tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-282606072024-03-07T01:25:32.620-06:00Him My Soul LovesAprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.comBlogger42125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-36235218660691598262010-01-12T13:22:00.004-06:002010-01-12T13:27:21.646-06:00MovingI'm moving my blog. I will probably keep up with this one for awhile longer but not forever. Come visit me at <a href="http://aprilshouse.wordpress.com">April's House.</a>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-70845787298406462022009-12-03T13:38:00.003-06:002009-12-03T13:44:24.020-06:00For Those Who Need A New Beginning<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPQUy2XESj3-TBOYzyXk3Ra011v4Grn8Z7HetbtsP62v33ufTJcPflFpOhh5voBL1J7NeM0RC1TZGFoglqQU1eRCOyNJ_ECEdEZYZcNj6nw86AHmMjquTC93pqU3CI3aEaFH8EQ/s1600-h/Scrooge+reformed.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 199px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPQUy2XESj3-TBOYzyXk3Ra011v4Grn8Z7HetbtsP62v33ufTJcPflFpOhh5voBL1J7NeM0RC1TZGFoglqQU1eRCOyNJ_ECEdEZYZcNj6nw86AHmMjquTC93pqU3CI3aEaFH8EQ/s320/Scrooge+reformed.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411097009109320674" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 15px; font-family:Georgia, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;font-size:13px;"><div style="line-height: 1.22em; "><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">"I'm Alive! I'm Alive! I've got a chance to change and I will not be the man I was.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div></div><div style="line-height: 1.22em; "> </div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I'll begin again; I will build my life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I will live to know that I fulfilled my life.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I will begin today, throw away the past and the future</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I will build something that will last.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.22em; "> </div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I will take the time I have left to live,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">and I will give it all that i have left to give.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I will live my days for my fellow men,</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">And I'll live in praise of that moment when, I was able to begin again!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.22em; "> </div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I will start anew: I will make amends</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">And I will make quite certain that the story ends</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">On a note of hope, on a strong "AMEN", </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">and I'll thank the Lord and remember when</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">I was able to begin again!"</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, helvetica, clean, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.22em; "> </div><div style="text-align: center;line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 1.22em; "><b style="line-height: 1.22em; "><i style="line-height: 1.22em; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Scrooge</span></i></b></span></span></div></span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-52517453489733111982009-12-03T12:18:00.003-06:002009-12-03T12:50:16.890-06:00When Leaders Disappoint Us<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDsthA4k183lli2AwNShy-7vs5co1qCdCC_FWYa0T3NGWRNKPti92s2auZy2YyfLePDAVIyyK1p7gE1vbA4ElNovrgX4g9Bb0VkLdXG6IQhe21P81417JEfGGvXa6VfyyDJ8XTA/s1600-h/David.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 264px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyDsthA4k183lli2AwNShy-7vs5co1qCdCC_FWYa0T3NGWRNKPti92s2auZy2YyfLePDAVIyyK1p7gE1vbA4ElNovrgX4g9Bb0VkLdXG6IQhe21P81417JEfGGvXa6VfyyDJ8XTA/s320/David.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5411083469433101826" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;">This morning I started laughing when I read 1 Samuel 16:1. The Lord says to Samuel <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:14px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"How long will you mourn for Saul when I have rejected him as King? Fill your horn with oil and be </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">on your way." </span></i></span></span> I laughed because I could almost see God impatiently rolling his eyes at Samuel's pity party and saying "Come on man, get over it - we've got work to do!" </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;">I can just see Samuel slumped in the corner, depressed because of Saul's sin, replaying over and over in his mind the events of the day Samuel heard God say "This is the man that will govern My people." </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Helvetica, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:Helvetica;font-size:medium;">Samuel was there when Saul was a nobody - Saul even admitted he was a nobody and God made him King. He gave Saul every blessing and every opportunity and every tool to be a successful leader. He even said " <span class="Apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"The Spirit of the Lord will come upon you in power...and you will be changed into a different person...once this happens, do whatever your hand finds to do, for God is with you."</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> It'</span>s a blank check from God. How could Saul possibly screw this up? <div><br /></div><div>I'm sure Samuel's heart was full of hope as he along with everyone else anticipated the changes that handsome, strong and capable Saul would bring to Israel. Not anymore. Now his heart knew what his mind refused to accept - Saul failed. He disobeyed God and God removed his favor and chose another leader - "a man after His own heart." I wonder how long Samuel sat in that state of depression before God finally interrupted his pity party and said "Snap out of it!"? <div><div><br /></div><div>It's a great comfort to me to believe that God never gives up on me, that He is long-suffering and that because of His great love, I will never be rejected. Yet, here I see a mystery that I can't wrap my mind around. God doesn't waste any time mourning Saul. God is so comfortable with our free will. He knew the exact moment Saul's heart turned from away from Him, the exact moment that Saul turned his back on his job.</div><div><br /></div><div>How can God have so much peace when someone rejects Him? How can God partner with someone, lay it all on the line for that person and then be so secure when it doesn't work out? I am so like Samuel in this. I get hung up in the shoulda, woulda, coulda of the relationships in life that haven't gone the way I hoped. My heart strings and expectations get wrapped up in a person and when they rejected me, I fall apart, I get angry, I micro-analyze every aspect of the events leading up to it and I just want to know why. Surely if I know why we can work it out and salvage the relationship. I have no peace in rejection and failure so I can't understand how God who is love can just say "OK, I respect your decision, goodbye now".</div><div><br /></div><div>In Saul's case God partnered with him for a specific purpose - the leadership of His people. God is a good Father. He protects his children. As a parent, it is easy to understand why God would put the needs of His children above the position of a single individual. I can see that a good father would only want to entrust someone with "a heart like His" to a position of protection and leadership over His children. And I can see why God would remove that person when His children's safety is on the line. David understood too. He said,<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"The scepter of the wicked will not remain over the land allotted to the righteous for then the righteous might use their hands to do evil."</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> P</span>salm 125:3 David understood that somehow in order for the righteous to stay on course and their activities to remain pure, they needed a righteous leader.</div><div><br /></div><div>It's a sobering thought to realize that while I will never be separated from God's love, I can be separated from my position. God called me to partner with Him for a purpose. He gave me a portion to rule over and all the tools to succeed. He expects increase and growth. Not only that, but I have a privilege and a responsibility to pursue and understand His heart. His favor will be removed if I reject my responsibilities and endanger those He's called me to serve and protect. He will not hesitate to take my portion and give it to someone else who does understand His heart and will be a good steward. Wow! </div><div><br /></div><div>It's comforting to realize that God my father is so committed to His children's care. It makes me rethink the way I pray for leadership - all leadership. To question whether or not I'm in mourning and angry for what should have been instead of getting on board with His plan for the next leader, the leader who has a heart like His and can help His people thrive. What an amazing King David was. How foolish in retrospect of Samuel to be crying for Saul when David was coming!! Lord give us a heart like Yours to steward what you have given us. Give us the courage to snap out of it when you remove one leader and get on board with your plan for the next leader. </div></div></div></span></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-65131929571729536692009-08-14T22:32:00.003-05:002009-08-14T22:34:41.613-05:00Sometimes Telling the Truth Makes People Not Believe You When You Say You Are NOT A Man...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_YQjer3PvkRmkqYHid5zlzCSiwnLPPibz5n3BIT5zPAoP6bJceawEzHFnAPiP_hqwIKY-pZ0Yy15x4O-GWZQAqHDHf-LV_lnyjvbxhBavixA-HSGzpjmyD7zVA93E5sJ9wUd9A/s1600-h/Dunn+Bros.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5_YQjer3PvkRmkqYHid5zlzCSiwnLPPibz5n3BIT5zPAoP6bJceawEzHFnAPiP_hqwIKY-pZ0Yy15x4O-GWZQAqHDHf-LV_lnyjvbxhBavixA-HSGzpjmyD7zVA93E5sJ9wUd9A/s320/Dunn+Bros.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370028590517739266" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Dunn Brother’s Coffee is a charming little coffee shop on Beltline road in Addison. In a city, well a country really, where Starbucks reigns supreme, Dunn Brothers is capturing the heart of it’s neighborhood. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">A cheerful coffee bean roasting machine greets you when you walk in the door. Dunn Brothers roasts all their coffee in house and it smells soooo good. Shiny wood floors are soft against the gushy, velvet sofas and giant arm chairs. Book clubs, game clubs and musicians alike love to hang out in their hospitable environment. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">This was the setting of one of those events you know you will never live down but hope that someday, sometime you can laugh at the memory instead of dying a little inside. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I was sitting on the purple, velvet sofa enjoy a cup of coffee with a group of friends from church. This was BC - Before Children when coffee was sipped not gulped and sofas were sat upon, not just collapsed upon. Back in the day it was common to find me enjoying friends and coffee in a sophisticated environment like Dunn Brothers.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">During the riveting conversation, the urge suddenly hit me and I excused myself to go to the restroom. As usual, the silent call of the female species had gone out and women were lined up at the women's room to answer. Men don’t hear such calls and therefore are not subject to bathroom lines. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I’ve always prided myself in being unconventional. That night I walked right past those women into the mens bathroom like I owned it. I laughed as I thought of all those poor women waiting in the hall and smiled at my own brilliance for beating the system.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Still smiling I swung the door open to leave and was startled to bump into a tall man waiting at the door. He was just as surprised to see me so I lightened the moment by cracking a joke. I looked up at him and quipped “I’m really a man.” He gave me a very peculiar look and walked past me without a word.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">Unfortunately, one of my greatest virtues and gravest flaws is my insoluble desire for absolute honesty. I am a horrible liar and cannot live with myself when I’m dishonest. So I did what any rational human being with a conscience would do. I stood outside the men’s bathroom door and waited. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">After a few minutes “Tall” walked out of the restroom. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I stopped him and said “Excuse me. I’m really NOT a man.” </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“What?” He stopped and looked down at me.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“I’m really not a man” I repeated. </span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“I have no idea what are you talking about?” said Tall.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">“Remember a moment ago when I came out of the bathroom and you were standing there? I said I was a man, but I’m really not a man, I’m really a woman.”</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">By this time bathroom guy was backing away with wide eyes.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I took a step towards him, eager for the understanding of what I was trying to tell him to sink in. The next thing I knew he was turning on his heel and making a b-line for his friends who had just settled in to enjoy a cup of coffee in what they no doubt hoped to be a crazy free zone. I saw him pointing at me and gesturing and suddenly they all got up and left. Left out the door. Like picked up their bags to get away from crazy woman left the coffee shop.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">I stood their blinking in disbelief. I wanted to run after them. To explain that I was not crazy I was simply ridiculously honest. After all isn’t that a quality to be admired? Even if they didn’t admire my honesty, at least they could believe that I was not a man posing as a woman trying to convince people that I was really a man. They saw me coming and drove away in their black jeep before I could even make sense of what had just happened.</span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px">In retrospect. I have never made sense of what happened. Who stands outside a restroom to convince a perfect stranger that the joke she told a few moments ago was a lie? And No I’ve never lived it down. My husband loves to drag this story out at parties like it’s some rare piece of art to be enjoyed by all. I’ve also never stopped blushing at the memory. I have however learned a valuable lesson. Some people do not appreciate honesty. In fact, if you are too honest, some people will not believe you at all when you tell them you are really not a man.</span></p>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-17579328225571525742009-07-29T23:49:00.005-05:002009-07-30T00:03:55.570-05:00Forbidden Love<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-eacawxlvXFd0Mwo0-rZZIn48ZXvw5v74kTPtZQgENiscJQEuireKUf2Z5KiP0DnqTV3bVHAByRT7DPXqRANhs14MFg5TKzxV37oq4FWrT3KgOYDyt0ugHICmL7VUoRgFR4bow/s1600-h/Chunky+Monkey.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 241px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-eacawxlvXFd0Mwo0-rZZIn48ZXvw5v74kTPtZQgENiscJQEuireKUf2Z5KiP0DnqTV3bVHAByRT7DPXqRANhs14MFg5TKzxV37oq4FWrT3KgOYDyt0ugHICmL7VUoRgFR4bow/s320/Chunky+Monkey.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364113563275713362" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;font-size:100%;color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg-eacawxlvXFd0Mwo0-rZZIn48ZXvw5v74kTPtZQgENiscJQEuireKUf2Z5KiP0DnqTV3bVHAByRT7DPXqRANhs14MFg5TKzxV37oq4FWrT3KgOYDyt0ugHICmL7VUoRgFR4bow/s1600-h/Chunky+Monkey.jpg"></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, -webkit-fantasy;color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I'm having an affair. It started out innocently enough, a smile here, a flirtatious glance there. Suddenly, I was daydreaming about them all the time. One day, my daydreaming wasn't enough. In a moment of weakness, I found myself in their arms.<br /></span></span> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They were consummate lovers. Sweet, passionate every woman wanted them but I had them. I lusted for them with every fiber of my being and they never disappointed. It was like they were made for me.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then we got sloppy. My husband began to be suspicious when every other night I was making excuses to be alone. Then one night, he found us together. Me and Ben&Jerry.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I made excuses. Said I was lonely. Said I had needs. Said I was more woman than one man could handle. To my amazement, my husband took it in stride. Said I was a fool to think I could succeed where so many women had failed before me. I ignored him. He didn’t understand. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A few months later I walked into Just Add Water. Our 10th anniversary was coming up and John booked a 5 star resort with a gorgeous view of the ocean. All I needed was a cute little bathing suit and everything would be perfect. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I picked up a few flirty numbers in the usual size and strolled over to the disgruntled fitting room woman. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Hello. I’d like a dressing room please.” The anorexic fitting room woman glared at me with her “You better not try any funny business” eyes while she counted each ensemble. What’s her problem? Finally and reluctantly she handed me a plastic number and grunted towards the dressing room door. Seriously, where do they find these people? </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But I’m in a grand mood, I’m on my way to Mexico and I quickly forgot all about her. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I picked my favorite - a sunny, yellow tankini with flirty white accents. I stepped into the bottoms and pulled up up - something was stuck. What the? I tugged at it again yanking harder this time as I turned toward the mirror. Just then, I heard a woman screaming. Not just any scream, a scream that would make Alfred Hitchcock go weak in the knees. I was so startled it took me a moment to realize that woman was me.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I looked away, braced myself against the dressing room walls, took a few deep breaths with my head between my knees and dug around in my purse for my inhaler. A knock at the door. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Ma-am, I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down in there. You are disturbing some of the other shoppers.” </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Yes. OK. Sorry. Something just startled me.”</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Right, yeah, we get that alot.” She said. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My mind was racing. What was happening to me? I know! Someone washed it in hot water. When they realized it shrunk, they returned it. Of course that’s what happened. How silly. So many dishonest people in the world. Tsk Tsk.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">OK, no problem, I’ll just try on a different suit. Careful not to catch my reflection, I slowly reached for a red, one piece. It had a gold, decorative buckle at the bust-line and cute horizontal slits coming up each side. It was the kind of suite Audrey Hepburn would wear with dark sun glasses and a big floppy hat. As I stepped into it, I smiled. I love Audrey, she’s so classy and beautiful. I could almost hear La Vie En Rose as I turned to the mirror. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There was the screaming again. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Not only had Audrey Hepburn let her self go, but someone had stuffed Pillsbury biscuits into each and every horizontal slit in that poor bathing suit.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Knock Knock. Ma-am?</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What the hell do you want? I yelled.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ma’am, I believe this is the bathing suit you are looking for.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What I can only describe as a black tennis dress made of military-grade lycra came flying over the door and hit me in the face.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The nerve of that woman! If I weren’t half naked, sobbing and collapsed on the floor I’d definitely be shoving Ding Dongs down her scrawny little size 4 throat!! .</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I called John. </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“It’s OVER!”</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“What’s over?” He asked</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“I’m breaking off my affair with Ben&Jerry!”</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“What happened?”</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“They betrayed me. Our whole relationship has been a series of love and betrayal, love and betrayal. Now Audrey Hepburn is fat and the ding dong lady wants me to wear a dress to the pool!” </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I slunk out of the dressing room with the black dress/suit, threw a wad of cash and a snickers at the anorexic shrew. Here’s hoping.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“I don’t know what to do.” I squeaked into the phone. “Why can’t I have a trendy eating disorder like everyone else?”</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica; min-height: 14.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"></span><br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Helvetica"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#660000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Oh honey.” John said the way he does when he feels very very sorry for me; Too sorry even to say “I told you so”. “Just come home my little chunky monkey. Come home.”</span></span></span></span></p></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-39640393314610538272009-07-04T03:39:00.004-05:002009-07-04T03:58:14.764-05:00Public Enemies Movie Review<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpq_ue7qeS2KsSOTI-fDRyu3Hwj-1ieo3D-jLA3awcm_Pm88nZztkkLX4cevqv47GcQEQ4l8_RsZWhmZ8o4KPEo2tLMc1-Y4GEYqnxY8wr1Tc3KMb7xlhFOtx50DverD_DqxHWQ/s1600-h/Depp_Dillinger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEpq_ue7qeS2KsSOTI-fDRyu3Hwj-1ieo3D-jLA3awcm_Pm88nZztkkLX4cevqv47GcQEQ4l8_RsZWhmZ8o4KPEo2tLMc1-Y4GEYqnxY8wr1Tc3KMb7xlhFOtx50DverD_DqxHWQ/s320/Depp_Dillinger.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5354523987542647074" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">I’m never happy when a movie glorifies a criminal, but I really enjoyed Public Enemies, the story of bank robber John Dillinger played by Johnny Depp. Of course in true Johnny Depp form, he rocked the part of Dillinger, causing the audience to fall instantly and madly in love with him. Even so, while I sympathized with his character, I never for a moment forgot that he was indeed a criminal.<br /><br />Depp portrays Dillinger as a man who lived by his own moral code. Fraught with contradiction he robbed banks, but didn’t take money from the pockets of the customers. He terrified bank employee’s, taking them hostage at gun point, yet offered a coat to a woman hostage who was cold. Above all, he hated the institution of government and felt entitled to steal government money.<br /><br />An interesting side story that runs throughout the movie is the foundation of the FBI. Up until this time, no government agency existed that had the power to cross state jurisdiction lines. Catching and prosecuting criminals was very difficult and the case is made for starting the FBI. Of course being from Texas, I was excited when they opted to invite highly trained specialists from Texas to join the force of “G-men” because none of the Chicago guys could cut it in the field. While historically interesting, I have to agree with my friend Stephanie who said the investigative police work in the movie is confusing. In fact, I would take it a step further and say it is almost non-existent. Throughout the entire movie the “G-men” just seem to show up on the scene. Where did they get their information? How did they know where to find him? What was the logical process and time line of the investigation? I still don’t know.<br /><br />Woven throughout the movie is the interaction of notable historical figures such as Baby Face Nelson, Pretty Boy Floyd and J. Edgar Hoover. I especially enjoyed the appearance of one of my favorite actors Giovanni Ribisi who played Alvin Karpis. It wasn’t a big part but it was such a grown up, mature role and Ribisi did a great job.<br /><br />If you will indulge me a moment, I would like to set aside the morality of the character and the man he represents and discuss what I felt to be a thought-provoking theme that ran throughout the movie. Hope. There is a touching scene when Dillinger takes his new girlfriend Billy to a very fancy restaurant for dinner. Everyone is staring at her and she comments to Dillinger “They aren’t used to seeing someone in here with a $3 dress.” To which Dillinger replies “That’s because they are all about where people come from instead of where they are going”. However misplaced, the most compelling part of Depp’s character was his ability to keep hope and optimism that a better day was waiting for him around the corner. There was a part of me that hoped he would find it. That hoped for a moment that he would make a good decision and leave the life of crime and run away to a new country and start a new life.<br /><br />Unfortunately his optimism and mis-placed belief that the public loved him was not enough to overcome Dillingers poor decisions, faulty logic and bad company. A life spent running and hiding was as good as it ever got and in the end he was betrayed by a friend.<br /><br />Don’t see this movie if you are looking for a modern day, blood and guts, action packed gangster movie. This isn’t it. Do see it if you enjoy the exploration of a character. This movie definitely has a softer side. That being said, there is still too much violence for me to recommend it for kids. </span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-13726453808667003472009-05-28T18:28:00.004-05:002009-05-28T18:38:28.960-05:00On Throwing Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNlKhyphenhyphenc1uFJAIFp61iR3m3W6O5IfxO2J4xjNnT3qskvpIAMlKmWTC5bK38RFZmnnDvqhP2cfqR2Wn_sOZm937p1xMAcGI2njmT4Xk1iG4l8wKdSSoaTo0wznfnAd6OsHYo79vvg/s1600-h/finger.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 292px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTNlKhyphenhyphenc1uFJAIFp61iR3m3W6O5IfxO2J4xjNnT3qskvpIAMlKmWTC5bK38RFZmnnDvqhP2cfqR2Wn_sOZm937p1xMAcGI2njmT4Xk1iG4l8wKdSSoaTo0wznfnAd6OsHYo79vvg/s320/finger.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5341023273048619794" /></a><br /><br />Savannah runs in yelling Loralei THREW UP!!<br />Loralei comes running in behind her with wide, hysterical eyes. <br />Me – Loralei, what happened?<br />Lo – I threw up! (Look of absolute SHOCK on her face)<br />Me – Are you OK? Do you feel sick? Did you eat something? <br />Lo – No, I didn’t eat anything.<br />Me – What happened? Why do you think you threw up?<br />Lo – I don’t know. I was watching cartoons and I just sticked my finger down in my throat like this… <br />She proceeds to open mouth widely and show me her finger going down her throat. At this point she begins to gag right over my desk. <br />Me – Stop that! That’s why you threw up! Sticking your finger down your throat makes you throw up!!! <br />Lo – OHHHHHAprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-49978225762625818982009-04-08T00:35:00.004-05:002009-04-08T07:55:58.995-05:00I am Miss Hannigan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNiBL_d1w-PQD0sGugxKJgNBBhbVbwoj-yF5FaBO2eSMIgEjfDKKBo1zk_3DDjcT0bgGVZDVSNTCYBWUtAwWSRgi7cTQXB0zbhzI9zNRXzRu2GKEEztu4Xh10b2pMD0KqQ7eBAg/s1600-h/Carol+Burnett+Miss+Hannigan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNNiBL_d1w-PQD0sGugxKJgNBBhbVbwoj-yF5FaBO2eSMIgEjfDKKBo1zk_3DDjcT0bgGVZDVSNTCYBWUtAwWSRgi7cTQXB0zbhzI9zNRXzRu2GKEEztu4Xh10b2pMD0KqQ7eBAg/s400/Carol+Burnett+Miss+Hannigan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322190234100753234" border="0" /></a>
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div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:SimSun; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“RUN SANDY RUN”!! We’ve all seen the terrifying scene in the Broadway musical Annie where Miss Hannigan threatens to send the orphans beloved yellow mutt to the sausage factory. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">As I write this, I am well aware that many who read this story will be completely horrified. Ironically, that knowledge makes me laugh even harder… <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It started a few months ago when, in a moment of desperation, we invited the “Dog Whisperer” to our home to consult with us about a few minor behavioral issues. He wasn’t actually “THE” dog whisperer, rather a church member purported by some to have an unusual connection with dogs. I’d never met the man myself, but he worked with the church youth group so his alleged animal connection couldn’t be too far off, right? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">From the moment he walked in the front door, the dogs sensed his authority. They obeyed, sat, stayed away from the front door when it opened, rolled over, made coffee and served it with a side of bread pudding that they whipped up in the kitchen even without the benefit of opposable thumbs. We were sold! The dog whisperer is a genius!!! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Unfortunately, the dog whisperer failed to recognize the dogs biggest problem – me and John. No consistency, no discipline, no follow through, and worst of all, we are way too soft. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">It took 2 years of cleaning shredded paper and toys off the floor before I was ready to take action.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"> </span><span style="font-size:85%;">Tonight, I finally had it. I marched Savannah’s mangled flip flop into the kitchen and slung it across the counter at John. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“I think it’s time to take action! I declared <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">His eyes widened “You don’t mean?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Oh YES I do!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The dog whisperer told us if we were ever to rid the dog of his horrible chewing habit it would require drastic measures. His explanation was logical – “Have you ever eaten something that made you really sick? You lose your appetite for that taste from then on. Dog’s are the same, if you can activate their gag reflex – they lose interest and don’t want to get near that taste again.” All you do is cut a piece of the offending item that is bigger than the dogs mouth so the dog cannot swallow it, then put it in the back of his mouth and tape his mouth closed around it. Let him go around this way for a little while until he cannot stand even the site of the offending item. Like I said, very logical!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“I’ll get the painters tape.” John said.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Standing in the kitchen with a large slice of pink flip flop and painters tape, we called the girls. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">“Now girls, we just want you to know that we are not going to hurt Tucker.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sav – “WHAT?? You are going to hurt Tucker?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “No, we are NOT going to hurt Tucker.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lo – “What are you doing with that tape?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sav – “Did you cut my flip flop?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lo – “Why did you cut Savannah’s flip flop?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “Girls, remember when the dog whisperer came a few months ago, well he told us that if we want Tucker to stop chewing things up, we had to do this.” We just want you to know that even if it looks bad, we are not going to hurt Tucker.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Children’s eyes wide, we call the dog.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Tucker!! – He immediately pees on the floor. Blasted dog!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John picks him up and when he sees the blue tape on the cabinet he pees on John.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">The girls are staring wide-eyed over the top of the Kitchen island.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">After several minutes of wrestling our 5 pound dog who suddenly has the strength of Samson, the endurance of Lance Armstrong and the defensive moves of Jason Bourn, we have managed a pathetic tape job which he removes before we can even set him on the floor.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Back up on the cabinet he goes. Round two:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “You hold the flip flop and I’ll tape this time.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John – “Whatever, it’s not as easy as it looks.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “You just aren’t doing it right.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Loralei – “Did you cut Savannah’s flip flop?”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John – “You taped his eye shut.”
<br />Me – “I can see that, just give me a second.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Savannah – “Are you sure you aren’t hurting him?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John through gritted teeth – “NO…we…aren’t…hurting…him”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “Got it!!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Down he goes again. This time he takes three steps before he pulls a Houdini and effortlessly flips it to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">At this point the children are convinced we are trying to kill the dog.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Back up on the cabinet he goes for round 3.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lo – “I don’t think this is working”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “Go clean your room”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sav – “I haven’t finished my homework”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John – “Maybe we need duct tape”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Me – “No, that will rip his fur out”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lo – “Why did you cut Savannah’s flip flop.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sav and Lo “You are hurting him!!!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John – “No, we aren’t, we are just trying to make him gag. See, he’s not crying or even whimpering.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">John – “He’ll never get out of this one.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Back down on the floor. He stumbles forward a few steps and then begins to Jackie Chan the flip flop hanging from his mouth. The orphans – I mean children – cheer wildly!!!! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Girls - “He’s getting it off!!! <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lo - “YEA TUCKER!!!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Sav - “He’s got no tape – NO TAPE!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Lo – “RUN AS FAST AS YOU CAN TUCKER!!! RUN RUN!!!!!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Suddenly I see very clearly. I am the evil villain in a Hallmark Christmas special that gets it at the end as the children and the dogs run free. I am Miss Hannigan. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">I laugh so hard I can’t breathe. My poor children. What will they say about this when they grow up??</span></span><o:p></o:p></p> Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-9104546169598641302009-03-24T22:41:00.010-05:002009-03-24T23:02:05.657-05:00On Elbows and Pinkies and Such<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuZxrhCF9fRaOZBvotFLv61p45M-eEyCUQb1GzzrJRKm2UlPP0k6iDNB7ARqYXJDvw1-2p457UyxH7rGFMaBnkXT3Dlat0QM8xSSsUHWTiQZAdygAe01SeH1pm8rlpLPIUTVu6A/s1600-h/sb10065225k-001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 281px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuZxrhCF9fRaOZBvotFLv61p45M-eEyCUQb1GzzrJRKm2UlPP0k6iDNB7ARqYXJDvw1-2p457UyxH7rGFMaBnkXT3Dlat0QM8xSSsUHWTiQZAdygAe01SeH1pm8rlpLPIUTVu6A/s320/sb10065225k-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316970520554943698" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);font-family:";font-size:130%;" ><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Loralei informed me that I was being "rude" because I had my elbows on the table at Ikea. I didn't know that elbows and pinkies and such were even to be considered while eating paper-wrapped ice creams at the plastic tables and chairs in Ikea. Apparently Miss Manners felt differently. I'm so proud of her for being aware of her manners. I will definitely try to rise to the occasion and be more conscious of my manners in public. I will admit however - at the end of the day the most important thing I want my girls to understand is the spirit of this elegant quote from Emily Post -</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-family: verdana;">"Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feelings of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter which fork you use.</span><span style="font-family:verdana;">" (Emily Post)</span></span><style>ont-face {font-family:SimSun; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-alt:??????¨¬???; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 680460288 22 0 262145 0;} @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:"\@SimSun"; panose-1:2 1 6 0 3 1 1 1 1 1; mso-font-charset:134; mso-generic-font-family:auto; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:3 680460288 22 0 262145 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:SimSun; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:SimSun; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--><o></o>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-2725008609353281042008-11-10T00:03:00.007-06:002008-11-10T00:15:10.664-06:00FREEDOM!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9lkA462XzQeecJEVKaAfOJE7ke0Ue8GtOBHqmuuzOBFT8HxGAZ99bI9TDJau0iban0xccGDSIYmAn4LCAZK-ltJui_ldYYXtPyJ98Jp-fxJ7s68s4GrLfiRZ4xZZ7TT0J3jz7_w/s1600-h/presidential+panties.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 388px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9lkA462XzQeecJEVKaAfOJE7ke0Ue8GtOBHqmuuzOBFT8HxGAZ99bI9TDJau0iban0xccGDSIYmAn4LCAZK-ltJui_ldYYXtPyJ98Jp-fxJ7s68s4GrLfiRZ4xZZ7TT0J3jz7_w/s400/presidential+panties.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5266906235761163218" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >My mom always folded our underwear. I suppose she did it because my grandmother always folded her underwear. Naturally, when I moved out on my own, I carried on the folding tradition. It’s funny how these mindless traditions carry on from generation to generation without being questioned. I never gave it a second thought until one day, one husband and 2 children later...<br /><br />I remember it well – I had a basket of unmentionables spread out on the bed and mid-fold a voice screamed in my head “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?? Life is TOO SHORT for this!” I snapped!!<br /><br />Right then and there I snatched up that underwear and waved it over my head as I shouted, “I refuse to fold underwear!” “I want my life back!!” “I DECLARE that from this day forward and forevermore all underwear in this home will be tossed into drawers without any special attention being paid to it!”<br /><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >It was exhilarating! I felt like Martin Luther nailing the 95 thesis to the door of the church. This was the day of my reformation!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >Everyone in the family did not take as kindly to my declaration. A look of horror passed over John’s face and then deep sadness. To this day I swear I saw a tear form in his eye. He was horrified and implored me to reconsider. I refused. I had declared independence from tyrannical panties and there would be no turning back!</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >As with most “give me liberty or give me death” speeches, the years have a way of softening your heart. At the suggestion of some Christian “How to be a better wife” book I pried the nailed panties off of our door and began to fold John’s underwear again. It’s my sacrifice of love and I love doing it for him.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-family:arial;" >As for the rest of my family - I remain resolutely liberated from panty duty. Wait – that sounded much better in my head…</span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-49057614245654183602008-10-14T13:26:00.002-05:002008-10-14T13:33:14.853-05:00Dumpster Diving<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDr1UxRt1RVKtpUktVIY3D_nz-xWjEqje-11FI81LrTTBAjRMzpHHiWmwWGEI-ijUdIpl7GuPMPFAbQ1XOMy8TefaFo58xMGLPwrA2FX-_9gn2zVbg5HmfZkPJBN0orPnuz0AqbA/s1600-h/Dumpster+Diving.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257079260182153186" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDr1UxRt1RVKtpUktVIY3D_nz-xWjEqje-11FI81LrTTBAjRMzpHHiWmwWGEI-ijUdIpl7GuPMPFAbQ1XOMy8TefaFo58xMGLPwrA2FX-_9gn2zVbg5HmfZkPJBN0orPnuz0AqbA/s400/Dumpster+Diving.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:arial;color:#003300;">I'm stir crazy. Saturday I developed a horrible sore throat which my doctor has assured me will soon pass as it settles either in my head or my chest. He's a cheery fellow. 4 days at home - I can't take it anymore. I shout "Who wants to go dumpster diving?"<br />Only in my home would this be met with such an enthusiastic response. Sav and Lo jumped up and down and scrambled to find their shoes.<br />To my horror, the "big trash" truck was already out doing his dirty work, collecting the neighborhood cast offs. I wheeled out of the alley, yelling over my shoulder to the girls "Don't panic! He's heading North, we'll just get in front of him!“<br />This got them stirred up. They spent the next hour glancing over their shoulders and giving me progress reports.<br />Weaving through our neighborhood streets and alleys I managed to pass the same woman walking her dog about 4 times. I felt so bad for her as she cast a nervous glance my way. I tried to reassure her that I was not a stalker by smiling and waving. Not sure if that made it better or worse. I noticed she picked up the pace on the last corner.<br />At one alley I saw a man walking with a navy blue hoodie. I stopped to stare authoritatively at him just in case he was some kind of thief - I wanted him to know he was spotted. Hope my aggressive Neighborhood Watch technique worked. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to make sure because the trash truck was rounding the corner.<br />We were at the end of our neighborhood. I told the girls to lay low and we would follow him to the next neighborhood and then get in front of him again. They thought this was a splendid idea, so did I. I may need an intervention.<br />The next neighborhood proved to be much more competitive as I saw several people out digging through the piles of big trash. Then, to my horror, 2 more big trash trucks were heading straight towards us, coming from the other direction. I wheeled around one of them and then passed the other at the corner. Just in time to, I found a lovely, large, wood framed mirror. A coat of paint and voila it will be as good as new.<br />Success!<br /><br />I've always been a shameless dumpster diver but the past few years, living in the suburbs, have proven less rewarding than when we lived in Highland Park. In Highland Park people throw away really good trash - working vacuums, purses, art, pottery, furniture, any change smaller than a twenty dollar bill. Those were the good ole days. In the suburbs people throw away mostly trash. I'm not going to lie - It has been a rude awakening.</span> </div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-72272564046521344762008-10-13T18:12:00.010-05:002009-03-17T16:40:34.065-05:00Sister Norey and the Bag of Nuts<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:arial;font-size:100%;" ><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1DafScUNfxQYA8sKWkgJywxoiVRF6uz0O9y17XPMX5jBo8FEaMwwrTTR7sa4vhvPoOrYS8MuJ5ZeKSktpCaPj2He-M4fgE-U-FOPlCFJzb33l4Fy1kbGVAs5_vWA3R6E9SxKMw/s1600-h/mixtures-nuts-deluxe-rs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257085334116739170" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 295px; height: 276px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1DafScUNfxQYA8sKWkgJywxoiVRF6uz0O9y17XPMX5jBo8FEaMwwrTTR7sa4vhvPoOrYS8MuJ5ZeKSktpCaPj2He-M4fgE-U-FOPlCFJzb33l4Fy1kbGVAs5_vWA3R6E9SxKMw/s400/mixtures-nuts-deluxe-rs.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left; color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:arial;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >"Savannah don't forget that yo</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >u are supposed to take something that starts with the letter “N” for </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >show and tell tom</span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:100%;" >orrow."</span></div></div> <div style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);font-family:arial;"><div><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >This is our 11th hour ritual - </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >frantically searching the house for the perfect, letter specific show and tell item.<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Both girls disappear into their playroom. A few minutes later they re-appear, beaming with pride, </span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >naked Barbie doll in hand. </span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" ><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >"Look Mom! Naked starts with “N”!!"</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Being the ogre that I am I say, “No Savannah, you cannot take a <span style="font-style: italic;">naked</span> doll to show and tell.” </span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Completely astounded they immediately start in with the “What? Why? Naked starts with N.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >“Yes it does, but you can’t take a naked doll to school.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >A couple of hours later I am putting the girls to bed. I say, “Sav, did you find something that starts with “N”? </span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >“No! Please can I take the doll?” </span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >“Still No.”</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Under her breath – “Well, I could go to school naked but that would be embarrassing.” Then out loud, to me with an I can’t believe you didn’t think of this, look she says, “If I just had a sister named Norey, I could take her…”</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >She has a point. I can't believe I didn't anticipate this several years ago. I could have had a sister named Norey waiting for her.</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >The next morning we are still searching for the illusive "N". One would think there would be dozens of N items littering our home. One would be correct. However, in the heat of the moment I could come up with only one idea. Grabbing a zip-lock bag, I frantically shoved three different types of nuts into it.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >"Now Savannah, I lecture her as I am half walking half shoving her out the door, be sure you tell your class you have 3 kinds of nuts - a pistachio, an almond and a cashew nut."</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >"OK, mom. Pistachio, Almond, Cashew - got it."</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >She seems less than thrilled and I feel a moment of regret for not being more brilliant.</span></p><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >In the afternoon I picked the girls up from school and immediately started in with the daily debriefing session…</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Me - “Did the kids like the nuts you brought for show and tell”?</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Sav – a very bored “yes”. She was probably thinking “There just nuts mom, how excited could anyone be about nuts?” </span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Me - “What did all the other girls bring for show and tell?”</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Sav – Necklace, Necklace, Necklace, Necklace, Necklace</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Me – EVERYONE brought a necklace???</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >Sav – “Yep”</span></p><p style="margin: 0in;font-size:11pt;"><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-size:85%;" >I guess my poor daughter was the only one sitting around the lunch table with a bag of nuts while all the other girls were comparing their beautiful necklaces!! I have to laugh. At least she was original. </span></p></div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-69570343216097087282008-07-11T13:48:00.004-05:002008-08-18T14:32:11.114-05:00A BIG Production!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHllehx9hwDzjPVh_Sa0zjT22gK3z9rqfekANdAiLOvNYwNmQomv4vC9Usor0PFnd8GgliFjrHlnOWCb6Nlr1aDgUEmr324qaZegUPbdHXvexbdkMxntDWhvMhGxs7UsxW8y_8g/s1600-h/mailbox.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5221830809317881650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; CURSOR: pointer" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcHllehx9hwDzjPVh_Sa0zjT22gK3z9rqfekANdAiLOvNYwNmQomv4vC9Usor0PFnd8GgliFjrHlnOWCb6Nlr1aDgUEmr324qaZegUPbdHXvexbdkMxntDWhvMhGxs7UsxW8y_8g/s320/mailbox.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">It’s noon. I’m sitting at my desk paying bills when I think to myself “I should go get the mail”.<br />The second the thought pops into my head I inwardly groan. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">My girls LOVE to go get the mail and I know this, but it is so much easier to get the mail myself.<br />Loralei frequently complains that I “always” let Savannah get the mail. This is only partly true. Most days I try to sneak out the front door un-noticed. Inevitably Savannah catches me in the act at which point she will bust through the door, fly down the sidewalk and practically knock me over to get to the mail before I do. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">So today, motivated by the hope that someday my kids won’t have to go through therapy and will instead “rise up and call me blessed”, I decided to ask Loralei to get the mail. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">The reason I groaned… </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">I’ve read all the articles about how parents that do everything for their kids are doing them a disservice. That I as caring parent should embrace the imperfections, the mistakes and the messes as a valuable part of the learning process - even if it takes 3 times as long.<br />I KNOW this and I like to think of myself as an embracer of the mistakes and the messes. The truth is, it’s not the “mistakes” or the “mess” that really bother me so much as it is the production. My girls can turn any little task into an elaborate Hollywood-worthy production.<br />I could sell tickets. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Today was no exception. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">I called Loralei into my office and said “Loralei, I’d like for you to get the mail.”<br />Thrilled, she runs out of the room full speed yelling at the top of her lungs;<br />“Mommy asked ME to get the mail! ME! She asked ME to get the mail! Did you hear me Savannah? Mommy asked ME to get the mail!”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Of course at this point I’m feeling a little guilty, thinking that perhaps I have indeed allowed an unbalanced, mail-getting system to prevail in our home. As these thoughts are going through my head Loralei runs back into the room – NAKED. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">“Mom, could you just put a dress on me?” (jumping jumping) “A dress!” (jumping jumping) “I want a pretty dress on to go get the mail!”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">What? The annoyance is already starting to creep in. Deep breath.<br />“Loralei – just go get your clothes back on. You don’t need a costume change to go to the mailbox.” </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Loralei turns, completely deflated and begins to slump out of the room - hopefully going to retrieve her clothes. She collides with Savannah who is racing into my office, arms full of walkie-talkies. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">“Loralei!” “I found the walkie-talkies!” “I’ll stand on the front porch and we can talk to each other while you get the mail!” </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">OH GROAN! </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">A few minutes later, I accompany Loralei in a princess dress and Walkie-talkie laden Savannah to the door. We all step outside. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">As every mom knows, part of the prestige that comes with retrieving the mail is, of course, getting to go out to the street by yourself. So Savannah and I stand on the porch as Loralei starts the all important march to the mailbox. 10 steps down the sidewalk she turns around and begins to converse – i.e. yell at the top of her lungs - with Savannah, via walkie-talkie. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Loralei – “SAVANNAH!”<br />Savannah – “LORALEI! HOLD DOWN THE YELLOW BUTTON!”<br />Loralei – “WHAT? PUT MOMMY ON!”<br />Savannah – “HOLD DOWN THE YELLOW BUTTON!”<br />Me – “JUST GO GET THE MAIL!”<br />Loralei – “GIVE IT TO MOMMY!”<br />Savannah – “YOU HAVE TO HOLD DOWN THE YELLOW BUTTON!”<br />Me – “LORALIE – TURN AROUND RIGHT NOW AND GO GET THE MAIL!”<br />Loralei – “GIVE THE WALKIE TALKIE TO MOMMY SO I CAN HEAR HER!”Me – “GET THE MAIL!!!”<br />This continues for much longer than I would like to admit and even without the yellow button being pushed I’m quite certain that the entire conversation has been heard for more than a block.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Loralei finally gives up and goes to the mailbox. Suddenly she realizes she can’t open the mailbox while holding the walkie-talkie.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">“I can’t do it!” she wails.<br />I walk to the mailbox, open it for her and begin to pull out the mail.<br />Lo - “Is any of this for me mommy?<br />Me – “I don’t’ know yet.”<br />Lo – “Is this one for me?”<br />Me – “Just a second”<br />Lo – Is this one for me?<br />Me – “No”<br />Lo – Is this one for me?<br />Me – “No”<br />Lo – Is this one for me?<br />Me – “No” </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Finally I am worn down and give her my Weight Watchers meeting reminder card with a rooster on it. Loralei is happy, I am exhausted and we all go back inside.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="COLOR: rgb(153,102,51)">Weight Watchers?? Yeah, right! I know someday I am going to look back at this time and I’m going to miss the big productions that make up my life but today all I want is a chocolate chip cookie and a nap.</p>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-91155427672404281202008-05-20T14:48:00.009-05:002008-10-14T19:59:49.126-05:00Summer Organizing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNISbwoPu_TclIhtwiEafms8fAtC-Vm_iVdnR0_mGjrMB4A12V1YzVZ5gjCsBBsFf7chb00NvjCLNJQ-OAyEKF4MAVy2Hk3tIjIFTP-Zno8Na1NWI9650buSvHv0AeQptvHD2b6g/s1600-h/chl2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219634279897551074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNISbwoPu_TclIhtwiEafms8fAtC-Vm_iVdnR0_mGjrMB4A12V1YzVZ5gjCsBBsFf7chb00NvjCLNJQ-OAyEKF4MAVy2Hk3tIjIFTP-Zno8Na1NWI9650buSvHv0AeQptvHD2b6g/s320/chl2.jpg" border="0" /></a> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:arial;">At Costco yesterday, I was enticed into purchasing the newest copy of Real Simple Magazine. With a cover article entitled “Easy organizing – 99 affordable ideas” who could resist? I was hopeful to motivate myself to do the all important and extremely necessary spring cleaning I’ve been putting off, so I excitedly cracked it open and began to page through it. After a few bunny trails down Jennifer Garner’s make up recommendations and the perfect menu for a garden party I finally found the article I was looking for. Low Cost Organizing! Here is a sample of the "helpful" tips I read…<br /><br />1 – "Repurpose colorful ribbons from gifts to tie around bed sheet sets so that they don't stray."<?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></span></p><ul style="font-family:arial;"><li><span style="font-family:arial;">Are they serious? I have 2 kids, 2 dogs, a husband and a business to run. I don't need to decorate my linen closet - I need a bigger linen closet with a lock so that I can shove more stuff in it without worrying that it spring out and assault my family and any friends that come over. <o:p></o:p></span></li></ul><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><o:p></o:p><span style="font-family:arial;">2 - "Repurpose ice cube trays in your desk drawer as organizers."<o:p></o:p></span></p><ul type="disc" style="font-family:arial;"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:arial;">Can I repurpose the ice trays to gag myself with instead? How many times in my life do I have to read this stupid idea? Who are these people with thousands of tiny things rolling around in their desks? Paperclips, pushpins, I’m out!! Where can I buy giant ice trays to organize the kids and the dogs in a drawer? KIDDING!!!</span><o:p></o:p></li></ul><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:arial;">3 – "A wine rack might store magazines and news papers."<o:p></o:p></span></p><ul type="disc" style="font-family:arial;"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:arial;">What?</span></li></ul><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family:arial;"><span style="font-family:arial;">4 – "Stash a flashlight in your lingerie drawer and it will be easy to tell the black tights from the navy ones."<o:p></o:p></span></p><ul type="disc" style="font-family:arial;"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:arial;">If I’m digging through my drawers for a pair of tights in the pitch black of night - color coordination may not be my biggest problem.</span><o:p></o:p></li></ul><p class="MsoNormal" face="arial"><span style="font-family:arial;">5 – "Ensure that your favorite purses remain free of dust and within easy reach by arranging them in a 10 compartment polyester hanging handbag organizer."<o:p></o:p></span></p><ul type="disc" style="font-family:arial;"><li class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:arial;">Finally! This is great advice! I plan to use it to convince my husband that I really do need to buy 9 more purses. <o:p></o:p></span></li></ul><span style="font-family:arial;">OK – seriously I know we can do better than this. I really am ready for a little spring cleaning. I’d love to hear some practical BUSY MOM organizing ideas that are tested and actually work for all you pros.</span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-4075548850500815662008-04-22T10:26:00.003-05:002008-04-22T10:29:43.374-05:00New Family Pictures<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrulpnpwKW9CpwxqKgCBTGJzlFYEcDuCP_PLkHpwQaikF3jP_FXGJ_57tquMXHbe9tdX17LhXL_yRq7kz0_cjJQHI492-ULy4n0c1AE4tItHt-j3_JvBUB5_htL2bM6o4Qknd2A/s1600-h/Photo+booth+3-15-08.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIrulpnpwKW9CpwxqKgCBTGJzlFYEcDuCP_PLkHpwQaikF3jP_FXGJ_57tquMXHbe9tdX17LhXL_yRq7kz0_cjJQHI492-ULy4n0c1AE4tItHt-j3_JvBUB5_htL2bM6o4Qknd2A/s400/Photo+booth+3-15-08.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5192091868241148482" /></a><br /><br /><strong>Yes! We are really this beautiful!</strong>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-17929719307763001542008-03-20T17:20:00.002-05:002008-04-11T09:55:32.670-05:00The Easter Story according to Loralei<object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/2YDtOgekB_U&hl=en"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/2YDtOgekB_U&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-20264164248511428282007-12-29T12:56:00.000-06:002007-12-29T13:02:58.112-06:00Riddlin Boy's Reign of TerrorWith family in town we are still celebrating Christmas over here! Yesterday I was hanging out with my aunt Bibi who, with so few years between us is more like a sister than my aunt. We took our girls to the "Eggies" play area at Willow Bend Mall. We were just visiting with each other and enjoying watching our girls play when suddenly our attention is drawn to a little 3 year old boy who could have been the poster child for Riddlin. He is running full speed ahead, caution to the wind as fast as he can, leaping in the air, flinging himself all over the play area. He is leaving a wake of crying babies and angry parents. There is hardly a person that he hasn't hit, kicked, jumped on or knocked over. Parent's begin to throw their bodies over their babies when they see him coming. At one point he jumps into the giant cup of coffee where three other boys about his age are playing. Scared for their safety they begin to hiss and growl at him. Undeterred he knocks one of them over and leaps out to continue his reign of terror. Bibi and I are sitting on the bench. We've been commenting for 10 minutes. "OH MY GOSH!" "Did you see that, he just took a running leap over that baby and nearly landed on him!! That's the third time he's knocked over that cute little Asian boy!! Where are his parents?" GASP!! "I guess nobody wants to claim him – Ha Ha!! At that moment, he runs in front of us. He waves at the woman sitting right next to me on the bench and pauses just long enough to say "Hi MOM" before he takes off running again!<br /><br />I know what you are thinking. "April you are a horrible person, you should have given that poor woman ever last dollar in your purse and crawled away." Well, normally I would agree with you but listen to this. I was telling John this story when he stopped me and said "Did that little boy have black curly hair? Yes! Did his mom have long dark hair? Yes!! Yes!! I said. "Oh my gosh, they were there last time I took the girls to the play area and that little boy would knock the kids down and then stand over them while they were crying and start shoving them." His mom never did anything!!"<br /><br />So there!!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-14067142241924570772007-12-29T12:21:00.000-06:002007-12-29T12:40:22.917-06:00How we got a Wii for ChristmasThis is the true story of how we came to aquire a Wii for Christmas this year..<br /><br />4pm Saturday December 15th – John and I went to Circuit City to pick out a Christmas present for my grandparents – or so I thought. (I can be really naïve at times)<br />4:10 pm – John asked the store manager if they have any Wii’s.<br />4:11pm – The manager says “We have 20 in the back and we’re going to give away 19 vouchers tomorrow morning at 7”.<br />4:11pm – Time and space stood still and John obviously lost all ability to use reason or logic – it was him and Wii alone in the universe. John hatches a plan to camp out in front of Circuit City at 4:30 am Sunday morning to claim his Wii voucher.<br />5:00 pm – John told his equally gullible friend Rob about his quest.<br />5:01 pm – Equally gullible friend decided to go with him.<br />5:02pm - The plotting and planning begins…<br />12am – I am still up in the kitchen digging out thermoses, blankets, making sandwiches and helping Dumb and Dumber get there stuff together to go sit in a sub-freezing parking lot.<br />2am – Dumb and Dumber and I go to sleep.<br />4am – Alarm goes off!<br />4-4:28 - Much running around! Coffee making and packing up car happens.<br />4:30 – I kiss John goodbye and yell “Have fun storming the castle!” as he and friend drive off in the arctic blast.<br />4:31 – Only Sane person (ME) Goes back to my warm bed.<br />4:40 – Dumb and Dumber pull up at Circuit City to find a line has already formed.<br />4:40 – Car pulls in right behind them.<br />4:40– Rob races to the front of the store and goes up on two wheels as John does a roll-dive out of the car and into the line.<br />4:41 – John finds out they are number 18 and 19 in line. YIKES!!<br />5:30 – Previously mentioned Circuit City store manager comes out and says they may only give out 15 vouchers instead of 19.<br />5:31 – John calls and wakes me up to tell me this.<br />6am – John beats on CC’s front door and has a “Come to Jesus” talk with the manager<br />6:01 – Store manager assures John he will give away all 19 vouchers as promised.<br />6-7 – Dumb and Dumber freeze butts off.<br />7 – Manager hands out vouchers<br />7:10 – Rob and John find Starbucks to warm up in and wait it out until 8 when the store opens.<br />8 – John and Rob go back to Circuit City to buy Wii.<br />8:01 – John and Rob get talked into buying extra controllers and games – OF COURSE!!<br />8:30 – John comes home a very happy camper and immediately starts setting Wii up in the living room to play.<br />8:31 – I remind John that this is his Christmas present and he needs to wait until Christmas and let me wrap it.<br />8:31 – John growls at me<br />8:32 – 9:30ish – We all play Wii games in the living room before church.Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-48784352201053950182007-11-21T22:12:00.000-06:002007-11-21T22:17:39.253-06:00Lo's New Do<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQAmSv6lyplu8skD5_rw_5HjZ7fikiDhyphenhyphen9S1oSa49ace5NLJYnWlMnHGP4HujVf9zfkAFuWQKFl5_nUr8YNtj_dYM9Ei6wZPtAFxTVg93Z5m7FkUy07OYJcW78lISYB5DBUF5yg/s1600-h/Lo's+new+haircut.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPQAmSv6lyplu8skD5_rw_5HjZ7fikiDhyphenhyphen9S1oSa49ace5NLJYnWlMnHGP4HujVf9zfkAFuWQKFl5_nUr8YNtj_dYM9Ei6wZPtAFxTVg93Z5m7FkUy07OYJcW78lISYB5DBUF5yg/s320/Lo's+new+haircut.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135513531561258994" border="0" /></a>This morning we were awakened when Sav ran into our room and yelled “Loralei cut her hair”. Turns out that was only half the story – she BUTCHERED her hair AND victimized poor unsuspecting Dora the Explorer's hair as well. <br /><br /><br /><p class="ecmsonormal">I’ve been thinking of getting Loralei a bob. She has great, thick hair for it but just haven’t been brave enough to take the plunge. <br /></p><p class="ecmsonormal">Lo plunged me over the edge today and is sporting a new bob. <br /></p>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-38328488179926358082007-06-22T22:53:00.000-05:002007-06-22T23:51:02.713-05:00New Playroom<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNezOVA-o2fnEWYNNewoTaxz5WL_PTMiCBb-hQzKaLZzhTfaN3IxVRIYRktGHsAy-_p-yUgc1Z6aRxC7eodqqQHPDe3-RM9ehsGSMpvsLEAw8OuXmdWrTlbPO7jvQ3ivPpVPwzQ/s1600-h/Playroom+Sign.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079110291415555122" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCNezOVA-o2fnEWYNNewoTaxz5WL_PTMiCBb-hQzKaLZzhTfaN3IxVRIYRktGHsAy-_p-yUgc1Z6aRxC7eodqqQHPDe3-RM9ehsGSMpvsLEAw8OuXmdWrTlbPO7jvQ3ivPpVPwzQ/s320/Playroom+Sign.JPG" border="0" /></a>I don't mean to lie to my husband. In fact I have a strict moral and spiritual no-lie policy <em>especially</em> where my husband is concerned. Unfortunately my life motto "<em><strong>How hard can it be</strong></em>?" recently caused me to convince John that I thought we could remodel the girls playroom "<em>in one weekend</em>"! A can of paint, a few curtains and voila!!<br /><br />Looking back, I'm not sure what surprises me more - that after almost 9 years of marriage John believed me <em>AGAIN</em> or that I convinced myself and honestly thought it was possible. Whatever the case, both of us fell for my persuasive arguments.<br /><br />One horrible curtain mistake, a can of psychedelic green paint, 25 trips to Joann's fabric, 27 trips to Home Depot and Lowe's, one fall off the high ladder with can of pink paint in hand - then on head and body and shoes, one painted 2 year old daughter, one painted 4 year old daughter, 5 bad fabric choices, two green puppies and subsequently green paw prints leading down the hall, countless paint drops on the floor, a large barbecue fork through John's foot (don't ask), weeks of 3am bed times, a couple of ridiculous crying fits (and that was just John), and ONE MONTH LATER - we are finally done!!<br /><br /><br />I love the results. I love the painted tree on the wall where the handprints of our family and friends become the leaves with special messages written for us to treasure. I love the bright curtains with the oh so practicle sun-blocking backing. I love the zip line with little hooks to display artwork. The girls love the reading nook with little flower lights and comfy pillows where they can snuggle down with a good book. I love the giant peg board we made to hang all the dress up clothes on. But mostly, I love the memories that John and I will always share of giving our girls a special, beautiful place where their imaginations can flourish.<br /><br />Was it worth it? I say "YES" but you should probably wait awhile before you ask John!!<br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlD-ynEt2aL-9SlOdnLCJ22EvcW_f3NJI9dk1ko7F2BW-o8DpUJYa1Rrwe_p2b9p_KkljwPCR7XezpjK_X4NYbQsj3qy-W5Vc_N95JJn1eNgG4917AMP6ry_pdmv5nf0-r0_ZLkQ/s1600-h/playroom+art+table.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079108556248767490" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlD-ynEt2aL-9SlOdnLCJ22EvcW_f3NJI9dk1ko7F2BW-o8DpUJYa1Rrwe_p2b9p_KkljwPCR7XezpjK_X4NYbQsj3qy-W5Vc_N95JJn1eNgG4917AMP6ry_pdmv5nf0-r0_ZLkQ/s320/playroom+art+table.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PHHwzo5Z1nGsXn9Re5NcK6KnHsAGygqo3oiewRVVuA9FZcjwSLdebyYLj4uhf4oDNHFh4dP2z3Sme4rSIGvPQ8RsJC8lPUfH7uk9_0XMZeVzgZY2D5CMXl9VCmWkmj6c52XmXQ/s1600-h/toy+storage+homemade+dress+hooks+and+book+rack.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079108869781380114" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1PHHwzo5Z1nGsXn9Re5NcK6KnHsAGygqo3oiewRVVuA9FZcjwSLdebyYLj4uhf4oDNHFh4dP2z3Sme4rSIGvPQ8RsJC8lPUfH7uk9_0XMZeVzgZY2D5CMXl9VCmWkmj6c52XmXQ/s320/toy+storage+homemade+dress+hooks+and+book+rack.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJ_Nsgrp4N4fz8q8kIbhWO0_mygfM7XBABtQqYOaThYkueJld_vw4oP_wIhq5O1lW_EPGF_3Sh8iIl6cHCZduvYkbVsEUD3kKldpXWtcJleqaqc82nI3nPhJ1ht3x_UmAXlQ4HA/s1600-h/DSC06972.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5079111725934632018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJ_Nsgrp4N4fz8q8kIbhWO0_mygfM7XBABtQqYOaThYkueJld_vw4oP_wIhq5O1lW_EPGF_3Sh8iIl6cHCZduvYkbVsEUD3kKldpXWtcJleqaqc82nI3nPhJ1ht3x_UmAXlQ4HA/s320/DSC06972.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-29878503500003117892007-05-09T18:20:00.000-05:002007-05-09T18:31:29.441-05:00Parenting Works...yesss!Today two significant events occurred which caused me to notice a very positive milestone in the life of my sweet Loralei. You all have been such wonderful cheerleaders over the years that I wanted to share with you. This morning the off-limits playroom we are currently painting lime green was broken into by Loralei. She dipped her hands and the paint brush into the can of lime green paint and proceeded to paint the ladder, her hair, her hands, the chalk board table, the tarp on the floor and her sister BUT there was not a drop of green paint on her clothes. In the hysteria of the moment this important detail eluded me. Later this afternoon I walked into the living room and found Loralei methodically spreading Magic Shell Chocolate Fudge all over the coffee table. In the .00005 seconds it took me to run through the kitchen and do a roll dive over the toys, puppies and vacuum cleaner before reaching her I noticed something fascinating. She was being VERY particularly careful not to get it on her clothes. I saw her eyes look from her chocolate covered hands to the chocolate covered table and then to her shirt. She carefully scooted her belly an inch to the left so she could continue to rub and eat the chocolate without it touching her clothes. Finally, after almost three years of me instructing her "Don't wipe your hands on your clothes" it has sunk in! The sky is the limit now my friends - PARENTING WORKS!!! I'm thinking of taking the whole family to dinner!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-3333378016540254962007-04-28T23:26:00.000-05:002007-04-28T23:59:37.456-05:00Our New Boys<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3uCDOQlfnh0J7knKBBrhms7pbmbjxJG3Hhc-LVpjvxc6Fj6fNGmGXpz2ZxUyUC8FA-RzGVkGjuVQ2F4dPl6xsze165inMClwA5ILzJ8sujD3TQLtdsxwmtTV89o2A4D70LmzJcg/s1600-h/pups.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058703104858388802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3uCDOQlfnh0J7knKBBrhms7pbmbjxJG3Hhc-LVpjvxc6Fj6fNGmGXpz2ZxUyUC8FA-RzGVkGjuVQ2F4dPl6xsze165inMClwA5ILzJ8sujD3TQLtdsxwmtTV89o2A4D70LmzJcg/s320/pups.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div>We are the proud parents of TWO new baby boys. Tag and Tucker. We went to the breeder to buy Tucker (right), but you know what they say - "always let the dog pick the family". When we arrived Tag (left) came running up to Loralei shaking with enthusiasm and kisses for her. Of course that melted my mother heart so we brought both of them home to be ours forever!! They are mini Australian Shepherds which means they will probably only be 10-12 pounds. They have the cutest personalities and in the few weeks they have been apart of our family have completely won our hearts. The other day Loralei had her big hat and high heals and purse and I heard her say "Come on we are going to Mimi's" and down the hall she went with puppies following. </div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-64040588741329646042007-04-28T23:16:00.000-05:002007-04-28T23:22:31.163-05:00Product Review 2007<span style="color:#3366ff;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Some of you may recall my product review written one year ago after what I can only describe as a spirit of shopping entered my body and caused me to plunder the local drug store. In that email I elaborated on the pros and cons of some of the newer products on the market. Well, here for your viewing pleasure and to hopefully get you excited about the coming summer months is Product Review 2007.</span> </span><br /><span style="color:#3366ff;"><br /></span><span style="color:#3366ff;"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Vaseline Intensive Care Healthy Body Glow Daily Replenishing Moisturizer + A Touch of Self Tanner</span><br /></strong><span style="font-size:85%;">If you are as “translucent” as I am you’ve probably been through the gamut of self tanning options. In the year of our Lord 2001 I left for a cruise with palms and ankles stained the color of furniture polish after falling for the trendy “Mystic Tan”. Since then I have been every shade of orange, tangerine, cantaloupe and salmon found on the Better Homes and Garden website. Vaseline’s Healthy Body Glow is so fabulous I just have to recommend it. I have never had one streak as a result of using it. The premise is a moisturizer that includes a small amount of self tanner. Thus every time you use it you gradually build up to a “healthy summer glow”. It comes in several shades. I use medium and it works! Buy it at Wal-Mart, it’s not expensive and it smells nice so there is really no down side. Go forth and be tanned! I highly recommend it!!<br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">CO Bigelow Apothecaries Mentha Lip Tint</span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I purchased this wonderful product recently at Bath and Body after my mom gave me a sample of the color-free version. This company believe it or not was established in 1838 and their motto is “Honesty, Genuine, Trustworthy” You gotta love that. Everything I’ve tried from them lives up to their reputation. I am particularly loving this mint lip tint. It comes in at least 4 shades. They cost $7.50 or 3 for $15. The mint is soooo nice and minty and strong. It’s better than a breath mint. The color is just enough to make my lips shiny and tinted without scaring John away. You know how guys hate gooey lips. No matter how much practice they’ve had they still think they will injure themselves in a lip slide off accident if the lips are too glossy. All that said the bonus for me is that the primary job of the product is to moisturize. I have excessively dry skin so no matter what product I use it has to moisturize. I’m looking forward to shiny, minty, tinted lips all summer thanks to CO Bigelow.<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Infusium 23 Revitalizing Conditioner</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Infusium has been around forever. My parent’s used it so I assumed it was a fogy product. I bought it in desperation because my hair has been getting dryer. I’ll let y’all in on a big secret, my hair is dyed. (shhh – don’t tell) The blonder it gets the dryer it gets. Infusium is supposed to “infuse hair with 23 essential pro-vitamin and treatment ingredients”. Although the side of the bottle doesn’t read like a vitamin label, after one use this fabulous conditioner really did revitalize my hair. I’ve continued to use it for several weeks now and I’m throwing everything else out and sticking with it. My hair feels and looks so much healthier.<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#000099;"><strong>Fruit of the Earth Block Up! SPF 30 plus UVA/UVB protection with Aloe Vera</strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It’s sun tan lotion in an aerosol bottle!! WooHoo. Even my kids stand still long enough to get a solid coat of sun protection. Found this two years ago and I am just mentioning it because we have continued to love and buy it. It’s cheaper than most all the other similar products on the market and I haven’t found a single flaw. It’s easy, it’s water and sweat resistant, the girls haven’t had a sunburn to speak of in the last several years and I have avoided messy oily sun tan lotion hands. Buy it at Wal-Mart!<br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Estee Lauder’s Double Wear Stay in Place Concealer SPF 10<br /></span></strong><span style="font-size:85%;">Anyone who’s seen those “Makeup tricks of the Pro’s” articles in the glamour magazines has inevitably read that the easiest and oldest trick in the book to making your eye shadow stay on and look great all day is to use a good concealer on your eyelids before you apply the shadow. I’ve looked long and hard for “good” concealer and have never found anything I like as well as this. Thank you Taylor C. for introducing me to it. It’s a great liquid with a powder finish. You don’t get those nasty lines-o-gunk in your eyelid crease. Plus you can use it to disguise dark circles under your eyes or hide blemishes. I highly recommend it for those of you who have been perpetually disappointed with the slew of runny, chalky, gunky products masquerading as concealer. <br /></span><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Johnson and Johnson’s Purpose Dual Treatment Moisture Lotion with SPF 15 and Purpose Gentle Cleansing Wash<br /></span></strong><span style="font-size:85%;">If they were movies they would be called instant classics. If they were super heroes they would be the dynamic duo. In my home they are the must-have's of simple skin maintenance. John and I both use them and they are good for his oily skin and my dry skin. <br /><br />1 – Purpose Lotion: Every woman knows that gravity is the enemy when it comes to our skin but a lot of women don’t know that the number one best thing you can ever do for your skin PERIOD is to protect it from the sun. I never buy lotion, concealer or foundation that doesn’t contain SPF. Purpose Lotion has an SPF15 and contains UVA and UVB sunscreen. I use it every morning under my makeup or if it's a no makeup day on my clean skin and every night before I go to bed. It comes in an unassuming white and periwinkle container with a handy squirt top. It is oil free, hypoallergenic, fragrance free and won’t clog pours. <br />2 - Purpose Gentle Cleansing Wash: I use to remove dirt and makeup from my face every night. It’s not harsh on my skin. You can get it at Wal-Mart next to the lotion. It’s soap free, hypoallergenic and won’t clog pours. The best thing about it as a dry-skin person is my skin doesn’t get that tight, dry feeling after using it. <br />Honestly I would compare these two items with confidence to all the budget breaking, highly advertised products on the market I’ve tried. I’m never going back!!<br /><br />Thanks for indulging me again this year. I hope you find these reviews informative and helpful. Please Please let me know about any products you use and love!</span></span>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-71699804702040529742007-03-22T07:51:00.000-05:002007-03-22T08:02:01.383-05:00Loralei's Easter Dress<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZSwT4ae92fMF-_RxEtEpcCeYi8UmhZsywOG9iMMlGwZ2II6UbeRxTnCOEWMnlGicsmApqwi6sZqltEBhZZ9gTDQSR7vHqmsGuID6YfpH_TQo9a-3FIAg_EiUhwaJaIpQQclYlg/s1600-h/Loralie"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044732856707496930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdZSwT4ae92fMF-_RxEtEpcCeYi8UmhZsywOG9iMMlGwZ2II6UbeRxTnCOEWMnlGicsmApqwi6sZqltEBhZZ9gTDQSR7vHqmsGuID6YfpH_TQo9a-3FIAg_EiUhwaJaIpQQclYlg/s400/Loralie's+Easter+Dress.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>We had such a wonderful Easter last year. What a joy to celebrate Jesus resurrection and our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Resurrection</span> with Him. I'm looking forward to this Easter. This is one of my favorite memories from last Easter.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28260607.post-88836519813237102592007-03-04T17:38:00.000-06:002007-03-04T17:54:31.657-06:00New Years ResolutionsMy husband started it with a cough and fever last Friday as in Friday the 23rd of February. He came home, parked himself on the couch and stayed there all weekend. Monday morning rolled around and off he went to work, came home and told me "I feel like crap" and went back on the couch. I got huffy. I am a very goal oriented person and last week we had a lot of deadlines. I generally try not to take time to be sick, I just ignore it until hopefully it goes away. This time was no different. Took John to the doctor who told him, you are exhausted, you've been burning the candle at both ends for way too long and you need to rest. GREAT! I've been cancelling appointments all week. <br /><br />Something about the doctors words really broke my heart. John has been working way too hard for way too long. Why do we push ourselves to the limit? So we went home to rest. I chilled out and decided to let him rest and even to rest some with him. He took the week off which worked out well since the rest of us came down with the same rotten cold shortly thereafter. So this whole week has been spent laying on the couch, eating soup and drinking lots of water. We have gotten caught up on our Midsummer Murders that we recorded but never took time to watch. I love that show. <br /><br />What has surprised me about this week the most is how many hours we have had. It must have been three times as long as a regular week. We have talked and laughed and coughed and choked together. It's been really nice. A nice break from the normal break-neck speed we live life at. Who are all these people demanding all of our time so that we can't even be a family? Why should I have to be sick to spend time with my husband? It's SIN!! I'm resolving, and this is the first resolution of the year, to spend more time with my husband and girls. I'm resolving to ignore the phone more. I'm resolving to say "No" more. I'm resolving to rest when I need it and to let John rest when he needs it. God help me, Amen!!Aprilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01966013885453286591noreply@blogger.com1