tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-38095706720889046522024-02-19T08:47:41.174-07:00Adventures of the Domestic EngineerTrishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.comBlogger238125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-48459692430716438622012-08-27T20:47:00.003-06:002012-08-30T20:42:43.538-06:00I've moved! After looking into the options, I've found a blog hosting sight that better suits my blogging needs. Please come check me out <a href="http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.wordpress.com/">here</a>! Don't forget to follow me and change any links that you may have to my blog to the new address.<br />
<br />
Full address is here: <a href="http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.wordpress.com/">http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.wordpress.com/</a><br />
Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-75232378516354893642012-08-16T20:03:00.004-06:002012-08-16T20:03:40.457-06:00Book Quote Thursday: August 16, 2012 <div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Congratulations to Daisy, Kathy, Beth and Kelley for being entered into the blog candy drawing at the end of the month! </b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(The candy is really good this month!)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The correct answer was indeed<b> <u>'The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks'</u></b> by Rebecca Skloot.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We've been reading it for our bookclub and will be reviewing it in a week. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In preparation for that event, I would like to add my own thoughts on it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ladies and Gents, this is an extraordinary book. Heartbreaking, real and captivating. It's a true story that will keep you riveted in the end. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It begins with a retelling of the life and death of Loretta Pleasant from Virginia. She lived vivaciously, with fire in her belly until the age of 31...<b>31 years old! </b>This is when she developed cervical cancer that ravage her body. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The story doesn't end there.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
During her treatment, doctors extracted tissue samples for study. They quickly discovered her healthy cervical cells did something extraordinary, never before seen. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This discovery had unbelievable consequences for the medical field, literally changing the world for millions of people. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The book also raised some very important questions about ethics and personal integrity. I was shocked by a detailed account of unimaginable and inexcusable abuse/criminal neglect which occurred on our own soil to those who had no voice. This, during the age of not only racial segregation but also the segregation of the mentally ill. It was chilling to me to consider the similarities between what was revealed in Nazi occupied Germany at the end of WWII and what happened in 'insane asylums'. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And yet, there was something about the story that left my heart warmed and hopeful. Perhaps it was the message that one person, doing a good deed can be a gift. That gift can make a difference. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I would absolutely recommend this book with a warning that there is some language but definitely worth the read. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>As for our book quote for today, here it is:</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>"Like sunshine after storm were the peaceful weeks which followed. The invalids improved rapidly, and Mr. Meach began to talk of returning early in the new year. Beth was soon able to lie on the sturdy sofa all day, amusing herself with the well-beloved cats at first, and in time with doll's sewing, which had sadly fallen behindhand..."</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">Care to take a guess?</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b> </b></span></div>
Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-92200998997177023452012-08-13T19:20:00.000-06:002012-08-13T19:20:00.084-06:00Memory Monday: A Sixth Grade Knowledge of Biochemical Warfare...
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was a simpler time. A time when
unnamed tweens waited anxiously for their parents to leave so they
could watch MTV's game show, 'Remote Control'. A time when a small
town, eleven year old girl living in Pennsylvania could have a
unrequited love affair with a rock star. (He was the
thirty-something rocker who didn't even know she was alive but taught
her everything she needed to know about being cool.)</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Before sixth grade I didn't know
authority could even be questioned. My parents and teachers knew
everything and I had no idea wearing stripes, polka dots and animal
prints together was never okay. It was around that time I fell in
with the 'wrong' crowd.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
They were the ones who scoffed at
'Teen Beat' Magazine and had no interest in Alvin and the Chipmunks
or Punky Brewster. Instead of singing songs about 'Doing the
Locomotion', they introduced me to Joe Elliott, who, instead of
crooning with a silky smooth voice, hollered at adoring fans to 'pour
some sugar on him'. A few of those from the idolizing masses were
the cool kids from my junior high. For reasons unknown to this
baffled 30+ year-old, I became their project. They started by
instructing me about what to wear and suddenly I went from donning
Care Bear sweatshirts to more, shall we say, edgy, attire.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I will never forget the
day they dressed me in my punkest outfit during lunch recess.
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Picture this:</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Black jeans previously
rolled up to my knees, pegged at the ankle.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
An extra pair of neon
colored socks.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Bangs ratted with a comb
and a bottle of Aqua Net.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A hardcore Henley with the
word 'Utah' scrawled across the front (this was Chambersburg,
Pennsylvania after all)</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And for the piece de resistance,<span style="color: #23ff23;"> </span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black;">my
nails, bitten to the quick, were colored in with a black Sharpie
marker stolen from our teacher's desk.</span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Walking out of the
bathroom that day, I felt like one of those video vixens rocking out on the top of the hood of some dude's car.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
That day, I arrived.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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As the days passed however, I knew I needed to up the
ante if my new image were to stick.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I pushed the envelope as
much as I possibly could.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This meant picking a
fight, waiting until just after the late bell rang to enter class and
agreeing to 'go out' with a boy (which meant we would, forever more,
sit beside each other in the hallway before school started). I was
crushed when he sat by Jennifer a few days later.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The breakup was messy.</div>
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<br />
</div>
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</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I even got in trouble (on
purpose) just so I could get a demerit on my previously pristine
behavioral record. To make my transformation complete, I
had to convince the most rebellious boy in the class. Def Leppard
was equivalent to Rick Astley in his mind and the boys of Arosmith
were amateurs. He was a hard core, heavy metal enthusiast whose
favorite band was 'Anthrax'.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I had never even heard of them and
just by the looks of his spike necklace, I'm pretty sure they were
scary. But I was determined to be his heavy metal girlfriend so I
could sit beside him and his drumsticks before school.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Arriving home one
day, a bit concerned by the fact that my music collection consisted
of Tiffany's 'Hold An Old Friend's Hand' and Debbie Gibson's
'Electric Youth'. I promptly raided my older brother's audio
cassette tapes. Unfortunately, Anthrax's album wasn't among Weird
Al's 'Beat It' and Billy Joel's 'We Didn't Start The Fire'.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I was devastated. How was
I going to convince the boy of my rock-n-roll dreams of my devotion
to a band I could barely even pronounce?</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As I sat at the kitchen
table that day, listening to the radio, hoping their latest would pop
up on my Top 40 station, my eyes fell upon our craft corner. It was
at that moment I realized I was staring at the gateway to my future
sixth grade romance.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Grabbing poster board,
glue, glitter and a bright, fluorescent pink marker, I set to work on
something that would knock that boy's skull and crossbones sock off.
I worked tirelessly, blow drying the glue and glitter because I was
too anxious to wait.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
As I went to bed that
night, I gingerly tucked the poster away by my backpack. It had so
much glitter and glue on it that it curled unnaturally but I gazed
contentedly at it, convinced that it was indeed my masterpiece. For
right there, with bright pink magic marker, outlined in glitter, was
the word:</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Segoe Script, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 48pt;"> ANTHERAX</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Segoe Script, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">I
was sure this would be it. I was officially the punk rock chick on
the hood of that fancy car.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The
next morning, I played it cool, as I protectively hid my project as
best as I could while sitting on the bus. I waited at the end of the
line so I could make a grand entrance into my home room. When I did,
I walked up to the boy and, cool as a cucumber, well, as cool as a
Trishelle Cumcumber, said, “I made you something last night while
listening to my 'Anthrax' tape.” And before I waited for a
response, I unveiled my work of art.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> For
a moment, one, sublime moment, that sixth grade boy's eyes lit up
just like he was little again, finding his first set of Matchbox cars
under the Christmas tree. But that moment was ever so short as he
inspected it and with a look of consternation said....</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> “Uh...you
spelled it wrong. There's no 'E' in the middle.” Then, without
saying a word, he rolled it up and shoved it into the garbage can at
the front of the class. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Segoe Script, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> My
dreams were dashed. I was humiliated. And to make matters worse,
every time I looked in the direction of the trash can, that dang
poster taunted me with its bright pink letter 'E' that was outlined
in enough glitter to be seen from outer space. It was a very bad day
and I realized I was destined to be an old maid for the rest of my
life, too short to ever hop up on the hood of anyone's car, let alone Joe Elliott's.</span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We
moved only a few short months later which was a bit of a relief
considering my last attempt to redefine myself went so badly. But in
a cruel twist of irony that almost derailed my new found confidence,
as we drove down a seemingly endless road to a distant military
installation created for the testing of chemical weapons, my father began to tell us a story.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> It
was about the very valley we were driving through; about how several
decades prior, a deadly nerve agent was accidentally released into
the environment and wiped out an entire herd of local sheep. It was
terrible to the locals and a bunch of people were pretty ticked off
at the military base's commanding officers. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We
listened to the story, enthralled and little freaked out. We were
heading straight for the epicenter. I held my breath as I cautiously
looked out over the vast fields of gold and brown, looking for any
sign of mutated or zombie livestock. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Dad, noticing my concern,
said something along the lines of, “But don't worry, guys. We'll
be safe there. I'm not even sure they use that nerve agent anymore
anyway. I'm pretty sure we'll never have an outbreak of Anthrax and
we'll be perfectly safe.”</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My stomach lurched and my
head began spinning, “That is what Anthrax is?” I asked my
father.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
“Well, yes it is.” he
replied.</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All of the sudden, I felt
smug, triumphant even. Because in that moment I realized I was
WAAAAAAY smarter than that dumb boy who listened with his headphones
to that dumb rock band who named themselves after a sheep killing
biochemical weapon. It made me laugh to consider that the stupid
rocker boy probably had no idea he was listening to something
representative of death, destruction and quite possibly large amounts
of drool. (clearly the logic was lost on my 12 year old self)
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I felt vindicated and
laughed at how close I came to being lame.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What a relief it was to
have already moved on from such lameness. Yes, I was looking into
the horizon where Dugway Proving Ground and my future awaited.
Confidently entering a new chapter with new appreciation for talented
musicians who crusaded against such ridiculousness...whose lyrical genius
would be heralded for years to come and, who like me, were New Kids
On the Block.</div>
Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-72990299983397600142012-08-03T06:58:00.002-06:002012-08-03T06:58:44.190-06:00Book Quote Thursday: 8/2/12I've been feeling like such a slacker in regard to my writing. I've done very little this summer but it has been on my mind a lot. Now that there are some BIG changes in the works for our family (more on that later) I feel a more pressing need to finish my manuscript. <br />
<br />
That said, I totally dropped the ball on Book Quote Thursday. The last one I did was in May and yes, the correct answer was 'Where the Wild Things Are' by Maurice Sendak. It broke my heart to discover we'd be losing him a short time later.<br />
<br />
So, I Slacker McSlackingson, announce the winner of May's Book Quote Drawing:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>MARGE W. from Salt Lake City, Utah</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This makes me particularly happy because I particularly love and adore this woman. (That has less to do with the fact that she's my grandmother and more to do with the fact that she is awesome!)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, keep your eye out for the prize, my Dear, it will come to you compliments of the USPS very soon.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In an effort to turn over a new...errr...page, I'm starting off August right. Here's the first book quote. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>“When she was in high school, Deborah
cried and lay awake at night worrying about what awful things might
have happened to her mother and sister...”</b></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Name that beautiful, devastating, thought provoking book.<br />
</div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-52180848932162264992012-07-13T22:11:00.000-06:002012-08-16T11:21:59.042-06:00Driving Miss CrazyRecently, Scout Master He-Man left town for eight days in order to chaperone his Boy Scout Troop attending camp. Since transportation to the site was limited, it was decided that I would take Kate, our little puddle jumping Honda. He would take Bella, our Toyota Sienna. (We name our cars after Shakespearean heroine...I know, our drama geek is showing.) <br />
<br />
Before then, every so often, one or two girls would ride in Kate, just for the novelty. While certainly not a super snazzy set of wheels to drool over (although I would've been impressed the year I graduated high school), the girls loved occasional one on one drives with mom or dad.<br />
<br />
We had never before attempted to fit all four kids in the vehicle. I dreaded the attempt. Come to think about it, I probably ought to have tested out the arrangement BEFORE He-Man left for a destination 8 hours away...<br />
<br />
Luckily, after much huffing, puffing and cursing under my breath, I was able to shove the necessary car seats into position. Having had attained this small victory, we celebrated by going out to eat at our favorite dinner spot...which, we discovered that night, serves Cotton Candy Shirley Temples.<br />
<br />
The newness of our driving arrangement wore out in about 2.6 seconds. The following is based on a true conversation... <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "This is SOOOOOOO cool! Mom, could you open the sun roof?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
LuLu: "Yeah! Can I stand up and stick my body out while we drive?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom: "No."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Pause</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sunshine: "Listen to this joke..." (proceeds to tell said joke)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "This is boring. Mom, I'm squished."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sunshine: 'Knock, knock?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom: "Who's there?" (Sunshine finishes the joke.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "Stop copying me, LuLu."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
LuLu: "Stop copying me, LuLu."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "MMMMMMOMMMMM!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
LuLu: "MMMMMMOMMMM!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sunshine: "Hahaha! This is a funny one. Can I read it to you?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom: "Just a second" "LuLu, stop copying your sister."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
LuLu: 'Stop copying your sister."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom: "LuLu! Do I need to stop this car?"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
LuLu: "No."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sunshine: "What do you get when you cross a--"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "MMMMMOMMMM! Lulu keeps licking my hair!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sunshine: "What do you--"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "Ewwww! LuLu keeps licking.."</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom: "LuLu! Stop licking your sister's hair!" </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ruby: (the sound of squeaking as she is gnawing on her flip flop.)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Mom: "Ruby, shoes are not for eating! Get that out of your mouth!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ruby: (giggle, giggle) "Okay"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "Mom! LuLu won't give me my hair back!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bunny: "LuLu, you're going to get a gigantic hair ball in your stomach and die."</div>
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(LuLu quickly gives her sister her hair back)</div>
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Sunshine: "So mom, I have a riddle."</div>
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LuLu: "MMMMMOM! Ruby is eating my shoe!"</div>
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Mom: "Who gave Ruby LuLu's shoe?"</div>
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Bunny: "Me" (she said sheepishly) "She's hungry".</div>
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Mom: "Ug!"</div>
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Sunshine: "What's black, white and covered in slime?" </div>
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Mom: "Not now, Sunshine."</div>
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Bunny: "MMMMMMOMMMMM! LuLu won't stop bugging me!"</div>
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LuLu: "It's...fun...to...stay...at..the...</div>
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Ruby: (breaking into song) "Y.M.C.A!!"</div>
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LuLu: "It's fun to stay at the YMCA-A!"</div>
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Bunny: "NOOOOO! You know how much I hate that song!"</div>
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Sunshine: "NOW can I tell you my joke?"</div>
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Mom: "Um, just a sec..."</div>
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LuLu and Ruby in unison: "It's fun to stay at the YMCA..."</div>
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Bunny: (between sobs of rage and desperation) "Make it stop!"</div>
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Mom: "That's it! The next person who makes a peep will be forced to eat <a href="http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.blogspot.com/2011/03/eating-sea-monkeysand-liking-it.html">sea monkeys</a> for dinner and everyone's broccoli for dessert!"</div>
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Ruby: (As loud as she possibly can) "Y.M.C.A!!!"</div>
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5 minutes later...</div>
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We made it to the restaurant mostly unscathed. The left side of Bunny's head was soaking wet, LuLu's flip flop had a chunk bitten out of it and Sunshine was humming the tune to YMCA; with me making a be-line to our booth to drown my single-parent sorrows in an unsuspecting Shirley Temple. Were it any stronger, I might have been able to get that blasted song out of my head too.</div>
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On a lighter note: </div>
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To the inventor of the minivan: May you be surrounded by sparkles, sunshine, puppy dogs and people who suddenly feel the need to bestow upon you copious amounts of chocolate.</div>
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Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-60762937690368068782012-07-11T18:49:00.001-06:002012-07-11T18:49:27.371-06:00Fashion Destiny Wednesday: Destiny Lost...Dear Blog,<br />
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Oh how I've missed thee! <br />
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Summer began with a BANG! It hasn't slowed down until this week... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnE86NOHN6K6hJGa7EgvgoHXJXLKuFc5EC0nS56rAokuwiSL25B34nm02wByrzICVC9nieSio9IBD_9Ht6jVL9-CHP8xXA-MXbHee5FApfsWZIMuiZBRMpHYX0aCuwPC2G6TdsBsaP368A/s1600/IMG_0748.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnE86NOHN6K6hJGa7EgvgoHXJXLKuFc5EC0nS56rAokuwiSL25B34nm02wByrzICVC9nieSio9IBD_9Ht6jVL9-CHP8xXA-MXbHee5FApfsWZIMuiZBRMpHYX0aCuwPC2G6TdsBsaP368A/s400/IMG_0748.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pudding Anyone?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZitZ324F5bNWXDNB7ZhxTpx6nMQaotKXt4vg6rA5Y5LgFXM0lgS8XMKbdXPjJg8vZCbYW9JJv2VLAnljUqZ3_nKiuGerq8DFEbCepbGnUMaNP2HCX_eoQ5VrvMKEmU8W8Z34e3Ba_SGG/s1600/DSC01213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIZitZ324F5bNWXDNB7ZhxTpx6nMQaotKXt4vg6rA5Y5LgFXM0lgS8XMKbdXPjJg8vZCbYW9JJv2VLAnljUqZ3_nKiuGerq8DFEbCepbGnUMaNP2HCX_eoQ5VrvMKEmU8W8Z34e3Ba_SGG/s320/DSC01213.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">FABULOUS summertime visitors!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hvAJMxfBssVR7a4EW2A2uOXCbaaSFL02mBu4ggg6ZkJjslfK7aDbvGQZL1diTWw4y1lbimXMDoNaVpMGP3B77J_zCQSfYdoGHMclV1EMKlAeLf0z2aHXitcJOlgyFVZzsHLFkrp3Ct72/s1600/DSC01206.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4hvAJMxfBssVR7a4EW2A2uOXCbaaSFL02mBu4ggg6ZkJjslfK7aDbvGQZL1diTWw4y1lbimXMDoNaVpMGP3B77J_zCQSfYdoGHMclV1EMKlAeLf0z2aHXitcJOlgyFVZzsHLFkrp3Ct72/s200/DSC01206.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Star Wars weekend at Disneyworld!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6-9nCsdlXYGvfxlrBGA_8j03nR7Lt9A6tgZ6iAyiaRIUgF9YgSMqFhRxv_zQdysaF2yRrWxis9HkB1wvL5ehcWQzGci_051JP055bGbUocEYhIe7DTRqL_IXCpt09QvkZDJfoY11LNmV/s1600/DSC01447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP6-9nCsdlXYGvfxlrBGA_8j03nR7Lt9A6tgZ6iAyiaRIUgF9YgSMqFhRxv_zQdysaF2yRrWxis9HkB1wvL5ehcWQzGci_051JP055bGbUocEYhIe7DTRqL_IXCpt09QvkZDJfoY11LNmV/s320/DSC01447.JPG" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">T-R-O-U-B-L-E!!! I'll take a dozen!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Hello, Gorgeous! I'm happy to see you! </div>
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In honor of F.D.W., I happened upon this photo:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIM40p7SjuHM1FxrpW-wbCPn6KKo_dznGnU76SpIKx4NTGl3NCXBX10kQsrfU6cWjlxV1AE3n2qoYtjKTVTT-gLTD_F0xu4r04RHEV6EhkQI6wbiIzyWtc-h_1mll0u-Gr2Y77EwhsJ7n/s1600/Chris+and+Trish%27s+Most+Excellent+European+Vacation+May+2000+%2359.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiIM40p7SjuHM1FxrpW-wbCPn6KKo_dznGnU76SpIKx4NTGl3NCXBX10kQsrfU6cWjlxV1AE3n2qoYtjKTVTT-gLTD_F0xu4r04RHEV6EhkQI6wbiIzyWtc-h_1mll0u-Gr2Y77EwhsJ7n/s400/Chris+and+Trish%27s+Most+Excellent+European+Vacation+May+2000+%2359.jpg" width="270" /></a></div>
We were soooooo young! We'd been married a year and were in Germany celebrating the wedding of two of our very BEST friends in the whole wide world. <br />
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Happy times. Little did I know, that dress wouldn't fit much longer, which is why we sometimes refer to our oldest as our 'Little German Princess".<br />
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That dress. </div>
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I loved it. A LOT.</div>
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It was RED..bright, beautiful, with a little (okay a lot) of shimmer. But not enough to be ridiculous. It hugged my curves without making them look 2.36 miles long. </div>
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I bought it at Ross for, like, ten bucks.</div>
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Before I eventually tossed it, it was threadbare. The last time I wore it was to church. It was summer and I hadn't worn a slip because I didn't think I needed one. Walking by a full length mirror I realized I did.</div>
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It was a sad day. </div>
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I never saw it again after that afternoon. </div>
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Destiny Lost.</div>
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Here's to you, Little Red.</div>
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Sigh.</div>
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<br />Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-5599686055354490632012-05-30T21:21:00.001-06:002012-05-30T22:24:56.445-06:00Fashion Destiny Wednesday: Karmic Joy<div style="text-align: center;">
CAUTION: This is a shameless plug for my favorite store in town... </div>
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After living here in Neverland for a year or so, I made a most excellent discovery in the form of the local <u>Mint Magazine</u>. Perusing it's pages, I began collecting all sorts of curious coupons for strange new places in this previously unexplored land.<br />
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Among my favorite discoveries were Fro-Yo with funny little Boba balls that explode like little bits of sunshine when you bite into them. And of course, there's the coupon for the cosmetic waxing salon that has taught me a very valuable lesson: It's okay to just say 'NO' to the Sasquatch look.<br />
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Of course there are other services I have not tried, such as hawking my wedding ring for cash. And of course, I've opted out of 50% off getting the fat siphoned out of my tummy through a straw shoved up my belly button. That may be partially due to me also NOT partaking in the bazillion buffet coupons made available by a snip of my kitchen scissors. <br />
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BUT of all the coupons Mint has so graciously given me, the monthly add for a little place called Kloset Karma has brought me the most happiness. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vNjYG68D6MBNT6dSgV2FstyiYLEJiJVw8oAc9x-QdNcW3YVeyDcDgW_aF0NAtqJB9wgwtYc-2gwAkHF3Phjw0Eq_3SETpleB-uY3J2KZacaZiwr895pKGpx6OtO33W2rDh3f93-pnLls/s1600/IMG_0706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vNjYG68D6MBNT6dSgV2FstyiYLEJiJVw8oAc9x-QdNcW3YVeyDcDgW_aF0NAtqJB9wgwtYc-2gwAkHF3Phjw0Eq_3SETpleB-uY3J2KZacaZiwr895pKGpx6OtO33W2rDh3f93-pnLls/s320/IMG_0706.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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What is Kloset Karma, you may ask? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhYgIODM5MRWI1jMcSEdOLewl6OfpwKtwlDzdXStKudEsGcgtplhYR6X0Xr0UHn7z1HNTNp3897WDADWpco8yHtyYTIOmahRmZAc3uD-cA5b3NGdy4xoJDQhvdILMOPkGQ1vvR5djdhiT/s1600/IMG_0709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhYgIODM5MRWI1jMcSEdOLewl6OfpwKtwlDzdXStKudEsGcgtplhYR6X0Xr0UHn7z1HNTNp3897WDADWpco8yHtyYTIOmahRmZAc3uD-cA5b3NGdy4xoJDQhvdILMOPkGQ1vvR5djdhiT/s400/IMG_0709.JPG" width="300" /></a>It is Neverland's BEST consignment store for gently used, trendy women's clothing and jewelry. </div>
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Walking into the store, you are greeted with Eye Candy:</div>
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(Those are designer purses you're seeing)</div>
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And looking up only adds to the fun of the experience:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwr0EAvWUUoLjkuL9MIJHqYhGp61d1huN_Oi5scJ_V5dP_YZPPwQWJoJD04cAkn_lRT7VE1HfHWN6-YEHzxFOROFeNJNAhC2m_Eg1g48oCTSIEmVM3iUSXiS-fcwYz0VDsdT9Q-1rmeWD/s1600/IMG_0711.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFwr0EAvWUUoLjkuL9MIJHqYhGp61d1huN_Oi5scJ_V5dP_YZPPwQWJoJD04cAkn_lRT7VE1HfHWN6-YEHzxFOROFeNJNAhC2m_Eg1g48oCTSIEmVM3iUSXiS-fcwYz0VDsdT9Q-1rmeWD/s400/IMG_0711.JPG" width="300" /> </a></div>
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On a more personal level, Kloset Karma has rescued me from the awful fate of being a fashion victim. Trust me. This is what I looked like BEFORE Kloset Karma:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjrereu1i9ej-462w_oM9hStq7X1R5G9lbrSEhVvbSO1m-PSW6GCjvWZSDTnvnkXY1_9M8pcgrfqXlPQx9AjxxwOQC5mMZSjBlH5J9gT4Ni0yDAlHFoSrWNPwYeEFKbTJfnrln_siW83h/s1600/Girls+Camp+Beauty+Queen4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihjrereu1i9ej-462w_oM9hStq7X1R5G9lbrSEhVvbSO1m-PSW6GCjvWZSDTnvnkXY1_9M8pcgrfqXlPQx9AjxxwOQC5mMZSjBlH5J9gT4Ni0yDAlHFoSrWNPwYeEFKbTJfnrln_siW83h/s320/Girls+Camp+Beauty+Queen4.JPG" width="320" /> </a></div>
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Notice the use of t.p. as an accessory. Apparently, that is a BIG no-no. </div>
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Now with the help of K.K., I look like this:</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipV6tkalVCRvcG0sGvklfL2o5Lx-afsnVtpGDxmAvMdFqdt8cru9nmvTEpEfpB4Cb1Lw5RgFUsvpmLg6oQ4DJdhUXXNY9vYCd4A_WTVS81kybXa1UIP7bcRXduR4HP4BV5z6LSDk6JA8wE/s1600/Holly+and+Mommy+out+in+the+rain+May+15%252C2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipV6tkalVCRvcG0sGvklfL2o5Lx-afsnVtpGDxmAvMdFqdt8cru9nmvTEpEfpB4Cb1Lw5RgFUsvpmLg6oQ4DJdhUXXNY9vYCd4A_WTVS81kybXa1UIP7bcRXduR4HP4BV5z6LSDk6JA8wE/s400/Holly+and+Mommy+out+in+the+rain+May+15%252C2012.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cute rain jacket, huh?! Got it from Kloset Karma! Those earring must have cost a fortune! Nope, at K.K, the cost of accessorizing will never leave you frowning.</td></tr>
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And when I needed something fun and easy for my trip to Berlin, K.K. hooked my up with this sweater. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1437wzgbAU6w9UyjyIXVTQ2xIZn5_fIEr2XKMcbHX8KwF0x5E2s2BcdQnAR1mF8Dl1Vfbamyv-Vj0varbCkSjkesG_5NA_2VObLzaOPTTsoFCpOij-bNwz_k9MOLmdzOYw0f30POIdK6N/s1600/Heidelberg%252C+Berlin+and+Ravenbruck+Germany+%252339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1437wzgbAU6w9UyjyIXVTQ2xIZn5_fIEr2XKMcbHX8KwF0x5E2s2BcdQnAR1mF8Dl1Vfbamyv-Vj0varbCkSjkesG_5NA_2VObLzaOPTTsoFCpOij-bNwz_k9MOLmdzOYw0f30POIdK6N/s320/Heidelberg%252C+Berlin+and+Ravenbruck+Germany+%252339.JPG" width="320" /> </a></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td><td style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You should've seen the alternative! Very drab, very boring.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
So maybe I don't have best pictures to showcase the goodies I've found at the shop (note to self: take more pictures of goodies I found at the shop.) BUT what I do have is a closet full of clothes I love...which I paid for at a fraction of the cost I would've paid. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As an added bonus, Annette and Jenny will take GREAT care of you. Meaning that if you try on something that makes your butt look like it's the size of Texas, they'll let you know...unless, of course you don't want to know...in that case, I send my condolences with a reminder of just how big Texas is. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And so, I sign-off on this Fashion Destiny Wednesday clad in a tee I found on my favorite clearance rack (yeah, they have that too) ready to share the Karmic love with anyone cold, naked or unseemly dressed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Peace out.</div>
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<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-75536529508355814322012-05-27T22:11:00.001-06:002012-05-27T22:11:26.989-06:00Simple Sabbath: These Little Wonders...<div align="LEFT">
It was one of those moments...you know, that split
second when you are completely in awe and wonderment over how on
earth you got yourself into the situation. Then, the wave of terror
washed over me as I realized we were in mortal danger.</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
There I was, suspended above an endless expanse of
ocean, the crystal blue water calm and dark. My trembling arm was
gripping an invisible cord. It's origin and end, I didn't see nor
pause to consider. My seven year old hugged my neck in a
piggie-back, clambering for any more space between herself and the
water we would surely fall into at any second. All the strength left
in my upper body was being used to nestle my three year-old to me
with my free arm. She was frightened, burying her face into my
chest.</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
It was then I noticed the occupation of my feet.
Cradling my tiny newborn, much like a climbing monkey cradles his
lunchtime banana, I felt the desperation of knowing full well the
clumsiness of those feet. The tiniest flinching of my tiniest toe
could send my sweet Precious plummeting into the deep below.
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
How long could I hold on like this? Once we fell, how
could I keep my children close enough to me to grab them once we hit
the water? None of them could swim so how would I keep them all
afloat?</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
My hand began to slip and just as my fingertips
released their death grip, there came a moment of clarity. It was
then that I realized a very important detail. Lulu hadn't even been
born yet.</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
It may seem absolutely ridiculous now but the mere
retelling of such a dream to my therapist sent me into convulsive
sobs. What's worse is every time I had it, I couldn't seem to get
the message across to my dreamy, acrobat self that it was all a
nightmare.
</div>
<br /><br />
<br />
This was years ago. Lulu joined our family shortly thereafter
and Ruby, a few years a later. My reoccurring night terror was
always in the back of my mind, pressing me to somehow fix the
scenario but we were landlocked and had very little motivation to
teach our children to swim.
<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
` Soon after, we moved to Neverland, where we were minutes away
from sand and surf and nearly every friend had a pool. For a while,
I didn't notice that my unreasonable fear of water had affected my
children. That is, until my 9 year old sat crying on a lawn chair,
frustrated that 3 year-olds were swimming like fish around her.
<br />
<br />
Thus began a tedious, sometimes heartbreaking effort to reinvent
our family's relationship with water. For many, many months (about 2
years worth), little progress had been made. Efforts to give our
children one-on-one training were met with panic and mule-like
stubbornness.
<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
Recently, what began as a run-of-the-mill impromptu lesson in a
neighbor's pool ended as I could hear the wails growing louder and
louder. It sounded like bloody murder from two houses down. As I
walked across the lawn to greet her, Lulu, with an expression of
indignant fury proclaimed between dramatic sobs, “Daddy...(sniff,
sniff)..tried...(waaaaaailllll) to drown me!”<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
Feeling great urgency for our girls to acquire this important
life skill, we recently challenged the girls to each make progress
during a weekly private swimming lesson. Each girl's challenge would
be reflective of her skill level and would require a little bit of
courage. We further explained that as parents who love them, our job
is to keep them safe. Allowing the girls to participate in water
activities without the proper skills would be irresponsible and
dangerous. Therefore, if our daughters were to accept invitations to
go swimming, they must accomplish these particular tasks. This
proclamation was met with some grumbles but they seemed to
understand.<br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<div align="CENTER">
Miracle of Miracles..Yesterday brought about a
mighty change.
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
As we attempted to escape the violence of a broken air
conditioner during a holiday weekend, we found ourselves in another
friend's pool. Armed with our towels, gallons of sunscreen and
floatation devices, our little family cooled our sizzling bodies in a
nice chlorine cocktail.
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
I promised Lulu my Costco cookie if she would jump
into the water to me. I'm not sure if it was the promise of the
super chocolate chunks or the spit-fire in her belly, but she did it,
life vest and all.
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
She ended up repeating this about ten more times.
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
Ruby must have thought this was pretty swell because
she quickly followed her sister's example. In fact, she became the
youngest of our children to ever jump into her Daddy's arms (who
graciously decided not to drown her).
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
Of course Sunshine and Bunny were very encouraging but
spent much of their time with their own challenge; that of retrieving
pool rings from the bottom of the pool. After giving each other a
couple of pep talks, they dunked themselves under the water, coming
back up triumphant, with rings in their hands. They insisted upon
repeating this several more times.
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
He-Man and I were beaming with pride.
</div>
<div align="CENTER">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
Evening fell as our children soundly slept in our
summertime oven, I marveled at the gifts of the day. Who knew that
waging war on my beastly reoccurring nightmare from so long ago, the
one I was afraid would debilitate my children, could be so delicious.
This is where magic and redemption can be found, where our children
give us a glimpse of what they are made of.
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
<br /><br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT">
They proved to me they have courage beyond my own.
They slept peacefully, having reminded me of something so sweet and
simple. These really are the little wonders.
</div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-91899935429020465382012-05-16T21:18:00.001-06:002012-05-16T21:18:13.823-06:00May 16: My Fashion DestinyI have this skirt. I love it. It's light cotton and covered in red poppies. It makes me feel flirty and pretty AND my pair of Dorothy Ruby Red Slippers finishes off the look perfectly...well almost perfectly. You see, I just haven't seemed to find the right top for it. <br />
<br />
Then, while perusing one of my favorite I-Dream-Of-Owning-Everything-In-The-Store stores, I found this little number:<br />
<br />
http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/product/baynote/24768947.jsp<br />
<br />
<br />
Sooooo pretty and the color is delicious! But because I burn through my monthly slush by the 31st, sometimes the 30th and occasionally the 29th of the previous month, it may take a little while to acquire this little piece of tee-shirt perfection.Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-58445801159238881942012-05-09T19:24:00.000-06:002012-05-09T19:25:25.731-06:00May 9: My Fashion Destiny...I've determined that upscale department stores use their pretty lighting
to simulate the experience of having the clouds part, leaving the
heavens opened upon one's own destiny. That very thing happened to me
the other day when I gazed upon this...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxk1PLlNixDkMAhBph1lLBc2KgjRlrsd1hQotP7VHdpp8kVnvS8xtB3DK4-WKxFmhcQ15QIkm2Ohn1Heag5hMidqjAYvL61vOJFdG46ZGK0Y-JKgkfcxNo7WEsGKvMR6wQ_6EXehuZeAO3/s1600/IMG_0458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxk1PLlNixDkMAhBph1lLBc2KgjRlrsd1hQotP7VHdpp8kVnvS8xtB3DK4-WKxFmhcQ15QIkm2Ohn1Heag5hMidqjAYvL61vOJFdG46ZGK0Y-JKgkfcxNo7WEsGKvMR6wQ_6EXehuZeAO3/s320/IMG_0458.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Gorgeous, isn't it?! </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yeah, well, I love it! Except for one thing. I'm pretty sure He-Man would have some pretty expressive words to say if I were to bring it home considering it cost MORE THAN OUR MONTHLY GROCERY BUDGET!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Oh well, Mr. Choo, you can keep your bag until I can convince my family that beans and rice every night for the next month and 5 days tastes just like the yummiest pizza...EVER!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-5755985120066183552012-05-07T14:20:00.004-06:002012-05-07T14:20:47.320-06:00Book Quote Thursday (on Memory Monday)...Hi there! Happy May to YOU! Due to rather unexpected delays, Book Quote Thursday is a few days late...<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The correct answer for the book on April 26th is:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Secret Garden </b></span>by Frances Hodgson Burnett</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The winner for April's drawing is:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Beth J.</b></span> from Colorado</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(please message me your addy so I can send your prize)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And as promised, the winner from the belated February drawing is:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Emily D. </b></span>from Utah</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Let me know which Moroccan Hanging Lantern you would like: Clear or red glass or metal (no glass) hanging star OR purple basic hanging lantern.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
As for the Book quote for LAST week, here's an easy one...</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"...and it was still hot."</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofLj6LvY06CJWehKXlnKv7Vly7ctkKpCQ_E8RbT20TqKQ18jSrPKqPZCJhEAYZwajcmNvfuxo6sm1rJdDSPpoEn_V9Jc0fS_1V09O9lIPXSvHOg77bQcjZafTNAY871HpSDBUg15P9rex/s1600/105_0318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjofLj6LvY06CJWehKXlnKv7Vly7ctkKpCQ_E8RbT20TqKQ18jSrPKqPZCJhEAYZwajcmNvfuxo6sm1rJdDSPpoEn_V9Jc0fS_1V09O9lIPXSvHOg77bQcjZafTNAY871HpSDBUg15P9rex/s400/105_0318.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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(It's one of my faves, recently discovered by a delightfully monstrous Ruby.)</div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-32787273477147054162012-04-26T22:22:00.003-06:002012-04-26T22:22:23.596-06:00April 26: Book Quote Thursday<div style="text-align: center;">
Greetings from my home to yours! I'm feeling particularly book-quoty coming home from a fabulous book club meeting host by my friend, Cori. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Tonight we discussed 'Ender's Game' by Orson Scott Card. This is the first of his books I've even attempted even though He-Man has been trying to get me to read his works for years....not to mention the fact he must be great considering he is distantly related to some of my very favoritest people on the planet! (You know who you are)</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuu3XfYtK2V2BufA9H4uE1hMT_BFZ7uxCA8Cs1ZYUHABu9kLC5HTJWBGegumuFncrjKo0Qr0uFPtBm0yKDw-ZAG7SqvXSY0MpAd6KTmyxjhlUJAv5tDkZuEdbXCWFG0plUpMfEgcy95ia/s1600/hanging+lantern.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifuu3XfYtK2V2BufA9H4uE1hMT_BFZ7uxCA8Cs1ZYUHABu9kLC5HTJWBGegumuFncrjKo0Qr0uFPtBm0yKDw-ZAG7SqvXSY0MpAd6KTmyxjhlUJAv5tDkZuEdbXCWFG0plUpMfEgcy95ia/s200/hanging+lantern.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have this one hanging in my bedroom and I love it!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Once again, just to review the rules, all you need to do is correctly identify the book the particular quote comes from. No need to be first...it's just fun. A name will be randomly chosen from the list of correct guesses made during that particular month. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Since I missed March but left February half done, I will be doing two drawings...one for Feb., one for April. The winners of these two drawings receive a great little prize I LOVE for summer...A Moroccan Lantern! You get to pick the color (red, clear, blue, green, yellow, purple) and the style (hanging, hanging star or free-standing).</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And yes, you were all correct with your guesses. Last week's book was:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>"The Princess Bride" by William Goldman</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This week's book quote comes from a book Bunny pulled off the shelf earlier this week. I was apprehensive but thrilled. It's a meaty chapter book with a deep and beautiful message...I think she will love it as much as Sunshine did...if not more because she is that wind-in-your-hair, girl-of-a-thousand-summer-days kind of kid.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Name this book:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"It's so beautiful!" she said, a little breathless with her speed. "You never saw anything so beautiful! It has come! I thought it had come that other morning,but it was only coming. It is here now, the Spring! {------} says so!"</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Has it?" cried {-----}, and though he really knew nothing about it he felt his heart beat. He actually sat up in bed....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Happy Reading!</span></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-88082643922024904452012-04-24T21:16:00.003-06:002012-04-24T21:17:08.149-06:00The Stars Aligned...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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And I'm pretty sure a Chap-Stick Fairy just got her wings...</div>
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This may very well be the first tube of lip balm that hasn't been loved-up, mutilated, eaten, or thrust into the Mini-Van Black Hole. </div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-70667195284448802822012-04-23T21:00:00.000-06:002012-04-23T21:19:59.810-06:00Memory Monday: Big Sister Bear Course 95 (Prerequisite to Momma Bear 101)I was eight years old. My father was finishing up his MBA program at USU in Logan, Utah. We were blissfully poor. (I say blissfully because even if my parents were stressed out about money, they made sure we were happy in spite of it.)<br />
<br />
For months my brothers and I watched as the arrival of our new baby sibling was approaching. Was it a boy, like my <strike>mortal enemies</strike> brothers hoped? They were just waiting to recruit fresh meat into their axis of evil. Or was it a girl, who would level the playing field in one breath? Certainly, she would restore balance to the ever-lovin' Force I kept hearing about (and couldn't escape even if I tried).<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
The year was 1984 and near the end of it, the time had arrived.</div>
<br />
During a period when mother's milk was shunned and new-fangled fortified formula was all the rage, Mom chose an alternative to conventional wisdom. She chose a home birth. I could dazzle/horrify you with a report on what happened to the after-birth (seriously, imagine the 3rd grade oral report on that one) but instead, I will tell you of the most miraculous sound my young ears heard on that day.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
It was my baby brother's first cry. </div>
<br />
I forgot to even be curious about the gender. It didn't matter, really. I could just as easily dress a baby boy in pink and ruffles as I could a girl. <br />
<br />
For the first time, I had to share a room and I only minded a little bit. He was sweet, perfect and had a smile that lit up the room. As the sibling rivalry raged in our home, he somehow managed to be on both sides and even allowed us to find some commonality from time to time. He had that affect on people, even at an early age.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then the unthinkable happened. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Most of the details of that day are sketchy, but some still haunt me with the sickening fear that hijacked every happy emotion of my being. As I walked home from school, I knew something was terribly wrong. The first look at mom revealed a terrified woman who had aged 20 years in a few hours. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My six month old brother, sitting in the red plastic walker he had raced along the kitchen floor dozens of times before, had fallen down a flight of hard wooden steps onto the concrete of the basement floor. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I will never forget the image of that little baby, black and blue and wrapped up in gauze. His fractured and the long term repercussions of the accident were a terrifying unknown. His peaceful sleep frightened me. It wasn't until decades later, when a nephew survived a horrific fall out of a second story window that I prayed so hard for God's Grace to preserve the life of a child. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Somehow, miraculously, after weeks of recovery he was okay. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fast forward a few years. He became an energetic kid who loved attention and adored each one of us. His capacity to love everyone stretched out beyond our family as well. His smile still lit up the room, just like it did when he was a baby.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And yet, for one reason or another, he was bullied beyond belief by kids in school. It's amazing to me how something as silly as 'Danny Germs' can stick with a person and hurt for years and years to come...to see an entire group of children ignore their classmate simply because another one told them too. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's amazing to me to watch a mother cry as she witnesses, first hand, the torture inflicted upon her child while recognizing she is powerless to stop it. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It's amazing to me to see a little boy grow up to be much bigger than most of his classmates. He could have easily lashed out and pulverized those kids who said stupid, hurtful things. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Even more amazing is that he didn't.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It would be ridiculous to hold any of the adult versions of those silly little kids responsible for what they put him through, but gratefully, when it seemed there would never be a reprieve, my dad got a job in Japan. Dan went with my parents and had a most extraordinary adventure.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Around this time, He-Man and I got married and immersed ourselves in our newly-wed life. Somewhere in the middle of living that life as a family, my globe-trotting brother got older. Of course, I can't be sure when it happened, but rumor has that baby brothers tend to do that. Who'da thunk? </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
10+ years later, many of us gathered last summer to grieve the passing of our grandfather. Even though I've seen him countless times in between, I never noticed before what kind of a person my brother had become.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In a quiet, private moment, I saw the comfort he gave our grandmother within hours of grandpa's passing. His sincere words brought peace to many hearts that night as he served those he loved he loved the most. It came so naturally to him. Among those people was a girl...a beautiful girl, just a good and kind as him. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It struck me to see the gentle, adoring way he looked at and treated her. And to add to such a happy observation, she returned every ounce of that goodness and respect. It was then and there I realized my brother grew up. And not only that, but he had fallen in love. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A couple of weeks ago, I flew out to our home base to witness the wedding of my brother and his sweet wife. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZrFiEqe8qyF9swuQCKjqN9o_BUNATW-R41t0ama1IS33_4xOA-EuqDun7Ot6g6M2_T5rlPYIuNSQT25azXUmyhtBlMRBiL8FSLzKKjYqsghdNpczoeolX0HmWwlzAr_X4MibwnwBA-rW/s1600/DSC01143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZrFiEqe8qyF9swuQCKjqN9o_BUNATW-R41t0ama1IS33_4xOA-EuqDun7Ot6g6M2_T5rlPYIuNSQT25azXUmyhtBlMRBiL8FSLzKKjYqsghdNpczoeolX0HmWwlzAr_X4MibwnwBA-rW/s320/DSC01143.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtVTROe5njx4ahe7sCVeEv9DZ0nv696BzojyGkfmREgS8mF1VHfybCwH54qciAOY3zNdLsZAQWEBNY_3BUcOvEfxsSEomSWb28B5xlGrI8yCsz9_wCJmBT3nVqKTC14EHz1Q_Er3r2jDd/s1600/DSC01147.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLtVTROe5njx4ahe7sCVeEv9DZ0nv696BzojyGkfmREgS8mF1VHfybCwH54qciAOY3zNdLsZAQWEBNY_3BUcOvEfxsSEomSWb28B5xlGrI8yCsz9_wCJmBT3nVqKTC14EHz1Q_Er3r2jDd/s320/DSC01147.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Admittedly, I was a little nervous, as all Big Sister Bears with a Momma Bear Complex are, to see whether or not he would be entering into a family who would appreciate how innately good and kind he is...and even appreciate his terrible jokes.<br />
<br />
How pleased I was to see how loving his new in-law family was to him...In a wonderful twist of fate, it turns out they are pretty remarkable themselves. In fact, it makes me so happy to know there's an entire family of people who are gonna love him just like us.<br />
<br />
It makes hanging up my Big Sister Bear Hat a little bit easier.<br />
<br />
So, in closing, Dan and Sarah, Congratulations on your blessed union. I have no doubt the love you show each other and those around you will be an example to all of us...AND that love will be revisited upon you ten-fold. I look forward to watching where your new adventures will take you. I love you both!<br />
<br />
Always,<br />
Sis<br />
<br />
PS...just in case you were wondering, the following are incriminating photos of the Bachelor Party Aim and I crashed.... (and a bonus one of Captain America making us laugh so hard we almost peed our pants)<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3qw97CX3RnMTmCN48Rqd9Lfa5IMQlvXvUpzGOSl-Llx8xf31Gf3Cdn0KebC0W-JYGYVblXDKeOPMxRUSAMGR0jsP6134AyRQWxJyBAK-Y-UklwJv2Wf-NjbdLDMG_S-mQe2ob2T2jdb0/s1600/DSC01104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh3qw97CX3RnMTmCN48Rqd9Lfa5IMQlvXvUpzGOSl-Llx8xf31Gf3Cdn0KebC0W-JYGYVblXDKeOPMxRUSAMGR0jsP6134AyRQWxJyBAK-Y-UklwJv2Wf-NjbdLDMG_S-mQe2ob2T2jdb0/s400/DSC01104.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZSNFqaR9juRWbHj4WLeMietxciU5msH6pFqzWbGfyT4tPb-Ps7MQN9edGB4TnerXTTFHqMTD9wqJ6CaBI_bOvGqghCjpjv9qEnNyVnEzbkH99lkIr6ZmnSYlkahwc6ENZbFlSjC5lKRn/s1600/DSC01153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdZSNFqaR9juRWbHj4WLeMietxciU5msH6pFqzWbGfyT4tPb-Ps7MQN9edGB4TnerXTTFHqMTD9wqJ6CaBI_bOvGqghCjpjv9qEnNyVnEzbkH99lkIr6ZmnSYlkahwc6ENZbFlSjC5lKRn/s320/DSC01153.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignK_a1jdo1MMPS3pBwszBwq4vIqxKYafTmQbEZuE6zdsOnb6eH6nHwelCq7eWrMoZBlg2QWx3yrhpGM9xy7YqLvblrncy8RGQQBidEsUEhCs-OeG-l2RlB8uMhawksIiieAb72qLu7IzM/s1600/DSC01106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEignK_a1jdo1MMPS3pBwszBwq4vIqxKYafTmQbEZuE6zdsOnb6eH6nHwelCq7eWrMoZBlg2QWx3yrhpGM9xy7YqLvblrncy8RGQQBidEsUEhCs-OeG-l2RlB8uMhawksIiieAb72qLu7IzM/s320/DSC01106.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-26076712360078328052012-04-19T19:04:00.002-06:002012-04-19T19:04:47.251-06:00Book Quote Thursday: April 19thSo....I totally dropped the ball on my last book quote game during the month of February. Anyone who was wondering, the correct answer was indeed 'Gone With The Wind' by Margaret Mitchell. I'll have two drawings next week: One for those who guessed correctly (on this blog or Facebook) in February and one for this month's correctly attributed book quotes guesses. (The blogging lapse was long but it's good to be back.) <br />
<br />
Can anyone tell me what literary masterpiece this is from? <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">'Who are you?" he screamed.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"No one of import. Another lover of the blade."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"I must know!"</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">"Get used to disappointment."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpQfreyNP7Habrbvb9my7MSV_JbqZrSXSYtN9G7KIoj0U7S2d4I_9iGckPBU8iYBKnyhF21c09qWBu8A9bEXMakCbP61Gxi0P9iefpeJhR6sXcin-iGTujwpSFwCHp2M_FJO2daig0t6_/s1600/105_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpQfreyNP7Habrbvb9my7MSV_JbqZrSXSYtN9G7KIoj0U7S2d4I_9iGckPBU8iYBKnyhF21c09qWBu8A9bEXMakCbP61Gxi0P9iefpeJhR6sXcin-iGTujwpSFwCHp2M_FJO2daig0t6_/s400/105_0012.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tune in next week to find out!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-32169520702169479112012-04-18T20:45:00.002-06:002012-05-30T21:10:32.148-06:00My Fashion Destiny...(No more Wednesday's Neurosis)Apparently, I'm either more neurotic than I care to admit OR I'm not as neurotic as I thought. (I'll let the reader determine that) After taking way too many pictures of my throw pillows this afternoon (proof positive of said craziness) , I've decided to move in a different direction for posts on Wednesdays. So Goodbye, Neurotic Crazy Behavior Day and Hello, Fashion Destiny Wednesday! <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Welcome, FDW. It's so nice to see you!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My hopes and dreams of someday going out in public with enough sparkles to be seen from outer space may be coming to fruition. A dash into a department store after forgetting a very necessary article of clothing (a story for another time), had me stumbling upon an amazing sight.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Feast your hungry eyes upon these beauties:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Are they not the greatest excuse for glitter EVER?</div>
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Now the trick is getting my chiropractic husband to agree that these as pertinent and necessary as oxygen.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I have my ways.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
In the meantime, I explained this cloud-clearing, tree blossoming moment of destiny to my 4 nieces, with whom I was visiting. They listened, captivated by the tale of serendipitous union. Then each in turn tried them on.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yesterday, I received this email message from my sister-in-law:<br />
<br />
<div id=":t7">
<div>
<div style="font-family: times new roman,new york,times,serif; font-size: 12pt;">
<div>
"So
we, as in Cort and I, are walking in a mall and we walked into a store
that had shiny shimmery floor tiles, they were black with silver
sparkles, very shiny and bright. Cort is looking at them and then
looks at me with a whisper and says "mom is this our fashion destiny?"
So thank you for making shopping exciting for the girls. They loved the
story that you told! Good to see you! --Aim"</div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
I am one proud aunt. I have done my part to ensure 4 less people never underestimate the power of a glue stick and second-grade art supplies.</div>
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</div>
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You're welcome. </div>
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Happy FDW! </div>
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(Stay tuned! Book Quote Thursday is back tomorrow, and it's GOOD!)</div>
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<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-53245288059405658602012-04-17T17:49:00.000-06:002012-04-17T18:46:35.770-06:00In defense of Anne Romney AND Hilary Rosen<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The sky was ominous on Thursday
morning as we headed to the wedding. My soon to be sister-in-law
looked positively radiant as she walked toward our final destination.
Then, at the corner of North Temple and State, a familiar looking
reporter stopped her to ask about how she felt regarding Hilary
Rosen's comments regarding Anne Romney.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
She didn't have any thoughts on the
matter. Probably not the best time to be asking anyway.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Having read a snippet about it
earlier, I had some rather strong feelings. Being a mother of four
and the timid person I am, I immediately piped up and ended up on the
nightly news.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Perhaps I would have done well had I
not been operating on 4 hours of sleep from the night before (trying
to offer support to my mother as she attempted to fix 9 (!!!) beastly
bridesmaids dresses). Then again, maybe not.
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Given my past history of being naked and ridiculous on the <a href="http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.blogspot.com/2010/10/memory-monday-on-wednesday-naked-on.html">nightly news</a>, I probably wouldn't have fared
well either way. I guess this further proves that while I can write
glowing and eloquent blog posts, unless I'm blowing kisses and Miss
Universe waving to the viewers I'm utterly useless on camera.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Back to the hot topic.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The illustrious Chris Vanocur and his
camera crew from ABC4 News asked me for my opinion about Ms. Rosen's
comments. I rambled aimlessly for 5 minutes. This <a href="http://www.abc4.com/content/news/political/story/Democrat-strategist-Ann-Romney-never-worked-a-day/qW-d6tEalUKIwiuJ3L0RAg.cspx">link </a>includes
the only worthy three-second portion of my two cents. (Many thanks
to Mr. Vanocour for allowing me to save face and avoid offending half
the population of Utah by airing the interview in its entirety.) </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After considering it at
length and getting a reasonable amount of sleep, this is what I meant
to say:</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Ms. Rosen's comments were
unfortunate. The moment I heard them, I immediately became
defensive. Then, a second later, I felt really bad for her. Clearly
she said something incredibly stupid and thoughtless. Then I
considered something else: How many politically charged discussions
have I been in where I've open my mouth and shoved my finger-length
toed foot right in? Probably lots. Luckily for me, I wasn't on
national news at the time.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
I've been a homemaker for
close to 15 years. Many spaghetti noodle omelets, burnt boxes of
mac and cheese and slimy, overcooked vegetables later, I truly feel
I'm on track to being pretty good at what I do. Ms. Rosen's comments
didn't make this any less true. I would really like to believe she
didn't mean for her words to come across they way they did. Even if
she did, I'm not Anne Romney and therefore have less reason to get
my unmentionables in a wad.
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
In my opinion (and please
don't lynch me), I think she has a point. But the point I would like
to believe she was making wasn't necessarily offensive. Clearly, any
assessment that Anne Romney hasn't worked a day in her life is
sillier than a rhinoceros at a tea party. I'm pretty sure Ms. Rosen
understands this and in a palm to forehead moment, chose unfortunate
words.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But consider this:</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anne Romney chose and was
richly blessed to keep the commitment to stay home and raise her
children. She married into an affluent family. From everything I've
seen, she and her husband have had decades of happiness in their
committed and loving relationship. That, in itself, is admirable no
matter where a person is on the political spectrum. That doesn't
make her evil or out of touch. It just is.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What I would like to
believe Ms. Rosen meant to say is that Anne Romney hasn't worked in
the corporate world. If that was what was meant, she is absolutely
right.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Anne Romney will never
know what it is like to devote 8-12 hours to a out-of-the-home-career
then come home to a family that needs her to put her game-face on
even after expending a day's energy on her profession.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Guess what?</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Neither do I.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Sure, during He-Man's
grad-school, I worked in a haunted
100-year-old-home-turned-restaurant. I was 3 months pregnant and
that previously delicious Hungarian Mushroom Soup smelled like what I
imagine the inside of a Taun-Taun would smell like. I also tutored,
made crafts and sold all sorts of wares. But even as poor, starving
college students, I was never required to work more than I wanted to.
It was a long time coming, but I am, with much gratitude to the
Divine, in a similar position as Mrs. Romney.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
However, some of the
greatest mothers I know, whether by choice or by necessity are not.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
A dear friend of mine has
been quite obviously led to a life as a gifted doctor. She juggles
the pressures of preforming well and continuing her education in her
field of expertise. She deals with the good, the bad and the office
politics among other things but always manages to tread that delicate
balance. When she comes home at night, she plays the role of mother
and wife and does it well.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Another friend works
graveyard shifts in retail to help make ends meet while her devoted
husband teaches today's youth. (We all know how underpaid and under
appreciated educators tend to be. Quite often there isn't enough to
go around for a family of seven.)
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Yet another friend is a
working mother battling MS herself. That is nothing short of heroic.
</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The same goes for Anne
Romney's efforts. She has raised five children who have gone on to
do great things while dealing with serious health issues and all
the other things that come with motherhood. While she may not
understand what it's like to work outside the home and juggle the
worry of whether or not she was missing out on the things that mattered
most, I am sure she can relate to the pressure to preform.</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
The same goes for Hilary
Rosen as well. We may not know what is going on in her life that
would make her say what she said. Who knows, maybe she is dealing
with the worry and insecurity that comes to every mother, working out
of the home or not; that of not measuring up. I know few women who
have not, at one point or another, been paralyzed by such a notion.
Perhaps, she found herself frustrated by what may have appeared to her as another's
life of ease.</div>
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Jealousy and judgement
happen to even the best people in this life. Normally, it's not
captured on camera to be used by lynching mobs the wide-world over.
For those of us who may feel justified in our anger, let's not be part
of that mob. Just because she said it, doesn't make it so.</div>
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<br /></div>
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We as women, have a
greater, more powerful potential than that.
</div>
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<br /></div>
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Maybe Ms. Rosen was trying
to say that Anne Romney, as First Lady, wouldn't be relatable to
working mothers. That may not be a stretch AND not necessarily a bad
thing. What First Lady perfectly represented every woman out there
anyway? Michelle Obama is a woman who has accomplished much in her
career. She is in a field I know little about and honestly don't
care to. But I truly admire her efforts to help our nation and our
children make healthier lifestyle choices. That is something I
absolutely can relate to.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Whether or not I vote for
her husband in November, Anne Romney is a woman I can relate to as
someone who has been able to make a similar commitment to her family.
I admire her for achieving what I someday hope to.
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
On the other end of the
spectrum, Ms. Rosen is a woman I have less in common with. However,
as a mother who is undoubtedly trying to do what is best for her
children, I can also relate. As someone who has said some things that
could be construed as hurtful to others, I can relate even more.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
My hope is that women as a
whole can reach across party lines and offer support to each other,
recognizing that no matter where we are in this walk of life, we are
great. We may not agree with each other but there are many issues we
can find commonality on that will allow our voices to be stronger.
No matter how you slice it, what we do is hard, wonderful, crazy and
beautiful. The more we work to value that effort in others, the
greater our potential can become.
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<br /></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And that, Chris Vanocur,
is what I meant to say.</div>
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<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-26658277440036360292012-03-19T22:47:00.001-06:002012-03-19T22:47:02.899-06:00Memory Monday: So Much Fun, It Made Our Tongues Bleed...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our kids LOVE it when we tell stories from our youth. They often ask me to retell stories they've heard a dozen times before. </div>
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Among their favorites is a story I tell about our 'Dumb Dog Dylan'. It was during a tornado warning in Cache Valley Utah, which forced us to sleep in our scary Black Widow and King Cobra infested basement. Instead of protecting us from the scariest creatures ever, he spent the entire night climbing up the basement stairs and launching himself back down again, head first. Clink, clink went his nails up the stairs....CLUNK, CLUNK, WHIMPER went his body as it rolled back down...repeated 1,289 times.</div>
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Another one they LOVE is a guts and blood story about when <a href="http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.blogspot.com/2010/03/memory-monday-art-of-making-someone.html">'The Flash'</a> happened to lock his knees during an Eagle Court of Honor and tried (unsuccessfully) to make like a palace guard at Buckingham Palace. 6 weeks later, when the wire in his broken jaw was removed, he defrosted the freezer-burnt pepperoni pizza he saved weeks before he could actually eat it. </div>
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I was reminded of another story I could share with our kids several weeks ago while we were passing through Savannah, Georgia. We stopped at our favorite candy store which boasts of it's 'World's Greatest Pralines' (yeah, they are that good). They have a section solely devoted to artisanal chocolates and taffy. In another section, they have old-time candies like Bit-O-Honey and Necco Wafers. It was while we were perusing this section when we happened upon these. </div>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Qena1uoch3-obwauZ3aN_ZF-CMGUoXXikNv8tI0-rgijgsMAFQFraMCP7E_LA1dfu-8rUFToycQi-7Ga763i4abWBx-uiaFSJaudZiWFEELPvdQJIdXKpN3C5IgcF8pgouV84PK8bSIs/s1600/IMG_0233.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Qena1uoch3-obwauZ3aN_ZF-CMGUoXXikNv8tI0-rgijgsMAFQFraMCP7E_LA1dfu-8rUFToycQi-7Ga763i4abWBx-uiaFSJaudZiWFEELPvdQJIdXKpN3C5IgcF8pgouV84PK8bSIs/s320/IMG_0233.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Me: "Kids, Look at these! Uncle <a href="http://adventuresofthedomesticengineer.blogspot.com/2010/03/memory-monday-art-of-making-someone.html">Captain America </a>used to love these when we were growing up! He'd lick 'em until his tongue bled"</div>
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Kids: "Uncle Captain America ate that?!"</div>
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Me: "Yep, along with Pickle Juice Popsicle."</div>
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Kids: "Why?"</div>
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Me: "Maybe because if you lick one until you reach the core, you can see its rainbow layers. Want one?"</div>
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Kids: (gingerly holding their tongues) "No! But can we have a Pickle Juice Popsicle?"</div>
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Aww shucks! I guess I haven't showed them how to appreciate a good slice-up-your-tongue-until-every-last-tastebud-is-removed kind of candy. </div>
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Dang. I dropped the ball...or at least the massive, as-big-as-your-head jawbreaker.</div>
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That's okay. For tomorrow's breakfast I'll serve them Cap'n Crunch. That'll make up for the gross negligence.</div>
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<br />Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-29240162547110883922012-03-12T19:27:00.002-06:002012-03-13T06:29:42.388-06:00Memory Monday: Happy Birthday, Sunshine!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy Monday from the Blogoshpere! We've been up to our elbows in several projects during the past month. Now that those have reached their completion (more on them later), I get to catch up on some of those little things I love the most...such as blogging and my manuscript! (more updates on that a little later too!)</div>
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But right at this moment, I get to pause and consider the sheer fabulousness of one of the most incredible people I have ever met. </div>
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As I tried to find the right words to gush about how much I love this sweet girl who lights up my life with her joy and goodness, I realized any description falls flat. I figured the thousand words each picture tells may do a better job. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUNSHINE! </b></span></div>
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She made her entrance into the world
one snowy day, well, wee hour of the morning, really. Our world was
never before so blessed.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgDJ0iPyG1gOYZkcW0_srn7thmD5EpPGrlBtIh3t65HL78pDzJNtrBij-Yhkt6sIXQDSbaW2maEdycruXJw273wFmoS_TVMLeostw1EZppLGnNEOfzgE4nM8QVX5rKpakf9zNyq0NoUGA/s1600/christynborn3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqgDJ0iPyG1gOYZkcW0_srn7thmD5EpPGrlBtIh3t65HL78pDzJNtrBij-Yhkt6sIXQDSbaW2maEdycruXJw273wFmoS_TVMLeostw1EZppLGnNEOfzgE4nM8QVX5rKpakf9zNyq0NoUGA/s400/christynborn3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After 6 hours of labor and discovering, thanks to a very articulate midwife, that I have a pelvis that could birth a MAC truck, this little piece of perfection entered our lives.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHy8-Ue30M-zCxQLGf7EIBxcIskwpD6kSSh_NMXlVCD3w9ll63v8vNjZ5YwRp1H3dK9p-qttF5pXHYt3WGbIITjJIj2Jhn43eQsVUqvKB5NVWIJaEkSVKDxz9rNm4IBsk7dVP4EwJRmz9h/s1600/Chrissy+loves+flowers+Summer+2001+%232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHy8-Ue30M-zCxQLGf7EIBxcIskwpD6kSSh_NMXlVCD3w9ll63v8vNjZ5YwRp1H3dK9p-qttF5pXHYt3WGbIITjJIj2Jhn43eQsVUqvKB5NVWIJaEkSVKDxz9rNm4IBsk7dVP4EwJRmz9h/s320/Chrissy+loves+flowers+Summer+2001+%232.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunshine has loved flowers from the beginning</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gfTsNqc89zMKSjL_hLvpGK95kcElxpah45Ymt1T3Ig-bwy5CSzTZ1sjQdeskj6THR-V6cd7DyNkAAFJj48Kk-5lG4sACHW6WxMqy03xIIdno1rWD09Vssv6TOReH2WoALHEvAFAwzVvK/s1600/Spring+run2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9gfTsNqc89zMKSjL_hLvpGK95kcElxpah45Ymt1T3Ig-bwy5CSzTZ1sjQdeskj6THR-V6cd7DyNkAAFJj48Kk-5lG4sACHW6WxMqy03xIIdno1rWD09Vssv6TOReH2WoALHEvAFAwzVvK/s320/Spring+run2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's a Run-with-the-Wind kind of girl</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraESo4S49BjcMmsWcW3ibqzjP_bDtIY67mkFm4T2zQGMEG8fZBPWog41ZERhyphenhyphenhuyvmmrQEiNLXol-QeOZp8wbsCGPxfgYfyNN5xQT2QHpetwwi4wQWNeYqq6M-yuiVdgs-Dqn-NOWMJGt/s1600/Duncan's+Disneyland+Dream+Vacation-April+3-6,+2006++65.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiraESo4S49BjcMmsWcW3ibqzjP_bDtIY67mkFm4T2zQGMEG8fZBPWog41ZERhyphenhyphenhuyvmmrQEiNLXol-QeOZp8wbsCGPxfgYfyNN5xQT2QHpetwwi4wQWNeYqq6M-yuiVdgs-Dqn-NOWMJGt/s320/Duncan's+Disneyland+Dream+Vacation-April+3-6,+2006++65.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Never more adored than by younger sisters</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniLB7BDhyphenhyphenmEw_3f3tCqDqH4uwcC6FUeHmX_GGzNR88qfHCzoZF_NFdmQblNpOKo4_3Nthc7B7UwaAk9Mbvhpl_wxQVLxaQYn5qsCQTjI7boR12fa03hesq0DeuXC9vjyfRumZLe2PXK5h/s1600/Cheese!++at+Jeff+and+Heather%27s+%231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniLB7BDhyphenhyphenmEw_3f3tCqDqH4uwcC6FUeHmX_GGzNR88qfHCzoZF_NFdmQblNpOKo4_3Nthc7B7UwaAk9Mbvhpl_wxQVLxaQYn5qsCQTjI7boR12fa03hesq0DeuXC9vjyfRumZLe2PXK5h/s320/Cheese!++at+Jeff+and+Heather%27s+%231.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can I have some ham with that cheese, please?</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gnLB5wseaI9xm8E1T5VZdM_BXxabakJdZ3IXf0UyPANgZMMHbarwtcr_s28xjAVf_omQgVsrU081F9uAzTnVopD8TsAWPTwXPCVbo5DKUpC3NiyLfbCF1EURNCpJ7mQ2YvgvWZCxyFOR/s1600/Sunday+Afternoon+fun-October+2006++9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7gnLB5wseaI9xm8E1T5VZdM_BXxabakJdZ3IXf0UyPANgZMMHbarwtcr_s28xjAVf_omQgVsrU081F9uAzTnVopD8TsAWPTwXPCVbo5DKUpC3NiyLfbCF1EURNCpJ7mQ2YvgvWZCxyFOR/s320/Sunday+Afternoon+fun-October+2006++9.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVD6KnR9MxzWwZ13lokCWDu1xdR5woj6n1XVncc2zKeP9hiWD6xaPKo6BxjEzsH_17Gz9mDTpuOlA_-IzfebRje1hiafLWjRNk6q7NujKN_BentK3_hIC3XCy9jfT5rGE5CHe5WSLJC7Q/s1600/bellebike.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVD6KnR9MxzWwZ13lokCWDu1xdR5woj6n1XVncc2zKeP9hiWD6xaPKo6BxjEzsH_17Gz9mDTpuOlA_-IzfebRje1hiafLWjRNk6q7NujKN_BentK3_hIC3XCy9jfT5rGE5CHe5WSLJC7Q/s320/bellebike.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's something so telling about this picture. </td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHe1XKOo73KlpFXeMsXdt80An8kdnV-M9XG6c109GMDhXL3pcd6dj4eRm4ueMRXus304BF1VJwmOYmzxD8jZXMapuhe8MBbM0J5H33oS4ydit8F6Myw4I2duqfjfrQ3q8nSYRGMcvfKHN/s1600/Chrissy+Halloween+2007++%232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmHe1XKOo73KlpFXeMsXdt80An8kdnV-M9XG6c109GMDhXL3pcd6dj4eRm4ueMRXus304BF1VJwmOYmzxD8jZXMapuhe8MBbM0J5H33oS4ydit8F6Myw4I2duqfjfrQ3q8nSYRGMcvfKHN/s320/Chrissy+Halloween+2007++%232.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">6ish</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvgZqUZTUDEg-VBei2kNXenqlAxzSh5q5aUk_iUmPhU-V6jjA7SQkL8GqaBmzam45eovobqlsC27EJq0DtysLVni98ASx3vCY04RF-5yTo9Db6zE3BLelrwsYhrJsys8LYL7Mpizhz6kn/s1600/Facepainted+Chrissy+%232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvgZqUZTUDEg-VBei2kNXenqlAxzSh5q5aUk_iUmPhU-V6jjA7SQkL8GqaBmzam45eovobqlsC27EJq0DtysLVni98ASx3vCY04RF-5yTo9Db6zE3BLelrwsYhrJsys8LYL7Mpizhz6kn/s320/Facepainted+Chrissy+%232.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-oYMnmAUy_Ccrlaj2Y7VGC0BYrzSWdlTHvNNBj6RmiQm8Vq7g630aa9dAMVAqg29tJRWgIsSClndspnFGceIDnixd91CRY4VXCcCh478Yzkj5gzjJzyApHl_i-oI8RQOQILDu_wZzLoh/s1600/C+&+T+Christmas+2008++%231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6-oYMnmAUy_Ccrlaj2Y7VGC0BYrzSWdlTHvNNBj6RmiQm8Vq7g630aa9dAMVAqg29tJRWgIsSClndspnFGceIDnixd91CRY4VXCcCh478Yzkj5gzjJzyApHl_i-oI8RQOQILDu_wZzLoh/s320/C+&+T+Christmas+2008++%231.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's always been something so Happy-Go-Lucky about this one....Yep, definitely a keeper!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6v6U0NAxb10KzqLtRX1WhQTYs0BdobYrIjZGfQy6g1Q4s3E9g1Ox8jau1iCH5ccGho1EigWKNXcDkFPL86wWrXyqXA9Geofs3-MxAOC-rX0Pssb2vqMS9vTUAHG6kBfvFpstPidUQ1uQm/s1600/Co-Op+Kids+April+2011+%232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6v6U0NAxb10KzqLtRX1WhQTYs0BdobYrIjZGfQy6g1Q4s3E9g1Ox8jau1iCH5ccGho1EigWKNXcDkFPL86wWrXyqXA9Geofs3-MxAOC-rX0Pssb2vqMS9vTUAHG6kBfvFpstPidUQ1uQm/s1600/Co-Op+Kids+April+2011+%232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6v6U0NAxb10KzqLtRX1WhQTYs0BdobYrIjZGfQy6g1Q4s3E9g1Ox8jau1iCH5ccGho1EigWKNXcDkFPL86wWrXyqXA9Geofs3-MxAOC-rX0Pssb2vqMS9vTUAHG6kBfvFpstPidUQ1uQm/s320/Co-Op+Kids+April+2011+%232.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7OJ24VwPELtK2rQ5ICZ8pEPWvurr0B7RYjp4Hz9McT2luijgmRmOk94qrOLSpv9ZtXtYBGIfeGKyrXVIg0n0N_O9pGho3P1ev56CK34mYrC79QQ6WO8mfvc9zuJP8fGRBEszP9bI_rggB/s1600/Thanksgiving+Family+Photo+Shoot+%2357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7OJ24VwPELtK2rQ5ICZ8pEPWvurr0B7RYjp4Hz9McT2luijgmRmOk94qrOLSpv9ZtXtYBGIfeGKyrXVIg0n0N_O9pGho3P1ev56CK34mYrC79QQ6WO8mfvc9zuJP8fGRBEszP9bI_rggB/s320/Thanksgiving+Family+Photo+Shoot+%2357.JPG" width="213" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pBr-ZlQLd67hWMCgA0V2eMJ-fwxerBxDhJahohMgAeU3RGO2Q74trFfgBzbfiF-AtuQ3waqSXF8E0Ad2zRTBlkhkGFmqsiUEk2mJTczTXKPJO6OoTPzb040RGWP0e9ImHK-x7sK627FO/s1600/DSC00062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pBr-ZlQLd67hWMCgA0V2eMJ-fwxerBxDhJahohMgAeU3RGO2Q74trFfgBzbfiF-AtuQ3waqSXF8E0Ad2zRTBlkhkGFmqsiUEk2mJTczTXKPJO6OoTPzb040RGWP0e9ImHK-x7sK627FO/s640/DSC00062.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As I took a snapshot of this beautiful young lady prior to her piano recital, I found myself in awe of the gifted and wonderful soul she is...no coincidence put this person together yet I can never take a shred of credit. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<br />Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-71838311959686602582012-02-06T19:59:00.001-07:002012-02-06T19:59:08.647-07:00Memory Monday: Favorite Primetime From 20 Years Ago...Touched off by a recent conversation, I found myself remembering a show called 'Eerie, Indiana' from 20 years ago. It only lasted a season or two but my brothers and I were big fans. He-Man and I just spent the last 25 minutes watching the episode I remember the most. (Thank you, Facebook friends, for jogging my memory.)<br />
Check it out!<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_421715891"><br /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.hulu.com/watch/179359/eerie-indiana-foreverware">http://www.hulu.com/watch/179359/eerie-indiana-foreverware</a><br />
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Now if only they'd bring back '<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Charmings">The Charmings</a>'! Good grief, I LOVED that show!Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-60238622533007447432012-02-05T21:31:00.001-07:002012-02-06T21:46:40.803-07:00Simple Sabbath: A Rough Week's Reflection...Hey there, Peeps! It's been a difficult week. Gratefully, all is well. With any luck, after the doctor's bill of good health tomorrow, life will officially be somewhat normal again.<br />
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This week brought some complications from the previous week's heartache. It was a bit harrowing but there is much to be learned from it. After regaining my reasoning abilities, I've been able to make sense of some of it...<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I learned</b></span>:<br />
*That I have a physical response to people helping me. Maybe it's my miserable and failed attempt to be Miss Super and Sassy Independent. Maybe it's a deathly fear of being a burden, an imposition to others. Maybe it's a bit of both. All I know is that I tense up, my stomach ties up in knots and I get jittery. I talk with my hands and use large gestures. I probably freak people out a little bit...like the crazy lady walking down the street describing the world's largest donuts to the invisible police officer. This is not healthy. I need to be able to say thank you without showering people with enough chocolatey goodness and baked treats to somehow 'make it up to them'. This is going to be a tough one.<br />
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*That hemorrhaging can be a very real, very scary danger for pregnant women. I recently watched a documentary on women who deal with that very thing everyday in third world countries. At the time, I just couldn't imagine. <br />
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*Whoda thunk that using certain types of drugs, such as antacids, in surprising applications, would create violent, unnatural responses that will eventually result in a female body finishing what it started but couldn't finish.<br />
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*That in a random, unexpected minute, your arms could ache for a baby you never actually got to meet. (For me, it was in the scrapbook sticker aisle at Hobby Lobby on Friday night. For He-Man, it was today at church, during the blessing of a baby. He leaned over to me and whispered, "I'm a little sad." I almost lost it. This is coming from a man who has a fully operational 'Robot-Mode')<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>I marvel:</b></span><br />
*That those very personal, very unique moments when you're wrestling with yourself, with God, with natural laws, such as gravity, the hardest wrestle can be with YOU. Getting yourself out of that personally inflicted head-lock is a bit tricky...let's just hope you're not doing it at the same time you're in a tree. (How's that for a visual?)<br />
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*From one whose probably eaten 1,768,243 strawberries and crunched (because I don't have the patience to suck) 4,378 lemon drops in my lifetime, that those post-ER treats have NEVER tasted so good. (Thank you, Elizabeth, Cari and Syndee)<br />
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*How one can say "Today, my friend had to help me walk to the bathroom, push me down a hall in a wheel chair AND as an added bonus I even dropped my pants in front of them..." and it NOT be after a frat party. (I'm sorry you had to see that.)<br />
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*How it can seem like the world is closing in on you but the moment that ONE person walks into the room, the clouds part just a little bit. (I totally would have made out with him too but it seemed wildly inappropriate given the circumstances.)<br />
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*How sharing the marvelous news that someone very close to you (super-top secret...you're not gonna hear it from me!) is expecting a baby can heal your soul and breathe hope into your heart once again.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I wonder:</span></b><br />
*How it was discovered that shoving particular medications into unrelated orifices would actually create a whole new spectrum of applications for said drugs.<br />
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*Who volunteers to be the guinea pigs?<br />
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*Would you put that on your resume?<br />
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How's that for food for thought?</div>
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Here's to a brand new week and a fresh perspective. Happy February, Everyone!</div>
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<br />Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-46017476588228518072012-02-03T19:56:00.002-07:002012-02-04T07:34:16.697-07:00Reclaimed Table...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few months ago, I made a purchase off of Craigslist. I picked up the
new-to-me merchandise and as I was walking out the door, the woman asked me
if I would like this table.</div>
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I gladly accepted, thinking I could easily think of something to do with it. </div>
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I LOVE mosaic art. I have every intention, one day, to visit the cities of<i><b> <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/ancient/romans/pompeii_art_gallery_07.shtml">Pompeii</a> </b></i>and <b><span class="st"><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herculaneum">Herculaneum</a><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;"></span><span style="color: black;"></span></i></span></b><span style="color: black;">to gaze upon the magnificent art frozen in time by the volcanic eruption of Mt.Vesuvius. </span><u><br style="color: black;" /></u></div>
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Since the table was essentially free, I thought it would be a great opportunity to try creating mosaic art myself. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1F_8A7Nn82NL78GExPGk13TNUV6v6tjpVxyaPqxrNHeTquSuuwIXANVNTYHhnQjlDiQULnYg2KA3qxAWA0IUElAdUPs8JQAkchDbWgoyB9uf4o6HJCVnl5gY34PZMEIFKS4T2C2YI7hHc/s1600/DSC00505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1F_8A7Nn82NL78GExPGk13TNUV6v6tjpVxyaPqxrNHeTquSuuwIXANVNTYHhnQjlDiQULnYg2KA3qxAWA0IUElAdUPs8JQAkchDbWgoyB9uf4o6HJCVnl5gY34PZMEIFKS4T2C2YI7hHc/s400/DSC00505.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-90221166839119784512012-02-02T19:39:00.003-07:002012-02-02T19:42:56.577-07:00Book Quote Thursday: Happy February!<div style="text-align: left;">
Happy Thursday to you! The first book quote for the month of February is from a book I have loved ever since I can remember being able to read it. I find it particularly poignant right now so I thought I would share.</div>
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“Burdens are for shoulders strong enough to carry them.”<br />
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Kind of obscure? Here's another hint:<br />
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'You're so brutal to those who love you, {insert name}. You take their love and hold it over their heads like a whip.' </div>
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Care to guess? Remember...at the end of the month all correct answers will be put in a drawing for fabulous Blog Candy sent directly to you by Yours Truly. </div>
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Love,<br />
Your Truly <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kpcDAv6UuvYMTLWoiyf4nMtEtL6fdIu2ZrfyGgjcMB9fvKy4wo6CdbhL0bLpQ4RdFn3VcamKGQRHcxxBfIhiQud4DtuTDABdLjsk9hYXu-cS80RPMMpO5qdiifufyAns7P1JSVD_ah9Q/s1600/DSC00009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_kpcDAv6UuvYMTLWoiyf4nMtEtL6fdIu2ZrfyGgjcMB9fvKy4wo6CdbhL0bLpQ4RdFn3VcamKGQRHcxxBfIhiQud4DtuTDABdLjsk9hYXu-cS80RPMMpO5qdiifufyAns7P1JSVD_ah9Q/s320/DSC00009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-29697020604818552322012-02-01T19:24:00.000-07:002012-02-01T19:24:01.456-07:00Wednesday's Neurosis: The Chopping Block...Oh how our culinary lives have been enriched by our prized kitchen knives! For years He-Man wished for good, solid knives while with every mentioning of such desire, I had visions of serious appendage injuries and blood loss. (And that's not even factoring our children into the equation.)<br />
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It wasn't until a chat with a chef that my worries were dispelled and I realized the dull, cheap second-hand knives we were using had greater potential for destruction than a slick and quick slicer and dicer. Shortly thereafter, He-Man's birthday present consisted of a Henckels block and knives and a cake to christen them with. <br />
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Since then, neither one of us could imagine preparing food without them. They have their own special spot right by the marble cutting block. And when not in use, they MUST be stored like this.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Notice the uniformity in their placement. Beautiful. They say, "Pick me! Pick me...to slice that juicy tomato over on the counter. I promise to slice right through it and not even make you bleed." Very courteous aren't they?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Recently, someone, who shall remain nameless, discovered how funny it is to make mom/wife crazy by messing with yin yang balance of the cutlery world. Sure! It's fun to see mom implode! <br />
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You might ask, "How does one accomplish such a thing?" <br />
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Feast your eyes upon this and tell me; DOES THAT NOT MAKE YOU CRAZY?!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBYfGDiSg4H5Pqkgyq8DWirOQLCUdeCdHb-kqOvPLt0374jJCEHX9xHtP29JaqwzLcI5eWMvCu9v9UXbwAptQl7YMAoeliJa_4ypBB-u-BQnICCY-OIy3qdAiT0Ae7Hg8F1qCvSGYitVw/s1600/DSC00499.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWBYfGDiSg4H5Pqkgyq8DWirOQLCUdeCdHb-kqOvPLt0374jJCEHX9xHtP29JaqwzLcI5eWMvCu9v9UXbwAptQl7YMAoeliJa_4ypBB-u-BQnICCY-OIy3qdAiT0Ae7Hg8F1qCvSGYitVw/s320/DSC00499.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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What snarky-clever person doesn't seem to realize is that opposite to an angel getting his wings every time a bells rings is that every time a knife is purposely misplaced within its block, somewhere in the world, a teenage mutant ninja turtle receives a flesh wound. </div>
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For the love of samurai ninjas everywhere, PUT THE KNIVES AWAY IN THEIR PROPER POSITIONS. </div>
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It is up to us to save the turtles. </div>Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3809570672088904652.post-48514082623938338182012-01-31T10:53:00.002-07:002012-01-31T11:57:37.905-07:00Book Quote Blog Candy...It's been a couple of rough days but I think the worst has past (I'm okay, really). Unfortunately, I'm not feeling very wordy right now. But I will say this. My super scientific randomly awesome random numberator (it's a bonafide generator) picked out two winners of the Thursday's Book Quote blogpost.<br />
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You ALL guessed it correctly, "You Are Special" by Max Lucado. Just a tidbit of information: he is a Christian minister and a bestselling author of over 50 books. AND, in my humble opinion, has blessings awaiting him in heaven for the peace, love and joy he has spread throughout the world. <br />
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So...the winners are:</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lynn D. from Jacksonville, Florida</span></div>
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and </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">Abby H. from Los Angeles, California</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Congrats, Ladies! You win a super snazzy surprise coming to you directly from ME!</span></span></span></div>
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<br />Trishellehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07700533877787512263noreply@blogger.com1