7-FrAbfaX7yz5hLCtvzY6V6uk1-ycf06uPKHRlSyie5YkdxdNQYlobz0sUzNnlurjGYUc3g0J4G5ClmAJy19y_ngwWgw_U3qL93KZPaW2RXuA/s400/pop+pop+96+005.jpg" border="0" /></a>Still likes presents.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQY7m7UyRcHDVGjlWozHoTn9vgPrwN6ZaPzpVHYSq6lqSugbAXcE9yhPIxljdcZtLqXLNFhhC1w7RKbes0EpGpPWzagjyEeN9w7PauWZ4ajGGMSQl-VEqTpitLu1oCD-d3w44j-Q/s1600/poppop96001-1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023007976104962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 373px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQY7m7UyRcHDVGjlWozHoTn9vgPrwN6ZaPzpVHYSq6lqSugbAXcE9yhPIxljdcZtLqXLNFhhC1w7RKbes0EpGpPWzagjyEeN9w7PauWZ4ajGGMSQl-VEqTpitLu1oCD-d3w44j-Q/s400/poppop96001-1.jpg" border="0" /></a> Sean got him a fedora to replace the one Pop Pop gave him.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8NQVjMTcGn4GOsnyV8vQPm5zkNJemNkSBRgh4h7TfgN5E8qwpuMaao9i-sc7q-b2xzqR8Wy7a6dgjCjMGJzws0Fv9I5J1JwcMugO2fwNKYg9Gx_wJ3uA9XkK3UE2nLz2DUOxDg/s1600/pop+pop+96+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023029685149426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR8NQVjMTcGn4GOsnyV8vQPm5zkNJemNkSBRgh4h7TfgN5E8qwpuMaao9i-sc7q-b2xzqR8Wy7a6dgjCjMGJzws0Fv9I5J1JwcMugO2fwNKYg9Gx_wJ3uA9XkK3UE2nLz2DUOxDg/s400/pop+pop+96+007.jpg" border="0" /></a>Auntie Joyce loved her day with Sean and vice versa.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_w0szan5Xxqs7Z23Hv9Y9d0no6J4M55UEcM0mlgBG2HnhnCHDzzNrwmiQmcxcyPhit9FacF3u-7prfvJK_RtUbcfQNqXtvpXm_1jridmT8NUXE237nB5KSIl4Ib3jOnTfhFX9aA/s1600/pop+pop+96+008.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023903054066834" 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/AVvXsEh_w0szan5Xxqs7Z23Hv9Y9d0no6J4M55UEcM0mlgBG2HnhnCHDzzNrwmiQmcxcyPhit9FacF3u-7prfvJK_RtUbcfQNqXtvpXm_1jridmT8NUXE237nB5KSIl4Ib3jOnTfhFX9aA/s400/pop+pop+96+008.jpg" border="0" /></a>Sean decided to try and break his garden lap record.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgetgf0Wmil5Z_e-z88H7p4QZbtb7hk7ce2TJVZPa5hiWrhWFfPqMzreaOaRyJnEgCDYI944Z0iwmhHwHyTvjCzWtkH9xcPp-cQqG9PkpWxjuxFZW7zarkpZUAVRbl7T6VkaSqqdg/s1600/pop+pop+96+010.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023896167976130" 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/AVvXsEgetgf0Wmil5Z_e-z88H7p4QZbtb7hk7ce2TJVZPa5hiWrhWFfPqMzreaOaRyJnEgCDYI944Z0iwmhHwHyTvjCzWtkH9xcPp-cQqG9PkpWxjuxFZW7zarkpZUAVRbl7T6VkaSqqdg/s400/pop+pop+96+010.jpg" border="0" /></a>My cuz John Tuz cheered him on. He remembers fun in the garden too.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJti4E9J345w6HJ0eRuIg8674BfCJuG5sopyWrfKYN-iPQRr0WLfJ1730HXmOga5AUn_vRr9C2eeOKev8Tt_JbJVNq_2xWD2ueXwmgyrthNMFEFZik-vs0irmmf-4ka6HdMjwM3w/s1600/pop+pop+96+011.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023888519369858" 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/AVvXsEhJti4E9J345w6HJ0eRuIg8674BfCJuG5sopyWrfKYN-iPQRr0WLfJ1730HXmOga5AUn_vRr9C2eeOKev8Tt_JbJVNq_2xWD2ueXwmgyrthNMFEFZik-vs0irmmf-4ka6HdMjwM3w/s400/pop+pop+96+011.jpg" border="0" /></a> My kids have more freedom in the garden than we did since...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ7S6JOCuZIOcZflvU5MMDV9lAr3tNrscT5jm43KDAMt0PFKEjBT5vqMQKysi56o7DBqqFRBN8wIlTVpd9-DIbTRkPt3btoISpiFktxk-sPZ7Yk1NurSl9MhWLcb1fbax0e1Q_zQ/s1600/pop+pop+96+012.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023880044798146" 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/AVvXsEhJ7S6JOCuZIOcZflvU5MMDV9lAr3tNrscT5jm43KDAMt0PFKEjBT5vqMQKysi56o7DBqqFRBN8wIlTVpd9-DIbTRkPt3btoISpiFktxk-sPZ7Yk1NurSl9MhWLcb1fbax0e1Q_zQ/s400/pop+pop+96+012.jpg" border="0" /></a> Pop Pop quit gardening a few years back due to the fact that ...<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxke4IjgrihwA9TJDJ5FRENDfFHulPzEhMxgBIT4b_74HgWO5SKeJEVSFAV4ydgWmqO3atlvhTYxllhw95Bcfi6c6JLOMR8f5_hlZkPfzpwEljfE4hx1U0Ws072DP_FqL3c_xEQ/s1600/pop+pop+96+013.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023867231429890" 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/AVvXsEgUxke4IjgrihwA9TJDJ5FRENDfFHulPzEhMxgBIT4b_74HgWO5SKeJEVSFAV4ydgWmqO3atlvhTYxllhw95Bcfi6c6JLOMR8f5_hlZkPfzpwEljfE4hx1U0Ws072DP_FqL3c_xEQ/s400/pop+pop+96+013.jpg" border="0" /></a>he'd been doing it for 85 years by then.</div><div align="center">Ever done anything for 85 years straight?</div><div align="center">He plowed with a horse when he was about 8, his dad was a career farmer.<br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLBQd3Qjh7Z0PYBPUm-tJGsuW1IB89bo3omcfChfpiLZvHWSRO6_C3mrmhaChuAv3fn-Oe2PQtWlGBNAPMhLHaYN_2vjEf_634cv9FsafhdLE2z5xyaSSrlPThiPq-lOgNVQxGQ/s1600/pop+pop+96+015.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465024641717481250" 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/AVvXsEicLBQd3Qjh7Z0PYBPUm-tJGsuW1IB89bo3omcfChfpiLZvHWSRO6_C3mrmhaChuAv3fn-Oe2PQtWlGBNAPMhLHaYN_2vjEf_634cv9FsafhdLE2z5xyaSSrlPThiPq-lOgNVQxGQ/s400/pop+pop+96+015.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Then Sean challenged John to a race to the house ...<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPc9RVujfwB_65s7PyU6ac4MXfyLeHbOH55fwX_sOu5c_Ash7tvDQUDncKZZdOVxUfHZHsd_UZ1OCE0Cwsx70sEBZxgE7S_GNF4m7AH18S4qPxDba7Jpgfvc3ZLWlvbOoXauiOrw/s1600/pop+pop+96+016.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465024629804041234" 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/AVvXsEhPc9RVujfwB_65s7PyU6ac4MXfyLeHbOH55fwX_sOu5c_Ash7tvDQUDncKZZdOVxUfHZHsd_UZ1OCE0Cwsx70sEBZxgE7S_GNF4m7AH18S4qPxDba7Jpgfvc3ZLWlvbOoXauiOrw/s400/pop+pop+96+016.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>"and back," he added after John had agreed.<br /><br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4MtpsEVKgXJ23-032OrxhyXXMMk6ZSmAleFkV6HuU6IMjl8llRqzx3yYBxeYIhoEqZTuyd9C-cOb2WglRLdr4P9HdY6yjXyWeMvEMqTJkiM3fPfIGX72jpifopCuI4Q72AU4y2g/s1600/pop+pop+96+017.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465024622825163538" 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/AVvXsEh4MtpsEVKgXJ23-032OrxhyXXMMk6ZSmAleFkV6HuU6IMjl8llRqzx3yYBxeYIhoEqZTuyd9C-cOb2WglRLdr4P9HdY6yjXyWeMvEMqTJkiM3fPfIGX72jpifopCuI4Q72AU4y2g/s400/pop+pop+96+017.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDyC7BTKCHMaC8HGmCg9uUoNNY4e15Fj_dstlVZOAQ8M8sylW9ISGmVvrKEIc9BN-PaPairl5TWg0d5s9Uoad1J0m-h1ROXvWHnO65GT98PlE0OdOzvDGT4OhNUmF8Q23UWbwsgA/s1600/pop+pop+96+018.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465024615093088690" 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/AVvXsEhDyC7BTKCHMaC8HGmCg9uUoNNY4e15Fj_dstlVZOAQ8M8sylW9ISGmVvrKEIc9BN-PaPairl5TWg0d5s9Uoad1J0m-h1ROXvWHnO65GT98PlE0OdOzvDGT4OhNUmF8Q23UWbwsgA/s400/pop+pop+96+018.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Nothing like running in Pop Pop's garden.<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyuB2oL0v8uCo8Qv-rUYJyaEnBytviU4SQVgJ7lRhCq7SDz65Wi2YZpTI3iEUzyy-CH82iSSchdT9wxs4iDp6vEXXks04-1m7JDds3kAdFe-ysVy0uolbj1pRtdsMYcYd1sRTO3g/s1600/pop+pop+96+019.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023026200774066" 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/AVvXsEjyuB2oL0v8uCo8Qv-rUYJyaEnBytviU4SQVgJ7lRhCq7SDz65Wi2YZpTI3iEUzyy-CH82iSSchdT9wxs4iDp6vEXXks04-1m7JDds3kAdFe-ysVy0uolbj1pRtdsMYcYd1sRTO3g/s400/pop+pop+96+019.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Or climbing that tree over and over.<br /><br /></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiab7aA_4oNeEnc_a5pMuxYL5oP6IH6ezW9dvP3HWK9lPe-arcNGrd2mdtJF-oGkjbEPWJTWjvK0dsXxjV6fR_bdzR909s_F4fjb6UX-dfWIO4Sr8E0zI3KpyfH0X5-DFCkShZGQ/s1600/pop+pop+96+020.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465023015961306898" 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/AVvXsEiiab7aA_4oNeEnc_a5pMuxYL5oP6IH6ezW9dvP3HWK9lPe-arcNGrd2mdtJF-oGkjbEPWJTWjvK0dsXxjV6fR_bdzR909s_F4fjb6UX-dfWIO4Sr8E0zI3KpyfH0X5-DFCkShZGQ/s400/pop+pop+96+020.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>More birthday wishes for Pop Pop from his sister. </p><p align="center">"You comin' down?" </p><div align="center">"No, I'm not coming down, I'm calling you!"</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">I mean, how many birthdays is she responsible to celebrate with this guy?</div><div align="center">Their dad lived to 101. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-62869817335164337242010-04-26T06:49:00.000-07:002010-04-26T12:49:31.856-07:00The Incredible Shrinking Everything<span style="font-size:130%;">Have you noticed that boxes and packages of everything are shrinking? I've been buying <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">megapacks</span> of tissues at Sam's for the last decade or so and I know what a tissue box feels like. A few weeks ago while unpacking them into my closet in the basement my hand sensors starting beeping: <em>smaller! - smaller! - smaller! </em>And sure enough they were smaller boxes than the ones I had from before.<br /><br />Also cereal boxes. I remember <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">gigantor</span> boxes of cereal from my youth that towered above my little head at the breakfast table. Perhaps that was wasteful, I am not the one to judge whether buying one big box of cereal or two smaller boxes is more environmentally sound. All I know is, seriously, I poured some Honey Bunches of Oats out of a box so narrow my hand experienced confusion holding it AND THEN the box, which had become a little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wapper</span>-jawed after one single use, couldn't stand alone on my counter! I had to lean it up against a thawing turkey breast! I guess they're trying to make cardboard thinner, use fewer trees. I get it. Maybe we need to redesign the box so that it will stand on its own though.<br /><br />Another thing I find fascinating: Tuna cans!? Have you noticed that they are just a hint of what they used to be? A can of tuna used to make just over two sandwiches, to my memory. I ate a lot of tuna in my day as did my first child - he ate it by the handful at his highchair. My third child really likes tuna for his lunch as well, so we go through many cans and they are NOT - I repeat - NOT the same number of ounces as they used to be. The cans can be used as tiddly winks! The current can of tuna (which by the way I purchase at Trader Joe's because their tuna has no soy additives in it...why does tuna need soy additives, I ask?) makes one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Seany</span> sandwich and a little leftover for a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Seany</span> snack eaten straight from the bowl sometime around dinner time when his rail thin body can't take it another minute. And that's it! One sandwich plus a small remainder of lonely tuna and mayo covered by some plastic wrap in the corner of the fridge.<br /><br />Milk gallon lids? Have you noticed that? My milk lids are a plastic top, not a screw on but a little snap on lid with a narrow lip around the top that allows you to get a grip to pop it off and pour it all over your cereal as you precariously try to upright the box which is lamely falling over onto your thawing turkey. This lid lip used to work like a charm but nowadays in 2010 the lip has become flimsy and it just BENDS UP when you try to push it! <em>What good is that, yo?</em> And oh my gosh, have you tried to screw off the cap of certain water bottles?! (I know, it's a sin to use them and I'm sorry but occasionally I do.) The caps are so narrow now it's like a party trick just to get them off and now the plastic of the bottle itself is so thin, when you grab it to remove the lid, the bottle collapses! Which is good, I suppose because of the ridiculous waste of it all. Speaking of party tricks, have I ever told you that I can remove a twist off beer bottle cap (or root beer bottle cap, it doesn't have to be beer, as a matter of fact I don't even like beer especially none that would have a twist off cap) using only the skin on my forearm? Anyway, if Sean takes one of those bottles to school for lunch I have to open it first at home before he leaves, otherwise he can't manage it. Crazy. Times are a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">changin</span>'.<br /><br /><em>Why back in my day a body could get a cap off a bottle</em>.<br /><br />On the other hand, have you noticed how easy it is to get into a package of Oreo cookies? There's a resealable flap on top, you don't even have to exert one <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">modicum</span> of pressure. You just lift, grab two, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">restick</span>. Lift, grab three, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">restick</span>. Lift, grab two - er three, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">restick</span>. Lift, just one more, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">restick</span>. Lift, I hate myself, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">restick</span>. Lift, how did I get back in the kitchen?, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">restick</span>. Lift......</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-56488536697065538712010-04-22T05:28:00.000-07:002010-04-22T05:29:39.195-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB91bk-jPMFgy4Fs_Wq0Qoio9fxNVJKytrFocSgv4MA_x5FGZxscfX5KLfqsnZwRHxbiArFPE4jO1vZaxP0FSqrvLk983tip6Ae6BSVJLvO0L_DQJjZ9ICjKTKBXAe5AvCQdYnJw/s1600/rocks+007.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462937966006121714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB91bk-jPMFgy4Fs_Wq0Qoio9fxNVJKytrFocSgv4MA_x5FGZxscfX5KLfqsnZwRHxbiArFPE4jO1vZaxP0FSqrvLk983tip6Ae6BSVJLvO0L_DQJjZ9ICjKTKBXAe5AvCQdYnJw/s400/rocks+007.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-40832741060484980202010-04-20T00:05:00.000-07:002010-04-21T05:59:52.310-07:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJmPWvUmWp0BCfN4Geu7sY2Y2g3SS7pv6SbdB2UK2pZgOzABUxwHkxrdzN8mx2YwblB2bMLifkA0S1F5xB9LIeaUwWXvrsqQ4a5CC5qRSRkmYQZlXnZHL1hCYMkB1rA4CnE3fdg/s1600/rocks+015.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461183359950249410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRJmPWvUmWp0BCfN4Geu7sY2Y2g3SS7pv6SbdB2UK2pZgOzABUxwHkxrdzN8mx2YwblB2bMLifkA0S1F5xB9LIeaUwWXvrsqQ4a5CC5qRSRkmYQZlXnZHL1hCYMkB1rA4CnE3fdg/s400/rocks+015.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">A deer ran by my house the other day. Down the street before my eyes, a wild, unexpected streak of life loped through suburbia. I saw her from my kitchen window and screamed, "A deer! In the street!" My 13 year old spun around and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">leaped</span> to the window. My oldest son ran up the driveway from the backyard after only having heard me scream <em>"...STREET!" </em>assuming someone had been hurt. The deer turned left at the corner, bounced into my neighbor's yard and disappeared from view.<br /><br />For quite a long while afterward police cars were meandering through the streets, people ran down the street craning their necks over fences, two girls rode up on bikes asking Luke, who by then had <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">perched</span> himself on the front porch, to come along with them to search for it. I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">texted</span>. My friend in South Carolina was alerted to the splash of activity in her hometown. My sister replied to my text from work in Philadelphia, "Aw! How fast was it going?!" A friend stopped by and I met him on the front porch, pointing over his shoulder, "You just missed a deer running down the street!"<br /><br />I don't know why, the thing gave me hope. It surely wasn't the strangest or most unlikely thing to happen in our town, but it was colorful, out of the blue, rare, unforeseen. I guess when life becomes routine, or worse, and things just seem to roll on like flipping the same old page of the same old bedtime story...or when you are waiting for something to happen that seems impossible or at least unlikely and it seems there will never be a change, something like a deer running down the street in a town where you only see birds, squirrels and stink bugs can make anything seem possible for a moment.<br /><br />That's what I was left with, the feeling that God is just above and we mustn't forget that absolutely anything is possible with Him. And sometimes He does the impossible before our eyes, not to solve our problems or entertain, but maybe to remind us that He Is The One. And we <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">aren't</span> - I mean, sometimes I tend to think everything rests on my shoulders and I have to be this or that or do this or that and that will magically be the key to prompting God to answer me (in the way that I'd prefer) or move in a situation (in a way that I'd prefer). But it brings such peace to know that, without the Holy Spirit prompting me in the direction I should go, no amount of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">finagling</span> on my part is worth a nickel. God knows and I don't. It may be that He moves when I am stymied or perhaps He doesn't move when I am wrestling. I don't know why.<br /><br />One thing that has stuck in my memory is the old man sitting on the gym floor after Katrina. He had a cross and one or two other possessions. The reporter asked him what he was going to do and he said something like, "God doesn't always come when you ask Him, but He's always right on time." The memory of a deer running down my avenue one afternoon will likely be deposited in the same file: "...and you just might be surprised."</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-15625458120121674742010-04-17T14:50:00.000-07:002010-04-17T16:17:22.529-07:00Seth Found a Birdie on the Back Steps<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hgLpWs3auuDDvQglLdSXixxkMfX2DOJTccsbg7nMNWs6vmP45ZRyex0EIlgH95NWNlVRhOfDqO5uhdZVyNZsnPoLSvA0YVvv2_PAwLzW79epTyuuXktcvosH_YQNywsUN65Rmw/s1600/rocks+020.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461227733460808418" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_hgLpWs3auuDDvQglLdSXixxkMfX2DOJTccsbg7nMNWs6vmP45ZRyex0EIlgH95NWNlVRhOfDqO5uhdZVyNZsnPoLSvA0YVvv2_PAwLzW79epTyuuXktcvosH_YQNywsUN65Rmw/s400/rocks+020.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8CET4t4TVA8KE1GJjuWUn-ZlTW1E5k4QeW9930jJaSYRky_nSHgRxvczIg5zxVCLGk8UsGPVAaUr4sV2LF8MLZRfnx3pJceTJUyhDdQ3dY9ik1azyK-PUAqxKdtekHmesvwfgw/s1600/rocks+028.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461227549554039330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq8CET4t4TVA8KE1GJjuWUn-ZlTW1E5k4QeW9930jJaSYRky_nSHgRxvczIg5zxVCLGk8UsGPVAaUr4sV2LF8MLZRfnx3pJceTJUyhDdQ3dY9ik1azyK-PUAqxKdtekHmesvwfgw/s400/rocks+028.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORfPPcdGZnH3w7kLU_JEo21-2w5ksO8n_k2V3zjjqTrksqhAyT7GbIc7j5xbkz3yKSlfcvvVFNxw4FIpGGZWA9zAFiHj1YTTeEQ5wr0wEaGyhfWCGC_v1vhnw7KZbXCeq4vv51g/s1600/rocks+021.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461227543282854034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgORfPPcdGZnH3w7kLU_JEo21-2w5ksO8n_k2V3zjjqTrksqhAyT7GbIc7j5xbkz3yKSlfcvvVFNxw4FIpGGZWA9zAFiHj1YTTeEQ5wr0wEaGyhfWCGC_v1vhnw7KZbXCeq4vv51g/s400/rocks+021.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJf7vTe7RFaoJ4a25Td_kYIV3baX5PvE7LEzQxPa2Yq2gzpMcQ2Om30ryULQkLC5MjDmzA9C4bwyVgq0YbhIabhdMvjn8__fvp7EBN0fEySPZay_dLSqN2sT1YRaH3a_UNwE6TPQ/s1600/rocks+029.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461228065947615970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJf7vTe7RFaoJ4a25Td_kYIV3baX5PvE7LEzQxPa2Yq2gzpMcQ2Om30ryULQkLC5MjDmzA9C4bwyVgq0YbhIabhdMvjn8__fvp7EBN0fEySPZay_dLSqN2sT1YRaH3a_UNwE6TPQ/s400/rocks+029.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpYNUESKndsiK8lTwGp6ItBtWcys4Rk3Cq6rXymoaCrqFPwhkNE6VN9mdQdOQKy0Xjfo6u5cs5pdKwXDD05r3L_0qA10btdJEg3FnavR-QBoyxk0njpUJcwhS58BddDauuHvDIQ/s1600/rocks+023.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461227526172728290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXpYNUESKndsiK8lTwGp6ItBtWcys4Rk3Cq6rXymoaCrqFPwhkNE6VN9mdQdOQKy0Xjfo6u5cs5pdKwXDD05r3L_0qA10btdJEg3FnavR-QBoyxk0njpUJcwhS58BddDauuHvDIQ/s400/rocks+023.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizdUh1OZE8o3rpiRxHTu4akIUhvxAqaJ4_Cn0wTrNoBuTgtUNZlwVer6nUOwBVGnTQmQL5TMhIuiw8YFWFB3u7bKx0wStYnJuO6z3VXtMW1E-ede0EmML-yjVKvsxOCKWY0p2kQ/s1600/rocks+027.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461228057635651906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjizdUh1OZE8o3rpiRxHTu4akIUhvxAqaJ4_Cn0wTrNoBuTgtUNZlwVer6nUOwBVGnTQmQL5TMhIuiw8YFWFB3u7bKx0wStYnJuO6z3VXtMW1E-ede0EmML-yjVKvsxOCKWY0p2kQ/s400/rocks+027.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xfip7wydH3f9048xn1bFCz03XQIUW483pU-jzTmYdjOYO7ojORyMxPghldGZM5ziNdf6urOlb7frhENb5-uwYmnNfba4Bb7-FqSmE6Q9o2fnmIwR_gZO6cSeuCPHGW7W2Qrnuw/s1600/rocks+025.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461227521875219666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1xfip7wydH3f9048xn1bFCz03XQIUW483pU-jzTmYdjOYO7ojORyMxPghldGZM5ziNdf6urOlb7frhENb5-uwYmnNfba4Bb7-FqSmE6Q9o2fnmIwR_gZO6cSeuCPHGW7W2Qrnuw/s400/rocks+025.jpg" /></a><br />Mom, what are we gonna do with this bird? I don't wanna leave it alone out there in the cold.<br />Well, where is it now?<br />On the front porch...in a pillow fort.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdzmXahjqtSeeOT3dk5JEq4w_UleB_eP7a9acjJT4WBYuns8wD3kRzN1StbI0jQUlyGGHTILYOJwCLVGb2oGXdAFRlDGLpMfj-xHtKqONf6w693gBpvw6311ycZs98nGl98X8-w/s1600/rocks.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461229373768665314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdzmXahjqtSeeOT3dk5JEq4w_UleB_eP7a9acjJT4WBYuns8wD3kRzN1StbI0jQUlyGGHTILYOJwCLVGb2oGXdAFRlDGLpMfj-xHtKqONf6w693gBpvw6311ycZs98nGl98X8-w/s400/rocks.jpg" /></a><br /><em>"Doc" (morning dove...MD...) is now in a shoe box cruising the town in an <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">suv</span> with four teenage boys</em>.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22087406.post-23745141817472854292010-04-16T13:43:00.000-07:002010-04-16T14:48:38.976-07:00What Is On Your Kitchen Table?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLUecpGZQgrlV1j3V5eGRK2uN2LElgWOdHhzsCErH-CYV0qf3Il8PLkopfpdrsHzEb84cTnSRHZz6vuLuwVhm85B14UkojQeDa27LPwYcUTgPATfAvZfsW8eP9NRNZ-j_Wzv-cqw/s1600/Scan1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5460846695450806626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 354px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLUecpGZQgrlV1j3V5eGRK2uN2LElgWOdHhzsCErH-CYV0qf3Il8PLkopfpdrsHzEb84cTnSRHZz6vuLuwVhm85B14UkojQeDa27LPwYcUTgPATfAvZfsW8eP9NRNZ-j_Wzv-cqw/s400/Scan1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />I just looked at mine and was momentarily transfixed.<br /><br />1 pineapple<br /><br />2 avocadoes<br /><br />3 beets + greens<br /><br />a Chuck E Cheese "Extreme member card"<br /><br />Anne Rice's <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Called-Out-Darkness-Spiritual-Confession/dp/0307388484/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271452803&sr=1-1#noop">Called Out of Darkness</a><br /><br />Large glass jar of dog treats<br /><br />stackable melamine bowls <a href="http://www1.bloomingdales.com/catalog/product/index.ognc?ID=127556&CategoryID=8196&PageID=8152*3*96*-1*-1*4&PartnerID=LINKSHARE&LinkshareID=mH0jcSTu4.0-6FddjtI57DSq7007fkjegg">(these)</a><br /><br />handmade name tag<br /><br />2 report cards (all very good except one little box marked with a "minus" for talking too much. See photo of the Extreme member card above.)<br /><br />birthday card, signed, never sent<br /><br />a black rubber bracelet<br /><br />Clean Cotton" Yankee candle room spray<br /><br />pottery chip and dip bowl<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/customer-media/product-gallery/B0009PLWHG/ref=cm_ciu_pdp_images_0?ie=UTF8&index=0">chicken roaster</a><br /><br />a group of red paper shapes (triangles, squares and that one shape that looks like a rectangle that somebody sat on)<br /><br />a folded up piece paper with Bible verses about addiction<br /><br />a vegetarian cookbook <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vegetarian-Cooking-Everyone-Deborah-Madison/dp/0767927478/ref=sr_1_35?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271452745&sr=8-35">(this one)</a><br /><br />blue tortilla chips<br /><br />a cycling catalog (no one here cycles)<br /><br />Anything interesting on yours?<br />Please don't reply something like <em>a clean white pressed tablecloth and a crystal vase of tulips</em>. Oh heck, go ahead, but do leave a picture so I can enjoy it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3