tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87041967914046135412024-02-07T00:01:55.771-05:00Maybe BabyKerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.comBlogger63125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-53651173916872475992012-08-26T17:10:00.000-04:002012-08-26T17:10:44.063-04:00Baby, I Will Not be Patronized by the Patriarchy<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are things we talk about & things we don't. Things we share with our girlfriends & things not for 'mixed company.' Things we tell only those closest to us, & things we really don't tell anybody...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm going to talk about some of those things. I have been privileged to know some incredible women in my life, & I'm going to share their stories. I will change their names to keep their confidence, but their stories matter. They are important in today's anti-woman political climate. I will do my best to tell the stories matter-of-fact-ly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">*As I know some of my readers know me & my acquaintances fairly well...I ask that even if you think you may recognize someone or their story here, you just leave it here, please. It's their business to talk about or not as they feel comfortable.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nina was pregnant. During a routine ultrasound, it was discovered that the pregnancy was ectopic. She was married with 3 children. The hospital where her doctor had privileges was a Catholic hospital (& the nearest one to where they lived) & they refused to terminate her pregnancy even though it is well known that the baby cannot grow to term & can endanger Nina's own life, possibly leaving her husband a widower with 3 children to raise without her. They ended up driving to another hospital where her life & fertility were preserved & she had another baby in a few years.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amy was a college student. She & her roommate went to the roommate's boyfriend's apartment for an evening to hang out & play drinking games. (I will not hear any judgments on the drinking. College kids do that with some frequency. It is normal.) Amy had a little more than she intended & passed out. She woke up sometime during the night because one of the boyfriend's roommates decided to help himself to the pretty girl passed out on the sofa. She woke up to his hands on her breasts beneath her shirt. She was able to tell him no loudly & forcibly enough that he backed away for fear of her waking others in the house, a clear sign that he knew what he was doing was wrong. Both girls had thought it would be a safe place & had intended to stay overnight. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Amy said she tried to stay awake the rest of the night, but she was so sleepy that she thought walking home alone in the early morning hours & sleeping there was the best thing to do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Claire told me that when she was a little girl, her brother sexually abused her. She was 5 when her mother happened to walk in & catch them. She doesn't know if anything was ever said to her brother who is nearly 5 years older than her, but she was lectured about <i>what she thought she was doing</i> until she was so shamed, she felt it was all her fault. (It cannot ever be a 5 year-old's fault. Period.) It was never mentioned again in her family. She doesn't even know whether her father knows what happened to her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Christine started to remember childhood sexual abuse by a family member as an adult. She found the reality so traumatic as a child that she buried it & was unable to recover the events until adulthood. When she did, she revealed her memories to her parents who then felt guilt for not knowing & sparing her the abuse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eileen was hanging out with friends one day after [high] school & they were all having a fine time but the afternoon passed & eventually she was left with just the boy at whose house they were. They had dated in the past, but remained friends, & Eileen was dating somebody else at this point. The guy thought she might be interested in revisiting their history, but she was not. He </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">tried to seduce her, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">pressured her, guilted her, challenged her, & used every method imaginable to coerce her into just getting it overwith...he thought he had scored. She felt used, betrayed & violated. The term 'date rape' didn't exist yet. It was years later when she realized that that is exactly what had happened to her. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Jackie found herself pregnant at 18. She was not dating the father, but they were friends...friends with benefits as the saying goes. She did not want a baby. With or without the man's help, she did not want to be a mother when her whole life was ahead of her. She had plans. She was smart. She was young & ambitious & she'd simply miscalculated. For support, I went along to the abortion clinic, crossing the picket lines while horrible, angry people called us murderers. People who knew nothing of the fear she faced hurled insults, not even knowing which one of us within our circle of friends was having the procedure. It's not an experience I have forgotten all these years later.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sofie was in her late 30s, with 3 children, one still quite young. She was previously divorced & was currently in a failing relationship when she discovered she was pregnant for a 4th time. Already relying on child support, alimony & government assistance to take care of her family, she did not want another baby putting off her return to work another several years nor did she wish to remain poor, working to pay for daycare. She opted for abortion. At this time, the abortion pill RU-486 had finally become available in the US & she was able to obtain a prescription from her doctor. She says it was a difficult decision because she loves being a mother, but she cannot regret it because she didn't need to be tied to the wrong man forever, & she has since been able to make a good life for herself & her 3 children that they wouldn't otherwise have.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As for me personally, I will share that I have found myself in some situations where I was definitely ill at ease. One instance that comes immediately to mind is when I was at an outdoor concert with some friends. We were packed pretty tightly together on a hill watching the band & some guy nearby asked me if he could bum a light. I let him. 3 times he did this. On the 4th time, he didn't ask me for a light. Honestly, I'm not even sure it was the same guy. I felt something on my shoulder where he'd tapped me the previous times & as I started to turn, a hand was clamped very tightly over my mouth so that I couldn't yell out. <span style="font-size: x-small;">I always thought that if something would ever happen to me, </span><span style="font-size: xx-small;">NOTHING WAS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME,</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> my strong, loud voice would be my saving grace, but no, that was not the case.</span> I was being pulled backward, & it was truly all happening in slow-motion. I kicked my foot out & hit my friend in front of me in the leg. She turned around to see who'd kicked her, saw the predicament I was in, & instantly grabbed at my hand that was reaching for her & pulled me away. The guy disappeared into the crowd. I have no idea what he looked like. Right there -in the middle of hundreds of people- & no one saw a thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've heard other stories, but they come to me 2nd-hand & I don't want to diminish real stories by telling some where I don't have it from the source. This is just me & women I know. I'm 1 person. Think of all the women you know & figure the probability that you know victims too. Sexual assault is far too prevalent in our society.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Borrowed from a friend on facebook, her status recently said: </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Yes people, I'm pretty upset about this!!! If you, or anyone you know has been raped (and EVERY man and woman knows someone who's been raped), YOU should be upset about this too!!! (If you're on my page, then you do know someone). This IS NOTjust</span><br />
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a one-time comment or thought process of the Republican based party....This article talks about several, but not all of the other (men) who have used similar jargon and thought processes. And, there are many current US leaders who believe the same thing. Don't put your head in the sand and pretend like they don't. Open your eyes and realize that they are trying to reshape the future of women in the US and therefore the women of the world, and not in a positive way. </div>
<a href="http://jezebel.com/5936160/the-official-guide-to-legitimate-rape" rel="nofollow nofollow" style="background-color: white; color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;" target="_blank">http://jezebel.com/5936160/the-official-guide-to-legitimate-rape</a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't know to whom she was referring & I won't ask, but that's just how common it is.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHY9SbEGGzvfQrPrJvzyaN6GgeHEXOTFyNNzFp46ZxVJhcFSAqgP4CbB2R96GgBZjl0xHvZJb0ZgdfuYev53IPXMO5Ou7eChx6GfBABMlD-hx8wTT0keDLtGfPVYgzog8NH9kBNuss_Jw/s1600/574575_4513800449982_413381315_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="81" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHY9SbEGGzvfQrPrJvzyaN6GgeHEXOTFyNNzFp46ZxVJhcFSAqgP4CbB2R96GgBZjl0xHvZJb0ZgdfuYev53IPXMO5Ou7eChx6GfBABMlD-hx8wTT0keDLtGfPVYgzog8NH9kBNuss_Jw/s320/574575_4513800449982_413381315_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Given that I love these wonderful women & the girls they once were, it makes me angry. Their lives were disrupted for what? They have scars, & for what? Some so jerk can feel powerful? Because some guy had an urge to dominate? The politicians in the Republican party trivialize these matters, trying to redefine rape as legitimate or forcible as opposed to coerced or unconscious....They seek to undermine or outlaw access to legal & safe contraception, abortion & other health screenings under the <span style="font-size: x-small;">dis</span>guise of being 'pro-life.' They have vowed to cut funding to rape crisis centers & to domestic violence programs. These women's lives are not political points to score. They matter. They are flesh & blood mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, nieces, cousins, teachers, nurses, nurturers....& they get to decide what happens to their bodies & in their lives for their own mental & physical well-being.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What gives anyone else the right, or rather, why would anyone else </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">think</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> s/he has the right, to dictate someone else's choices? How twisted is it to think one's own morality (& I hesitate to call it that because to me it is <u>im</u>moral) ought to trump another's freedom? How can anyone possibly know better than the one facing the consequences? Who lives with the memory- the pain or the relief? It is personal. It is another attack. And it is unacceptable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When people fail to understand why I'm so passionate about politics, I want to hit them <span style="font-size: x-small;">figuratively</span> with a brick in the face. Why don't they get it? When they get angry with me for talking about it, or turn their heads away like I don't understand that there are other issues...I ask this: Are you identified 1st by gender or occupation or religious affiliation or race? The 1st thing people tell when spreading the news of a baby is its gender. It is an identity most of us carry throughout our entire lives. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(From what I can find, transgender or transsexual people make up less than 1% of the population.) </span>So yes, I do 1st feel a firm loyalty towards women's issues being a woman & the mother of girls. It is central to who I am as a citizen with my rights in jeopardy, my </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">physical & mental health access at stake & my </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">economic standards that are set below that of male counterparts....It is all connected! It is patronizing to belittle it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frankly, I really don't care who pays what in taxes if my children don't have dominion over their bodies in their futures. I don't care if the big banks fail & gas prices rise to $20 a gallon if they are not free to control their own body's reproductive functions. It all just ceases to matter once one becomes a prisoner to biology.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-64735438807409277842012-08-26T13:40:00.003-04:002012-08-26T13:40:43.467-04:00Baby, You Hilarious<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">TUESDAY, AUGUST 7, 2012</span></h2>
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Baby, You Hilarious</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My children....a constant source of amusement....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We have been enjoying Friends reruns together this summer. Wow, I feel old with how dated they are!! The other night, something mildly peculiar happened & I posted it to facebook--</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7eFGgdrXfrdeqOXlkY6lTYLbKhsQe_l6wW5s2ssqfz636JrjKIFDFKiY6_oxetM9OCenGuwCBL3QLnpSbwsQepboOinSHtVuLjDD08apgriGDmRK5wFUyEqe2RRL1uzKRs2wCU2AisAA/s1600/Bruce+Willis+on+FRIENDS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="165" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7eFGgdrXfrdeqOXlkY6lTYLbKhsQe_l6wW5s2ssqfz636JrjKIFDFKiY6_oxetM9OCenGuwCBL3QLnpSbwsQepboOinSHtVuLjDD08apgriGDmRK5wFUyEqe2RRL1uzKRs2wCU2AisAA/s200/Bruce+Willis+on+FRIENDS.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">Bruce on Friends</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Watching an old episode of Friends with the girls & there is a guest star. </span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I said, "Oh, he still had hair!"</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Daughter #2: Who is it?</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Daughter #1: Kevin Bacon</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">Me: Bruce Willis</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">They say, "Whose that?"</span><br /><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">Bruce now</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">Kevin Bacon</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You might ask, how did she know Kevin Bacon? A commercial. (I shake my head. It's just too sad.) She remembered him because Bacon "is a funny name." At least Bruce is in a couple of movies. I hope Kevin does something again. Bernie Madoff stole all his money.<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">(Yes, they asked who's Bernie Madoff & what's a ponzi scheme.) </span><a href="http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/m/bernard_l_madoff/index.html" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/m/bernard_l_madoff/index.html</span></a><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: center;">I admit, I felt a little sad at that. And I wondered how one of them knew who Kevin Bacon was when she didn't know Bruce Willis. I tend to think Willis is the bigger star, the one still making movies. And that made me feel pretty old. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Raise your hand if it feels like you just played the game <i>6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon</i> yesterday.)</span> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Degrees_of_Kevin_Bacon" style="color: #6699cc; font-size: 13px; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Degrees_of_Kevin_Bacon</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then just last night we were playing a quiz game, Sporcle, & we were filling in the topic Disney Animated Movies by Letter. Anytime I get a fun one, I read them aloud for the girls & my hubs to play too. Should have been easy.....But hubs could only come up with Pixar titles which weren't included. So Daughter #1 asks, "Does it include the really old ones too, like SteamTruck Mickey?" <i>Steam. Truck. Mickey.</i> I nearly wet my pants laughing so hard. "I'd guess it does include Steamboat Willy, since that started it all."</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So then a little later, maybe we were slap-happy at this point, we were watching a show where there was a jackalope & some lady kept calling it a devil-bunny, which just struck me as hilarious. So Daughter #1 is relaying to her dad what I'm all giddy over, & she calls it a jack-o-lantern. Which puts Daughter #2 into peels of laughter because A, she loves catching her sister in an error, & B, it was nearly 11 PM. And possibly C, a lot of words that start with jack are pretty funny. Jackass. Jackhole. Jackwad. Jackaroo. Jackrabbit....</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then the best thing happened. Daughter #1, who is just so cool & doesn't like me talking too much about her, who also knows that I posted the Bruce/Kevin thing on facebook, asks me if I'm going to post either of these funnies on facebook? I gave her the "ehhhn." </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Truth is, I tried but my 2nd gen iPod keeps kicking me off & so it never went through. So I just told her no. Her response? "Why? Don't your friends need to be entertained by the hilarity that is me?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yep, I suppose they do, kid. Here ya go.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-67454437071859831062012-08-26T13:40:00.000-04:002012-08-26T13:40:07.474-04:00Summer Droolin' Baby<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">TUESDAY, JULY 24, 2012</span></h2>
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Summer Droolin' Baby</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been gone a long time. Lots of pressing business to tend to these days, like dirty dishes & dirty laundry. And then clean dishes & clean laundry. And dinner. And softball. I'm exhausted. </span><br /><div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's summer vacation so that means extra work for me. More dishes, more meals, more laundry. I don't know why there is more laundry. Just trust me on that. There is. And because we had (it ended last week) 4 softball games a week, for about 3 hours per game, I just felt like all the time for me was absorbed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ok, sure I had time to facebook & pin....but I've barely read anything & only been to the movies twice. I saw The Avengers with the family & Magic Mike with my girlfriends. I liked them both. Lots of eye candy- bare chests & muscles, & the moves to show them off... I mean, look at these casts. Just look. Now wipe off the drool.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realize that when you hear Avengers, & this may come to mind- - - -</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpVLzl9DxfCTPcqMfDtR3ub0EG4evXvbvASu8_1DCfYLXfKek6eBweWcyO8t58FhZhpT38Z876mzvxjdNyu2qPZe6SNACFj5u5-lUW59nYv_LxRCkyoaCiybEUSY05UsyYGxu6Jd865c/s1600/AVENGERS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwpVLzl9DxfCTPcqMfDtR3ub0EG4evXvbvASu8_1DCfYLXfKek6eBweWcyO8t58FhZhpT38Z876mzvxjdNyu2qPZe6SNACFj5u5-lUW59nYv_LxRCkyoaCiybEUSY05UsyYGxu6Jd865c/s320/AVENGERS.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="231" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGu8HFwqS3JC98ork7YGbi3Mbn5O49yl1c4cRXol9JDJsCB5Y85grrtzrOWKO4cT7P2KFvWg8aQCIoe3j01LB7P69v8WW7siTiF7TLfQeNJIPJ8DBOoUwDW-CU5lFaBlY9JUNes8pcAU/s1600/29836416251661919_tmFwfTgO_f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGu8HFwqS3JC98ork7YGbi3Mbn5O49yl1c4cRXol9JDJsCB5Y85grrtzrOWKO4cT7P2KFvWg8aQCIoe3j01LB7P69v8WW7siTiF7TLfQeNJIPJ8DBOoUwDW-CU5lFaBlY9JUNes8pcAU/s320/29836416251661919_tmFwfTgO_f.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="216" /></a></div>
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- - - <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I want you to think of this instead. See how yummy? Look at them! Hahaha!!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTa8mhgXZgg40jM7yKMXsrZu-rIMksJinLHm9PvOjJiCFlbtGiWnmZ3cO1G_Sda4FeXX_hd0RwTRHJYUUVHTfy4cDCVF_EhR1s-WE6h0FCgztDeEmNTJwIY6Asa1GSAewqDWHq8JU8EQ/s1600/.avenger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghX11xvRNrFsN-364MUe2wrSabGIg1KK8ZkBDSfWUA46C6uGyfh8A6rgmmE-8i-UfDzj2y0b1i4992nrENBw2n54O_I8IcSnq2UvKMjp0GKDw2rv9aU5I4TZXbunlbICiOCDoKeBfQyLk/s1600/avengers+cast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghX11xvRNrFsN-364MUe2wrSabGIg1KK8ZkBDSfWUA46C6uGyfh8A6rgmmE-8i-UfDzj2y0b1i4992nrENBw2n54O_I8IcSnq2UvKMjp0GKDw2rv9aU5I4TZXbunlbICiOCDoKeBfQyLk/s320/avengers+cast.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeTa8mhgXZgg40jM7yKMXsrZu-rIMksJinLHm9PvOjJiCFlbtGiWnmZ3cO1G_Sda4FeXX_hd0RwTRHJYUUVHTfy4cDCVF_EhR1s-WE6h0FCgztDeEmNTJwIY6Asa1GSAewqDWHq8JU8EQ/s320/.avenger.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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<br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Look at their grins. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(</span></span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">You can ignore Scarlet if you want. I do. She's pretty, but not my type.</span></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">) </span>Captain America is missing from this shot. But look at that Thor. I think he is my favorite eye candy in this movie anyway. Truly adorable.</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then we have a completely different type of story....</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aw, Mike. You look good. Really. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Really, really good.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PejFOyJrjSMm4RSRpAqP_sMEq0tzyNda4Ir8FCL_r6hLtLpPPiDRakFaoJremS7LVXRN0xsx_8g0i5wTuKZ7MihFyga-PlvFRcLfmszdGAY5oOsz8btH1n1m7nNea4clc1GBKV__TdM/s1600/mike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PejFOyJrjSMm4RSRpAqP_sMEq0tzyNda4Ir8FCL_r6hLtLpPPiDRakFaoJremS7LVXRN0xsx_8g0i5wTuKZ7MihFyga-PlvFRcLfmszdGAY5oOsz8btH1n1m7nNea4clc1GBKV__TdM/s640/mike.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="428" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every icon of masculinity is represented. Construction Worker... Cowboy... Police Officer... Sailor... Soldier... Fireman... And more! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you know they're acting when Matthew McConaughey is not only the least attractive (well, I reserve that for the big Tarzan guy) but the least likable character. But I don't want to give anything away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Contrary to what one might think, or assume is necessary, there was a plot. It wasn't complicated but it was entertaining.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously, just look at them! And they danced for you, yes, just for you! T</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hey knew how to move their hips....oh, yes, they did!</span><br /><br /><div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">They smiled & gyrated & flirted. They were sexy, raunchy & sweet alternately. And at times, funny & charming. Surprise!! But really, just look at them. You gotta love 'em. </span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was a lip-smackin' good time. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Did I mention we went to celebrate my birthday & my husband made me a drool bib to wear? He's a keeper!!)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzPk_Zbd4HRpodEYNfwNTpkUrjlJVJxJZEdJkdLosQD8byXDV_nIAR0xWmbp3z6FDLgmZCodBPoPmHg3gLWe0AynJuYuJhvRif07BiY7vB9fQOihX-kae1y64NqIQnj2HA2C_oz8L1UQ/s1600/magic+mike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzPk_Zbd4HRpodEYNfwNTpkUrjlJVJxJZEdJkdLosQD8byXDV_nIAR0xWmbp3z6FDLgmZCodBPoPmHg3gLWe0AynJuYuJhvRif07BiY7vB9fQOihX-kae1y64NqIQnj2HA2C_oz8L1UQ/s320/magic+mike.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now that we have some free time again, I think I want to see Batman. (I don't want to be sad & associate it with the tragedy in Colorado. That was just timing & opportunity. I just want to enjoy it for what it was meant to be.) It's just 3 movies all summer long. And guess what? There's more eye candy!! I mean, Christian Bale is a chameleon... scruffy, ugly & grungy sick in one film but all buff & smoldering hot in another. And it's win-win. We get to see a 'family' movie. The hubs gets his superhero fix. And I get eye candy. I like candy. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeVJuecf9bAAplk5TjL9EbjE1q5gqtXN4NXE_wABq-oLLi5xTE-bDbyi-zsdmqsLW_C7J_UbCYyQbMBjLL8MehrWaSu9ntnZr4uFB2sdELTvfuUMoO2ztORwMJcEQ5Y8ER6lgysXeiw4/s1600/ChristianBale1-350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPeVJuecf9bAAplk5TjL9EbjE1q5gqtXN4NXE_wABq-oLLi5xTE-bDbyi-zsdmqsLW_C7J_UbCYyQbMBjLL8MehrWaSu9ntnZr4uFB2sdELTvfuUMoO2ztORwMJcEQ5Y8ER6lgysXeiw4/s320/ChristianBale1-350.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="277" /></a></div>
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<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because this meme made me laugh, I googled opening weekend stats & have found some variance among the numbers for The Avengers, but it seems to fall somewhere between $200-208 million. Holy packed theater, Batman!! Batman, despite the shootings, took in approximately $161 million....</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjEcS4knxnJdkMjlJJdrwmz_Hb-zX63OFD09Xw6oDy_6VBvgFbAyQKtQ3xBp0k8qFk9DCCKZQr_HVX1-qQwzuaMOZ9IK8ZCmi1huqoZgZY-co_Ka8MpXJ5W5j6_Ic2iPssdyCqh_uKSk/s1600/tumblr_m0atbwB4rY1qzilreo3_500%5B5%5D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjEcS4knxnJdkMjlJJdrwmz_Hb-zX63OFD09Xw6oDy_6VBvgFbAyQKtQ3xBp0k8qFk9DCCKZQr_HVX1-qQwzuaMOZ9IK8ZCmi1huqoZgZY-co_Ka8MpXJ5W5j6_Ic2iPssdyCqh_uKSk/s320/tumblr_m0atbwB4rY1qzilreo3_500%5B5%5D.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, but the competition isn't over yet, for it isn't an equal comparison. According to the Raw Story </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2012/07/23/latest-batman-movie-has-third-largest-opening-ever/" style="background-color: white; color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2012/07/23/latest-batman-movie-has-third-largest-opening-ever/</a> Batman is 3rd after The Avengers (1st) & Harry Potter (2nd) but that's apples & oranges. Avengers & Harry Potter are in 3D which have higher ticket prices. Batman is in 2D, which means that this Batman is the highest grossing film opening. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And blah, blah, blah.</span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not going because I think it's going to be the greatest cinematic treasure of my lifetime. I'm going to be entertained for a couple of hours. I hope it has a good story. I hope it looks good, & I do mean more than just Batman himself. I hope it makes enough money that they would consider doing another one, despite claims from the beginning that there would only be 3, because this has been my favorite Batman series of them all.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Magic Mike, if you're still thinking about those guys (& why wouldn't you be?) had a $20 million opening, & none too shabby considering only women aged 17+ & a few gay men were the entire market.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now we're back, at least I am, to Batman!! (I mean, except for McConaughey, the guys in Magic Mike are a tad young for me.) But Batman isn't. Oh no, he isn't. </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">5 years, big whoop.</span></i><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto;">And by the by -6 Degrees of Kevin Bacon- Christian Bale & Matthew McConaughey once did a movie together too. It wasn't a big hit but I thought it was an ok movie. It was called Reign of Fire & it had this other, relatively unknown at the time, majorly drool-worthy dude in it that I kept asking my hubs about....I said, "Mark it down, dude is gonna be big." Gerard Butler, ladies. So if you want dragon-slaying apocalyptic eye candy, it was there. This pic of Christian Bale well may be from that film.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; text-align: -webkit-auto;">So the few summer movies I saw (or will see) have a theme....hot dudes with buff bods, </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hot dudes with buff bods, & </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">hot dudes with buff bods. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PS: I don't know who this guy is, & I don't care...but, <span style="font-size: medium;"><i>right</i></span>???? I don't care how big his pecs are & I actually hope he retains neck, but that right there? Shut. Up. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And get me a fan.</span></div>
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/07/summer-lovin-baby.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2012-07-24T15:41:00-04:00">3:41 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=4091401862445591842" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-2817611788904553752012-08-26T13:39:00.000-04:002012-08-26T13:39:01.662-04:00Maybe I like to Break the Rules (Even When They're My Own)<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">WEDNESDAY, APRIL 25, 2012</span></h2>
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Maybe I Like to Break the Rules (Even When They're My Own)</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Remember back when I started writing this, I said I didn't want to use it for political commentary? Well, I have to put that thought aside for awhile. The political climate is so charged right now, that really, it just about consumes me.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Values that are core to what America is all about are being challenged. Values that I was taught & in which I believe, that are supposed to be protected by the Constitution are being challenged every day, & from what I can tell, nobody is noticing.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">We are the United States of America! We are the model for freedom, the leaders for democracy, the nation that promises life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness...Truth, justice, the American way...& right now, we have a movement here that wants to dismantle all of the spirited, patriotic, noble & idealistic qualities we've claimed as our birthright.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">It's right there in our Constitution that we have a government of the people, by the people & for the people. It's only natural to believe that it means 'all the people.' Last time I checked, I was a people. I also rediscovered that I am of the female variety, with a very strong feminist streak. Ok, I did not rediscover this...I reawakened this. Being all consumed with momminess the past decade-plus, & loving a good 75% of it (ha!) I didn't always pay close attention to all the issues. I relied a great deal on the snippets of TV news I could catch & word of mouth...Bad mommy.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgun62SoRxZ1vOUcovbARkPnEiNx7j6C6T4dVL4DEuq43A6SdRc28N52i54x3i3Fe1nV1RgQPPd52Zf3hdJ6YkdWY0TdXqxzm7Q7aoVi3cAjoOl5V8CItoSUgoKk-I8WFCBD4IqEOi55JE/s1600/tumblr_lyqb2ur9Wq1qzruh6o1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgun62SoRxZ1vOUcovbARkPnEiNx7j6C6T4dVL4DEuq43A6SdRc28N52i54x3i3Fe1nV1RgQPPd52Zf3hdJ6YkdWY0TdXqxzm7Q7aoVi3cAjoOl5V8CItoSUgoKk-I8WFCBD4IqEOi55JE/s320/tumblr_lyqb2ur9Wq1qzruh6o1_1280.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="210" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">As my children aged, I was able to pay more attention to the world outside our little abode. And I found out that, much as I like men (& I do, really, really like men) there's a lot of them that really just tick me off. I get all green...No, Mr. Freud, it isn't penis envy. I am not green with envy. I'm green like the Hulk! In the words of David Banner, "I'm getting angry. You wouldn't like me very much when I'm angry."</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Maybe it is because my children are also female. Maybe it's that Mama Bear coming out in me. Maybe it's the whole idea that since the beginning of time, that things were supposed to be better for our children than they were for us. But I know I didn't like being told I couldn't do something because I was a girl, as if it disqualified me from a full life. I definitely have a strong sense of fair play, & to be told 'no' solely on the basis of my gender, well, let me tell you, that just isn't gonna fly. I mean, it's not like I wanted to play football. I hate football! (I do think, however, that if a girl wants to play, she ought to be able to play. Same as any boy.)</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">So as I rebelled against my Catholic upbringing, which quite honestly, a good part was due to the intrinsic sexism I could spot even as a child, I discovered that challenging the norms was not only amusing, it was necessary. But as I don't actually enjoy being in-trouble, I was cautious. I asked the priest in our parish & at least one of the nuns in school, "Why do men get to be deacons, priests, bishops, archbishops & cardinals, maybe pope, but women? Women are just nuns. Why aren't they permitted to climb the hierarchic ladder? Aren't they just as capable of teaching about God & Jesus as men?"</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Of course they tried to phrase their answers nicely, make them seemingly palatable to an impressionable 12 year old girl, but the answer was always the same. No. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">No? Women aren't as capable as men to teach? Why then, in this particular Catholic school that I attended & by which every one of them was employed, were there 16 classrooms & only 1 male teacher? The principal was a nun & every member of the office staff was female. The gym teacher was female. The school nurse was a woman too....but women aren't as capable as men to teach. Why? Because Jesus was a man. Adam was created first & Jesus was a man & the disciples were men & so it is men forever because it always was.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Now I don't know if this is the answer they meant to give me. I don't know if they thought they had to 'dumb-down' to a 12 year old girl. I don't know if they didn't know the answer or if they were not the type to ever question this themselves. I don't know if they'd do the same today, if asked again. What I know is, that getting that answer repeatedly was not good enough for me. Not as a 12 year old girl & not now. And in 30 years, the answer hasn't changed. It can be phrased & rephrased but the answer is always, in its core, because that is the way they want it. They being the men in charge who want to stay in charge.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Which is just super-well-stated in this quote by the president Jimmy Carter.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Now I don't care if you like him or not. I don't care if you're a Republican or a Democrat or anything else. I don't care if you believe in God or don't. I'm just sayin', the man makes the point & makes the point well. The point that turned me away from the Catholic church as a young girl & has prevented me from taking my own girls to church.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Because I'm not going to do that to them. I'm not going to tell them they can't do something just because they're girls. I'm not going to let them grow up angry at being considered 'less than' because they are girls. Because I'll tell you what, my gender has no bearing on my intellectual abilities, nor on my heart's capacity for love & compassion, & it sure hasn't been a hindrance in any area of my interest...nor will I passively stand by & let it become that for my children.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">So despite our epic-ly scaled vision of self-importance as Americans, we are in crisis. There are men (& somehow, baffling as it is to me, some women) in power in our government that would take us back at least 40 years...even some would go further, 50, 60 years backward & eliminate progress for equality in America by limiting a woman's reproductive freedom. I'm not talking about who pays for what. That is irrelevant in the point that nobody can pay for what is outlawed. These are mostly state bills, & not federal, but it's a growing, frightening movement. Abortion is only the starting point. Read up on Personhood bills. These can effectively ban all hormonal birth control. Despite statistics showing that 99% of sexually active women use some type of birth control at some point... benefiting men, women & children by allowing families to plan when they choose to have children, or additional children, or any children at all. Because it's true that not all people wish to be parents, but most people (I'm guessing here) want to have sex. At some point. It's a normal, healthy thing, good for you even...not to mention, fun. And we don't have all the live-long day to debate, but there are other reasons women take The Pill besides contraception. There are. You don't have to take my word for it. Look it up if you can't think of any.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">But hold up!! That's not all. That's not the only issue on the agenda that is seriously pushing me to get more involved, making me unable to keep my mouth shut, driving me to seek companions in my quest for equality...oh no. There is also the question of whether The Violence Against Women Act will be renewed, as well as the Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Act. These ARE federal issues. Many states have already done their damage though. Wisconsin repealed a fair pay act & Kansas decriminalized domestic violence. That's right. And meanwhile, the FBI expanded the legal definition of rape just prior to the Idaho state senator Winder said, & yes, I am quoting, "I would hope that when a woman goes in to a physician with a rape issue, that the physician will indeed ask her about perhaps her marriage, was this pregnancy caused by normal relations in a marriage or was it truly caused by a rape. I assume that's part of the counseling that goes on." Appalling. Absolutely appalling. I don't care whether you support abortion rights or don't, to imply that a woman doesn't understand if she has been raped or not, that it's ok if it was her husband, that she'd lie about it just to avoid a state-mandated vaginal ultrasound probe before obtaining what is a legal procedure...Damned if I know what's most disgusting to me. It's all offensive & misogynistic.And it doesn't stop there- oh no. There's also the talk show host that said, about the Virginia law mandating a vaginal ultrasound probe before obtaining a legal abortion, & yes, again I quote, " '<span style="line-height: 20px;">Oh what about the Virginia rape? The rapes that, the forced rapes of women who are pregnant?' What!? '</span><span style="line-height: 20px;">Wait a minute, they had no problem having similar to a trans-vaginal procedure when they engaged in the act that resulted in their pregnancy.' " Yes, that was in response to people saying that being forced to have a vaginal probe unnecessarily forced upon one equaled state-mandated rape, & this idiot says that it's ok, because there was already something once in her vagina that caused the pregnancy. </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gkTsscsa4wJqqqJxoNlSfHpYvosydPrKdE8-_Wm7JE-YQqm9jXjR6C1Y12wnk8nsIJzrEH_ztjKqEIltkEcfL8b5W1StSnBKQ8QDlEJ-X2TeaktimDhQZdX_R_KezkysLUcQa4a72nU/s1600/birthcontrolpic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gkTsscsa4wJqqqJxoNlSfHpYvosydPrKdE8-_Wm7JE-YQqm9jXjR6C1Y12wnk8nsIJzrEH_ztjKqEIltkEcfL8b5W1StSnBKQ8QDlEJ-X2TeaktimDhQZdX_R_KezkysLUcQa4a72nU/s400/birthcontrolpic.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">In February, there was a congressional hearing about insurance coverage of birth control & the panel was made up of men & the testimonies were by men & a woman who was prepared to testify, you've all heard of Sandra Fluke (if not, look her up) was not permitted because she was considered to be 'unqualified.' The 5 witnesses on the panel were all male religious leaders or professors, including a Catholic bishop. Not very varied & not a uterus among them.</span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Oh, & hey, what about that separation of church & state? The wall Thomas Jefferson talked about? Remember him? The guy who wrote the Declaration of Independence who said we were all equal?</span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Thank goodness the Blunt Ammendment was defeated, the one that was proposed to allow employers to </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 22px;">block a wide variety of healthcare services on the grounds of a vague heading of "religious beliefs & moral convictions" that could be extended to deny a wide range of services. </span></span></span><br /><div>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 22px;">Arizona has its own version...The Arizona state legislature passed a bill April 12th that not only would allow an employer (currently limited to "organizations that have a religious mission in their articles of incorporation" [which is an amendment to the original bill] & that operate according to their religious principles) to deny certain coverage if the employer has any religious or moral objection to them. It is so broad that it infringes upon privacy & removes a provision against discrimination thus allowing for the firing of an employee who chooses to make a decision, even paying out of pocket, that is contradictory to what the employer's beliefs are.</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span><br /><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium; line-height: 22px;">How does it matter what the employers religious or moral beliefs are when concerning one's own, the employee's, health care decisions?</span></div>
<span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">How about we learn to trust women? Is that revolutionary or what? How about we decide to let them run their own lives & their own bodies & we just mind our own business? </span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidToOkyD7n3Pf5DOsB6xshBbr16PAceecmIZ7XmrDK_5v5-6plzgEV_aaYka-0HMthXn14Vntz6ovA0Tda4slNDavPxX4kI8e1S9h5pJ9WamDxKdI8PVAV9G1ZNcnqWn9f64u9_nAx6SE/s1600/momma+bear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidToOkyD7n3Pf5DOsB6xshBbr16PAceecmIZ7XmrDK_5v5-6plzgEV_aaYka-0HMthXn14Vntz6ovA0Tda4slNDavPxX4kI8e1S9h5pJ9WamDxKdI8PVAV9G1ZNcnqWn9f64u9_nAx6SE/s1600/momma+bear.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></a></div>
<span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Hulk not happy. Neither is Mama Bear.</span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Now, I don't want to discuss all the factors. I don't care what your personal beliefs are as far as the creation of life or faith or abortion policies. I'm not debating beliefs. I'm not debating anything. I'm not pushing a political, personal or religious agenda. You are free to believe what you want.</span></span><br /><span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Just like I am. I'm stating my sincere, human feelings of outrage at the attempted opression of women in our supposedly free & equal society.</span> We are supposed to be allowed in this country to believe (or not) & worship (or not) as we choose. Less than 100 years after earning our right to vote & less than 40 years after earning the right to control our own bodies, we are still fighting for equality...fights that should be settled by now in a civilized society that wants to be a role model for the rest of the world. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">These are not women's issues. They are societal issues. </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">It's not ok. It's not a legacy I want to leave to my daughters. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">They have value beyond their ability to produce offspring. They are not breeding stock. (Oh, <i>how</i> did I leave out the guy in Georgia that compared women to livestock? The one who thought they should carry dead fetuses until natural labor because that's what they do with pigs & cows...Pigs & cows! Seriously. I'm not making this up. Look it up.)</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">My children are smart & funny & talented & beautiful & athletic & they can do whatever they want to do...except perhaps control their own bodies &/or become pope. </span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Why do women still have to work harder & fight harder for life, liberty & the pursuit of happiness...truth, justice, & the American way...?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="background-color: #e6faf9; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Liberation Serif', serif; line-height: 22px;">**Here is a link to the a relatively new group that needs support- </span><a href="http://unitewomen.org/unite/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://unitewomen.org/unite/</a><br /><span style="background-color: #e6faf9; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Liberation Serif', serif; line-height: 22px;">& their facebook page for Unite Women- </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/UniteWomen" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">https://www.facebook.com/UniteWomen</a><br />I went to the rally at my state capital on 4.28.12 & I hope to attend more. I hope more people will join the action & rally for equal rights for all.<br /><br /><br /><span style="background-color: #e6faf9; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Liberation Serif', serif; line-height: 22px;"><br /></span><div style="clear: both;">
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-79222379594020237292012-08-26T13:37:00.002-04:002012-08-26T13:37:22.417-04:00Baby, What The _____?!<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">TUESDAY, MARCH 27, 2012</span></h2>
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Baby, What The ____?!</h3>
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Remember the Arsenio Hall Show? He used to do a bit called, "Things That Make You Go, 'Hmmm'..." Or, as most of us today call it, WTF?! moments. I have a Pinterest board all dedicated, by the way, to things that make me go, 'hmmm.'<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWNhoPvx8huElFfJ3llaf9RaIajBABN2OogPL6HIRVZ4U0QzQxMp8g_7upX2-iUe0ficv0oLEHC3dcTaaxJFTvqgab3qs4q8XvgHrrrlZxQ3Mn8c_rbkMzvp0iglj4kCac4cdEd6_qe8/s1600/DSC00134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWNhoPvx8huElFfJ3llaf9RaIajBABN2OogPL6HIRVZ4U0QzQxMp8g_7upX2-iUe0ficv0oLEHC3dcTaaxJFTvqgab3qs4q8XvgHrrrlZxQ3Mn8c_rbkMzvp0iglj4kCac4cdEd6_qe8/s320/DSC00134.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a>I have written about a few WTF?! moments in the past. (<a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2010/10/as-you-know-from-my-baby-tests-me-i.html" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2010/10/as-you-know-from-my-baby-tests-me-i.html</a>) If one decides to peruse that post, one may recall the grafitti on my mouse pad. It's worse now. The glittery smudges are nail polish.<br /><br />Pinterest, here I come to make a better one!<br /><br />So you know about the little street punks I'm raising with all the patience of Job...in OppositeLand. Well, here we go again.<br /><br />This is how my day began.<br /><br />I like my morning coffee. In fact, I don't want morning without a cup of coffee. So this morning, I reach into my refrigerator where we have long-standing rules about where things belong... You know, like, meat in the meat drawer & fruits & vegetables in the produce drawer & condiments go in the door.<br /><br />Fair enough? We think so. My husband tolerates my OCD quirks (no, I don't really have a diagnosis because it isn't a quality of life thing, but, I <i>do</i> have my quirks) probably because I mostly tolerate his. However, we share this one. We don't want to dig through the cavern of the fridge shelving to locate a tiny bottle of Tabasco.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1hswf3rQC676HP3bGEyEbFXCg3aaqpGDy735VIDOQA_OFgiqDJu3Vo0nu_sY6WV9IS2-5CuQ2LdN7M05ixl6_SqbfYN89TqddKNxEgrpesFnTQ9Gyqa_jBCspGRmaqZ-L91zI6MM7_0s/s1600/DSC00133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1hswf3rQC676HP3bGEyEbFXCg3aaqpGDy735VIDOQA_OFgiqDJu3Vo0nu_sY6WV9IS2-5CuQ2LdN7M05ixl6_SqbfYN89TqddKNxEgrpesFnTQ9Gyqa_jBCspGRmaqZ-L91zI6MM7_0s/s400/DSC00133.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="400" /></a>So I get up this morning, & I make my coffee, & I open the fridge to get out the Half-n-Half...& I am greeted by this sight.<br /><br />Oh, hay-ell no.<br /><br />Of course, I'm not alert enough to yell properly, so I grab my camera.<br /><br />Ok, but seriously, <b>WTF?!</b> You see the salad dressing bottles all lined up neatly on the shelf above? Yes, that is the way everything <i>should</i>look. Not this pile of gobbledygook.<br /><br />Is it so, so hard to stand bottles upright? Are we in such a hurry that no one has all second to put away the ketchup properly? It's insanity, I tell you. Pure chaos. Pretty much the end of the world as we know it. Because God knows, the chocolate syrup does not belong with the tartar sauce & mustard & lime juice.<br /><br />It should be on the bottom shelf with the whipped cream. Duh. Or, maybe WTF?!<div style="clear: both;">
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/03/baby-what.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2012-03-27T14:37:00-04:00">2:37 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=6590647697780511084" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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2 comments:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/03/baby-what.html?showComment=1332882151042#c8021751512106504102" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">March 27, 2012 5:02 PM</a></span></div>
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Ha! HAAAAA! Loved this. One of your funniest posts!!<br />BTW, my pet peeve is the people who pout the squeeze ketchup bottles upside down, on the clear part. White part down people. White part down! That's the whole part of the new ketchup bottle design!</div>
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<cite class="user blog-author" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Kerbi</a></cite><span class="icon user blog-author" style="background-image: url(data:image/png; background-repeat: no-repeat no-repeat; display: inline-block; font-weight: bold; height: 18px; margin: 0px 0px -4px 6px; width: 18px;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/03/baby-what.html?showComment=1332900744152#c6260662448843861993" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">March 27, 2012 10:12 PM</a></span></div>
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White part down indeed!! Thank you.</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-81140158846278718992012-08-26T13:36:00.002-04:002012-08-26T13:36:24.012-04:00Pinterest, Baby!<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">SUNDAY, JANUARY 22, 2012</span></h2>
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Pinterest, Baby!</h3>
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I'm hooked on Pinterest. I know there are those of you out there that say you don't get it...frankly, I don't get what's not to get. It's name says it all- pin your interests.</div>
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For dreamers like me, I have pinned dream homes, fantasy kitchens, luxury bathrooms...& great ideas, crafts, recipes, general things I might like to try. I find humor too. (See my last post.<a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2012-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&updated-max=2013-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&max-results=1" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2012-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&updated-max=2013-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&max-results=1</a>)</div>
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You know how we like to <3 3="3" a="a" an="an" but="but" div="div" even="even" funny.="funny." gave="gave" giggle.="giggle." heart="heart" i="i" just="just" less="less" me="me" not="not" said="said" saw="saw" so="so" something="something" than="than" that="that" things="things" this="this"><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
Some things are easily accomplished, giving me a sense of satisfaction at not only getting something done, but getting it done successfully. Here is what I"m talking about-</div>
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<tr><td style="border: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKenxg5Q3-a7lAqSpF82ZnA9uh-bNXQh6Czup2GH2WgfHjP-zoBrr1V-YgyZROA40MyUlegMiuguCKXHgN8Uo_efEQWFe0gy7wYBjD294y0YIbC258wru_ixdWY9aR2d-YEAGFLYfukM/s1600/192528952789697548_OPjKk4Sn_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJKenxg5Q3-a7lAqSpF82ZnA9uh-bNXQh6Czup2GH2WgfHjP-zoBrr1V-YgyZROA40MyUlegMiuguCKXHgN8Uo_efEQWFe0gy7wYBjD294y0YIbC258wru_ixdWY9aR2d-YEAGFLYfukM/s320/192528952789697548_OPjKk4Sn_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">What I saw on Pinterest</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTC_gKdEdMfGdxSIMspjkb3m2tOIKoGAtmZyEp4cd9EBCx5b9BCcsdvzAw0vnhB0YD6XWgS8f1aaCGKbdKtJV6zTHLaOis_ke6fy1oOSsxBu3pNQ5JissyGS6HEgstNidNv-jXtnKBzQ/s1600/386738_2697234156960_1439817756_2867991_1327785536_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUTC_gKdEdMfGdxSIMspjkb3m2tOIKoGAtmZyEp4cd9EBCx5b9BCcsdvzAw0vnhB0YD6XWgS8f1aaCGKbdKtJV6zTHLaOis_ke6fy1oOSsxBu3pNQ5JissyGS6HEgstNidNv-jXtnKBzQ/s320/386738_2697234156960_1439817756_2867991_1327785536_n.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">my version</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="border: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TFduknejY1Kplf40lZm-BXsqH4GCcjy7yHpEXSGc1gAVf5HQtOkCOFVM1v3d7t2T1n7WstoYvt1gTtvX8bqkOsc0dBmdlE3pxFP8DLqCGeXMkz8dJ0g9M0SxXbA1MvalqYWPp0LX4Lo/s1600/Christmas025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TFduknejY1Kplf40lZm-BXsqH4GCcjy7yHpEXSGc1gAVf5HQtOkCOFVM1v3d7t2T1n7WstoYvt1gTtvX8bqkOsc0dBmdlE3pxFP8DLqCGeXMkz8dJ0g9M0SxXbA1MvalqYWPp0LX4Lo/s320/Christmas025.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">how I displayed them through the Christmas season</td></tr>
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<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Another project I tackled came out ok...not quite as nice as the inspiration, but it doesn't totally embarrass me either.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_UhyphenhyphenmtJaoQGgBZ02-JFE1kbGrFZqJSr8uEunYjKRyjyFC0W281J6ZjEPeTpWgfFbwX-QVItcM7XXewG_m4vR6pkmZ3sElHATr0AWU1oeGLE_m7CDmwvQJbzGN5qAq5kyH8ydIfS7fSE/s1600/59602395038080737_4iy8qELR_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO_UhyphenhyphenmtJaoQGgBZ02-JFE1kbGrFZqJSr8uEunYjKRyjyFC0W281J6ZjEPeTpWgfFbwX-QVItcM7XXewG_m4vR6pkmZ3sElHATr0AWU1oeGLE_m7CDmwvQJbzGN5qAq5kyH8ydIfS7fSE/s320/59602395038080737_4iy8qELR_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="226" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">the beautiful inspiration</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguy0h8RNQyVFfjo66QUdU9sILJP-IGiRKmlW_waGRy2P66iU9dkm-_H_vYgCEN3aLmoHgk0ECzycbsQdMP9mCR0FQqxJmrAB4tscU93_s2zGZK-ILitVGgDMUqDuj-BK1TTFaslFPh-ZM/s1600/Pinterest000.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguy0h8RNQyVFfjo66QUdU9sILJP-IGiRKmlW_waGRy2P66iU9dkm-_H_vYgCEN3aLmoHgk0ECzycbsQdMP9mCR0FQqxJmrAB4tscU93_s2zGZK-ILitVGgDMUqDuj-BK1TTFaslFPh-ZM/s320/Pinterest000.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">My somewhat uneven version</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Lemme tell you right now. It is not so easy to keep all the candy canes evenly spaced without a drift or twist from one side or another....but honestly, when it is not directly next to perfection, it doesn't look so bad. (Not like my cake pops.) <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/10/maybe-im-cursed.html" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/10/maybe-im-cursed.html</a> It is, afterall, dollar store flowers & a recycled pickle jar.<br /><br />For some reason, I became obsessed with these monogram wall art pieces. And since I discovered Pinterest shortly before Christmas, my 1st few projects are Christmas themed.<br /> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZ0sxvcKgfu1XdZaK1FuJGVcL_-YxJicLKccHjUmYm68-xS7EGxhOsBhK_40261RKTQlEU78jL-7fyjM1wfsExFVvlEeKxb_xcsOJEYX4Fiejls4r9w735_aJDwokgmOv2_ovVlRWcjQ/s1600/192528952789681129_ZOi88t2o_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZ0sxvcKgfu1XdZaK1FuJGVcL_-YxJicLKccHjUmYm68-xS7EGxhOsBhK_40261RKTQlEU78jL-7fyjM1wfsExFVvlEeKxb_xcsOJEYX4Fiejls4r9w735_aJDwokgmOv2_ovVlRWcjQ/s320/192528952789681129_ZOi88t2o_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="283" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">inspiration</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh6NUnZp6tFBKcKOEeTYw7U1a0MbNqaOS7__GvjRmCTVHsecIuOJHmFqPNiFlKGCEy9TQj5TpKI3mxq102Qf4GymidBxNneSN2ujKjAAQNZcQPPsKLg_pdCPXU1a5ScBiR9QtXhL54dEo/s1600/DSC00018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh6NUnZp6tFBKcKOEeTYw7U1a0MbNqaOS7__GvjRmCTVHsecIuOJHmFqPNiFlKGCEy9TQj5TpKI3mxq102Qf4GymidBxNneSN2ujKjAAQNZcQPPsKLg_pdCPXU1a5ScBiR9QtXhL54dEo/s320/DSC00018.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">mine</td></tr>
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I bought frames at the thrift store & spray painted them a glossy red & framed this awesome $1 wrapping paper from Target that I fell in love with immediately. Letters from the craft store painted with latex paint left over from other projects &.....I liked it so well, I made some for others with their initial. The M just happened to have a mat that coordinated. On the other 2, I wrapped the mats & used scrapbook paper on the inserts. I attached the letter to the glass. It's $1 paper, remember. I think they turned out well.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sry13uFsHk_dX1-wEe8A8WZZ85_Hz8OpIU91fYBlyFQQv7-4E07IJ0k9cX_UFepLU4JeXvjvRJ3pWb-iK4B8y2M2jvXGPDSMXCU7Sv_DBDsTEexBHHWRqbkNJjJX3C1uinr5ZNE6gK4/s1600/Christmas048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1sry13uFsHk_dX1-wEe8A8WZZ85_Hz8OpIU91fYBlyFQQv7-4E07IJ0k9cX_UFepLU4JeXvjvRJ3pWb-iK4B8y2M2jvXGPDSMXCU7Sv_DBDsTEexBHHWRqbkNJjJX3C1uinr5ZNE6gK4/s320/Christmas048.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">for my friends</td></tr>
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The friend that introduced Pinterest to me found some inspiration as well.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NlWdtxX669Hws1LJlxlAeLUiB1M0RpJIUfnpqcSIB5WDhk2Zu9Jjbhq8HmC1N-T3BoF5VYq0_mB1UynqOADcPPii55beTVS4BPp8yZs5-Z8Uk71owQsD9d7NLhQPDd-wJIqFMnA1mxQ/s1600/192528952789681120_dOtKEQyJ_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="313" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NlWdtxX669Hws1LJlxlAeLUiB1M0RpJIUfnpqcSIB5WDhk2Zu9Jjbhq8HmC1N-T3BoF5VYq0_mB1UynqOADcPPii55beTVS4BPp8yZs5-Z8Uk71owQsD9d7NLhQPDd-wJIqFMnA1mxQ/s320/192528952789681120_dOtKEQyJ_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">Her inspiration</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrmCLHDChmMyg2foTADicW_J6yOVVbPiHO8Pyw151ADv0bMdzMt_ims6o_xSoGq2N0sMi3XpVmV_0PTo37_h5KhElp-yIFgo9IAXh85xiEeCTdf7CjKoff7_pgzwSwCnC5KI6uIPpdCs/s1600/washers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrmCLHDChmMyg2foTADicW_J6yOVVbPiHO8Pyw151ADv0bMdzMt_ims6o_xSoGq2N0sMi3XpVmV_0PTo37_h5KhElp-yIFgo9IAXh85xiEeCTdf7CjKoff7_pgzwSwCnC5KI6uIPpdCs/s320/washers.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="171" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">The 2 necklaces are her Christmas gift to me.</td></tr>
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The 2 little rings are mine, & I haven't yet decided what I want to do. I thought maybe earrings. I thought maybe make a larger one with the same paper & put the 3 together like oOo on a necklace...I'm not sure, but the possibilities are fun.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrr55fD7SS0qAviWvxn2436d9mHN_jXZu_SofpYoF_2gyICrKvj6N20m5yQaiNump_bE1e6CMj0qyCH3hapnCiu1jW8nIEPC8axDNJ82VKDznZmh-P78l4go-eGp11Z3Bn-7acLXTWhU/s1600/Pinterest002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSrr55fD7SS0qAviWvxn2436d9mHN_jXZu_SofpYoF_2gyICrKvj6N20m5yQaiNump_bE1e6CMj0qyCH3hapnCiu1jW8nIEPC8axDNJ82VKDznZmh-P78l4go-eGp11Z3Bn-7acLXTWhU/s200/Pinterest002.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">cool stuff</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="border: medium none;">
Pretty cool, huh? The pendants are washers from the hardware store with scrapbook paper & glue...but not just <em>any</em> glue... You can do practically anything with this glue.</div>
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I tried to make something for that same friend, for her birthday, & it was kind of cute but didn't hold up. Sometimes experiments fail. It was a b&w photo on clear, irridescent beads...but mine is ok so far. Round 2 usually does work better than the original. Although, I will be getting more of those beads I made hers out of & doing a b&w one for me too. I did like the color...& funny thing, the ink bled just a tiny bit & made a faint pink & bluish hue in some small places so it went very well with the beads. Happy accidents.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Mn24Ud1xGAd30-EtOLPa78GggfGKvYW8QwQ7_mS859cjG8pXLwJsk4fU-gwG8YgUXDBqpalLaRYin1H76oe2aue1esok8YYt64bE0EZOkUEPuNk_SVYPVyRY3Mz2TO1nwXr1soNRg68/s1600/12807180160036492_fgg3riKR_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="228" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Mn24Ud1xGAd30-EtOLPa78GggfGKvYW8QwQ7_mS859cjG8pXLwJsk4fU-gwG8YgUXDBqpalLaRYin1H76oe2aue1esok8YYt64bE0EZOkUEPuNk_SVYPVyRY3Mz2TO1nwXr1soNRg68/s320/12807180160036492_fgg3riKR_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">The inspiration</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3fmhEAnRcBWBjjgHN5VxnGUojFj01terlhu_9a2xmItEKd-Vc-1XvXi7uneRqR9Z2M3h9L8sYXX5bVoFAADG7mV8GXgeQAn_RKe6ByVwGPxqRN03AVF5CqMGWFIyA8BQgWD_jzyYF1PY/s1600/Pinterest003.DD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3fmhEAnRcBWBjjgHN5VxnGUojFj01terlhu_9a2xmItEKd-Vc-1XvXi7uneRqR9Z2M3h9L8sYXX5bVoFAADG7mV8GXgeQAn_RKe6ByVwGPxqRN03AVF5CqMGWFIyA8BQgWD_jzyYF1PY/s200/Pinterest003.DD.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="106" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">Mine- with my Doodledogg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKpboQkgBMXcLbun7DLxdyAy2Q-MOQ7HWtF8zTO_dhfE96-7vmSUncUwXU8wzkvJq17T9gcKkjoGv3CQp-t8xkz93OBtyQ5g4zEutw7NDP-35Ana8U8W-y0BwnM3K6nRLrAgCBUuyyyU/s1600/71072500339199770_hvUJy0Nq_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbKpboQkgBMXcLbun7DLxdyAy2Q-MOQ7HWtF8zTO_dhfE96-7vmSUncUwXU8wzkvJq17T9gcKkjoGv3CQp-t8xkz93OBtyQ5g4zEutw7NDP-35Ana8U8W-y0BwnM3K6nRLrAgCBUuyyyU/s1600/71072500339199770_hvUJy0Nq_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></a></div>
<br />Now some projects are just a wash. Fail. Not gonna happen (much like my cake pops.)<div style="border: medium none;">
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Hilarious results like these can be yours too! (like my cake pops.)</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVt8IW2cjI7dLNyLFvt20Rz8qz0aFRldbEs4SAC_7wcpVlPE1xhgQKfBfTdUleas4ONpq-hpp8CTqaBZJqVh4trzqFS3vw7J-Al1kHH8kUT9rRC0DgVwPIb-G9ya7Rr4rFWR1DnwJ5o8/s1600/127860076890539156_IytZeIZf_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnVt8IW2cjI7dLNyLFvt20Rz8qz0aFRldbEs4SAC_7wcpVlPE1xhgQKfBfTdUleas4ONpq-hpp8CTqaBZJqVh4trzqFS3vw7J-Al1kHH8kUT9rRC0DgVwPIb-G9ya7Rr4rFWR1DnwJ5o8/s200/127860076890539156_IytZeIZf_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="120" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">homemade bangle<br />bracelets</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Can't do anything but move on from them. Here is one such project. I really liked the idea. But I soaked my stick for 3 full days & it still snapped when I tried ever so gently to coax a bend into it. My plan was to do like it says with the decorative paper, & then add that awesome ModPodge dimensional wonder to it so it was more durable. And glossy. I may try again...</div>
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So that's for the crafty side of me....but still there is more...</div>
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I never pin the fashion stuff. I am not so into it. I know what I like & what is appropriate for what function.</div>
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I never pin the super cool nail polish things because I know I'm not going to paint my nails. (It doesn't stay on me. It just doesn't. Not for 1 day.) If I ever had occasion, & I went to the salon & got that shellac stuff that stays on, then I would trust that the manicurist would know what cool designs she could do on my nails.</div>
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And I never pin the pretty hair designs because most of it for for really long hair & I recently cut mine, or else it's something someone else does for you...& I'm not in any weddings or anything....</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsmpqk0cyds1ejrMm_gU1yLV4H6621J2rlLDOtXN8sO5NOoXBMOKUZJqxXWfsi4xlZ3FHlSGQcylEArzRywl9MtFXlHhYkgT3UQVqKkroQagGRzzEFxNnFmpCoy-ndq6a79jk9_U86OhI/s1600/43065740156335904_bE9aAc5j_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="400" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsmpqk0cyds1ejrMm_gU1yLV4H6621J2rlLDOtXN8sO5NOoXBMOKUZJqxXWfsi4xlZ3FHlSGQcylEArzRywl9MtFXlHhYkgT3UQVqKkroQagGRzzEFxNnFmpCoy-ndq6a79jk9_U86OhI/s400/43065740156335904_bE9aAc5j_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="border: medium none;">
But I do like to pin stuff for the house. You know I've written on houses before. I have discovered, looking at my boards, that I have a very defined style. (I may be slightly more varied in my architectural preferences.)</div>
<br />It's rustic with a smidge of elegance & a smidge of cottage, definitely not fussy. It's unmistakeable when looking at my "My Style" board. I have a style indeed. I also like to reuse, repurpose & recycle. Who knew?<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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But what I really like most is that it does get the creative juices flowing. I get ideas & a place to remember them. I have fabric swatches for sewing a duvet for my daughter's room. (I think I can attempt straight lines a little longer than the 8 or 12 inches I once managed.)</div>
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I made the pretzel-rolo-turtle things & they were freaking awesome. I made a few other things as well. And I packaged them in a reused Pringles can that I covered in wrapping paper with a bow on top & gave them to my trash haulers, my mail carrier, my kids' teachers, the bus drivers....& I got thank you notes. And one called me a genius.</div>
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Now if that don't beat all..... You could just think of it like this.</div>
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/01/pinterest-baby.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2012-01-22T17:51:00-05:00">5:51 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=2278641691215220522" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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2 comments:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/01/pinterest-baby.html?showComment=1328103557797#c3470495931976972818" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">February 1, 2012 8:39 AM</a></span></div>
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Ha! Oh Kerbs, you are great Pinterest success!! To my giant Fails. I love the necklaces and have been wanting to try that Mod Podge stuff. Looks fantastic, great post!! Great rcrafts!!</div>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/11570006777738622727" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dr Zibbs</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/01/pinterest-baby.html?showComment=1329334570231#c457555686396769811" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">February 15, 2012 2:36 PM</a></span></div>
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Man everyone is talking about that site!</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-61834293515319685242012-08-26T13:35:00.002-04:002012-08-26T13:35:27.937-04:00Baby, It's a New Day!<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">MONDAY, JANUARY 2, 2012</span></h2>
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Baby, It's a New Day!</h3>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Miss me? I did! I had some stuff going on & now I'm ready to resume my real life...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">A friend's year-end reflections inspired me to thinking about my moving-forward ideals & a few amazing insights...</span><br /><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">I don't typically make New Year's resolutions, & when I do set a personal goal, I often keep it private... but this year, I'm-a shake it up a bit.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">My first goal of the new year is to keep my sense of humor up front. To that end, I will keep enjoying the silly things that make me giggle. Like this-</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzj1yl3VOMXHEibWgqW8fvBWtQ5RyLNdPEVe-9NK2UkzCOBezXy6GCRwlhSq6vCyeRP0rTAujNIOi1Au-oQ5XMXNkbuRUNDRG5tRzMY4BARnmp3-Y50psTgrTut25HXiA9KJQ2tGm0Qg/s1600/197243658649689186_RS402bxr_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="220" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzj1yl3VOMXHEibWgqW8fvBWtQ5RyLNdPEVe-9NK2UkzCOBezXy6GCRwlhSq6vCyeRP0rTAujNIOi1Au-oQ5XMXNkbuRUNDRG5tRzMY4BARnmp3-Y50psTgrTut25HXiA9KJQ2tGm0Qg/s320/197243658649689186_RS402bxr_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="http://www.someecards.com/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">http://www.someecards.com/</span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">& like this-</span><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExtSBLLTYqIhClwrq1rZo8yChpbVx9yxYlGDaY7wsAHI-HwO1zoYRZZ0XMeggsmiE2Mt5Ffddi123C7-ld28sEA2MY9MNoyNxpbiaUBhki2gsn47pg4df23IdSMxDKmIPoppSTqzvo3M/s1600/00360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="232" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgExtSBLLTYqIhClwrq1rZo8yChpbVx9yxYlGDaY7wsAHI-HwO1zoYRZZ0XMeggsmiE2Mt5Ffddi123C7-ld28sEA2MY9MNoyNxpbiaUBhki2gsn47pg4df23IdSMxDKmIPoppSTqzvo3M/s400/00360.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="http://annetaintor.com/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">http://annetaintor.com/</span></a></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">& also like this-</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-Xby9_QY17qQUStRHUXAqoTLjbNifz11cLCoh3X0pM2huohUA7xVoIovHzdRcUlObjTUzEAVDRcYDaAhwCEAlhbnPFA_xfuevhiYPCAnIISXkOahd0eZsDnt9TWOMMau-zAJnmwdvk8/s1600/27373510204726905_7j00OLd6_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0-Xby9_QY17qQUStRHUXAqoTLjbNifz11cLCoh3X0pM2huohUA7xVoIovHzdRcUlObjTUzEAVDRcYDaAhwCEAlhbnPFA_xfuevhiYPCAnIISXkOahd0eZsDnt9TWOMMau-zAJnmwdvk8/s320/27373510204726905_7j00OLd6_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="292" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;"><a href="http://therealbluntcard.tumblr.com/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">http://therealbluntcard.tumblr.com/</span></a></td></tr>
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<br /><span style="font-size: medium;">These things bust me up. Now how can you not laugh when you see them?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Another thing I will strive to do this year (& I proudly admit, I've been more successful every year with this) is to stop paying any attention to the BS that surrounds each of us. You know, the draaaammaaa. Ugh! I'm sick of it. I'm 42-(& a 1/2)-freaking-years-old & I'm just done. I have opinions. I will continue to share them freely.</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyayE0dzZ3DiSDF1UCcx05QnE8jhXS3DJ4GNBT8jmMfPtglZj49PnYt6sH96OZHr7VvP_GVNJe0yWph-GmSOZVL1aJwkoqgzlP3BFjnsx1mltb-naq6vvJnkudMDWm2a2bWpeeVpCT7LU/s1600/147211481539219705_ZyxrnpH6_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyayE0dzZ3DiSDF1UCcx05QnE8jhXS3DJ4GNBT8jmMfPtglZj49PnYt6sH96OZHr7VvP_GVNJe0yWph-GmSOZVL1aJwkoqgzlP3BFjnsx1mltb-naq6vvJnkudMDWm2a2bWpeeVpCT7LU/s1600/147211481539219705_ZyxrnpH6_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> Not so long ago, a good friend of mine told me something she'd heard through the grapevine that I'd supposedly said about her...it wasn't confrontational, but I couldn't give it any weight at all once I'd heard from whom she'd heard it, because I'd never spoken to that person about anything substantive, & never would. As I said to her then, it's all interpretations. And I won't give them any credence by defending myself against them.</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFEWsavWofLdIjUR_bdnaI-7Tw6RTHa9XtlCoooI_MwNJGaW9K9o7RW6QBmL8mbUtVmNLfK-1yopidvGS3cX-p2hEjU9RXuq3AvEB0u_hb7lyd6pOrFmYjm-GG1R2puZTD-NclzgQXrBY/s1600/128352658099727898_hyhSN5Nk_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFEWsavWofLdIjUR_bdnaI-7Tw6RTHa9XtlCoooI_MwNJGaW9K9o7RW6QBmL8mbUtVmNLfK-1yopidvGS3cX-p2hEjU9RXuq3AvEB0u_hb7lyd6pOrFmYjm-GG1R2puZTD-NclzgQXrBY/s1600/128352658099727898_hyhSN5Nk_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">I'm not blaming her. It's the links in the chain that got twisted. So I just say, <em>whatevs</em>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">To this end,</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">& truly,</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfUN7pkd_FoBqMmaojto-mhKPtaL_gObHUC_gD72hOBNK5yGi9SrUueVdDIcLnY7_6M3BtXmabKkZQonJu8EVkVq-kxGGkwjPpEdZiYLEvG5sb3QrSpZWTAAcuKONaI_NsTOSTxjGCxI/s1600/114067803031685542_YPLEbBIr_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="224" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZfUN7pkd_FoBqMmaojto-mhKPtaL_gObHUC_gD72hOBNK5yGi9SrUueVdDIcLnY7_6M3BtXmabKkZQonJu8EVkVq-kxGGkwjPpEdZiYLEvG5sb3QrSpZWTAAcuKONaI_NsTOSTxjGCxI/s320/114067803031685542_YPLEbBIr_c.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;">So if a few more people drop out of my life because they don't want me to be who I am, if they don't like me, I will be ok with it. That's not really on me. I really love being ok with me. It's an amazing gift.</span></div>
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<div style="border: medium none;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">Maybe it takes some people longer...maybe some people never get here...lucky people may find their way here sooner, but I wish everyone could feel the peace & the power of knowing that no one else's ideas of what or who you should be matter at all if you are true to yourself. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9OBYosi6vqvMG-tvFMbOXotJEp-6DKLUcMiKuNEP06KikyrigJtfZQu0NGNLcuR_AkYudN85oX_CQoFEfVPw2JYI6qPltylIRvJsbaEwtY4KlfOKHvUOlIqpfMjqqSf4cVQsywOS11w/s1600/390866_337564902925187_181805898501089_1557171_1355386821_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" rea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU9OBYosi6vqvMG-tvFMbOXotJEp-6DKLUcMiKuNEP06KikyrigJtfZQu0NGNLcuR_AkYudN85oX_CQoFEfVPw2JYI6qPltylIRvJsbaEwtY4KlfOKHvUOlIqpfMjqqSf4cVQsywOS11w/s1600/390866_337564902925187_181805898501089_1557171_1355386821_n.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;">This is not to say I never question...how do we grow if we don't? But what I know for sure is that it doesn't have to be right for you & it can still actually be right for me. Certain conflicts over the last couple of years have helped me find more self-confidence & I am grateful. I feel more me.</span><br /> <br /><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: medium;">I feel more optimistic than I have in a long time...that's saying something. So for one last laugh today...I went to another favorite website. I'll leave you with what I found...</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!</span></div>
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/01/baby-its-new-day.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2012-01-02T16:42:00-05:00">4:42 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=9125679714897451876" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2012/01/baby-its-new-day.html?showComment=1325591939916#c1993925695327556585" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">January 3, 2012 6:58 AM</a></span></div>
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Oh, Kerbs, how I love this! Equal parts wisdom and humor. Perfect.</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-30285821129009007212012-08-26T13:34:00.002-04:002012-08-26T13:34:35.361-04:00Maybe I'm Cursed<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">MONDAY, OCTOBER 31, 2011</span></h2>
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Maybe I'm Cursed</h3>
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So here it is, the last day of October & I haven't written a word in a month! How does that happen?<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'll tell you how....my little girl decided she wanted to have a Halloween party this year for her birthday & I've been busy. Busy, I tell you. Busy & cursed!</div>
<br />I love Halloween. I do. So I was excited to do this for her. I swear.<br /><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
We saw these terrific 'cake pops' in my magazine. Inspiration! Check it out here: <a href="http://youtu.be/mVaomkGIIfE" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://youtu.be/mVaomkGIIfE</a></div>
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We set out to make invitations, inspired by this: <a href="http://www.gtpowell.com/category/freelance/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://www.gtpowell.com/category/freelance/</a></div>
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I was also trying to put together costumes for our family.</div>
<br />I did search upon search to get inspired for a creepy meal fit for fiends... & finally, we had it all set. Everything was coming together, or so it seemed, until Murphy's Law kicked in.<br /><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
So I started to make up the invitations, & found that I could not use my favorite photo-editing program because it apparently expired. I did the best I could & ended up creating this, not exactly what I had intended, but it works.</div>
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We have the witch & the black cats in the side yard, Nosferatu in the window & Frankenstein's monster coming out the door...& some kind of ghostly image in front of the garage where I couldn't erase my daughter's bicycle very well. (Sure did like my expired program....sigh.) But you know, they're 10 so it's fine.</div>
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But then came another shot of bad luck. I couldn't print it. When I plugged in my printer & tried, I got an error message that the carriage is stalled. I don't even really know what that means. But I persevered, because that's what we do for our children. I emailed it all to my awesome mom, & asked her to do the printing. She'd been cursed too. She had issues with the front & back lining up & facing the right way... but it did eventually come together. </div>
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So my precious takes them to school to deliver them (except they aren't allowed to pass them out in from of all the children unless all the children are invited, so she has to slip them into their lockers. And one child isn't in her class so even though she went to the right area, she didn't know which locker belonged to her & gave up. Good thing this is the kid whose mom is my friend, & I was able to extend the invitation verbally.)</div>
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I'm telling you now, I've never had such bad luck all at one time. Really. If it could go wrong, it did.</div>
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As we are approached the party date & I began to prepare for real. Worked on cleaning the house & decorating for Halloween & yelling at the family to pick up their stuff everywhere. Went shopping for the food stuffs...& ran into issue #5. Yeah, already up to 5!</div>
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The melting chocolate-like wafer candies were not available in all the colors we'd decided upon. Plan B, some food coloring the store personnel recommended.</div>
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I let my girl bake her own cake. The curse is back. She chose the wrong pan & the center never cooked through. When it came time to break the cake into crumbs, I scooped a good portion into the trash. Yes, the trash, because my disposer that had a guarantee until 1995 picked that week to die. (I don't care that it lasted 16 years longer than promised. It died at a most inopportune time.) So the one box of cake mix that was supposed to make 48 cake pops, in reality, made about 28. Check 7. Check 8.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjHA2DTI7u8a4GaRji8v_xJXpwZJFUUCjhp6IesP4TiYs42t-XQgJsHZAPF2wxL0Cwrn4MAk3LDnAvrAyw7MxZufoS48XVToIbptaU0lOiacOMXfJ5kJK19MDaMooQlifc2WD6_Afy74/s1600/hair001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMjHA2DTI7u8a4GaRji8v_xJXpwZJFUUCjhp6IesP4TiYs42t-XQgJsHZAPF2wxL0Cwrn4MAk3LDnAvrAyw7MxZufoS48XVToIbptaU0lOiacOMXfJ5kJK19MDaMooQlifc2WD6_Afy74/s200/hair001.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePdAIvhVVnI8J8rSdc0K9rtW2wMQ_nK5rzWy0ZBQ91TSQnDNXu6oPWCDnaCizULIuciJSMEidkBQ5mbNGjJ_mmqGcaZX2IewWKrkCEnBRgBnVxv5rrREBJN7IZJ1csRjEqw3ED6GE2Ww/s1600/hair002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePdAIvhVVnI8J8rSdc0K9rtW2wMQ_nK5rzWy0ZBQ91TSQnDNXu6oPWCDnaCizULIuciJSMEidkBQ5mbNGjJ_mmqGcaZX2IewWKrkCEnBRgBnVxv5rrREBJN7IZJ1csRjEqw3ED6GE2Ww/s200/hair002.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="200" /></a> So I crumbled what was left of the cake & couldn't find the tub of frosting. Check 9. No panic. I can make frosting. I've done this. So I get some cream cheese, some butter, some vanilla & some powdered sugar. Voila! Perfection. I mixed this deliciously evil stuff with the cake crumbs until just moist enough to stick together, per the YouTube tutorials, of which I'd watched at least a dozen. I let them set up a bit in the fridge, then put in the candy-dipped sticks. Everything is going surprisingly well. I'm kinda getting into it, kinda on a roll.</div>
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I even made a pinata myself. I was sorta, briefly, like EEEK! when I didn't put the eyes on all straight, (#10) but I let it roll off me. Most people don't carve their pumpkins perfectly, so it's all fine. I actually grew to like the crooked face.<br /><br />So back to the cake pops I go. I decide that a coffee cup is the best way to melt the wafers, as I don't have microwave safe plastics & I don't want to poison all the children with bph. Beside, the cake balls would need to be dipped, so I thought deep & narrow was a good choice. I was careful when nuking, stopping the microwave every 10-15 seconds to stir. I'd forgotten to buy a Styrofoam block to stand them in, but I got a cardboard box with some slits to hold the pops. I dipped the 1st one, & <em>sonofagun!</em> I had to keep that sucker spinning pretty good to keep the weight of the chocolate from pulling the ball off the stick as the excess coating dripped off. Tap gently, the instructions all said. Yeah, right. Issue # 11!<br /><br />I go back for another look-see & I forgot to thin with shortening, so I add that & try again. A little better, but not much. What I learned is that the white candy was cooling too much between dips while I was waiting for the excess to drip off & that the cardboard box was a terrible & completely ineffective substitute for the Styrofoam block. The pops kept leaning way over til they fell or bopped into each other....& I only had 4 done. Issues 12 & 13.<br /><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
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Oops, forgot another- I guess it's 10 -deciding that some were ghosts, we made a couple sort of irregularly shaped. Found that the top bit kept falling off into the cup. Round it is.</div>
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Then I notice, #14, that there were some hard bits in the coating. I have no idea what they are, where they came from. Someone I know who does quite a lot of baking said perhaps i scorched the chocolate, or maybe had some water in it. I have no idea. I know I was extremely careful, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. I've already grown annoyed with them.</div>
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Another friend did some research for me after hearing my woes & said that she saw where someone used the store-bought frosting, melted that, & it worked the same way. It set up & hardened in no time. I found that tub & I tried that.</div>
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Issue #15. When I stirred in the food coloring, it got weirdly lumpy. I don't know if this is because it was already molten, if it's because it was frosting & the food coloring was for candy...I have no idea. But I have 2 awfully wart-ty pumpkins...There was plenty of frosting though, so I'd dip 2 quickly, then dump it & start again, & dip 2 more....This mostly worked out ok, but the box was not working so what I'd ended up doing was just setting them down in paper cupcake liners. I was able to complete some orange for jack-o-lanterns & some green for witches.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Never. Again.</td></tr>
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Phew! Next I returned to the chocolate wafers (not white chocolate, but milk chocolate) for the werewolves. These all went smoothly! Woo-hoo! Then I put the black food coloring in & continued for the cats...but no matter how much I put in, it really wasn't getting black. #16. How much more bad luck can there be? I dipped, dropped into the liner, plopped on some chocolate chip 'ears' & with only 3 to go, the pops started to fall off the sticks, again. #17...I got out a fork, fished that ball out & put in in the cupcake liner, jammed that stick back in, placed the ears & was grateful to be done with it! Decorating was the fun part anyway....</div>
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#18... The cake pops coated with frosting were allowing the cake color to leach through. The neon green witches faces had awful lumps & reddish-hued bumps protruding all over. (Red velvet cake is beautiful elsewhere. Not here.) I pretended to ignore it & moved on.</div>
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#19. I thought a Hershey's Kiss on one of the wafers would make a cute witches hat. No. The flat bottom of the Kiss is exactly the same diameter as the wafer. No brim. So I melt up the wafers, spoon a little out onto waxed paper & center the Kiss on it, then place in the fridge to chill. It works beautifully. They peeled right off the paper & I plunk it down on the lumpy greenish-speckled witch balls &....#16. The lollipop stick is right in the center & the hats don't fit on at all.</div>
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I explain the pitfalls to my daughter. What if we don't decorate them? They are still Halloween colors, sorta, & I even offer to scrap it all & bake a traditional cake that I know I can make pretty. (I've done that before.) Bless her little heart, she said, "I don't really care what they look like if they taste good." I couldn't promise her they would after all they'd been through, but I was happy to wash my hands of them & be done.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">See? This wasn't too bad. Easier than the blasted cake pops!</td></tr>
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I filled the jack-o-lantern pinata with candy. I hung the scene-setters. I draped he furniture with sheets to look like a haunted house. My husband hung the cobwebs & put out the tombstones. I set the table & put the wings in the marinade. I put 3 drops of the black food coloring into Italian dressing & squirted it over chicken wings so we could call them 'bat wings' for dinner...</div>
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Everything was going to be fine. The oven was preheating as the children began to arrive. White & sweet potato fries would be skeleton & scarecrow fingers to eat with the bat wings. The vegetable/appetizer was Tomato Basil Bisque, one of my daughter's favorite soups, that we dubbed Creamed Vomit...# 20.</div>
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I accidentally bought non-dairy creamer instead of half-&-half & never even noticed. The kids weren't big fans of the soup. It is a little spicy so that could be it, or it could be that it was <em>freakin'</em> <em>non-dairy creamer</em>!!</div>
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#21 & 22...the main course. I had 2 baking sheets of fries in the oven & then I added 1 more with the wings. The oven temperature dropped & my husband, who is paranoid of undercooked chicken kept opening the door to check on them even though, like the Bickersons we are, I told him he was letting all the heat out.... so I leave him to it & corral the girls for presents before dinner.</div>
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He decided to get out the deep-fryer & fry the wings in batches. However, at one point, he put too many in, trying to speed things up I guess, & it 'boiled' over.... so he has hot grease running all over the kitchen & a pan full of raw chicken, & we're all oblivious in the living room....</div>
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It's now just about an hour after the kids were supposed to eat, & the french fries don't even look crisp. I jacked the oven up to 500, wings are back in....we wait some more. I turn on the broiler, & that works. My husband takes some wings & puts them on a plate & microwaves them... (I know, eeew, nuked chicken. I hoped it was true that children will eat anything if they could dip it in a sauce. I had sauce!) Back under the broiler for a few to hopefully crisp up the skin...& finally, dinner is served!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-R2oIw1U5ezkLScH_cm7xQLbvwDhgsfyJCyYftAV756ZVslFs4UsgqM_8dkb75fmTRF9D25z8yiWP-dkyiCwGkMM_lyMPiaM6n737fzAGBkR6lOUF5_bJQijB5F81R4ztgJRl9eYj_o/s1600/Copy+of+IMG_9246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="200" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-R2oIw1U5ezkLScH_cm7xQLbvwDhgsfyJCyYftAV756ZVslFs4UsgqM_8dkb75fmTRF9D25z8yiWP-dkyiCwGkMM_lyMPiaM6n737fzAGBkR6lOUF5_bJQijB5F81R4ztgJRl9eYj_o/s200/Copy+of+IMG_9246.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="150" /></a>I'll just call these 23, because we wanted to make our own labels, but without a printer, that was not happening. Luckily, these weren't hard to find & weren't very much. I'd intended to label the 'specimen jars' as well, but that didn't happen. They still looked just fine.</div>
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So the kids did actually eat a little bit & we round up for the pinata....#24. It was dark out. We deliberately went into the evening because my daughter wanted to tell ghost stories by a bonfire, but it rained the day before & was wet & the temperature dropped 20 degrees, so it was only about 40 at this point, You know what? I'm calling that #24.5.</div>
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So we go out to do the pinata, in the dark, & my birthday girl goes first. One WHACK! Candy went flying! They wanted to hit at it anyway, so we let them...until it was mush. then they try to collect the candy, but it was too dark :( Poor things. They did find some & the girls who had a few pieces were polite enough to share with the girls who didn't find any, in the dark, mingled with the leaves.... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhEAHTaK0If5dRAl4CNMa0rVBJdv8fC-urLMz0KoAU4UlFJJoACPQl8O17Pj65sivdRmPS8rO0TKxxA6h0vgH6K8eoil4WIJgL_XMsk_T35E3oyyiAiWgWRY14ZQPDowptmp2cyOOpkM/s1600/IMG_9288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKhEAHTaK0If5dRAl4CNMa0rVBJdv8fC-urLMz0KoAU4UlFJJoACPQl8O17Pj65sivdRmPS8rO0TKxxA6h0vgH6K8eoil4WIJgL_XMsk_T35E3oyyiAiWgWRY14ZQPDowptmp2cyOOpkM/s200/IMG_9288.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2T9ffzo404nI0-BbHH-6YKu9qseQ0NgyvNuKCe7cp1WJZLulXdH-s27FwWXw7DyQCQ-BwgSSEtEWtt4-j6p-HuZGdKNZVosw5McdJv5MG74bJcO1fLJYGX8IXWUA3TwvMmBraTbQV-u8/s1600/IMG_9287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2T9ffzo404nI0-BbHH-6YKu9qseQ0NgyvNuKCe7cp1WJZLulXdH-s27FwWXw7DyQCQ-BwgSSEtEWtt4-j6p-HuZGdKNZVosw5McdJv5MG74bJcO1fLJYGX8IXWUA3TwvMmBraTbQV-u8/s200/IMG_9287.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="200" /></a>I felt so bad that by the time the party was actually over, despite my screaming headache, I did allow the 2 neighbor girls to spend the night despite that I had said, "No slumber party," when asked if they could have one of those for their birthday parties.... (My girls birthdays are within 9 days of each other, so they are always discussed & planned simultaneously.)</div>
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Though absolutely nothing from beginning to end went the way it was supposed to go, they enjoyed themselves anyway. They said the bat wings were nasty, but the cake pops were actually delicious. </div>
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And #25, one of the girls stepped in dog poo....& I don't even think it was from one of my dogs because they haven't been out in the backyard for a month or more. They like the front where they can see the whole neighborhood.... </div>
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What say we gather the villagers & hunt that Murphy down for cursing me? </div>
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/10/maybe-im-cursed.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2011-10-31T13:33:00-04:00">1:33 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=1438727572548019145" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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1 comment:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/10/maybe-im-cursed.html?showComment=1320148963808#c691974695467235858" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">November 1, 2011 8:02 AM</a></span></div>
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And Kerbs, "they enjoyed themselves anyway." You put me to shame with all your hard work! Most of the time I invite a few kids and let them play on the trampoline. Clearly, I suck. haha</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-35616423363840708872012-08-26T13:33:00.003-04:002012-08-26T13:33:48.540-04:00Baby, Change is Good!<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 2011</span></h2>
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Baby, Change is Good!</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">I got a new look!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Hey, I get bored. I can't help it. I rearrange furniture, move drapes & lamps back & forth between rooms, change out rugs & throw pillows...cut, grow & color my hair & try new make-up, so it only seems right that I would freshen my blog's look too, since it's been around awhile now.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">At least my husband & children won't stub their toes here. I'm sure they will, however, roll their eyes & not see the point in the change.</span><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">They never understand why I move the couch around the living room either. They don't understand why I want to paint the walls every few years. I explain, or at least I try to, that I'm bored. I need change. I feel invigorated when something is refreshed...it refreshes me.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYlkDbdbVvyssSwECjJL9CR_DgWAvxcnEBZk9sYcvL1wtZ3De1COKBIWJ-e4JDmDRia4EANVASrJWT1QAtCii4HolBKjsdRsEllhuAuy_C9gG-jezZLj85BPN-Cdy8DovxupaQMwU4jo/s1600/home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSYlkDbdbVvyssSwECjJL9CR_DgWAvxcnEBZk9sYcvL1wtZ3De1COKBIWJ-e4JDmDRia4EANVASrJWT1QAtCii4HolBKjsdRsEllhuAuy_C9gG-jezZLj85BPN-Cdy8DovxupaQMwU4jo/s320/home.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">They don't get it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">They look at me like a deer in headlights.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">"If it makes you happy," my husband says. Underlining that sentiment is the unspoken, "But don't ask me to help."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Let me demonstrate...Here is the living room of our home as it was purchased. It's an odd color that changes color depending on the light. it might be blue. It might be gray. Here, it looks lavender. All are cold.</span><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEircKpwrULha851J_Tvt9ZdFAu4d9YgV1zLobw3nRHV7AoshHDBfz8yIli7XnHNOAXqEwk6y3xTJRVNjk4Ap1hy6E7U5W-yuaiKphfyMyfm8qV0ogww7rN-w_6xfy_C073j3U8udvFaCn8/s1600/IMG_6596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEircKpwrULha851J_Tvt9ZdFAu4d9YgV1zLobw3nRHV7AoshHDBfz8yIli7XnHNOAXqEwk6y3xTJRVNjk4Ap1hy6E7U5W-yuaiKphfyMyfm8qV0ogww7rN-w_6xfy_C073j3U8udvFaCn8/s320/IMG_6596.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">And here is our living room after my sister & I painted & the furniture is moved in & we live in it...pretty different vibe, right?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Yeah, I know red toile isn't for everyone...red <em>or</em>toile is enough to put a lot of people off, but this is our home & we like it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Except that I got bored, so I swapped the furniture with the family room. It never worked for me that we had the large furniture in the small room & the small furniture in the large room. (I've also never been a fan of the cherry coffee table that goes with absolutely nothing else we own.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJGIyZTswVARt6O19ALkJ_HvUihZWULa3rstG9T56Iw6677MSj1mkdNNA0CapaTloNGbeArKUa_bEAoCjfW_r6E02K_n1iojEDmmv2ZCXnZGv1ulRhmeW-zA_Jf4BKPG8wU0XctPcnUM/s1600/IMG_6765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiJGIyZTswVARt6O19ALkJ_HvUihZWULa3rstG9T56Iw6677MSj1mkdNNA0CapaTloNGbeArKUa_bEAoCjfW_r6E02K_n1iojEDmmv2ZCXnZGv1ulRhmeW-zA_Jf4BKPG8wU0XctPcnUM/s320/IMG_6765.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">So then we end up with this...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Well, this is 'in the process of' that with which we eventually ended up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">And on the flip side of that, the family room went from this beige & bland (just pretend you don't see the clutter piled on the coffee table, ok?) dark, crowded, tiny room with oversized furniture to this...cheerful, sunny & something more appropriately scaled...</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCcOz3wM8QaGGsIYf4Dn8RabQ4OLMn1epsDrPFfH6DpEr03Jeb25Fe7XSPGplj6ieIL2FfkRQexhru0Fp70qAAG80_TvqNpx4h_4i8zxbit3GIUWkX3qskwc1k8XfzBFHmXL4BK2xoOo/s1600/IMG_5369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCcOz3wM8QaGGsIYf4Dn8RabQ4OLMn1epsDrPFfH6DpEr03Jeb25Fe7XSPGplj6ieIL2FfkRQexhru0Fp70qAAG80_TvqNpx4h_4i8zxbit3GIUWkX3qskwc1k8XfzBFHmXL4BK2xoOo/s320/IMG_5369.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmx7kjkBMjR-UTmykINmv9E6s-I_dzre7lT1a1tK-j5haN1p4qCsx_AfvZ9S0PDE4xiubWIC0hIOWqZwp5IWxrP5wIsFGxJz0PXjvCaRk5kiQl7bgzb3oLYgXx_QGXXCdgSvq1brLBTY/s320/toile+family+room.jpg" width="320" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">And while I acknowledge that it is quite the pain in the kiester, I think it is well worth the effort. The problem, (& isn't there always a problem?) is that I am bored again. And I already cut <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(donated all 8 1/2 inches)</span> & colored my hair so now I'm thinking maybe I ought to paint the living room again...because I'm kinda bored with the red & I spend a lot of time in there. But...(isn't there always a 'but'?) I already tried to tackle this mess.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8hLLHW-mLwqvWW1ScQasLY4Di-pWccMq7G0RKd-mW25wN_8AQgTYVSaAPqbYhXnXe3vxLW59LFWdnVvkDG6LdceRw7xt8DWSfiHkdP90kaDn3OV93DS66Z2PNjr1KDtQiM_t8od2OtM/s1600/hallway+bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #6699cc; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="223" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc8hLLHW-mLwqvWW1ScQasLY4Di-pWccMq7G0RKd-mW25wN_8AQgTYVSaAPqbYhXnXe3vxLW59LFWdnVvkDG6LdceRw7xt8DWSfiHkdP90kaDn3OV93DS66Z2PNjr1KDtQiM_t8od2OtM/s320/hallway+bath.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">This is the upstairs hall bath, in the state it was in when we moved in, but for my children's toothbrushes & other toiletries.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">I don't know what's the worst. Everywhere you look is an atrocity! So I started peeling paper...& hoped it wouldn't be too terrible as it was already lifting at every seam.</span><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="border: medium none; clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjm4A5g3j2ADmC0QpYgEjzHPRClWJRIZPNoTeZFKuc-TwZwcJZ7fc9GmIwiKHQnG0ZvtjN6q6gHaZXUuI3NJlBQhUtceqxM3oRloCArLkkfd0HUAJwEXyMYk9jmSXUTvjI-ZH6njIhnAA/s1600/IMG_7778.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #6699cc; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="240" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjm4A5g3j2ADmC0QpYgEjzHPRClWJRIZPNoTeZFKuc-TwZwcJZ7fc9GmIwiKHQnG0ZvtjN6q6gHaZXUuI3NJlBQhUtceqxM3oRloCArLkkfd0HUAJwEXyMYk9jmSXUTvjI-ZH6njIhnAA/s320/IMG_7778.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And hope was lost...Why, you may be asking. Look closely, my friends. Look closely. Do you see the squiggly lines? </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, you want to know what they are? I can't say for sure...but I know what they were meant to do: Last forever is my best guess!!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">Seriously, people, never ever ever never glue your wallpaper seams down with anything other than wallpaper paste.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">And pleeeeease, prime your walls before applying wallpaper. I'm begging. Pretty-please with sugar on top? Because much as one might believe otherwise, stripping wallpaper isn't a lot of fun, but peeling the drywall...? That's a real m-effer.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHaCu4i0orTSXd73kgSGTg4FDFRg89eJZoY2UrhQQNlrINwilB0WijkGXRoj2Cj5fQM1EAXvQ6sqqpPUeTqhdxfq7bqmUpKqsvJEFDelV-eJtm5nqRWu1Ql0a1PZDEEiLONTnrzGhJL0/s1600/mess.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="144" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWHaCu4i0orTSXd73kgSGTg4FDFRg89eJZoY2UrhQQNlrINwilB0WijkGXRoj2Cj5fQM1EAXvQ6sqqpPUeTqhdxfq7bqmUpKqsvJEFDelV-eJtm5nqRWu1Ql0a1PZDEEiLONTnrzGhJL0/s320/mess.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yeah, sorry I can't turn this the right way...</span></td></tr>
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<br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, & you know what else? Don't put that rubber baseboard stuff around a tub. It is impossible to get the dirt & hair (yeah, eeew) out of the groove. Plus, it's cheap & ugly & didn't help with the water/mildew issue at all. So thanks for that.</span></span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial;">Oh, yes, I have opened the proverbial can of worms... & I'm ready to get moving. </span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">I have the paint colors picked out. I have the shower curtain & trash can & all the accessories waiting. I purchased the new flooring... I just need the walls to be repaired so I can work on it. And I'd like to put them in before the girls outgrow pink & leopard...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;">And I'd like the kids out of my teeny, tiny little bathroom. You know the old wallpaper in there isn't in great shape either....</span><br /><div style="border: medium none;">
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/09/baby-change-is-good.html?showComment=1317418975233#c6506771617821949957" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">September 30, 2011 5:42 PM</a></span></div>
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Do it! If it makes you happy, change it!!!</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-13614699115580572442012-08-26T13:32:00.003-04:002012-08-26T13:32:51.529-04:00Maybe Words Do Hurt<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2011</span></h2>
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Maybe Words Do Hurt</h3>
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So there's this new obsession in my house....It's Words with Friends. Have you played it? Do you want to? I started this about a week ago, maybe 2, & have played no less than than 40 games with 15 different people. I currently have 11 games going with 9 friends. Aaack!!<br /><br />May I just say, I have never felt so dumb in my entire life!? Sure, I get a few words. I've won a few games. But I have also had my ass handed to me several times. Is it actually necessary to beat me by 200 points? Isn't, like, 20 enough?<br /><br />As I complained & whined & bemoaned my misfortune at having lost game after game in this ridiculous beast of time-suckage, my children laughed. And giggled. And rooted against me, <em>against</em> their dear old mum. WTH is that?! The one actually said -direct quote here- "Finally, somebody is better than you at a word game." Huh! <em>Why I oughtta....</em><br /><br />I have words for her, let me tell you. I am capable of making a lot of words. Even 7-letter words! (And you know, it's not like Scrabble. There's no 50-point bonus for using all your letters in 1 word. <span style="font-size: xx-small;">Stupid rip-off.)</span> I can make words, let me tell you, they just don't always fall on those stingy triple-point tiles or double-letter spaces....or uh, properly attach to an existing word on the board...<br /><br />Don't get me wrong, I've had 101 point words before. Rarely. Ok, once. But the point is it happened. I had a 68 point word recently. Then there was this time my husband quit 4 words into the game because I was so far ahead he didn't think he could catch up.<br /><br />That was no fun. I continued playing him just yesterday after he scored upwards of 150 points on me. And guess what? He only won by 2. Yeah, baby, I came back strong!<br /><br />I'll admit that it was nice for awhile, an easy trade of 'hop, hope, pail' & other common 3 & 4 letter words. It was some mindless entertainment. Now it's all stress. OMG she just got 68 points! Let's see if I can top that! 'Cause even while I'm not super-competitive, no one likes their ass kicked so hard so often & now the pressure is on because now I occasionally impress myself. And topping that is a real feat.<br /><br />So last night, I went back & forth between games with 4 people & found myself rather frantic. I decided enough was enough & went to bed...where I dreamed up my next moves & woke myself up. I kid you not. It's sick, really. This was startling to me, so....I decided I need a masseuse to de-stress me while I hunch over my iPod. Who's game?<div style="clear: both;">
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/09/maybe-words-do-hurt.html?showComment=1316641440112#c6320179728072099847" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">September 21, 2011 5:44 PM</a></span></div>
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Thanks for the heads up, because now I know not to go anywhere near this game! I have Scrabble Blast on my iphone....ugh. fun but such a time suck.</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-76145298242117719272012-08-26T13:32:00.000-04:002012-08-26T13:32:09.344-04:00Maybe It's Just Another Monday<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">MONDAY, AUGUST 29, 2011</span></h2>
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Maybe It's Just Another Monday...</h3>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">♫ ♪ It's just another manic Monday </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">I wish it was Sunday </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">'Cause that's my fun day ♪♫ </span><br /><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">My I don't have to run day </span><br /><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">♪ It's just another manic Monday</span>...</span><br /><br />Sing it with me.... I don't usually have too many complaints about Monday. Being a stay-at-home Mom, Mondays are usually good days. By 8:30, I'm on my own for a few hours to read, relax, or clean up after the weekend.<br /><br />But this school year, something is different.<br /><br />My oldest daughter, the one who doesn't wake up well, is in 6th grade. She has to get on the bus this year<u>before</u> she had to wake up last school year. We are still adjusting. I'm not all too crazy about getting up at 6 am either. I haven't done that regularly since 1998! Even in August, it's still pretty dark. Can't hardly wait for February....<br /><br />So on this particularly fine Monday morning, My child set her alarm a little early. She is enthusiastic about school. But her bus has yet to make it to school on time, & the driver told the kids she'd be earlier starting today, so my daughter thinks she has to wake up earlier...except that even though I sent her to bed, when I came up to bed, she was still reading. So this morning, her alarm went off a little early, & she didn't wake up. I woke up. Her dad woke up. But she never did. My husband had to go in & tell her to shut it off. And then they both fell back to sleep while I waited 20 minutes for my alarm to ring...<br /><br />She asked me last night if I'd pack her lunch for her this morning since she had to leave earlier. (The earlier she has to be anywhere, the slower she moves.) So I put water on to boil for her mac-n-cheese, start to feed the dogs & hear, "EeeewW! There's vomit in here! At least, I think it's vomit. There's grass in it." So I only feed the dog that wasn't munching grass all night last night. I unload the dishwasher & put my cup under the Keurig & turn it on.<br /><br />Then my husband comes into the kitchen. "Your dog barfed in the living room. I didn't feed him." As both of our dogs have been to the vet in the last 2 months with severe diarrhea, we are a little surprised at dealing with another digestive issue. Especially because his dog is still on antibiotics.<br /><br />So the water is boiling & I dump the noodles in & turn back to the last of the dishes & my husband, dear that he is, is brewing his coffee before me, when I've been up twice as long & haven't had a cup yet & have been taking care of everyone else....Thank God a Keurig is fast! He then exits the kitchen & cleans up the mess on the floor. I guess he earned that sip of coffee first.<br /><br />So I get my daughter's drink & pudding cup & plastic utensils & she comes in wearing a coral tank top & purpley-magenta-ish pair of shorts. "Really?" I ask when I see her. "You know I don't care for that together." I'm not going to fight about it.<br />"I can't find any socks. I know I have socks & I have gym today," she tells me.<br />Since I don't have time to look for her socks, I tell her to get some of mine. It has to be 20 degrees or less for me to want to wear socks anyway. And I start mixing in the cheese as she disappears.<br /><br />"Where is my other shoe?!" she calls frantically from the other room.<br />"Dare I hope you put them away the last time I asked?"<br />"Noooo," She didn't even respond to the sarcasm. She was actually answering the question.<br />"Well they were both there the 208 times I requested that you put them away."<br />"I <em>need</em> them! I have GYM today!"<br />"You have 3 pairs in the dining room for some peculiar reason."<br />"I need <em>sneakers</em> for gym." <em>Duh, you're stupid</em> is what I hear in the tone of voice.<br />"Well I don't know what to tell you. If you put things away, they would be where they are supposed to be & you wouldn't have to look for them. You'd know where they are."<br />"Found it!" She is completely unfazed.<br /><br />I hand her the lunchbox & she runs out the door. The stupid dog is still looking at me because I didn't feed him. My dog is watching out the window. My husband comes in & kisses me good-bye. I've finished putting away the clean dishes & re-loading the few we just made & I hear the door...<br /><br />"What are you doing back? You're going to miss the bus!" I do not want to drive her to school.<br />"I need something," she whizzes by me as if that is an answer, & out the door again in less than a minute, carrying a hoodie.<br /><br />And I see my husband's coffee cup on the foyer table & look, & he's just backing out of the driveway. I take it out to him. "Her bus didn't come while she was in here, did it?" No. All is well. He drives away. I can finally let the dogs out. (I cannot put them out until he goes because they will get in the way of the vehicle. I think they just want to go for a ride.)<br /><br />I watch & breathe & see my kid get safely on her bus at the corner. Ahhh, 20 minutes until the next one needs to get up. And I facebook. And I am reminded of an article I read recently that blamed parents for children being pokey or tardy or slow in the morning. We didn't let them get enough sleep or we aren't organized enough or we, in our panic trying to rush them can overwhelm them with too many orders at once until they just shut down. <em>Whatevs.</em> I call BS on that.<br /><br />It's like that old saying, <em>You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink.</em> I can put my kid in bed but I can't make her sleep. I can tell her where to put her things, but I'm not going to do it for her. She's almost 12!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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She's almost 12, & she's never been a morning person...here, at age 6, at the most magical place on earth, she still didn't wake up happy...No school, all fun, & yet she's grumpy...but the mood doesn't last. She's a happy, silly kid in general so I guess an hour or so in the morning isn't the worst trade-off.<div style="clear: both;">
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/08/maybe-its-just-another-monday.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2011-08-29T13:33:00-04:00">1:33 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=6456252228510236537" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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1 comment:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/08/maybe-its-just-another-monday.html?showComment=1314662030451#c372658983022766699" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">August 29, 2011 7:53 PM</a></span></div>
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"Well I don't know what to tell you!" Yes, that has been my favorite sentence since my daughter turned 11. I agree. It's THEIR fault, God love 'em, and they need to learn. No coddling from us.</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-82144458686746505932012-08-26T13:31:00.002-04:002012-08-26T13:31:20.273-04:00Maybe We Just Keep Trying<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">TUESDAY, AUGUST 16, 2011</span></h2>
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Maybe We Just Keep Trying</h3>
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We've all had those emails with the bad family pictures, right? The Olan Mills famous fake park with the wagon wheel or the haystacks on astroturf? Really funny stuff & I'd bet most are from the 70s, that decade of fashion-forward pattern... Here's an example of what I mean: <a href="http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/</a><br /><br />Well, since I began getting those, I have noticed that, while my family photos aren't as awkward (we aren't creepy. We're quite normal, I swear) they are almost as horrible. Really, is it so hard to look in the right place, smile, & pretend to love the people against whom you are smooshed?<br /><br />I know that some people are naturally more photogenic than others. I have a friend who never takes a bad picture, <span style="font-size: xx-small;">bitch that she is</span>, whereas I occasionally have 3 chins. But a smile, we all know how to smile, right, boys & girls?<br /><br />Wrong.<br /><br />Why do so many men refuse to smile for a camera?<br /><br />I recently shared a bazillion snaps of my yougest daughter with all her crazy faces. Remember I told you to stay tuned for the face that pisses me off? Really, he's just so cute but he does do his best to make that hard to see.<br /><br />These are from the series where I cropped out Anne's faces, but it wasn't just Anne... Now onto <em>Attempts at a Family Photo...</em><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGUnRoATEgWEwJIQ4hyphenhyphenhX8gJkHn4mi7NTKA9TB-zLaAKURYR9xVBCoVYQPZp2_BD_yJJ1OdX6kC3Dc8JgZibOM-hw-cPqA8NJxpa3u41aDtPRRueTNVAVfXQfv3d_h5SZnYhO6KbVHzI/s1600/miscellaneous+055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXGUnRoATEgWEwJIQ4hyphenhyphenhX8gJkHn4mi7NTKA9TB-zLaAKURYR9xVBCoVYQPZp2_BD_yJJ1OdX6kC3Dc8JgZibOM-hw-cPqA8NJxpa3u41aDtPRRueTNVAVfXQfv3d_h5SZnYhO6KbVHzI/s320/miscellaneous+055.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2y0RER1ZDSeraCrmDrKSByrT3y2lmojTwz9qUZy8d48daFAP02mgHDE6NbHpjfS8iornCP9kdB4cO3Z0COjpx3Vdccp4TijYZmQD1YoNCGZYyYfr7AlKi_fZpDi_ESCSlgD5UXrajqY/s1600/family+red+eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2y0RER1ZDSeraCrmDrKSByrT3y2lmojTwz9qUZy8d48daFAP02mgHDE6NbHpjfS8iornCP9kdB4cO3Z0COjpx3Vdccp4TijYZmQD1YoNCGZYyYfr7AlKi_fZpDi_ESCSlgD5UXrajqY/s320/family+red+eye.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Even the dog is less than cooperative...</td></tr>
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We went outside to play in the snow. After we gave up trying to get a nice picture, the unthinkable happens.<br /><div style="border: medium none;">
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh999xRWUZWJjJCiQgr8vO1m_qFt-_oL1qXoSkNLQVZheXS-qEiX-GIFuM0Ss6Ggl3wieHRQbJooFLpc8c1lLc1elVz0N_BdIybf4cdV5b5z6OF6hRtejTW0JlowKwyGFz57uGKj6O0Zc/s1600/family+photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="297" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh999xRWUZWJjJCiQgr8vO1m_qFt-_oL1qXoSkNLQVZheXS-qEiX-GIFuM0Ss6Ggl3wieHRQbJooFLpc8c1lLc1elVz0N_BdIybf4cdV5b5z6OF6hRtejTW0JlowKwyGFz57uGKj6O0Zc/s320/family+photo.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">This one made it into the Christmas cards :)</td></tr>
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Here we are at <em>The Happiest Place on Earth</em>. Seriously, they call themselves that. Does my husband look happy? And what's the face the little one is making? I'm glad she was potty-trained or I could have been in trouble....<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23BB1KKm-gnstJrkbmr20AS-rEaN2TAY5SH17Gnj8QfNggf_vDye7WfQzlvVPEjpr1t4dFtBHUYqD0QHKBSxsax9AWpLNyqIbYlJmaizUDnOH0pq_0VnssZiPa8uDe67U5fgDhSK5tDw/s1600/122_2273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23BB1KKm-gnstJrkbmr20AS-rEaN2TAY5SH17Gnj8QfNggf_vDye7WfQzlvVPEjpr1t4dFtBHUYqD0QHKBSxsax9AWpLNyqIbYlJmaizUDnOH0pq_0VnssZiPa8uDe67U5fgDhSK5tDw/s320/122_2273.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Our then 6-year-old took this picture.</td></tr>
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Here we are again. Got someone to take one of all of us... really, what is going on here? Is it so hard to be still & look in the right place for 12 seconds? Apparently so...<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7M7g297b7QR5LixNeyEQzD2g_o27C0rbSd33lddTKqyKmWxqG3fqSe7X5bTkKUAqELO4b5a8qb6YkPfDOwqvgpn-ZHoUcdy_qK_Parq7kQtlcABiasEpauyekluFNhQ7QL9_Sa2nUyTc/s1600/128_2832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7M7g297b7QR5LixNeyEQzD2g_o27C0rbSd33lddTKqyKmWxqG3fqSe7X5bTkKUAqELO4b5a8qb6YkPfDOwqvgpn-ZHoUcdy_qK_Parq7kQtlcABiasEpauyekluFNhQ7QL9_Sa2nUyTc/s320/128_2832.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Maybe she has to go potty?</td></tr>
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Take 2 did not make it into the Christmas cards either. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgib7T8USTvt2Qo3ZB5TE1mSyLlZB-FbEpkrLxLHdWGndJY8acIjFWPlM6tHYIdVXudhai3XGB3EPHC2byfHyZ3NFVUPvN4KByZq8kaLR3ZBD8u_Jkb0StcY95RgXzHImEM_h9vaX0EYLk/s1600/128_2833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgib7T8USTvt2Qo3ZB5TE1mSyLlZB-FbEpkrLxLHdWGndJY8acIjFWPlM6tHYIdVXudhai3XGB3EPHC2byfHyZ3NFVUPvN4KByZq8kaLR3ZBD8u_Jkb0StcY95RgXzHImEM_h9vaX0EYLk/s320/128_2833.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Now what is he looking at?</td></tr>
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This one was so-so but my honey still doesn't seem exactly happy. I can say he was. We had a great time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmf5v8igzl4IwoYj9OQeCOvslIHB98wHi1R6JQP2F2dWX2dkkkdrUHxXobWVnzJcaaqexo3-wsQJem8xapM4yhPU1XKNIjfYvMshtjqOwhF0XLmw1gl_1E_NVAsL5QcieJFQVyuHTjklY/s1600/Ohana.crop.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="223" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmf5v8igzl4IwoYj9OQeCOvslIHB98wHi1R6JQP2F2dWX2dkkkdrUHxXobWVnzJcaaqexo3-wsQJem8xapM4yhPU1XKNIjfYvMshtjqOwhF0XLmw1gl_1E_NVAsL5QcieJFQVyuHTjklY/s320/Ohana.crop.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Again, we were having loads of fun. Various days at Cedar Point, <em>The Fun & Only</em>... Why no one seems inclined to capture it is beyond me. I just don't get it.</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iMbkPOs_pGGsom6jls_2pergmCY-xT0sgY6orvKQmcy3B4pNoWL8Fdi2_kinwlGNXjWykgCsWWUns5GBqEU0VGFTOnJy8r966hySThBjbmYuBdIV-FiNVSShdGZgzcKWm0JuNM1GaYI/s1600/Cedar+Point-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6iMbkPOs_pGGsom6jls_2pergmCY-xT0sgY6orvKQmcy3B4pNoWL8Fdi2_kinwlGNXjWykgCsWWUns5GBqEU0VGFTOnJy8r966hySThBjbmYuBdIV-FiNVSShdGZgzcKWm0JuNM1GaYI/s320/Cedar+Point-03.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">I look like I have buck teeth. I don't.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SJuuOqLkT5Dfvni_514AsLKC0G-hxljPldWX9hBJLX2FQzts1YrGHw4-bgIJpCKb9F4W-hle8Gnvbz6JsfpYcmDVya-emPt56xrV-MvEaKRCToaf8hlWO8KkJrw5SvDI7Dqnf1p9i-w/s1600/Cedar+Point+8-20-09-12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2SJuuOqLkT5Dfvni_514AsLKC0G-hxljPldWX9hBJLX2FQzts1YrGHw4-bgIJpCKb9F4W-hle8Gnvbz6JsfpYcmDVya-emPt56xrV-MvEaKRCToaf8hlWO8KkJrw5SvDI7Dqnf1p9i-w/s320/Cedar+Point+8-20-09-12.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Hard to get 4 people by oneself...the arm just isn't long enough.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNRIioAgSZbAsFs9Gep6estY2r9Yf52H11aF0KLNhvyd7XclqGIGa_efd6fOPeOdKDY2mPgecgeGVmgrVISEgct-BZWIPZxlQaTDeMGYFUpDaXVm5rmmCrWONp9RodqMSYnUbKgz0AKo/s1600/Cedar+Point+8-20-09-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNRIioAgSZbAsFs9Gep6estY2r9Yf52H11aF0KLNhvyd7XclqGIGa_efd6fOPeOdKDY2mPgecgeGVmgrVISEgct-BZWIPZxlQaTDeMGYFUpDaXVm5rmmCrWONp9RodqMSYnUbKgz0AKo/s320/Cedar+Point+8-20-09-32.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">The poor lady who took the picture. He looks almost ready to cry.</td></tr>
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Family vacations are meant for commemorating fun family times, right? That's part of the point as far as I'm concerned. Niagara Falls, people.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGjQf-W6g9zomOi6b6BHCQ-lM_kcu1OshdNY3D8TgmGXLzns0cTQaBwiIgwuObOuFg__ojy26_jTxK5UT3i9WuWPp4_OFi0M_qbQ2MOIZyi2wVL6eWu0-T7z-hMG70rL7W1VzQZe-LWk/s1600/147_4731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFGjQf-W6g9zomOi6b6BHCQ-lM_kcu1OshdNY3D8TgmGXLzns0cTQaBwiIgwuObOuFg__ojy26_jTxK5UT3i9WuWPp4_OFi0M_qbQ2MOIZyi2wVL6eWu0-T7z-hMG70rL7W1VzQZe-LWk/s320/147_4731.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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The very nice German lady was patient enough to try again... but I was overly enthused. I think that's a 'real' smile. EEEK! And after looking at his blank face, I didn't even notice that you can't see the 4 million cubic feet of water falling off the cliffside....that plume of water vapor in the air behind us is a small indication.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8j96SG_p-kN72HwMISBYgU8qkVV6b6OEBEsoIm1Cd7CDFq3rMp6L_BMXgq2PhgGSwLYp5GhzR6Vtq9OhRSg2C-pWJF9gxUDKxPCXsi7u7F85IIXxGSK4tEjHBWP2W-G-7CqjBZhebV5Q/s1600/NF+T2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8j96SG_p-kN72HwMISBYgU8qkVV6b6OEBEsoIm1Cd7CDFq3rMp6L_BMXgq2PhgGSwLYp5GhzR6Vtq9OhRSg2C-pWJF9gxUDKxPCXsi7u7F85IIXxGSK4tEjHBWP2W-G-7CqjBZhebV5Q/s320/NF+T2.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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I ended up using my seriously awesome photo skills to combine the 2 photos. (Wish I still had that program! It was great.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmn4nuel8P65uvC4P7bOv8Ni77QqNI9bWqSnUG3VJInieJBoRdw7Ncsb9nwQ7_o2DXts4VyH3-3TslHaxXRMW1KV_9hMEXrL3-Ful_gmiSzCcUQ7rsPwZ8aAE-5vPlSR3lYpiAlH0R8I/s1600/NF+retouch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmn4nuel8P65uvC4P7bOv8Ni77QqNI9bWqSnUG3VJInieJBoRdw7Ncsb9nwQ7_o2DXts4VyH3-3TslHaxXRMW1KV_9hMEXrL3-Ful_gmiSzCcUQ7rsPwZ8aAE-5vPlSR3lYpiAlH0R8I/s320/NF+retouch.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Maybe by now, I should have given up this hope of a nice family photo, but no, not me. I grew up with them. Every few years we went to the ol' Olan Mills studios. I read somewhere that family pictures actually help families bond. Stop laughing. I am not making this crap up.</div>
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Here, Disney again. In the back of a limo. How can that not be fun? He claims the flash makes him make these faces. (Yeah, whatevs.) It doesn't explain the lack of smile....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRqdC4oXIkyQURL42sobqZX-bCzkvFMfg-n2PDVPmsL2Rt0_3JTphWh4EF6OQ6DioLKMOq5YyB9WZzmYIo5aSCveppuDnfN0J81WOXf5KkNedY9VMK-GV31OQoYoFXxsPvvvJeQ-sq8k/s1600/Copy+of+family+limo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="212" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXRqdC4oXIkyQURL42sobqZX-bCzkvFMfg-n2PDVPmsL2Rt0_3JTphWh4EF6OQ6DioLKMOq5YyB9WZzmYIo5aSCveppuDnfN0J81WOXf5KkNedY9VMK-GV31OQoYoFXxsPvvvJeQ-sq8k/s320/Copy+of+family+limo.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Silly, quirky, crazy & annoying. Why are photos so painful?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAhhhlfN8Kmei7Qa2i5cEdfaSLYe2cpasSOcCkwgrceCGHX059bI_svk-hv-0L6NsTZPAEMl32RspoE_RH4CogacXk3gNS_o6kEvSmOcTTZwrmgrBEFlItXCkfLksGR37-AQ4xVGTsjw/s1600/National+Hamburger+Festival-03.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpAhhhlfN8Kmei7Qa2i5cEdfaSLYe2cpasSOcCkwgrceCGHX059bI_svk-hv-0L6NsTZPAEMl32RspoE_RH4CogacXk3gNS_o6kEvSmOcTTZwrmgrBEFlItXCkfLksGR37-AQ4xVGTsjw/s320/National+Hamburger+Festival-03.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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Christmas again. No card from this fun evening...</div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jdxH9cvi0m85hBLdJKZV4QINy9vg9vsULEuV9aIy3_Q_-D691jtx3HPO0kCc8hWypRKWgMjsvIjZSVzRVoJwyD20eed7-xofxwgBszrrJ8uK57q6g_3IS1buZsHeoRiIziEgy8gWOw8/s1600/Christmas+2008-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2jdxH9cvi0m85hBLdJKZV4QINy9vg9vsULEuV9aIy3_Q_-D691jtx3HPO0kCc8hWypRKWgMjsvIjZSVzRVoJwyD20eed7-xofxwgBszrrJ8uK57q6g_3IS1buZsHeoRiIziEgy8gWOw8/s320/Christmas+2008-13.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">He looks kinda like Jack Nicholson in <em>The Shining</em></td></tr>
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Now my sweetie has complained that I am treating him like a toddler by 'picking out his clothes for him.' But really, it's not that. I let him dress himself on a daily basis. Even when I hate what he's wearing. But for the family picture -that I wish was suitable for framing- I try to get our clothes to coordinate because</div>
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A.) It's a better photo if it's subjects are cohesive in appearance.</div>
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B.) It's busy & cluttered & distracting from the faces if everyone wears different colors or prints.</div>
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C.) I am The Mom.</div>
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And so here we are again trying hard, really hard, too hard in what he calls our 'Johnny Cash Christmas' to get a picture that works....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh019-FRsZSGgUSE38u1WKtwTujh3qcaxuq8_kp6ugJEveinANaYoITlmrqVmjvu9lbikiPSRioXcu8CdxrOmHmK8Dq2adeicTLkwPMiblp3hapwF5QzJgaM1s8Bp-MzCDm1ot3DZYmaHg/s1600/180_8049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh019-FRsZSGgUSE38u1WKtwTujh3qcaxuq8_kp6ugJEveinANaYoITlmrqVmjvu9lbikiPSRioXcu8CdxrOmHmK8Dq2adeicTLkwPMiblp3hapwF5QzJgaM1s8Bp-MzCDm1ot3DZYmaHg/s320/180_8049.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="309" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6bNWErwh9zgaRuFMy4LZvxdkgeQCEkdOsXnhOIoqKpaQxBSuXS_LLMl1qeXZVozyFOIHIQkvlUXaL3UIPjxB7dqYaptBD6Nn6GdiFETWmDQ8j27xvp_Pdho7myN9rzaKt0LtVZFEukA/s1600/180_8048.JPG.+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw6bNWErwh9zgaRuFMy4LZvxdkgeQCEkdOsXnhOIoqKpaQxBSuXS_LLMl1qeXZVozyFOIHIQkvlUXaL3UIPjxB7dqYaptBD6Nn6GdiFETWmDQ8j27xvp_Pdho7myN9rzaKt0LtVZFEukA/s320/180_8048.JPG.+crop.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="300" /></a></div>
So we gave up trying to include the dogs in the family photo....<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUa8jrp3c5sbrGIRPF-yqIvAD63nA6qnG8UcHoq6TrRXoCDXflgLh7w2vvmna-ukyBiqb_KTnpZwuAcUiZbzYVV83pBzsKkMZhEcjyLZpGIrEdTcL97Zv5Ts5NqOH1acNZbUoyK5wofRc/s1600/180_8051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUa8jrp3c5sbrGIRPF-yqIvAD63nA6qnG8UcHoq6TrRXoCDXflgLh7w2vvmna-ukyBiqb_KTnpZwuAcUiZbzYVV83pBzsKkMZhEcjyLZpGIrEdTcL97Zv5Ts5NqOH1acNZbUoyK5wofRc/s320/180_8051.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="304" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhIeXFI8eSfRF7QYwj3bRDLiLhDy8Fo34NWdYuo8nFJ7IABXLVWNR8zm-gN2WiTNc8CDuKEjuvqX2eT-J15WbeuDerShqumliy6UHQM8axz-3c8NWFpohnayKlHbz5jsTF6H0XJbQ9QE/s1600/180_8052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAhIeXFI8eSfRF7QYwj3bRDLiLhDy8Fo34NWdYuo8nFJ7IABXLVWNR8zm-gN2WiTNc8CDuKEjuvqX2eT-J15WbeuDerShqumliy6UHQM8axz-3c8NWFpohnayKlHbz5jsTF6H0XJbQ9QE/s320/180_8052.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">I begged of him to just pretend he likes me<br />& stand a wee bit closer.</td></tr>
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Next thing you know, I have this brilliant idea to go outside. It worked once before. It was a sunny day, even warm for December....<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGYqo3R-aximxDgtGY-bL7CT768bhUxA7Yw46ybOHya1dD5L4bYqPu3Ts0k07_lWsfIZZgiE3ClvyzaXaHhdMgQg0cxIO9LXoL8gQ1AwKFI3FcimAoQijbFjKmKclQgcFpeTex2rduoE/s1600/180_8055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGYqo3R-aximxDgtGY-bL7CT768bhUxA7Yw46ybOHya1dD5L4bYqPu3Ts0k07_lWsfIZZgiE3ClvyzaXaHhdMgQg0cxIO9LXoL8gQ1AwKFI3FcimAoQijbFjKmKclQgcFpeTex2rduoE/s320/180_8055.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTkXSrGpaZvfEZ8_BzQIyDRB3IiC_oI2xIi88pDHjAipV930lrrl8mOJru-LgDjW5qskmIKzCxhramtawVPG_a3hKgKxfuwWCPk3Tu5_fa19x5NkmcsazTTtRRZSx8TqvhDX4qoVSY9s/s1600/180_8057.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTkXSrGpaZvfEZ8_BzQIyDRB3IiC_oI2xIi88pDHjAipV930lrrl8mOJru-LgDjW5qskmIKzCxhramtawVPG_a3hKgKxfuwWCPk3Tu5_fa19x5NkmcsazTTtRRZSx8TqvhDX4qoVSY9s/s320/180_8057.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">I don't even know what happened here.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">This was the winning pic.</td></tr>
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Upon reviewing these photos in the tiny screen of my camera, I tell my friend who took them, "His face is pissing me off." I don't care how bright the sun is, Wussy-Man. (No, I didn't say that.) Keep your damn eyes open for 10 seconds straight & we can be done with it.<br /><br />Maybe just the girls...they're so cute, they are all anyone really wants a photo of anyway.<br /><br />Or maybe not.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">So filled with Christmas cheer,<br />"Ornery Annie" knocks her sis in the gut.</td></tr>
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That was almost a year ago. Hard to believe that much time has passed already & we're already approaching (next week, yikes!) another school year. I don't know why they fight it. I'm just going to make them go through this all again until I get a decent picture.<br /><br />But I'll have my revenge for these are the photos that will haunt them. Oh yes, I will get the last laugh.....<div style="clear: both;">
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1 comment:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/08/maybe-we-just-keep-trying.html?showComment=1313669821118#c3422191894478557473" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">August 18, 2011 8:17 AM</a></span></div>
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Sheesh, Kerbs. His face is even pissing me off! Lol</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-26518397921429152412012-08-26T13:30:00.000-04:002012-08-26T13:30:01.134-04:00Elfin Magic, Baby<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">FRIDAY, AUGUST 12, 2011</span></h2>
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Elfin Magic, Baby</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Today I am giggling just a little bit because I was searching for a photo on my computer & I found this-</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-HMF2JTDkdG89Vf1FMXjoTw0PNcKAgdSjNuAVAasx94C5AiR8wvxagcXJbmoHLGbScsnC8rfNVgGDznh8x1i9GJiUE_NTjAst4vWxKUVAdRjfn_tG3SjO3HPNEw4mtSJ5RIuEchnThw/s1600/135_3596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik-HMF2JTDkdG89Vf1FMXjoTw0PNcKAgdSjNuAVAasx94C5AiR8wvxagcXJbmoHLGbScsnC8rfNVgGDznh8x1i9GJiUE_NTjAst4vWxKUVAdRjfn_tG3SjO3HPNEw4mtSJ5RIuEchnThw/s320/135_3596.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is not the picture I was looking for, but it sure did brighten my day. Just look at that face! It's pathetic. In case you're not sure why she looks so very sadly adorable, here's another, after I brushed her hair-</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTIb4P-6hhPT0DX4HcLblMtaxUNmTbQd_XYwPRsNpAKDSDkKRa45Wfes9-e77z4eRJ1xe6MN6AqCUnQEke3Nf35OQ8f2Z5sd_mSDx5o1QNfMRPgxQDWRSz5g-nxnsHhzXI1BAvvlEH60/s1600/135_3597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTIb4P-6hhPT0DX4HcLblMtaxUNmTbQd_XYwPRsNpAKDSDkKRa45Wfes9-e77z4eRJ1xe6MN6AqCUnQEke3Nf35OQ8f2Z5sd_mSDx5o1QNfMRPgxQDWRSz5g-nxnsHhzXI1BAvvlEH60/s320/135_3597.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You see, my darling angel decided to give herself a quick haircut before waking up Mommy a long time ago when she was 3. Seriously, look at that face again & tell me you could be angry. If you can, I say you're a heartless witch. </span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFg8BPA68exx3DmKKysB3cXhZjwV0JBJwN3IC86pCModzDfzfQy8e4L5EhWE8S6yPWvFTo8xPGaPC66_L1jI0ZuO4Yn4rDtdCtbuSrNYxlbr5zgPPEenKpxhc8djaBDp91SkG5zzIZZn0/s1600/136_3601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFg8BPA68exx3DmKKysB3cXhZjwV0JBJwN3IC86pCModzDfzfQy8e4L5EhWE8S6yPWvFTo8xPGaPC66_L1jI0ZuO4Yn4rDtdCtbuSrNYxlbr5zgPPEenKpxhc8djaBDp91SkG5zzIZZn0/s320/136_3601.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So she got very excited when I took her to get her hair cut, & it turned out super cute so it was all good. But I can't help but wonder, was my initial freak-out (OMIGOD YOU CUT YOUR HAAAIIIRR? in the shrillest possible voice that perhaps only the dog could hear...) the subconscious reason she never wanted her hair cut again? She would only agree to the tiniest of trims... </span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYPTmeHgsClv0L5fRi0HUCY5Gk_ca8zY5yPuo5elGBVhtS3PNVreZYiCi9A0W92MgTYnoWno9e_h1vpqAkuXkEpdcVkvZIMCSWjuDdjaDizmKS3CG5HmKFZo9n2oHOTFVOXwqeCn9vGCU/s320/photo%255B6%255D.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">She looks just a little irritated with me here.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until one day, out of nowhere, she announced that she wanted to get a haircut & she wanted to donate the length. Her sister had done this a couple of years earlier. Here they both show off-</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglo4mxG9E-jSHDhIQ2xWCN0V1_7GxcN1coes59IvBnS40-hEkfdqGm2KKQBRa12NsWfBhVDS4pOCjRWlwRSRK3AAmHlvjnkId2D4D3R51ApLF9TlBopoScbv61jeCpmy0KQZOnaWc1SFE/s1600/donated+ponytail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglo4mxG9E-jSHDhIQ2xWCN0V1_7GxcN1coes59IvBnS40-hEkfdqGm2KKQBRa12NsWfBhVDS4pOCjRWlwRSRK3AAmHlvjnkId2D4D3R51ApLF9TlBopoScbv61jeCpmy0KQZOnaWc1SFE/s320/donated+ponytail.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alex's ponytail</span></td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6nvADIwDXrS0MNSfMIAK37xQmaNPNAbRqhQ3Lbm1DDGPGN9PNG9bDuGw60LsZKgLIbfUgf5UVTnyX5T_ZfRFJDJPjEYgQJeu8dYwdYo-H4NVAAUUJTPkBfEehUY_-w5pKDvjAPrQ_80/s1600/Anne%2527s+hair+donation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib6nvADIwDXrS0MNSfMIAK37xQmaNPNAbRqhQ3Lbm1DDGPGN9PNG9bDuGw60LsZKgLIbfUgf5UVTnyX5T_ZfRFJDJPjEYgQJeu8dYwdYo-H4NVAAUUJTPkBfEehUY_-w5pKDvjAPrQ_80/s320/Anne%2527s+hair+donation.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">Anne's braid</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And it took me awhile to get used to it, but it's really flattering to her & it's so easy to wash & brush! I think the hair donation is a fabulous cause & a super easy thing to do if you'll be cutting off a significant length of hair anyway. Many salons donate the service of the haircut (meaning it's free) when you donate. Ok, I'm done with the PSA.</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 4px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJoT0mZL3lzXCEU9okIqTuB9yRnKicx27X5KY-U71YjGQ_EFV_zfYiZzdfS1aSHiztkOXhU8Wb11Hq3x5SobAS0s2zIsCF-0P5zGNikTA9sPK-KX5k2A_M1F_d4EELOnPx8-Jm8-XNeQ/s1600/Anne%2527s+hair+cut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBJoT0mZL3lzXCEU9okIqTuB9yRnKicx27X5KY-U71YjGQ_EFV_zfYiZzdfS1aSHiztkOXhU8Wb11Hq3x5SobAS0s2zIsCF-0P5zGNikTA9sPK-KX5k2A_M1F_d4EELOnPx8-Jm8-XNeQ/s320/Anne%2527s+hair+cut.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12px;">She's thrilled with it.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now it's back to my child & her adorable expressions... I love that I never have to guess what she's feeling. Her mood is all over her face. For reals.</span><br /><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here she is striking her, "I'm so stinkin' cute, you can't stand it,' pose:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZYp1ISKIudKAgYgpf90P0aahSdV5JNi__4ilYZzrqlLL6-WbQY8KkLGiwoaQQW_HHeIUpdlzEbFRcWPZ0xsoMOPqjjIJAT_VRdjvdGGEwYj6Fs7LdRFaY3ksOYmf34muknjMHXP85vc/s1600/miscellaneous+186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZYp1ISKIudKAgYgpf90P0aahSdV5JNi__4ilYZzrqlLL6-WbQY8KkLGiwoaQQW_HHeIUpdlzEbFRcWPZ0xsoMOPqjjIJAT_VRdjvdGGEwYj6Fs7LdRFaY3ksOYmf34muknjMHXP85vc/s320/miscellaneous+186.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here's a pouty face:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfk-8D8gCVFFmCwDQpV1DpHtK36ybOKpMswSnpgcSrsh0L5CKAY6ke3IUwauOyqToxAqK3bVAUwFM5U4v9xsnKv4vIPMSajvF0cGe9-ljb23rb-fF5CFA_-7Qhkk149pz9DvZrMeiDsI/s1600/poutyface.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikfk-8D8gCVFFmCwDQpV1DpHtK36ybOKpMswSnpgcSrsh0L5CKAY6ke3IUwauOyqToxAqK3bVAUwFM5U4v9xsnKv4vIPMSajvF0cGe9-ljb23rb-fF5CFA_-7Qhkk149pz9DvZrMeiDsI/s320/poutyface.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="311" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is what nervous looks like:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKmqUUmiA0fMOvdlYfrdwpGS5Z9zJLYgOes9dWfzhy6zrVImdLOJ55NH-qgMstU6FcqJKey7byV4ckMiUCF4XKSC-XOO4euvqR6vvn_P96qi6JE4ZIO6-lUGbgIEyIWsqd_nPca8R9So/s1600/recital.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKmqUUmiA0fMOvdlYfrdwpGS5Z9zJLYgOes9dWfzhy6zrVImdLOJ55NH-qgMstU6FcqJKey7byV4ckMiUCF4XKSC-XOO4euvqR6vvn_P96qi6JE4ZIO6-lUGbgIEyIWsqd_nPca8R9So/s320/recital.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="285" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Here is pride:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-kM8OB8zmEtPPkFs4AnbUE2P1LaXLtiQ73h5doMXQfXI9gTznhO_8BKc6zrCAwGoXF3wQPjScEetk0xHsF2jhIHeZkOx2NEn27McXfgNjc3ClIA9AGzqr4nUIuyA4YKIvqJ8uHEaWh8/s1600/Anne%2527s+violin+recital-09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-kM8OB8zmEtPPkFs4AnbUE2P1LaXLtiQ73h5doMXQfXI9gTznhO_8BKc6zrCAwGoXF3wQPjScEetk0xHsF2jhIHeZkOx2NEn27McXfgNjc3ClIA9AGzqr4nUIuyA4YKIvqJ8uHEaWh8/s320/Anne%2527s+violin+recital-09.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here is deep concentration:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQDbOGvX_YHQRVVaHiSyu5SYV0O3h0EtTJ2CVVc82jUkPP9L1SZh4VtgyaDlpa5EtlqcZOc44HS744Lnxie7REfenaZuB5R4TEDKMQSMIz6SZvOMCpFvB-TamVJ7FzXUM7FiNB8_pBI8s/s1600/concentration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQDbOGvX_YHQRVVaHiSyu5SYV0O3h0EtTJ2CVVc82jUkPP9L1SZh4VtgyaDlpa5EtlqcZOc44HS744Lnxie7REfenaZuB5R4TEDKMQSMIz6SZvOMCpFvB-TamVJ7FzXUM7FiNB8_pBI8s/s1600/concentration.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is true, cannot-be-contained, spaztastic excitement:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuFZ1WN1706mu_I4pIBlropUTZkr5VlTsnpBq0yBM3-uM5qzxDuWjjeojtv6dga0OBHXpcFyX95RUChRaMLAcBUWfWISpodz6xk9DYv1-xK0dZBtnlZFcmBgeB2kidGUVhHGSiKMvAbc/s1600/bday+weird.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAuFZ1WN1706mu_I4pIBlropUTZkr5VlTsnpBq0yBM3-uM5qzxDuWjjeojtv6dga0OBHXpcFyX95RUChRaMLAcBUWfWISpodz6xk9DYv1-xK0dZBtnlZFcmBgeB2kidGUVhHGSiKMvAbc/s1600/bday+weird.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here is annoyance-</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRY3vVgrWovUz1OmJOA9WIY4ka3rbIlGIhZQyGc4ge1YfNX4VWwq9iH1wibooR3qb0_XQyJra8gFHgk9GmYY5MBsZNxjn2wwU7u1ekH4XLvFwwnNaTNYn7YFEpO797x97MuNXNyzmiqiw/s1600/annie+cam-32.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRY3vVgrWovUz1OmJOA9WIY4ka3rbIlGIhZQyGc4ge1YfNX4VWwq9iH1wibooR3qb0_XQyJra8gFHgk9GmYY5MBsZNxjn2wwU7u1ekH4XLvFwwnNaTNYn7YFEpO797x97MuNXNyzmiqiw/s320/annie+cam-32.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="252" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> And this is, well, heck, I don't know what it is! (Party on & Rock 'n Roll, dudes!!) It's just freakin' funny:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6mrcAIMq_AeLJt7Z5g6dtACwofiz8r_aieuPVGCkwLk0Jy6l3vmTUU0uqlCmpI-KAKEO7LsvZYEcfWkHYY-Qwh8cNuo81qfWgYmK_5joRoynGwDxO33ngJnc5hWfomAwUjadMF-jEac/s1600/Anne+%2526+coat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6mrcAIMq_AeLJt7Z5g6dtACwofiz8r_aieuPVGCkwLk0Jy6l3vmTUU0uqlCmpI-KAKEO7LsvZYEcfWkHYY-Qwh8cNuo81qfWgYmK_5joRoynGwDxO33ngJnc5hWfomAwUjadMF-jEac/s320/Anne+%2526+coat.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="309" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This one shows why we called her "Little Ornery Annie" for eons:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnzcsLKgcJCCUN0PZxnODspiqxhJ9Ns2qSKAm_gmSK81nDED0TqQuUYoFOJzTBG1QVAxLxkvb42LuhmaKjovwKRz0NbqMd1I-SitohsknLfltdpaJqSZxdd6ksuiOGdwT0d93wtRT11w/s1600/wierdos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMnzcsLKgcJCCUN0PZxnODspiqxhJ9Ns2qSKAm_gmSK81nDED0TqQuUYoFOJzTBG1QVAxLxkvb42LuhmaKjovwKRz0NbqMd1I-SitohsknLfltdpaJqSZxdd6ksuiOGdwT0d93wtRT11w/s320/wierdos.jpg" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="313" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Here she is playing air guitar, or sneezing, or perhaps miming that she is flossing:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbfSGN5y9XzAjvk4zMbpZkMYEsBfxcsNVlFHAoEWZCvE0BMwZ5yCwytNQDohCtmv5xI3I5XUZ6JNaetUhpyZsbF6VlgyIp766R-Lta-K2B4gUujr-yB-kh3rm18dVT7tJUk57F9EKVqE/s1600/Annie.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="color: #6699cc; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><img border="0" height="320" naa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsbfSGN5y9XzAjvk4zMbpZkMYEsBfxcsNVlFHAoEWZCvE0BMwZ5yCwytNQDohCtmv5xI3I5XUZ6JNaetUhpyZsbF6VlgyIp766R-Lta-K2B4gUujr-yB-kh3rm18dVT7tJUk57F9EKVqE/s320/Annie.JPG" style="border: none; position: relative;" width="289" /></a></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Her daddy calls this one 'the Popeye face':</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This one is bashfulness:</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I know I'm much less talky-talky today, but I think there's still a pretty colorful story in here.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And as your reward for enjoying Anne's faces as much as I do <span style="font-size: xx-small;">& you must if you're still here</span>...an entire series of faces just trying to get one decent family Christmas photo....</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh, she was ornery alright. Still can be...& really, why is it so hard to get one decent family picture?<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Stay tuned for my next post highlighting my husband & the face that pisses me off....</span></span><div style="clear: both;">
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/08/elfin-magic-baby.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2011-08-12T16:56:00-04:00">4:56 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=4464200758085270533" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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1 comment:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/08/elfin-magic-baby.html?showComment=1313240476976#c736655393228424163" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">August 13, 2011 9:01 AM</a></span></div>
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Haha! Precious! I don't think I've ever seen anyone with such an expressive face!!</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-7831482710419388442012-08-26T13:29:00.001-04:002012-08-26T13:29:02.213-04:00Maybe It's Time to Believe in Miracles<br />
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<span style="color: #333333;">FRIDAY, JULY 22, 2011</span></h2>
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Maybe It's Time to Believe in Miracles</h3>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have a new fascination.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you heard of the new fat freeze? Zeltiq developed a method called cryolipolysis...yeah, I can't say it either. But essentially, it's liposuction without incisions, anesthesia or sedation. It is said to be relatively painless & non-invasive. It requires no recovery time. What it does is draws an area to be treated into a suction device & then cold is applied for several minutes & then moves to another area to be treated. Minor side affects like redness, numbness & tingling have been reported & are temporary. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">It's not an all-over weight loss plan, but it can target specific areas that are not going away with the diet & exercise. The stubborn places, like love handles. My friend asked me if I'd heard of this & announced, "I'm literally gonna get my ass frozen off!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sounds pretty cool, huh? You can read here for more information: <a href="http://www.coolsculpting.com/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://www.coolsculpting.com/</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">But I've heard of something else. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Something that sounds even more amazing & exactly the opposite. Melting away the fat! All you do is lie there for 20 minutes, shift & repeat in another location a couple of times a week. This technique uses a cool laser to open the cell wall which allows the material to flow out of the cell whereby it is absorbed by the lymphatic system. This procedure has no known side effects. Yes, that's what I said. NO side effects at all. It's been around for a few years <em>& there are no reported side effects.</em> I find that amazing! It's a miracle!! </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Some places even make a guarantee of how many inches your body will melt. You can concentrate the laser to a specific area (how about my gut?) but weight & inches will be lost all over. And there's a guarantee. Seriously, does it get better than that?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">But ahhh, there is a catch. And it sucks. Because it relies on the lymphatic system to handle the 'spilled fats' it may not be as effective in diabetics (hello) or persons with other conditions of the lymphatic system. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">WE ARE THE ONES THAT NEED THE MOST HELP!! Weight makes our disease worse but the disease makes it harder to lose weight. I tell ya, if I had a spare few thousand dollars to give it a shot, I would. What's to lose (other than money) right? Oh, & inches. No known side effects.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Now I'm no medical expert. I'm just a chick that struggles like 1/2 the nation with the balance of life & trying to live well & get healthier with the absolute minimum effort. I mean, really, both of these sound like miracles, but one, in my not-so-humble-opinion, is just a little more miracle-y than the other. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">If you want to see for yourself what I'm talking about, read here: <a href="http://www.myzerona.com/" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://www.myzerona.com/</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Both these methods not only sculpt & slim by inches, they also claim to tone & tighten the skin. The before & after photos speak for themselves. Look:</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"><a href="http://www.google.com/search?q=Cryolipolysis+before+%26+after+pictures&hl=en&rlz=1T4ADSA_enUS440US440&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=Y7opTrv5H5HPgAfMxoWKCw&ved=0CCwQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=756" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://www.google.com/search?q=Cryolipolysis+before+%26+after+pictures&hl=en&rlz=1T4ADSA_enUS440US440&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=Y7opTrv5H5HPgAfMxoWKCw&ved=0CCwQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=756</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;"> <a href="http://www.google.com/searchq=zerona+before+26+after+pictures&hl=en&rlz=1T4ADSA_enUS440US440&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=FrkpTsrxBI-cgQedoIiRCw&ved=0CDUQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=756" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">http://www.google.com/searchq=zerona+before+26+after+pictures&hl=en&rlz=1T4ADSA_enUS440US440&prmd=ivns&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ei=FrkpTsrxBI-cgQedoIiRCw&ved=0CDUQsAQ&biw=1280&bih=756</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">And let me put it out there... I volunteer right now to be a diabetic guinea pig for this fat-busting laser or freeze. (I can handle a little redness or numbness or tingling in the short term to be rid of this belly.) Or I'd even accept donations to give it a whirl & report back to you on the results ;) </span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial;">Yes, I am that selfless. I'm really very considerate that way. Please, let me check it out first. It's the least I can do for you.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: xx-small;">I should give a nod to Dr. Oz, as his show introduced both these techniques to his audience. Thanks for telling us options are out there.</span><div style="clear: both;">
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<span class="post-author vcard" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 1em;">Posted by <span class="fn"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841" itemprop="author" rel="author" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="author profile">Kerbi </a></span></span><span class="post-timestamp" style="margin-left: -1em; margin-right: 1em;">at <a class="timestamp-link" href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/07/maybe-its-time-to-believe-in-miracles.html" itemprop="url" rel="bookmark" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="permanent link"><abbr class="published" itemprop="datePublished" style="border: none;" title="2011-07-22T14:08:00-04:00">2:08 PM</abbr></a> </span><span class="post-comment-link" style="margin-right: 1em;"></span><span class="post-icons" style="margin-right: 1em;"><span class="item-action"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/email-post.g?blogID=8704196791404613541&postID=392117785858618355" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;" title="Email Post"><img alt="" class="icon-action" height="13" src="http://img1.blogblog.com/img/icon18_email.gif" style="border: none !important; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.5em !important; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;" width="18" /> </a></span></span><div class="post-share-buttons goog-inline-block" style="display: inline-block; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; vertical-align: middle;">
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<span class="post-labels" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px;">Labels: <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/cryolipolysis" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">cryolipolysis</a>, <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/Dr.%20Oz" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dr. Oz</a>, <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/fat" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">fat</a>, <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/laser" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">laser</a>, <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/liposuction" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">liposuction</a>, <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/Zeltiq" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Zeltiq</a>, <a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/search/label/Zerona" rel="tag" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Zerona</a></span></div>
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1 comment:</h4>
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<cite class="user" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/profile/06301481567651330133" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">Dawn @Lighten Up!</a></cite><span class="icon user" style="font-weight: bold;"></span><span class="datetime secondary-text" style="margin-left: 6px;"><a href="http://maybebabyme.blogspot.com/2011/07/maybe-its-time-to-believe-in-miracles.html?showComment=1311426688540#c2642941637983510284" rel="nofollow" style="color: #6699cc; text-decoration: none;">July 23, 2011 9:11 AM</a></span></div>
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Kerbi! You are full of valuable information! And stuff. ;)</div>
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-30677925391316952452011-07-07T14:53:00.003-04:002012-04-29T11:57:08.299-04:00Oh, Baby, Athletic I Ain't<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscYID6PZfYn-iAYAQi6Kp4l_bHKPeElse1z4ld2uAGdJHGjeQ5-34NmxtNRcNuOHchPzdqpzXFQfbaz2KPH1DRnGn-id5QNhSyC9V6Xz6o5eAqSaQrsfDaV6M8_pBlM8ZasACGyAw6pw/s1600/cheer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjscYID6PZfYn-iAYAQi6Kp4l_bHKPeElse1z4ld2uAGdJHGjeQ5-34NmxtNRcNuOHchPzdqpzXFQfbaz2KPH1DRnGn-id5QNhSyC9V6Xz6o5eAqSaQrsfDaV6M8_pBlM8ZasACGyAw6pw/s200/cheer.JPG" width="172" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
That's me on the left </div>
with the girl standing on my back.</td></tr>
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I've never had any interest in sports. Let's just get that out of the way. When I was in jr. high school, I was a cheerleader for 2 years, but not because I loved football. No, I did it because I looked cute in the uniform. I didn't know anything about football. I was happy to cheer what the coaches told us to cheer. <br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Yes, these old pics are blurry but my scanner isn't hooked up at the moment.)</span></div>
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I wanted to like volleyball, but I didn't. I quit after a minor injury. Balls hurtling toward my face make me duck instinctively. It was counterintuitive really. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJ1NdOMJP35pCLSyFf-4UEqDFv5hMrRdH9odNb41erTgN_bJSN-Wq8ZBI5iR7XIsgQjyUwA9dPSJukhDCb3O5yG8ii4Sewgea0Bk3bjnBWmwd_uVaLZyKXvlU1CHubVOdgLF_uM13Z1Q/s1600/IMG_7248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="141" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwJ1NdOMJP35pCLSyFf-4UEqDFv5hMrRdH9odNb41erTgN_bJSN-Wq8ZBI5iR7XIsgQjyUwA9dPSJukhDCb3O5yG8ii4Sewgea0Bk3bjnBWmwd_uVaLZyKXvlU1CHubVOdgLF_uM13Z1Q/s200/IMG_7248.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me (I swear) next to the <br />
coach in the back row, #20</td></tr>
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I wanted to like basketball. We always had a hoop in our driveway. But it turns out, I really didn't like all the aggressive girls in my face, dripping their sweat on me. I'd like to think I'm more refined than that. And running, there's that. I don't like it. <br />
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As a high school freshman I had to attempt skiing. I didn't want to, but my grade was dependent upon it. We took a field trip to the local ski resort with my German class. Instructions, for those of us who had never skied before, were provided...in German. I spent way more time trying to get up off my ass -when I wasn't hiding in the lodge- than I did actually skiing. And I was in pretty good shape when I was 14.</div>
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<tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfchLwufKuvSQwqfDkoQ0a88_Z_ufVABfLWL6kmdfCBsT8NHgL_jDmCQQy_yan701ohKpUqSO8s5qevDcccAaviF1OWRYCGwOjcFfN3MpD1AGn417MKsclLMPqf4RQyRR5RGHnpzPl0o/s1600/134_3450.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZfchLwufKuvSQwqfDkoQ0a88_Z_ufVABfLWL6kmdfCBsT8NHgL_jDmCQQy_yan701ohKpUqSO8s5qevDcccAaviF1OWRYCGwOjcFfN3MpD1AGn417MKsclLMPqf4RQyRR5RGHnpzPl0o/s200/134_3450.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just learning to stay afloat.</td></tr>
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Fast forward to motherhood. I gave birth to 2 beautiful girls...& they both love sports. They have been swimming since they were out of diapers. They are amazing swimmers. They have even taken some diving.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can you see the bruises on her legs?</td></tr>
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They both took gymnastics for several years, until it was clear that they were too tall to be really successful, & they were so bruised it looked like they were in a rumble.</div>
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They have both run in several races such as the 4th of July Firecracker race, & have run every year in the Akron Fun Run. They even raced to the top of the Terminal Tower in Cleveland.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their 1st recital</td></tr>
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They both took tap dance. It turned out not to be a favorite thing. They also took a trial course of Tae Kwon Do. They enjoyed it, but didn't pursue it once the trial was over. They attempted ice skating too. They are far better than I could hope to be (& it is my favorite sport to watch) so I was mildly disappointed when it wasn't a favorite for them. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">concentration</td></tr>
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They both began skiing. They were naturals. Both girls took to the slopes effortlessly. They now had something to enjoy with their daddy who has, in the past, taken ski vacations to Colorado, before marrying me...</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ooh, so close!</td></tr>
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We put a basketball hoop in our driveway & they occasionally shoot a few. My oldest signed up to play once & even though she was pretty decent, decided not to pursue it. We did, however, shoot a few together & I gave them the shock of their lives... No one expected me to make a basket, much less beat one of them, or specifically Daddy. I did. I beat them all! (Insert maniacal laughter here.) Funny too since it must have been 20 years since I attempted. "Gee, Mom, you're actually pretty good at this," my little one said to me.<em> Gee, sweetheart, don't sound so surprised.</em> Just because I <u>don't</u> doesn't mean I <u>can't</u>.</div>
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So this summer they hit us with a new one. They wanted to play softball. We signed them up. We got them bats, mitts, batting helmets, balls & they began to practice with their dad. Turns out, like everything else they try, they're pretty good. They only got a few practices with their teams because the early season was rained out, but we're full on into it now & their improvement is amazing to see. I'm even starting to figure out some of the positions & terminology &, um, rules. <br />
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I actually find myself wanting to learn & comprehend so I can cheer them on, give them guidance, & understand what they are doing & why. I mean, I knew the infield from the outfield. I knew the bases. I'm not a complete idiot. I can tell the pitcher from the catcher...but a shortstop? What is that? </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Their #'s are their ages <br />
& I have to laugh at the Emergency 9-1-1</td></tr>
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I have to believe I'll catch on eventually. As much as they appear to love it (as well as possessing the skill to do well) I'm going to have to make sense of it sooner or later.</div>
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</div>Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-37309737554876432422011-06-14T18:05:00.002-04:002012-04-29T12:01:28.868-04:00Maybe What They Say is True...<strong>"When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years."</strong> ~Mark Twain<br />
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Father's Day is right around the corner.</div>
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My father is a man to look up to, literally, as he's probably about 6'3" maybe even 6'3 1/2". That's like Magnum-tall. He's an imposing figure. I think that's a good thing for a little girl, to look up to her daddy & feel secure. I just knew that if need be, my dad could beat up your dad. He probably wouldn't. Why should there be a need for that? But I was sure he could & that was what was important, because one look at him, & everybody else was sure too.<br />
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My dad seemed very serious when I was a kid- it seemed he had a 1/2 scowl on his face all the time. I think now some of that was probably due to the chaos of having 4 children running around in 4 different directions, but some of it also may have been due to the concentration he had to put into hearing us. It went like this:</div>
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me: Dad? Can I go over to Lisa's to play?<br />
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me: Dad? Did you hear me? Dad?! Dad! DAD! DAD!!!<br />
Dad: (Startled, he booms) What?!!<br />
me: (run off crying because he yelled at me) Nevermind. I'll find Mom.<br />
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My dad wasn't the pull-my-finger jokester dad. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Lisa's was.)</span> He was a prankster though. He used to take us to the movies, especially on hot summer days. He still laughs about taking my little brother to see Raiders of the Lost Ark. At the end- I don't want to spoil it for you if you haven't seen this 30 year old movie--- at the end, when Indy is tied to the stake & the Nazis open the Ark of the Covenant, he cautions, "Don't look at it!" So as all the Nazis look, they start melting. My father turns to my little brother, who is 4 or 5 years old, & says, "Your ears are melting! You looked!" And of course my brother believed him for 60 seconds.<br />
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My dad was the dad who took us to Zip's after church on Sundays where we could make our own sundaes. He was the one who put a pool in our back yard & made sure we could swim & threw us high into the air as we screamed with joy so we could make a big splash. He was the one who carried us to bed when we fell asleep (or pretended to have done so) in front of the TV. He was the one who bought the junk food. And despite working 16 hours a day, he did manage to make it to most of the various sporting events & school productions we had going on. And he shared with us the thrill of rollercoasters!<br />
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I think my dad could fix anything. He tiled showers & built walls & hung kitchen cabinets, installed carpet, vinyl & laminate floors, put up a pool, built a swingset, wired a lamp, changed major appliances, patched many a hole that had been kicked through a wall or door...the mysteries of home repair seemed no mystery to him.<br />
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My dad was a little old-fashioned. And by a little, I mean a lot. I always saw it as pretty darned sexist. But I'll tell you, he has learned. Nobody can fault a man for wanting to provide for his family, but he (still) doesn't like my mother out alone after dark, even if only at the grocery store. I suppose it's sweet in a way...<br />
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We went on family vacations every year, & we travelled across the state a few times a year too to visit family. These trips were long & full of discussion. Religion, Politics, Money, Morality, Crime & Punishment were all topics of conversation. </div>
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These are good memories. Not only did they instill in us the values he wanted us to have, but they taught us analytical thinking & the strength & courage to question, even if we were questioning authority. Of course, he didn't like it when it was him, but I do think he was proud when we stuck to our beliefs & made a decent case for it, for certainly we were more liberal-minded than he was when we were still in school.<br />
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We'd sing along to the radio & he only knew the refrain & would make up the rest. He'd tell a joke & just as often as not, forget the punchline when he got there. I have inherited both of these traits.<br />
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They say for good or bad, girls grow up to marry men like their fathers...</div>
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When I met my husband, we dated every other day for the first week, then were seeing each other daily from thereafter. My father asked me who was this man I was seeing so much of, he must be something because I don't like anyone enough to spend that much time with them! Observant too.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">watching Cinderellabration at Disney</td></tr>
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Which brings me to the fabulous father my husband turned out to be... In my 7th month of pregnancy, we travelled to NY state to visit my brother's family. They'd just had a new baby. I knew once ours came, we wouldn't be making many visits. My husband had next to zero experience with children, but my older nephews took to him right away- U<em>ncle John, see my fort? Uncle John, wanna play? </em></div>
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But the most awkward award goes to the moment when my sister in law put the new baby in his arms & said we'd be right back. She was going to show me something. I don't remember what it was, but I do remember that my husband was absolutely frozen stiff, still holding the baby in exactly the same way as he'd been deposited. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">swinging both girls</td></tr>
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He was much more at ease with ours. When I asked him about this, he said something to the effect of being less worried about what would happen if he dropped ours. ?! What? Yes, something like that. I assured him it would be far more detrimental to his person if he harmed MY baby, even accidentally. He never did of course. <br />
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He gave her the first tub bath. And after awhile, he became the parent in charge of bathing. That lasted until our kids were bathing themselves. Tub time stressed me out.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At a local amusement park</td></tr>
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He rides bikes with them, takes them to sporting practices & music lessons. He helps with homework. He has taught them some basic cooking procedures, plays games, plays catch, takes them to those horrible places known as arcades (in the 80s.) At times it seems as if his patience is infinite. As I type, he is teaching the older one how to mow the lawn on the tractor. The younger one is begging to wash the car. After the lawn, dearie. </div>
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And though they have paid attention to us debate politics, religion, money & so forth, they aren't quite old enough to want to join in. He plays pranks along with the bathroom humor.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mapping the corn maze</td></tr>
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So did I marry a version of my dad? He has dark hair like my dad did when he was younger. They both have pretty blue eyes & broad shoulders. They both have fair, freckled skin that burns in the sun. Dimples. Both very handsome with high IQs. They both have a strong work ethic & a huge commitment to their families. <br />
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With big shoes to fill, he's doing pretty well. While he's not quite as tall as my dad, at just about 6', our daughters have enough to look up to both literally & figuratively. <br />
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</div>Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-37182277439312112842011-06-07T10:25:00.004-04:002011-06-07T10:40:38.606-04:00Maybe I Should Be In Charge<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Maybe I should be in charge...of the weather. I'm sure more people would agree with me than with Mother Nature. I'm not convinced she's doing a good job at all. Maybe it's <em>that time</em> of the millenium?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong>"I find it funny, the people who bitch about the cold and snow are the same people bitching about the heat and humidity."</strong> Saw this on my facebook newsfeed this morning & immediately had about 20,000 replies run through my mind.</div><br />
I'm one of those people.<br />
<br />
I'm one of those people & I am not ashamed. Here's the deal- The cold & snow are fine for Christmas, maybe a whole month, maybe even 2 months. I'm not opposed to cold & snow. I'm just sick of it after 5 to 6 months. <br />
<br />
I actually do want a winter. I very much enjoy the changing of the seasons. <br />
<br />
Fall is my favorite & it seems to be the shortest. I enjoy the changing colors of the leaves. I like the cooler temperatures but not yet really needing a coat...a light jacket maybe, but not the bulky down coat. I like the sunshine with the crisp air & the occasional waft of smoke from a chimney or bonfire. I love, love, love Halloween. And I certainly have no complaints about Thanksgiving, not even if it snows.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDcXgRatbEnfCkmX55kpF-PSYMNN24LldnqWt0z4unFuGBo3cg1msVqSjRtGEcKQ_Y-CWag8x-QOhbj2pM27j_8sZ9UiWvlxUt3NXmmNdx-OzY3aVOw-Q3O8f6pHxMdXrEdDguuTZ4Kc/s1600/180_8040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdDcXgRatbEnfCkmX55kpF-PSYMNN24LldnqWt0z4unFuGBo3cg1msVqSjRtGEcKQ_Y-CWag8x-QOhbj2pM27j_8sZ9UiWvlxUt3NXmmNdx-OzY3aVOw-Q3O8f6pHxMdXrEdDguuTZ4Kc/s320/180_8040.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My back yard, winter 2010-11</td></tr>
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Then winter comes...& at first is really quite lovely. That first snowfall is still special. The first storm is still impressive. I still take a picture every year when the snow is so deep that it ranks as 'incredible.' I love a white Christmas. But then there's January & February & March & even April....And honestly, it's not the snow I mind, or even the cold. It's the gray. It's the gray skies. The clouds & lack of sunshine. It's the dark. It weighs me down after a while.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">In the spring, everyone gets excited to get outside in the warmer weather. I'm not the outdoorsy type, so I don't care so much. I do like seeing flowers bloom & leaves on the trees. But it's still gray. It rains & rains & rains until everything floods. There are puddles everywhere & mud. The dogs come in with muddy feet & smelling like wet dogs. Because they <strong>are</strong> wet dogs. And the mud smells too. Spring smells like fish worms to me & I absolutely hate fish & worms. And it's <em>the</em> season for sneezing. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Ahhh, summer... I do enjoy the sunshine & the first days of shorts. It's lovely up to about 77 degrees. Then it gets iffy. It can feel pretty hot here in Ohio above that & if it's humid & there's no breeze. And summer comes with mosquitos & if ever there was a mosquito magnet, I'm it. And it comes with bees too. And bees sting & I'm allergic & it freaks me out because I have had some bad reactions & one never knows when it will be medically serious.</div><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">I hate 'the dog days.' I live inside where I have air conditioning. I really feel like I can't breathe when it's 95 degrees with 90% humidity. My hair feels glued to my head & looks greasy after 20 minutes in that kind of weather. I absolutely hate feeling sticky & stinky & sweaty & I don't much enjoy being around other people who are sticky, stinky & sweaty. It's just plain nasty. </div><br />
At least when it's 10 degrees with a foot of snow, no one expects you to sit outside in it all day drinking cocktails. No, then we can sit inside & enjoy a contolled temperature with no bugs, no sunburn, & relatively little sweating.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a tropical paradise</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><strong><--</strong> Now if Ohio transformed to THIS for the summer, I'd be okay with it. But it doesn't. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And I don't have a pool. And I don't much enjoy wearing a bathing suit in public. The people who'd see me probably appreciate that too. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8xS5IcyiJALLqSNil8Vf3I-YDTIBDV_VoQFrxEBgI4wJ482r0FM_mN1wPu5bTohWYYDKoy2noxUG8C1PuYeJ1f-KxtcIZ2t-jZmpXQJfvRIeUhTkKOgn08yzT6-oqB1LC9zb0F6OtMM/s1600/IMG_0557+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8xS5IcyiJALLqSNil8Vf3I-YDTIBDV_VoQFrxEBgI4wJ482r0FM_mN1wPu5bTohWYYDKoy2noxUG8C1PuYeJ1f-KxtcIZ2t-jZmpXQJfvRIeUhTkKOgn08yzT6-oqB1LC9zb0F6OtMM/s320/IMG_0557+%25282%2529.JPG" t8="true" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is me, my 2 girls & our stray for the day...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">And somehow, at public swimming facilities, we always end up with some stray kid who thinks we are more fun than his own family & won't go away.</div><br />
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I'd love it if we only dipped below 60 & snowed for the month of December & if it only went above 77 for (maybe) the 2 weeks around the 4th of July. And I never like humidity. <br />
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Anyone know where I can move to get that?<br />
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Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-35406680748469112522011-05-27T11:10:00.004-04:002012-04-29T12:03:22.404-04:00Maybe I Have Different Skillz<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>"Never learn to do anything. If you don't learn, you will always find someone else to do it for you." ~Mark Twain</strong></span><br />
<br />
I have long loved this quote. It is true & makes me laugh. <br />
<br />
Example, this past weekend, I found myself travelling with my parents & my sister. We started talking about our cell phones. I mentioned that I can never hear mine when it rings & that I don't care for the ring tone.<br />
<br />
"Why don't you change it?" my sister asked, reasonably enough. <br />
"I don't know how yet," was my answer. You see, I got a new phone for Christmas & it's a low-tech phone. I haven't played with it because I really don't use it often. "Usually if something doesn't work, I just tell my husband, 'It's doing this,' & then he fixes it & hands it back."<br />
<br />
My parents stayed quiet but my sister was positively aghast. "I like doing things for myself," she stated.<br />
"I like other people to do things for me," I replied.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure if she actually heard me. Next thing you know, she tells me to hand it over. I did. She started pushing buttons & scrolling through options & we settle on a less-annoying ring tone, turn up the volume, set a tone for incoming texts & she hands it back to me. "There," she says. "Done."<br />
<br />
"Thanks," I said. "See? Done, & I didn't do a thing." I smiled with satisfaction. My dad let out a little chuckle from the front. Then I shared this Mark Twain quote. My sister loves Mark Twain.<br />
<br />
On the return trip, I rode back with one of my brothers so he didn't have to make the drive by himself again. We were discussing music & he said he doesn't use iTunes because he likes his music in a different format. He said he has a file on his computer where it's all stored in such a way as to give CD quality sound. I said that I didn't think my hearing was keen enough to discern the difference. Then, as he tried to explain, I got lost.<br />
<br />
Highs & lows I understand. Notes? Nope. You see, he played instruments. He can read music. He is trained to hear things I just don't notice. As he tried to explain to me, I told him honestly, "You're talking gibberish again." He smiled, shook his head & let it drop.<br />
<br />
It's not that I wasn't interested. It's that I just don't understand. I don't know the difference between a whole & half note. I don't have the most basic understanding of rhythm or tempo or anything....<br />
<br />
I was watching The Voice the other night & one of the celebrity singers/judges/coaches said that the girls were kind of 'pitchy' & I haven't the foggiest idea of what that meant. They sounded pretty good to me. The one thing I can say for sure is that I like the country guy's coaching the best. He keeps telling the singers not to over-sing. "Just because you can hit all those notes doesn't mean you have to," he told them. "Sometimes you need to tone it down, so that when you do it, it's special." Way to go, Cute Country Guy. It's funny to me that he's the one I like the best when country music is near to my least favorite of the popular genres. Mostly because of the twang. I hear that.<br />
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It's not that I can't do anything. I'm not a complete tech-idiot. I know some things. I could do everything on my last phone. I could set the clock & set programs to record on the VCR back in the day. I can use the DVR. I can update my iPod & all apps. I figured out how to record video on my camera AND download it... Although, I got that cool soda-maker for Mother's Day & I can't use it. Both times I tried, I sprayed water all over the kitchen during the carbonation process. It didn't fizz the water. It just sprayed it everywhere! Since then, my kids do it for me & think it's great fun.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Speaking of phone addiction....hahaha</td></tr>
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<br />
As far as my new phone, I got numbers into it. I just hadn't gotten around to playing with the rest because I don't use it often. It's not an iPhone, Droid or Crackberry so it isn't an extension of my hand. I'm not addicted to it. It's just a phone (& camera.)<br />
<br />
Though, thinking of the one time I used the camera, I had to call my husband & ask how to put it into the camera-mode. I figured out how to text the picture, but I didn't know how to get it onto my computer files. I texted him & he then emailed it to me & then I saved it. I think that's a pretty good way around it. I think it's clever in its own way.Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-2274609874439269292011-05-18T14:07:00.000-04:002012-04-29T12:05:07.303-04:00It's Just My Luck, BabyI may be giving my friend Robin, who writes <a href="http://almostbutnotquiterobin.blogspot.com/">Almost...But Not Quite</a>, a run for her money in the ABNQ world.<br />
<br />
An odd thing happened to me. First, let me set you up...<br />
<br />
My children have been on a clutzy streak lately. We've had more broken glasses in the last 2 months than we've had in their whole existance. My husband contributed his fair share as well. So much so, that I had to buy a new set of glasses even though it hasn't been a full year since the last set was purchased.<br />
<br />
I've pulled broken glass shards out of the cupboard, out of the dishwasher & out of the sink. I've swept them from the counter, the stovetop & the floor. <br />
<br />
I like to be barefoot. You see where this is going.<br />
<br />
Yes, I stepped on tiny pieces of glass. I knew instantly that I'd stepped on it so I immediately shifted onto my other foot & examined the bottom of the other. Yep. Glass. On my foot. Yes, that's right. That's no typo. It stuck <em>to</em> my foot but did not slice <em>in</em>to my foot. I was able to just pick it off & throw it away. My older daughter was standing there with me, laughing that nervous laughter. "Sorry, Mom, I thought I got it all." I tell her it's no problem, no harm done. She laughs some more.<br />
<br />
Later that evening, I felt a stab into the ball of my foot. Ouch. I picked my foot up but I couldn't see anything. I hobbled into the next room where I could sit in my chair & aim the lamp light directly onto the affected area. I still didn't see anything but when I brushed my hand lightly over the spot that hurt, I definitely felt something. I peered closer. I lightly swept away the dog hair that is ever-present in my house. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAN8NJ3TalZaMxOfK5BPedATsvPe_cm9VWlqgXysdHOg6Pf1li149cHMPmn9wQfccMrCpRPoOmDfhcWhyu_dYrTb-oFa5E1VMzCCaQwYxsSzYNxEj5jDvqmvY4JPBtx_7KpgHO9giZo_0/s1600/Doodle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAN8NJ3TalZaMxOfK5BPedATsvPe_cm9VWlqgXysdHOg6Pf1li149cHMPmn9wQfccMrCpRPoOmDfhcWhyu_dYrTb-oFa5E1VMzCCaQwYxsSzYNxEj5jDvqmvY4JPBtx_7KpgHO9giZo_0/s320/Doodle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Doodle love</td></tr>
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There it was! The source of my discomfort! Not a sliver of glass as I expected but something incredibly weird: a dog-hair splinter. Yes, that's right folks, I got a dog hair splinter. The single piece of hair had stabbed the underside of my foot. And this is not the first time. Oh no. It's happened to me exactly 4 times...& once to my friend. <br />
<br />
I find it to be the strangest thing. How does a soft shaft of hair penetrate the skin? I don't have nasty callouses on my feet but they aren't quite baby soft either. I mean, the skin was enough to protect me from the broken glass, right? And my Doodledogg doesn't really have coarse hair either.<br />
<br />
My daughters were laughing uncontrollably. How does one step on a piece of glass with no damage but get a dog-hair splinter in the same foot in the same day? Only me....Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-66128028400454930342011-05-14T14:44:00.000-04:002012-04-29T12:06:12.741-04:00Baby, I Got ThisIt's a dreary Saturday afternoon & I'm bored. I've been cruising the internet, doing random searches, just looking to occupy my time while supervising the girls <strike>so they don't get into any fights</strike> as they attempt to clean their rooms. Then my hip started to ache.<br />
<br />
Yes, my body is breaking down again. I've been dealing with a bit of a hip issue for a couple of months. My left hip. I don't even know how to describe the pain. First it feels like I was stabbed & rolled into gravel simultaneously & then it paralyzes me with fear that any movement at all will cause more pain. Then my left thigh quakes & quivers as my muscle stays flexed against whatever happened. Straightening back out is a lesser Hell, but each time it happens, it doesn't occur to me until I realize that I cannot remain suspended in time. <br />
<br />
I can move my legs back & forth without incident, but a little rotation can be excruciating. God forbid I drop something & have to retrieve it off the floor myself. Squatting is completely out of the question.<br />
<br />
So I asked my doctor about this at my last appointment. After I nearly burst into tears 3 separate times during his manipulations, he thinks I have tendonitus. I didn't know that could cause crunchy noises. Hopefully the anti-inflammatory & targeted exercises do the trick.<br />
<br />
It's gotten out of hand because I even had trouble dressing myself 1 day last week. I apparently had too much rotation in my hip as I attempted to step into my shorts, then I dropped my grasp on the waistband as I clutched at the crunching. Yes, I crunch. All kinds of things cause my body parts to snap, crackle, pop, crunch & grind. This causes waves of nausea to overcome my loving husband who claims bodies aren't supposed to make those noises, & who in this instant became my savior & picked up my fallen drawers & helped me pull them up.<br />
<br />
Then I realized, it's mid-May <span style="font-size: x-small;">even if it doesn't feel like it</span> & shorts will become common attire again <span style="font-size: x-small;">for more than pajamas.</span> I'm going to need to prepare....<br />
<br />
My bathroom contains <span style="font-size: x-small;">a sorry excuse for</span> a shower stall, not a full tub. I haven't actually measured it, but I'm pretty sure it's about 2 ft x 2 ft square. This is not a lot of room. There is nowhere to step out of the spray. We attached a handheld shower head so we can at least aim the spray at the wall while we try to lather up. I regularly bump my elbows while washing my hair & have hit my head when bending over...to do things like shave my legs. There's not even a place to prop my foot up to make the leg more accessible. It's just 1 of the reasons I put it off as long as I can.<br />
<br />
So I attempt to maneuver in this claustrophobic closet without bumping my head on the wall & without creating the horrible crunch in my hip....& I remembered. The last time shaving my legs was so awful was when I was pregnant.<br />
<br />
I didn't have much morning sickness (don't hate me- I had plenty of other issues) but I did tend to get queasy when I bent over, as when shaving my legs. At least we had a full bathtub in that home. I asked my husband if he would do it for me. I'd heard of this. It's a real thing. Friends & magazines talked about husbands helping them with these things. Even painting their toenails for them. Not mine. When I asked, he made a face like I'd sprouted 2 heads.<br />
<br />
"C'mon," I pleaded. "It's got to be close to 6 weeks since I've done it. I can't bend."<br />
<br />
If you're thinking that his objection might be because I was like Sasquatch by then, you'd be wrong. "Pleeeeeze," I begged.<br />
<br />
"Nobody but you can see those 6 hairs you have!"<br />
<br />
He didn't do it for me. If not when I was pregnant with his children, I'm pretty sure he won't do it just because I have a bum hip. So I managed. With extreme concentration & a flexibility people would be surprised to know I possess, I was able to get all 6 of those hairs off my legs. It's the little things.Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-55078145866241228072011-05-04T14:03:00.001-04:002012-04-29T12:07:46.607-04:00I'm a Firecracker, Baby<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>“A good listener tries to understand what the other person is saying. In the end he may disagree sharply, but because he disagrees, he wants to know exactly what it is he is disagreeing with.”</strong> <strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">~Kenneth A. Wells</span></strong></span><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"></span></strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">People say you're not supposed to talk about politics, religion or finances with people. Yeah, that's easy. We all have pretty set views on that stuff & they are emotional. I don't really know how to completely avoid this stuff & still have meaningful conversations, but I understand from where the phrase comes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But what about the other stuff? The stuff you never dreamed could be a touchy subject? </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some time ago, a friend of mine posted something on facebook about Willy Wonka. I commented that Willy Wonka gave me the creeps. He does. He's a creepy dude. I'm sticking to my guns there. I got all kinds of remarks back insinuating that I don't understand what he's about & have lost my childhood innocence & was superficial because I wasn't a fan of Willy Wonka. After a lively tit-for-tat, I was all like, <em>whatevs...</em> How long must one debate the merits of a fictional character? Why is it so offensive that I voiced an opinion different from one's own, especially when it has nothing to do with anything? I deleted all my comments & that was that. We never spoke of it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've also been engaged in a chocolate debate...as in the howcanyounotlikechocolateareyoueffingcrazy? sort. I do like chocolate. I swear. But I like good chocolate, not the nasty, waxy Easter basket & Halloween grab bag stuff. And I have to be in the mood...like seafood, it's not for all the time.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>"Make sure you have a different opinion & people will talk about you." <span style="font-size: x-small;">~Arab Proverb</span></strong></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'm so super-glad that I'm interesting enough to talk about. Here & there anyway. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have been criticized because through much of the Christmas season, my status updates were lyrics from Christmas carols instead of personal commentary. I have been criticized because of the content of my personal commentary- either the posts are too long, too angry, too mundane, too upbeat, too generic, too political...just never quite right enough to satisfy my legions of facebook friends. I wish facebook called them contacts, because seriously, people 'friend' you just because they've heard your name. I've deleted many. In most cases, I mean no offense. But if we never exchange comments, what's the point?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've also been deleted by a few. In more than 1 case, I felt like, what now? How have I offended thee? You know, as great a tool as facebook is, I've found it's a really useful tool in creating new ways to be rude. People will post things they'd never say to your face. Not me, I'll tell you straight up. They'll 'unfriend' you without an explanation. Know what I think? <em>Whatevs</em>....& good riddance. Gonna be like that, don't need you. When I reduced my friend list, I put a general statement out 1st that I was going to be doing it & why. I meant not to offend, but only to control who gets my feed.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>"Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, but not their own facts." <span style="font-size: x-small;">~Daniel Patrick Moynihan</span></strong></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a good friend said to me when I discussed some of this with her, "It's your wall. You can post whatever you want on <em>your</em> wall." That's right. I get to control it. So when I comment on yours, & you don't like it, you get to control that too. Tell me, <em>whatevs</em>...I can take it. I know I've pushed a few buttons out there, more than a few in the last 2 days. Let me say this: I didn't set out to argue, wasn't trying to tick anyone off. It just seemed to me that opinions were being broadcast disguised as facts (& I actually support your right to do that on your wall) that included what I thought were emotional triggers & irrelevant information & a lack of certain facts. The message was skewed. I'll say it right now- I didn't like it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong>“We must always think about things, & we must think about things as they are, not as they are said to be.”</strong> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong>~George Bernard Shaw</strong> </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's your right to feel that way & to broadcast it. And if you don't want my opinion, you get to choose whether to engage me or ignore, leave my comment there or delete it. That's the way it goes. I'm a big girl & I can take it. I don't dish it so much for fun as a way to gage how committed you are & to learn how committed I am myself to certain beliefs. And how smartly they can be backed up by facts. Honestly, </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">I didn't find a lot of fact in the presidential negativity following the killing of Osama bin Laden. There were a few biased & unrelated facts tossed in just to stir up a bad vibe, in my opinion. As I stated <span style="font-size: x-small;">ad nauseum</span> in the past few days, whether you agree with his politics, like him or respect him, is irrelevant to the situation. He is the Commander in Chief, an American citizen, & by God, he is entitled to share in this victory. Whoever the seated president might be would get the same. <span style="font-size: x-small;">And yay, this bumped his approval rating by 11 points! </span>Had this mission failed, he'd get all the blame. No one is going to rip on the Navy SEALS for crying out loud. That's the truth.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong>"There is a world of difference between truth & facts. Facts can obscure the truth."</strong> <strong><span style="font-size: x-small;">~Maya Angelou </span></strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5UpxXfd5IPXVqW0v60iPHzJrQaKJL6UUJso9uOjJWFP1M984QGcrWFfLCxLwKEynt6rK1-3enRpcyE0eHHKpsJx3GEjLuCpX_oI6UTSLUSPKXZ5j_7COYpI7oap_UqnkPwJCR__BPdA/s1600/willywonkas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM5UpxXfd5IPXVqW0v60iPHzJrQaKJL6UUJso9uOjJWFP1M984QGcrWFfLCxLwKEynt6rK1-3enRpcyE0eHHKpsJx3GEjLuCpX_oI6UTSLUSPKXZ5j_7COYpI7oap_UqnkPwJCR__BPdA/s200/willywonkas.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I don't know which is creepier...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the way, there is no fact as to whether Willy Wonka is creepy or not. That's all opinion. And many people, even when they like Willy, agree with me that he's creepy. Both portrayals of the character give me the willies.... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So <em>whatevs</em>...</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's right, I admit it. I get a little heated up from time to time...& I don't mean from hot flashes. I've got opinions on lots of stuff & I don't mind sharing them. I don't even mind arguing them, most of the time, because a smart quid-pro-quo can strengthen my belief or enlighten me to new perspectives...even if I do give you my eventual brush-off, <em>yeah, whatevs...</em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em> </em></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span> <br />
<h1 style="font-size: 12px; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">“I never make the mistake of arguing with people for whose opinions I have no respect.” <span style="font-size: x-small;">~Edward Gibbon</span> <br />
</span></h1>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial;"></span></strong><br />
<br />
<strong></strong>Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-24915000812507707722011-04-29T15:09:00.002-04:002012-04-29T12:09:37.009-04:00Maybe I'm Not a Baby, But I Still Need My Mother...My daughter said something to me the other day that hasn't quite sat right yet. She's a bit of a bear in the morning & has been since about the age of 3. The other morning as we are going about our routine, she was surlier than usual. More than rude, she was downright obnoxious.<br />
<br />
She opened the refrigerator to look for her breakfast. I brewed my first cup of coffee. As I was putting in my sweetener, she bumps me out of her way to get into the silverware drawer, spilling my coffee. As I reached into the fridge myself for the half & half, she all but shuts me in the door as she rifles through the pantry. I said nothing either time. I know how she is & how far it will get me. Then she snapped at me. I looked at her directly & asked, "What's the problem?"<br />
<br />
"I'm mad at you!" she spat. I looked at her blankly. "You woke me up!"<br />
"You have school. You have to get up," I maintained my cool. You see, while I don't love morning, I find that I'm fine with it regardless how tired I may be, unless I'm pushed too far. She was rapidly approaching 'too far.'<br />
"School is stupid," she pouted.<br />
Still I remained calm. "I know you think so."<br />
"I hate you!" Red Alert!!! My limit had been reached.<br />
"I kinda hate you back right now." She stopped dead in her tracks but I let it hang there for a minute. "It doesn't feel very good, does it?"<br />
She shook her head indicating a 'no.'<br />
"All I expect from you is to be treated like a human being," I stated simply.<br />
Her reply? "But you're NOT a human being! You're my MOM!"<br />
<br />
Well, I guess that sums it up. Moms are not people. I long suspected this truth.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULYDlnR1QBxz3AUxI7G7c47o5itNa1ZZnuG9LmalgG947UYNzp9x0hJyWjNRhAhUzyI3h-sPY8RgKRdpFtzyzdbRCIZ3P2JOreoNRNiHEwDdZVj3uT0ueTFN4qFs8N39riTrGxLjI5b0/s1600/Iris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiULYDlnR1QBxz3AUxI7G7c47o5itNa1ZZnuG9LmalgG947UYNzp9x0hJyWjNRhAhUzyI3h-sPY8RgKRdpFtzyzdbRCIZ3P2JOreoNRNiHEwDdZVj3uT0ueTFN4qFs8N39riTrGxLjI5b0/s320/Iris.jpg" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since my mother doesn't like to have her photo taken, <br />
here is one she took- her favorite flower from her garden.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
You see, when I was a kid, my very own mom was a miracle-worker. She cooked! She could whip up a fabulous, nutritious meal from practically nothing. I know this, because I went to the pantry thousands of times in my youth lamenting that there was nothing to eat. Yet every night, dinner was on the table. When we stayed home sick from school, we got to lay in her bed & watch TV & she would bring us the BRATTY foods to eat- bananas, rice, applesauce, tea, toast & yogurt....& gingerale!<br />
<br />
Mom also played chauffer to me, my friends, my 3 siblings & their friends. She went to basketball, softball, baseball, football & every other game in which one of us was involved. She was a den mother for my brother's cub scout troop. She coached my sister & me in cheerleading. I remember one day specifically when we went to the park & she did cartwheels & the splits! Nobody else's mother could do that. She was room mother for my classroom numerous times. She got involved with the school & church fundraisers & events. She made fabulous, opulent birthday cakes though she didn't even eat cake. She would brush my hair & set it in pink sponge rollers. She let me watch her tweeze her brows & apply make-up in her very Hollywood style (or so it seemed in 1975) make-up mirror with the different light settings. And when she & my dad went out, I'm sure she was the most beautiful, glamorous woman in the place.<br />
<br />
"If the whole world were put into one scale, & my mother in the other, the whole world would kick the beam." ~Lord Langdale (Henry Bickersteth)<br />
<br />
She tried to teach us to sew, tried to teach us the art of flower-arranging, but I don't think any of us had the patience for it. She did teach us to cook. She did teach us to put color & pattern together for our wardrobes & our rooms & our eventual homes. She taught me how to notice detail, to plan events or vacations. She instilled in me a desire to travel. She taught us many things, most of which didn't come to us in a traditional lesson format.<br />
<br />
We used to camp, which I'm not big on, but when we went on hikes she could point out the trees & name them & the flowers & name them & the mushrooms that were safe to eat (even though they still gross me out.) She knew all kinds of things I never dreamed I'd know.<br />
<br />
My mother spent her spare time engaged in activities that she enjoyed- she was in a garden club & on bowling leagues. She read, did puzzles (mostly crosswords & word searches as I recall) luncheons with her friends, long soaks in the tub for some much-needed 'me time'...all the things we <em>modern moms</em> are encouraged to do these days.<br />
<br />
She told us stories from 'the olden days' when she was a child <span style="font-size: xx-small;">in the 50s & 60s</span> about how she grew up, what advantages we had so that we learned to appreciate our relative affluence though she rarely spoiled us. My mother knew how to crack the whip!<br />
<br />
"Some mothers are kissing mothers & some are scolding mothers, but it is love just the same, & most mothers kiss & scold together." ~Pearl S. Buck<br />
She was not one to allow disrespect. She did not threaten us with, "Wait 'til your father gets home." No, that lady handled it. Handled us, 4 rowdy kids. She might yell, but as I once saw on a Tshirt, she could say, "I yell because I care." And sometimes, when I say those things that I said I'd never say, like, "Because I said so," I laugh to myself because I find it a stupid yet completely acceptable response.<br />
<br />
My mom was cool. I knew she was cooler than most moms. When we got home from school, she was at the kitchen table & willing to listen to us expound on our day until we'd let it all out. She often says we told her much more than she wanted to hear.<br />
Even my friends loved my mom. When I was in high school, they all talked to my mom about their issues. I know she helped more than a few of them get things going better. When she came home from the grocery store, my male friends would rush to help her carry in the bags. They all wanted her to approve of them.<br />
<br />
She's a great listener, but very good at keeping her opinions to herself. I often seek her advice or ear when I need to vent. My mother is my friend. I'm proud to say that. Not everyone can say the same. As often as I've been compared to her through the years, I've learned to accept it as high praise. I still look up to her even though I'm taller than her. The biggest wish I have in this world is to do as well with my own children. So far, so good...even if one is easier to love after 10 AM. haha<br />
<br />
She taught us so much about family, loyalty, obligation, nurturing, the social graces, independence, organization, determination, humility & other essential life skills. She encourages me daily with this blog, with raising my own children, with the primary relationships in my life. I'm not selling my father short, but Father's Day is in June & Mother's Day is approaching. I said in a previous post that I owed my mother a fitting tribute. I hope I have delivered. <br />
<br />
I love you!!<br />
<br />
"All that I am or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." ~Abraham LincolnKerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-83008611718167467642011-04-25T16:20:00.001-04:002012-04-29T12:11:18.169-04:00Not Babies AnymoreMy daughters confessed yesterday. They no longer believe in the Easter Bunny. Or Santa Claus. The Tooth Fairy didn't come up yesterday, but she has in the past....usually when she forgets to show up.<br />
<br />
I did what any good mother would do. I lied. I did my best to convince my babies that they were wrong, that these wondrous entities are real. But they set traps for me & I fell in. Head first.<br />
<br />
My 9-year-old left a carrot on a plate for the Easter Bunny Saturday night before bed. Sunday morning, before she found her basket, she inspected it. "These teeth marks look suspiciously like Daddy's," she offered it to me for a look.<br />
"Well, I guess the bunny just gnawed it a little. He probably gets a treat at everyone's house."<br />
"Mm-hmm," she says with a tone that tells me I'm not off the hook.<br />
<br />
"These bright jelly beans are better than these pastel ones," said my 11-year-old. <br />
"Oh, those are Mike & Ike's. They're awesome," I agreed. <br />
"Busted!! How do you know what brand they are if the Easter Bunny brought them?" she mocked.<br />
"Because I'm a jelly bean connoisseur," I offered. She let that go.<br />
<br />
We each got a nail polish in our basket. My older daughter got blue, because I thought the younger one already had blue. My younger daughter got purple, because I wanted the orange. "But purple is my favorite color," my 11 year old moped. <br />
"I thought it was pink? You always say you like pink & orange?" (I didn't buy any pink because we have several already.)<br />
"Then why do <em>you</em> have the orange?" Because orange is one of my favorite colors. Duh.<br />
"I'll share. We can all share." I know we will.<br />
"That doesn't answer my question." She said this with an over-enunciation of each word.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumOWCn7G8R0sP_zBZiZagFpmokyAuNStiWMG68d0GxTffI3CKTAmR6UsL7OeAT9k1tGrkzqQ6BBLgHCK-QEPk3jqeHew2-SyEevjcJeOXJ3IJM0AH5KjlPgToFQn1K4WqjAnB8AvXwjk/s1600/Easter+baskets.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgumOWCn7G8R0sP_zBZiZagFpmokyAuNStiWMG68d0GxTffI3CKTAmR6UsL7OeAT9k1tGrkzqQ6BBLgHCK-QEPk3jqeHew2-SyEevjcJeOXJ3IJM0AH5KjlPgToFQn1K4WqjAnB8AvXwjk/s200/Easter+baskets.bmp" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Easter baskets are too small.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Flip-flops were in the baskets this year. "Dad got <em>jerky</em> instead of flip-flops," moaned my 9-year-old. "We didn't get any jerky."<br />
"You got flip-flops," I reminded. I'm sure the Easter Bunny knows Dad isn't going to wear flip-flops."<br />
"But we all like jerky."<br />
"Not me. I don't like jerky," not since I barfed it out the moving car window when I was preggers.<br />
"My flip-flops are different from yours & Annie's," Alex said to me.<br />
"I'm sure the Easter Bunny didn't notice, just tried to pick a style he thought you'd like that would fit your big feet, " I teased back.<br />
"I can wear yours," she offered.<br />
"Yours are bigger than mine. Yours are 9-10, but mine are 7-8 because your feet are bigger than mine," I tried to dismiss her by scruffing her hair.<br />
"Ha! You're busted!!" They screamed.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</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/AVvXsEgM8EfiePNq1Gje4TMtAlTKPglK8vyMYka3uqx61FV-lnOheAql6TwJJ4VhlmUQegOlSmmG6-feEfJVni7DXymlL1pVYsWbJZJW9cL_1_5IALM0YLflZAuq94kwEpCletv7MGhIGhTaGPQ/s1600/Santa+Baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM8EfiePNq1Gje4TMtAlTKPglK8vyMYka3uqx61FV-lnOheAql6TwJJ4VhlmUQegOlSmmG6-feEfJVni7DXymlL1pVYsWbJZJW9cL_1_5IALM0YLflZAuq94kwEpCletv7MGhIGhTaGPQ/s200/Santa+Baby.jpg" width="151" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Accused</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
They tag-teamed me. "You just said you bought her a bigger size."<br />
"No, I said, she <em>got</em> a bigger size." I hope that's what I said.<br />
"Mom, we know you're Santa. We saw the Santa paper in your closet." In our house, only Santa uses Santa paper. Family gifts have other Christmas prints.<br />
(I'm still trying to figure out how we went from the Easter Bunny to Santa without a breath.)<br />
"I have no idea what you're talking about." I feigned ignorance. I saw the roll knocked away from it's hiding spot, 1/2 out of the bag. I picked it up & put it back & hoped it was accidental & they hadn't paid attention. Until now, I hadn't heard a word about it. I loved that my children were so innocent they still believed at 9 & 11 years old despite their friends & cousins telling them there was no such thing.<br />
"You are sooo busted," my Ally taunted me, pointing & laughing.<br />
<br />
At this point, my husband tried to intervene. "What were you doing in your mother's closet? When I was a kid, I would never have gone into my parents' closet."<br />
"I was getting shoes...." <br />
"You're supposed to ask me to borrow my shoes, & wait for me to answer yes or no, & get them only if I say you can..."<br />
She gave me the hand. <em>She gave me the hand.</em> <u>She gave me the hand.</u> SHE GAVE ME THE HAND! As in talk to the hand. "Don't change the subject."<br />
Who is this kid?<br />
I walked away. I felt the squeeze. They're growing up too fast.<br />
<br />
(The funny thing is, while I do some Christmas shopping, my husband should really get credit for being Santa. He gets the toys. I don't like buying toys. I like buying the clothes, accessories, & unexpected novelties. And I do all the wrapping.)Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-9043084723752148732011-04-18T14:29:00.002-04:002012-04-29T12:13:43.377-04:00Baby, Grab Your Tools<strong><span style="font-size: large;">I'm baaaaaack! I've missed you!! Mwah.</span></strong><br />
<br />
So, a few things have been going on around here. The computer was on one evening when we lost power for no apparent reason. The next day when we tried to start our computer, it was stuck in a crazy loop of error messages. Apparently, we'd been hit by more than a few bugs. Couldn't do all the normal things, couldn't even get it to go into safe mode. Ok, that's it. That's about what I know about how to take care of computers. Put that on my list of things I don't want to know. I'm just not interested enough to learn it. You might as well be speaking any number of foreign languages to me. It just doesn't stick. And I'm already gone.....<br />
<br />
Know what else I don't want to learn? Drywall. I think there's minor math involved with that, blech! I've been trying to redecorate our hall bathroom for months. I started peeling ugly wallpaper before Christmas, maybe Thanksgiving. Hi, it's almost Easter. I discovered when I pulled the loose paper from the wall by the tub that there is a little issue. Water splashed outside the tub had damaged the wall. I know this is easily taken care of (easily, that is, by someone who knows what he is doing) but it isn't done. I live with a man that has done this type of repair work before, however, he is less interested in home decor than I am by computer maintenance. So the bathroom sits with it's mostly-scraped walls mocking me that I cannot prime & paint & hang the shower curtain back where it belongs.<br />
<br />
Mark Twain once said, "Never learn to do anything. If you don't learn, you will always find someone else to do it for you." It really does seem to work for most things.<br />
<br />
You know what else I never want to learn? Plumbing. In that same bathroom, I need the obstacle of the toilet taken out of the way so that I may get behind it to remove the rest of the dreaded floral covering. Even though I feel I can figure that out (pretty rudimentary workings they are- ask my college roommate who fixed our slipping chain with duct tape!) I don't believe I am strong enough to lift it myself & put it safely out of the way. It looks heavy. I'm just not interested. I don't feel any urge to prove I can be as tough as a man. I cave! I'm not!! I'm as smart as many, smarter than a few, but physically? You win. I surrender. <span style="font-size: x-small;">There goes my claim of being a feminist.</span><br />
<br />
Isn't that why we get married? To make a life & divide the chores? Sure, & love of course.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to clean the gutters, snake a drain, do any plumbing whatsoever (if a plunger or Draino won't fix it, neither will I.) I'd mow if he asked & I take out the trash as often as he does, but the really nasty & dirty & gross stuff...that's his job as The Man. Besides, he'd have to clean up my vomit if I tried. Do I need to remind anyone of the gray 'gravy' I found while cleaning our fridge? I have an iron stomach when it comes to being sick & rarely catching stomach-intestinal bugs that make one do horrible things into toilets or buckets, but I gag very easily at putrid, rotting, spoiled smells.<br />
<br />
I do the dishes. But the super heavy or physical stuff...that's his job too. I do the laundry. I'll cook & I'll clean sometimes. Damned if I'll climb an extension ladder to the second story roof for anything. I'm afraid of ladders. Not of heights, but of ladders. <br />
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I point them out, but he kills the spiders. I can spackle & sand & paint, but he hangs curtain rods. I do the holiday decorating & un-decorating but he hauls the boxes to & from the basement. He bathes the dogs, but I clip their nails, clean their ears, & brush their coats. (If you have a dog with a downy undercoat, you must get a Furminator!!) He cleans his boxer's dirty mouth, but I forcefeed my mutt her glucosamine pills.<br />
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I don't want to change the oil or rotate the tires <span style="font-size: x-small;">or do anything really</span> as far as car maintenance goes. I'll get gas if I have to, but usually he does that for me too. And that's only because he's nice. I don't ask that of him. I just remind him when something is coming time & he does it. I don't want to weed the so-called gardens, & I won't because his boxer insists on doing his business there instead of in the yard. I do however, keep track of the family's appointments, lessons, invites, & keep important papers, do the taxes & pay the bills.<br />
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For the most part, we've got a system."I would do anything for love but I won't do that, no, I won't do that..." Maybe I finally understand those Meatloaf lyrics.<br />
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I do what I feel is within my area of things & then I point out other things that need to be done. I then I remind him 678 times until a.) he eventually does it or b.) I threaten to call one of our fathers to do it or c.) I throw a hissy fit. Repeat as necessary. <br />
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There is no 'Honey-Do' list here. I've got it all committed to memory. I'm quite sure he thanks me for this skill even if he never says so.Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8704196791404613541.post-22498219928099636822011-03-28T14:39:00.004-04:002012-04-29T12:15:34.153-04:00Baby, We're Cooking Now<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My husband & I met in July & went on our first date in January of the following year. By April, he was set to move away to attend cooking school. He'd already taken classes here & there & found he enjoyed it. He often says he had to learn to cook. His survival depended on it. And he became very skilled.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At our first few dinners at his parents' house, I found a common theme. The food usually had one hot component, one warm & one cold...whether it was meant to be or not. His mother can't seem to time a meal to be ready all at the same time. I also noticed that unless the vegetable of the night was a salad, they were smothered in a cheese sauce. I once asked him what she had against butter & salt. (Apparently, she stopped using both with any noticeable flavor when his father was put on a restricted diet. I'm not sure how a Velveeta cheese sauce makes a healthier option, but that's where it started.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Years ago, my mother in law asked me if I'd like her to bring over some chili they'd had the night before & I said sure. It took me almost an hour to season it properly & simmer the flavor into it. I asked my husband about it & he said that waving the salt & pepper over the pot constitutes seasoning & that anything else is just too spicy. <span style="font-size: x-small;">I must have nearly killed her with my potato soup.</span> I said it looked like tomato sauce with beef & beans. I had to add onion, garlic, chili powder, cumin, salt, cayenne. You know, the flavors that turn tomato soup into chili. I won't say everything she makes is bad. That wouldn't be true. I have many of her recipes that I do enjoy. But she made up a 'family favorites' recipe book for everyone one Christmas, & there was an entry there that made me shudder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My husband spoke of it with disgust. I thought he was exaggerating, until I read what it was. This is worse than the liver I was forced to eat. It had to be worse than the sweet & sour pork I hated (really, I had something similar not so long ago & it isn't as bad as I remember, but I still hate peas.) It must somehow be a comfort food for my children's grandmother because it was attributed to her mother. Sorry, Selma, it will not be passed down in this family. My children have tried it (at her house) & complained the way my husband does about it. He says school paste is infinitely better. Creamed Tuna. To this day, he will not eat a tuna casserole & I make a good one. He won't eat warm tuna in any recipe. He loves tuna salad, but he has been ruined for it any other way. The extent of the recipe is milk, flour, tuna...served over white bread or toast. EEEW. Salt & pepper are listed as optional. People make jokes about creamed chipped beef, but I'm sure that is like the nectar of the gods in comparison. I'm sure that the fact that she uses skim milk & no cream whatsoever makes it even more distasteful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">His sister has had us over for dinner many times, & she, like my husband, is a great cook. I've never had a bad meal at her house. In fact, I have her recipe for turkey burgers & they are delicious. I've made them for company & been given raves. I don't take the credit though. I say where I learned to make them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I personally learned to cook the old-fashioned way....by hanging out in the kitchen, watching my mother, getting in her way, sneaking tastes, & asking if it was done yet. I discovered when I needed to cook my own meals that I knew how to make things for which I'd never read a recipe. I made my first stuffed chicken with mashed potatoes & gravy in college & it came out great. I may have called Mom a few times to ask what else or how long, but even now, if I call to ask how to make something, the answer is usually just "some of this & a little of that...Taste it." It took me years to remember how to boil an egg -I called her every time- but honestly, it only because I only did them once a year or so for egg salad. (My husband does the Easter eggs.) She makes a yummy noodle side dish that it took me years to figure out even though I knew what was in them...my downfall, too little salt. I knew she used garlic salt & I used garlic powder, but I had no idea how much salt was necessary to match her flavor. Egads. I don't make them very often. They're sinful!! Where my mother in law often lacks flavor, my mother takes up the slack. There's butter, maybe even bacon fat, & salt enough for everyone! Of course, my kids never come home complaining of a dinner they've eaten there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparently, a lot of my friends' moms shooed them out of the kitchen when they were kids. I taught one of my friend's how to fry an egg. Seriously. She was basting it or something (I didn't really get the whole process of splashing the oil on top of it & using a lid...just gently turn it over. And please, for the love of God, cook it. Runny whites gross me out.) Many years later, I also taught her how to make spaghetti sauce. Not from scratch, I don't care to blanch & skin all those tomatoes, but they didn't have jars of sauce back then <span style="font-size: xx-small;">gasp!</span> We had to season tomato sauce &/or paste ourselves.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nU2FC_vYoZEncdlfJGr8yr51vpm9q7LAHsgu3Ia3nY_UoQzlGBFtniNFl7_Oi3Bzks5QnzIFGjKFTx_CKdc7DO_fnvMQ0Ypq4QtmACEJf01w7Pha8vz_38mir7P5C1m8htHljjuGrwQ/s1600/making+cookies+at+Nestle%2527s+in+Epcot.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3nU2FC_vYoZEncdlfJGr8yr51vpm9q7LAHsgu3Ia3nY_UoQzlGBFtniNFl7_Oi3Bzks5QnzIFGjKFTx_CKdc7DO_fnvMQ0Ypq4QtmACEJf01w7Pha8vz_38mir7P5C1m8htHljjuGrwQ/s320/making+cookies+at+Nestle%2527s+in+Epcot.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At Disney World in the Nestle's Kitchen at Epcot</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My kids are learning the way I learned. They hang out in the kitchen with my husband &/or me & watch, & we'll give them tasks to help, & eventually they can try it. We like cooking together. If our kitchen had the space, we'd all be in there together every night. As it is, my husband & I take turns, & the kids join us as they please.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My older child has made simple meals from start to finish all on her own. She scrambles eggs. She can make simple pasta dishes. She likes to <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">make hor d'œuvres & dips.</span> My younger child most enjoys baking. We make easy breads & muffins together. She likes to crack the eggs & do the measuring. They love helping their daddy make fresh pizza dough & then having make-your-own-pizza-night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">We read recipes together & try to find new things to make. They have their favorite chefs on Food Network. My older child <em>thinks</em> she does an impeccable Paula Deen. My younger one likes to watch Aarti Party. (We've never had Indian food, but I think she likes the cheerful set & Aarti's accent.) We keep trying to perfect the stirfry. It sounds so much simpler than it is. We experiment with different seasonings & spices. I think they have fairly adventurous palettes. I like that. I was such a finicky eater when I was a kid, but I'll give myself credit for one thing. I liked my vegetables far more than my kids do. I was picky about which ones were cooked in what manner (one of my sisters in law teased that she would cross-stitch my Vegetable Rules) but there are only a few I don't like. Sorry peas & okra, you have no place at my table.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">One thing I know, it's that it's hard to tell the difference between my potato salad, pasta salad, macaroni salad, chicken noodle soup, vegetable beef soup, ham & bean soup & my mom's (hey, maybe that's why I love soup so much.)...which is pretty much just like Grandma's from what I remember. The potato salad for sure. And except for the vegetable soup, my kids are loving them too. They are summer & winter comfort foods. That's the way to pass it on.</span>Kerbihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07218850268313431841noreply@blogger.com1