tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67178185028891689642024-03-12T17:44:56.257-07:00My Family's NewsElizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.comBlogger83125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-7525687838177965692013-04-28T20:47:00.000-07:002013-04-28T20:48:34.460-07:00Hell<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Back in the spring of 1999 I was a student at Western Oregon University
and was enrolled in the “Advanced Creative Writing” class. We were tasked with writing a short story,
and, during the term to submit one of our short stories for publication. This was the first draft of my first short
story which I submitted to Western Oregon’s literary magazine “Northwest
Passage” and it was published in the Summer 1999 issue. The version below is as published without the
subsequent edits I inevitably made. I’ve
added an epilogue today.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Hell<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I wish I were
dead. I know everybody has these
thoughts every once in awhile, but I really want to die. The storm doesn’t help. I’m wearing just a t-shit and it’s still so
hot and muggy. I can smell the musty air
as the rain pelts the dusty ground. Am I
hot just because I’m so hugely pregnant or what? I really hate this. My legs are so clammy that they’re sticking
together, but it’s too hot to even put a sheet between them. Damn El Paso. Damn Army housing. It’s two in the morning and 98 degrees out
with thunder and lightning. It’s a total
contradiction of everything I love.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I want to go back
home. Oregon can get hot, but not often,
and not at two in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. Damn El Paso and damn the military. Who the hell builds streets with no drainage
ditches so that when it rains everything floods? And who the hell puts such flimsy power lines
that they break every time it rains?
We’ve only lived here for three months and already the power has gone
out six times! I mean, hell people, get
a brain! The power has already been out
for eight hours so far, and wouldn’t you know that it would go out just while I
was making dinner. I hate having to eat
corn flakes for dinner when I have a perfectly good casserole in the over –
uncooked! I’m so tired; I want to
sleep. It also didn’t help when Mike
came home tonight.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"># # #<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Don’t ever go in
and talk to the First Sergeant again!
Thanks to you I got my butt chewed out at first formation,” Mike said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “What happened?” I
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “First Sergeant told
everybody that ‘if you’re gonna send your wives in bitchin you damn well better
have the balls to go in with her!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “You’re
kidding! He told me that you wouldn’t
get in trouble, that he’d just talk to you in private,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Well he
didn’t. He announced it in formation,
and when he said it, everybody turned and looked at me. Then he came right up to me and was like,
‘Understand?’”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “What a jerk!” I can’t believe it; he promised me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Then this afternoon
Sergeant Roscoe started getting on my ass; he told me that I better start
controlling my wife, or I’ll get an article fifteen. You know what that is don’t you?” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Isn’t that where
they take a hundred dollars out of your paycheck?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Yeah, but they also
put it in your record and it stays with you throughout your military career
which means that I could miss a promotion, and you know that I really need a
promotion.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Can he do
that? Are they serious?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Sergeant Roscoe
says that it would be a ‘failure to control your spouse.’ I don’t know. I
should look it up, but I also asked Sergeant Lennis, and he said it’s something
like that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I’m sorry I got you
into trouble. I’m just so tired of all
this,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"># # #<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> When First Sergeant
Little got to the unit, he told all of us that if we ever needed anything or
just wanted to talk, we could come to him.
Well yesterday I went in to ask him for advice on how to be a successful
military wife. I figured that since he’s
been in for twenty years and is married with a family, that he would be a good
person to ask. I told him that I loved
my husband and I wanted to be a supportive wife, but lately Mike and I had been
talking about getting divorced. In our
three years of marriage we were apart for a year and half and another five
months of field training with him leaving all of the time. Now, when Mike and I see each other, we can’t
seem to talk. I told First Sergeant that
we were struggling to try and make it work and we were having a hard time of it. I asked him:
What are activities that we can do to bring us closer? What kinds of questions should I ask my
husband? And, as an army man, what does
he need from me? How can I support
Mike? First Sergeant told me to, “Hang
in there” and to try and understand that my husband doesn’t have control over
what he is ordered to do, so I should try and be understanding. He went on to tell me, “I know your husband
must be nervous about you coming in here, but tell him not to worry; this is
just between us. And don’t worry, he won’t
get in trouble, I’ll just talk to him in private, okay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Yes, thank you, I
really appreciate your listening and all of your help,” I said. What a fool I was. I believe him when he
acted like he cared and wanted to help; instead he chewed out my husband at
work and didn’t talk in private. Instead
Mike got in trouble!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I hate First
Sergeant Little! If it weren’t against
the law I’d love to go beat the shit out of that son of a bitch! Damn bastard.
He is such a two-faced… jerk! I
went to him for help and this is what I get.
I wish I could die, then I wouldn’t ever have to deal with any of this
shit again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> But if I died, I’d
really miss little Jake. He is such a
sweetheart; I couldn’t have asked for a better son. It was really hard when I found out I was
pregnant with him. I was so young – true
I was twenty which is a lot older than some, but I was still young. But he is my heart. I love him so much. I think that it will be hard to be without
him, but he’ll be better off. What child
would be better off with a mom who is depressed all the time and wishes she
were dead? After all, I make life harder
for Mike, and without me he could be a single father in the military – the poor
widower who lost his wife and is raising their son and baby. He could devote all his time to work without
it bothering anyone, and he would be forced to spend more time with Jake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> But is it really
worth it to kill myself? I can’t even
imagine my life a year from now. I used
to dream about having a family and a husband.
The little girl dreams, of having it all: a home, a husband, adorable kids, and a
dog. Heaven help me, I actually would’ve
loved to be the Brady bunch! I mean, I
know that’s not reality, but I wanted a husband who could be my best friend who
I could tell anything to, who would understand where I’m coming from, who would
fight me when I was wrong, and who would love me just for being me. I expected that when we fought it would be
about politics or the little things that drive us nuts about each other, like
how he always leaves his hangers in the middle of the floor and how when there’s
a ball game on he can’t even answer a yes or no question. I knew that would drive me nuts but I thought
that would be the worst of it. Instead,
I don’t think my husband knows me at all; otherwise why would he tell me that I’m
just being stupid and needy when I tell him that I miss him? And why do I get so mad that I slam doors and
make noise and just wish that he’d never come home. And then he doesn’t come home and I miss him
despite myself. When he’s home I don’t
feel like he like me, let alone loves me.
He comes home and tells me all about how bad his day was and then asks, “What’s
for dinner?” and “How was your day?” as he snaps on the TV set. I mean, he asks how I’m doing but he doesn’t
listen to the answer, then when I ask him a question he just says, “huh?” It gets to where I feel like I’m here to be
his slave and his hooker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I mean, I’m really
uncomfortable being seven and a half months pregnant and it’s hot and I’ve had
a long day chasing around out sixteen month old and he comes home complaining,
watches TV all night, ignoring me, and then he expects sex when he comes to
bed. And it’s like, do I just let him go
for it? Or tell him I’m not
interested? To which he either responds
with a complaint about how we never make love anymore, or he asks, “What’s
wrong now?” in that impatient tone of his.
If I dare respond we get into a huge name calling fight that end up with
either: me sleeping on the couch, or us
fighting until three in the morning at which point we decide to drop it. But it’s never actually resolved. How do you resolve “I’m not happy with you?” Neither of us is happy. That’s why he’d be better off without
me. I’m tired of trying to make this
relationship work and trying to hang in there for another day. Whenever we
fight, things get better for a day or two:
he comes home trying to be cheerful, he offers to play with Jake, he
helps with dinner, he flirts, and he hugs me.
Then a couple of days later it’s back to the old routine of watching TV,
complaining, and fighting. I just don’t
want this anymore. I’m tired of being
called names, being told I’m stupid, or psycho, or a bitch. I’m just tired of hoping that things will get
better and then they don’t. What good
does it do to hope? I just set myself up
for a downfall whenever I do. He’s right
– I am stupid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Why hope? What would my life be like a year from now
anyway? I try to picture Jake at two and
a half years old with a baby who would almost be one, we’re living in this
house, fighting everyday like we have for the past several months, and I spend
everyday alone with just the two kids… God I want to die. Hell, even the other military wives – Mrs.
Baker, Mrs. Sampson, Mrs. Jones, Mrs. Arragar – they all told me to get used to
it; this is as good as it gets. The
sooner I learn to live without my husband, the better. Don’t ever count on your husband to be there
for you because, remember, the military comes first. They own him.
“Just learn to live life on your own, and when he’s around, it’s just a
bonus,” they said. Then why did I marry
him? I knew not to expect things to be
perfect, but dammit, I thought that I’d be able to talk to him, to sleep next to
him, to cry on his shoulder. Is that too
much to ask? Apparently it is. Hell,
even the doctor thinks I’m overreacting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"># # #<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Hello, Mrs.
Nelson. How are you feeling today?” he
asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Are you ready to
have this baby soon?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Oh yeah.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “When are you due?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “About two more
months, on September fifteenth,” I replied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Well here, lay back
and let me measure you… you’re at 32 centimeters so you’re right where you’re
supposed to be. How’ve you been feeling
otherwise?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I’ve been feeling
kind of nauseous, and I’m having a lot of headaches-“<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “-That’s normal,” he
said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I’m also having a
really hard time getting any sleep, and I’ve been feeling kind of down and
stressed out.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “That’s normal with
pregnancy too. Anything going on at
home?” he asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Just typical
military stuff where my husband is gone to the field for ten days and then home
for five. But when he’s home, he’s
working until ten at night, and then he leaves again in the morning at five,
and then goes to the field again,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “How much longer
will he be going?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “For about the next
three months,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Well, that’s the military
for you. Anyway, come see me again in
about two weeks, okay?”<br />
“Yeah. Thanks.” Thanks for nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"># # #<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Even the doctor told
me this is normal. I better get used to
it. I feel so helpless. No matter what I’ve just got to get used to
this shit. It sucks! But how am I supposed to get used to sleeping
for an hour at night, and then tossing and turning for eight hours, and then
sleep for another hour until Jake wakes up and starts calling for Mom? I am so tired of all of this. I just want to crawl under my blanket and
curl into a ball and just lay there.
Leave me alone from the rest of the world for a few months. I envy this baby in its safe little womb
protected from the world with nothing to worry about except growing and
sleeping. I wish it were me. I just want a break, a vacation. I can’t take another day of trying to clean
the house and changing Jake’s diapers, and feeding him, and rocking him to
sleep, and trying to keep him out of the cupboards and the garbage and
EVERYTHING! I just want a break. And there’s no one to help – my family and
friends are 1300 miles away and my husband is gone all the time. Even when he’s home, he’s gone. I just want a break. And I know that I won’t
get one. The only way I will sleep is if
I die. I can just imagine the darkness,
the quiet, like closing my eyes and sleeping without ever waking up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> But can I do
it? Could I cut my wrists? That just sounds like it would really
hurt. Besides it would take too long to
die, so by the time I pass out there would still be time to call 911 and save
me. Besides the lack of blood would hurt
the baby. I could overdose, but that
wouldn’t be quick enough, and the drugs would hurt the baby too. I could shoot myself, if I can get enough
courage. The shot would wake Mike so he
could call 911, and the baby is old enough to survive outside the womb. If he’s quick enough, the baby would be okay,
but it would be too late to save me. I
could use the shot gun and place it under my chin – there’s no way I could pull
the trigger and live. But I haven’t ever
used the shotgun, so I might not know how to use it. I could use the .45 pistol: it doesn’t have the advantage of the shotgun
shooting several pellets into my body, but I think that if I aim the .45 under
my chin towards the center of my brain, it would do enough damage to kill me or
at least put me into a coma that I won’t wake from.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I was taught in
Catholic school that suicide is a sin, and that I could go to hell, but I can’t
imagine that hell is much worse than this.
My relationship with Mike sucks, I’m a terrible, depressed mom for Jake,
and the world in general could easily go on without me. I feel so alone, tired, angry, helpless –
just so tired of living. If suicide is a
sin then maybe God will forgive me.
Maybe I could go to heaven, or wherever the afterlife is, and see my
grandmothers and cousin, I would love to see them again. And if there’s no heaven or hell and it’s all
over, then I will be able to sleep. It
will be over. I will have escaped the
pain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Do I need to write a
suicide letter? No, what is there to
say? Everybody knows that I love them,
that’s enough. Mom and Dad will be sad,
but eventually they’ll move on, so will the rest of the family – they have
their own lives and families, and they’ll feel sad and guilty, but eventually
they will move on. As for my friends, I’ve
already moved away and left their lives, so they’ll miss me but only for
awhile. Mike will be better off and so
will Jake and the baby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> It’s still so dark
and Mike is snoring in bed beside me.
Hey, if I kill myself, he won’t have to go to the field tomorrow. It’s 4:22 in the morning – it will be dawn
soon. I’d rather die in the dark so that
I don’t have to see the gun in my hand, so I can close my eyes and escape
without a witness. I get up. There’s the gun on the top shelf of Mike’s
side of the closet – I need to be very, very quiet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> What the
hell?!?! Fine time for the power to come
back on, after being off for nearly eleven hours! All the lights are on throughout the house
including in here and the TV is blarking.
Mike wakes up, “What are you doing?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I stand there
motionless, please just leave me alone. “Nothing.” But he can see the tears on my face, and my
hand is on the gun case.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “What are you doing?”
he yells.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> This shakes me. “I want to die,” I say out loud for the first
time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “What are you ---
stupid?” he says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Please –“<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Get out of here!
Don’t be stupid! I’m sick of this
shit! Quit acting so psycho!” he yells.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I run to the
bathroom for safety and solitude, locking the door behind me. I really want to die. I sit sobbing and rocking on the bathroom
floor. I hate this. Why do I feel like this? There is no way he will let me near the gun
tonight, maybe if I stay in here he’ll fall back to sleep and leave me alone
and not give me one of his lectures about how stupid I am. I am so tired. I just want to sleep. He hasn’t come after me. This is good.
Maybe he’ll leave me alone. Why
do I feel like this?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> Why do I feel like
this? I don’t know. I need somebody to talk to, someone who will
understand. Mike sounds like he is
asleep, maybe I can get the phone and call someone. Be very quiet, now gently pick up the phone
and grab the phone book. Shhhh. Okay, now I can take to back to the
bathroom. There, lock the door
again. Who should I call? My parents?
No. A friend? I don’t want to talk to anyone who knows me,
I don’t want to hear their disappointment in me. I don’t want to hear them tell me how stupid
I’m being. One of those suicide hot lines?
I’ll call the suicide hotline, they don’t know me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Hello, suicide
hotline, how can I help you?” a voice asks me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> I need help. “I want to kill myself,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Where are you?”
they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I’m at home, locked
in the bathroom”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Is anyone home with
you?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Yes, my husband and
my son, they are asleep,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Do you know how you
want to kill yourself?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Yes,” I say, I don’t
want to admit my plan because then they might try to stop me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “How do you plan to
kill yourself?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I don’t want to
say,” I reply.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Will you talk to
me? Why do you want to kill yourself?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I’m tired. I just
want to leave everyone alone and not bother them anymore,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Why do you think
you’re bothering them?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Because my husband
and I fight all the time and I cause him problems at work, and I’m always
crying or yelling at my son. I’m just so
tired, I don’t want to do this anymore.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Have you ever felt
like this before?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “No --- well,
yes. When I first started college I was
at a party and everyone was drunk but I was feeling pretty down. I ended up in the corner of the bedroom
rocking back and forth and sobbing. I
was so cold, so sad. My friends
eventually got me out of that corner and put me to sleep. The next day the doctors told me that I felt
this way because of a change in my birth control pills. He changed my prescription and by the end of
the week I felt fine,” I said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “Would you be
willing to make a doctors appointment first thing tomorrow to see if maybe this
is something similar?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “I don’t –“<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> “How about, could I
set up an appointment for you? Can you
promise me you won’t kill yourself tonight?<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“I – I’ll try,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Do you still plan on killing yourself tonight?”<br />
“No,” I don’t tell them
that I don’t have access to the gun anymore.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Can you promise me you won’t kill yourself tonight, and
that you’ll go see a doctor tomorrow?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“I –“<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Should I send an ambulance to your house? Are you in danger?”<br />
“No. I’ll be okay,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Will you promise me you won’t kill yourself tonight?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Yes,” I will wait until tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Will you go to the doctor’s tomorrow?” they ask.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Yes,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Is that a promise?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">“Yes,” I say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"># # #<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I will wait until tomorrow. Who knows, maybe it is a problem with my
hormones. I owe it to Jake to see if I can get better. Maybe it can get better. Maybe I could get some sleep. Maybe.
I could go to the doctor tomorrow and ask for help. Then I don’t have to leave Jake because I won’t
be a bad, depressed mom, and then I won’t be such a tired, depressed wife. Maybe I won’t feel so bad. And if there’s nothing the doctor can do, I
can die tomorrow. I will give myself
until tomorrow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> EPILOGUE<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">There is more to this story… Maybe it starts with the
fact that this story was for my “Advanced Creative Writing” class which I signed
up for without realizing I didn’t have the prerequisites. My teacher asked me to submit a short story
to him at the beginning of the term and I submitted a “great essay” but the
teacher told me I couldn’t write a short story and should just drop the
class. I told him that I just needed to
learn the structure of a short story and I wanted to give it a shot. The teacher continued to urge me to drop but
I was stubborn. As I said, the story
above is my first draft of my first short story ever….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> … And it’s
semi-autobiographical. I wrote it as a
catharsis … to let it all out… to make it real… and to try to forgive
myself. My classmates reviewed the story
and had said that the main character was pretty naïve… yes, yes I was. I was a 20 year-old woman who met my husband
fall term of my freshman year of college.
He was my first and we married young.
I had never lived on my own (I’d worked full time and attended community
college while living with my parents) and my husband had been a sweet, funny,
intelligent young man who was my everything. I was naïve and immature…. And I
wrote this at the age of 23; approximately two years after the suicide “attempt.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> More to the
story? I found out the article was
published from my dad (I was a daddy’s girl) and he had attended a summer
conference at Western Oregon and had picked up the magazine one day just to
glance through it…. He said he stumbled across my story, read it, and cried. …
I can’t describe my feelings about that… it’s just… a lot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> More about the
story? The doctor diagnosed me with
clinical depression triggered by my hormones (since I got pregnant with my
second child when the first was nine months old), severe situational stress,
and lack of sleep…. For four months I had only had two hours of sleep a night….
The doctor put me on antidepressants and I had minimal counseling for about six
months when they weaned me off the drugs… but I had to resume them about three
months later for another six months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> More to the
story? I was a Psychology major at the
time I wrote this story and we talked about self-talk (the things my inner
voice tells myself) and how it plays a role in mood… and we talked about nature
vs. nurture; I had a grandmother who died of “a broken heart” and numerous female
family members treated for depression…. And I grew up hearing “I wish I were
dead…” All were food for thought when I
wrote this story… When I wrote it to forgive myself and to make it real… and to
maybe help someone else who might be going through something similar. Some people can’t understand how on earth
someone could commit suicide… I can.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;"> And now? Now it’s more than fifteen years since that
night (I believe God saved me that night because why on earth would the power have
come on at that precise moment?)… I’m still with my husband. It took a VERY long time for things to get
better; five years ago I gave him the ultimatum of divorce, separation, or
counseling… he chose counseling (and help for PTSD). It’s
been five years since I’ve felt the fear of holes in the walls and the name
calling awful fights. And I’m feeling
safe… and I have precious kids that mean the world to me! And I’m falling in love with my husband again
-- You know, the one that I loved when we were dating and who I chose to marry …
And I want to share this with my friends who see my husband and I as having a
really great relationship and to let them know that I understand the hard times
too… And I want to put this “out there” in case there is someone else going
through this who might stumble across it at just the right time and that it
will help.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-82979308844757826022009-12-09T10:07:00.000-08:002009-12-09T10:17:17.295-08:00All I Want for Christmas...So, for all of you out there with little ones who are all grown up, this may take you back... It's the kids' Christmas wish lists:<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcbQZOwi8x_et3zuIBulO7K88oC05SURq2OiF2qGM5bloCX40NyuGBAEwqiiM-qPOp1JOgkEDUNqAPyMCq-tXzMp-l5ztQv9WTC7743e2ORFBht5I2ofFFoZUy6W3X27At6UfWs5qIcg6/s1600-h/scan0004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 310px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcbQZOwi8x_et3zuIBulO7K88oC05SURq2OiF2qGM5bloCX40NyuGBAEwqiiM-qPOp1JOgkEDUNqAPyMCq-tXzMp-l5ztQv9WTC7743e2ORFBht5I2ofFFoZUy6W3X27At6UfWs5qIcg6/s400/scan0004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413300298873391506" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith's wish list (phonetic list above):</span><br />Nintendo DS and DS game<br />Barbie & the 3 Musketeers movie<br />Hanna Montana the Movie<br />Pixoes<br />Phone<br />Aqua Sand<br />Moon Sand<br />The Cupcake maker<br />Clothes<br />a horse toy<br />record player<br />a hat<br />a cat<br />a clock<br />a fishing rod<br />a fox toy<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OY_5M0_D-VPqPqDOkxu5KBEy_LwQH6wS7CLqjZfKCiDpS4BA-AZLXgyhcVHU1xpkNv40OmJn0Q66Z5PrHcODJHKzRNWaxULK0xnQW4XaaJGQRdG_Dk5PeRMKjO0I7ssXZQxg9ZOVx-_S/s1600-h/scan0005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OY_5M0_D-VPqPqDOkxu5KBEy_LwQH6wS7CLqjZfKCiDpS4BA-AZLXgyhcVHU1xpkNv40OmJn0Q66Z5PrHcODJHKzRNWaxULK0xnQW4XaaJGQRdG_Dk5PeRMKjO0I7ssXZQxg9ZOVx-_S/s400/scan0005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413300286905717202" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Elijah's wish list (above):</span><br />LEGO Indiana Jones 2: The Adventure continues<br />[pretty easy shopping list!]<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdjr5GS_Ij2gcaoGX5QJuTa7oToMy96TA8tncKq09pXpNegLhyP64L3z7JIh2F1kUR1hbIRMH9dCZitxztjI3sgNFWzZgceKDKhyphenhyphenipSXqJ8YDqlxUBI_bjM6hA4E30Q6i_4Q_N0JOdtIh/s1600-h/scan0006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisdjr5GS_Ij2gcaoGX5QJuTa7oToMy96TA8tncKq09pXpNegLhyP64L3z7JIh2F1kUR1hbIRMH9dCZitxztjI3sgNFWzZgceKDKhyphenhyphenipSXqJ8YDqlxUBI_bjM6hA4E30Q6i_4Q_N0JOdtIh/s400/scan0006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413300281702070514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Isaac's wish list (above):</span><br />The Legend of Zelda: Spirit traeks for the Nintendo DS<br />[too cute: his list was originally longer but he tore it up and only gave us the piece above... when questioned, he finally admitted that the longer list included guns and knives... Ahh, to be a nearly-14-year-old boy!]<br /></div><br /><br />and finally....<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6mdlooVsrf_3yCKe1A693_F-kcbU1Q6TN6nw9pqTmr68m_ofcarpa1VyHLrwFBqnmi57oXGrGyMHudKjxwKre-DZTzH_734gRJDhyphenhyphensDQinn5zwVO5WKDieo38FgE2IUBVEzVm5flNrDb/s1600-h/scan0003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 283px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp6mdlooVsrf_3yCKe1A693_F-kcbU1Q6TN6nw9pqTmr68m_ofcarpa1VyHLrwFBqnmi57oXGrGyMHudKjxwKre-DZTzH_734gRJDhyphenhyphensDQinn5zwVO5WKDieo38FgE2IUBVEzVm5flNrDb/s400/scan0003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5413300269988908786" border="0" /></a>Faith's sweet letter to Santa... So sweet! ("Toy snow man, pony, guitar, santa toy, new gloves, cat, new bear, the best Christmas!")<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">MERRY</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">CHRISTMAS</span>!! </span>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-81230028102740369822009-11-01T20:07:00.000-08:002009-11-01T20:14:44.627-08:00Halloween Good Times....This year for Halloween we went up to Salem to see our good friends Carrie & Geoff who were gracious enough to host a Halloween Party. Tons of fun, lots of Rock Band, and we even spent the night after staying up until about 2 AM partying hard! We really appreciated the hospitality and fun :-)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrIEWNCRGWW0YSwdirKKZ79vRFDbNj-Cvhfrwb0PjMVxw1nc7bCqW4eLRRgj6L4CkeB3n2Wrh6NG-UcfleuO0-K_EFjDznSgrxEFQqr2vAKi6Fah-v15IgFY7ifxI6_zDFPgiuC_tjSov/s1600-h/Oct2009+115.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqrIEWNCRGWW0YSwdirKKZ79vRFDbNj-Cvhfrwb0PjMVxw1nc7bCqW4eLRRgj6L4CkeB3n2Wrh6NG-UcfleuO0-K_EFjDznSgrxEFQqr2vAKi6Fah-v15IgFY7ifxI6_zDFPgiuC_tjSov/s400/Oct2009+115.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354792649233906" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx4B4qS-ShT4ZE_CO4xdcSv6v_3eY7Zcu2Wvzogg3qS0IfrD7O1TApU8Hhc-aVLvjOGyKCQEMIpMUg8W1MpdinDFjp3Xw4i4X8XLsy_YCLQGk9l63SQXXqzlq2g-Cgrfof0ducRs4gvLw7/s1600-h/Oct2009+116.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJSRWh5YMtkXOqiqBePP2eQw7TvYCY5G8QfleUMhqgzx86GDHBtVdDdYyVbcpBc-zJH-v-3BludeGNhSo3dBbpPhdLV00ASxg5TO5xUp-02DLKkJhq0X0IKwr9l83CER73PvVQBhsISr1O/s400/Oct2009+129.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354772975515842" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWuN37eNjD0nHYAPCC5gs5AQaKeqyBPwQx2asRVJz15oh485uKvPzBgn-MkpIOIM-sguFXrxtIguAPBXz0VT1ID5DQ_CMilQAJlqLAoCrIFO0V-v2Dk9PkudSpqOkVT7GnI_fme2ujnPvQ/s1600-h/Oct2009+111.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWuN37eNjD0nHYAPCC5gs5AQaKeqyBPwQx2asRVJz15oh485uKvPzBgn-MkpIOIM-sguFXrxtIguAPBXz0VT1ID5DQ_CMilQAJlqLAoCrIFO0V-v2Dk9PkudSpqOkVT7GnI_fme2ujnPvQ/s400/Oct2009+111.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354044649077682" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjByMp_ok5M6WSbsz04y9SGMmVHkuGWk8g70ynhDrWALnKfg9V_Q8gr9f9oSqJdY_u8myMCneyd5wRgbn7jNqJJypfqfVl8VAFa6lEajS5wdnqA6mkgh74NzDtXTSlXje2N16eWvU9jmUG/s1600-h/Oct2009+114.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjByMp_ok5M6WSbsz04y9SGMmVHkuGWk8g70ynhDrWALnKfg9V_Q8gr9f9oSqJdY_u8myMCneyd5wRgbn7jNqJJypfqfVl8VAFa6lEajS5wdnqA6mkgh74NzDtXTSlXje2N16eWvU9jmUG/s400/Oct2009+114.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354039515844930" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkNyzGQIBMTip3R14vMHU0Vc60827y5kzeR6ZI_DHkvnWCWQKh0S_SD7H8UxPlTbvpOYPPfgKoXKXhSamuzsTDpHmTMnOKqEpI8k7_Z-l8hMVsQACjMdXKJsoR9WTEWS6hTNTEgOGeUU1/s1600-h/Oct2009+107.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwkNyzGQIBMTip3R14vMHU0Vc60827y5kzeR6ZI_DHkvnWCWQKh0S_SD7H8UxPlTbvpOYPPfgKoXKXhSamuzsTDpHmTMnOKqEpI8k7_Z-l8hMVsQACjMdXKJsoR9WTEWS6hTNTEgOGeUU1/s400/Oct2009+107.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354030390204418" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2Yg4BamgJEFNyRAM_GrL2_yQHA-QTV8346f-AG4sa9kr95O5mTPaO3gNTEi9pQWiPvOJgBrgMOy05hYN72RqS-fQgn5Q1gvcyUgI0VQaGqfypxMWhbGTcmvv1q2NNRDno2VbW9xT7Zi5/s1600-h/Oct2009+105.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2Yg4BamgJEFNyRAM_GrL2_yQHA-QTV8346f-AG4sa9kr95O5mTPaO3gNTEi9pQWiPvOJgBrgMOy05hYN72RqS-fQgn5Q1gvcyUgI0VQaGqfypxMWhbGTcmvv1q2NNRDno2VbW9xT7Zi5/s400/Oct2009+105.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354021368093522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXolMx_hHimKuhcBs-muiwYnV8BveOVKozXYfQPA-bHO8JSGRvAqDDu79tEHQbyW0VoykHQeyBbihbXvXJZvVOs0A-lMjn5Cpxjhq9Pgip4ZWHtp7bHYSMPnzKOupt5PWgCnepSTo_x8dv/s1600-h/Oct2009+135.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXolMx_hHimKuhcBs-muiwYnV8BveOVKozXYfQPA-bHO8JSGRvAqDDu79tEHQbyW0VoykHQeyBbihbXvXJZvVOs0A-lMjn5Cpxjhq9Pgip4ZWHtp7bHYSMPnzKOupt5PWgCnepSTo_x8dv/s400/Oct2009+135.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399354015851652178" border="0" /></a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-54426637650011550572009-11-01T20:00:00.001-08:002009-11-01T20:07:02.370-08:00Halloween at PeaceHealthIsn't this awesome?!? :-)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XTmoVv1TaC89E4hugH4PBTLlnkPdnkcV7Oa00odiRm4HAHk9w8IY3gkXZHqfHkYfky_H_UvmclxZ_Nmk4-7hT_SnOOI1TXxdesnTFRIDHYDJ_45cVMh3Hp4xNLVQHXB6cvXDXKlVUC-e/s1600-h/Oct2009+089.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6XTmoVv1TaC89E4hugH4PBTLlnkPdnkcV7Oa00odiRm4HAHk9w8IY3gkXZHqfHkYfky_H_UvmclxZ_Nmk4-7hT_SnOOI1TXxdesnTFRIDHYDJ_45cVMh3Hp4xNLVQHXB6cvXDXKlVUC-e/s400/Oct2009+089.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399352620477437522" border="0" /></a>Nilda and Rachelle<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmo9jplFVTiQiH1w9WL-Gz9zW-6ic-pazvcSLdT-SpFjzULCf81mt_3kSyDvI1BpPmjsWEpeh0cgS9KEX03h9p-oJ1Iww9znLEWrnIq_y_FSN99AXk9CozWmgroAF92G5L0gidrHniGN3P/s1600-h/Oct2009+090.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmo9jplFVTiQiH1w9WL-Gz9zW-6ic-pazvcSLdT-SpFjzULCf81mt_3kSyDvI1BpPmjsWEpeh0cgS9KEX03h9p-oJ1Iww9znLEWrnIq_y_FSN99AXk9CozWmgroAF92G5L0gidrHniGN3P/s400/Oct2009+090.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399352612492123122" border="0" /></a>Patti<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwu4R3Hfau2OAWC0vUtVL1UJEnhbI9VHrb2PwKivA9lcUckP6cAL7YGB-wNOQUxxQpnmT_M0tUeonv6sIl74Ioee_gIbKRv90dLCxriNg8oSsc97kQWUsbDEb_LfYEvM6rOEI4Moy5Xsz/s1600-h/Oct2009+093.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpm3kVfpVw3jSr_937bYoqrVcPU1zLfVaE4mEYTZGPDcDkvYjWSxule1YXvoFlsvN5JeXvS8mtkjQn2jRub9jpQsbD4gC7GMayOyY6Ok3hQZUmMH-P_W1Ln9CHL5ONboTYm1_B1sulJ_Ws/s400/Oct2009+099.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399351919022347218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-yuD-xwURXkxpQdUpkyLkl6KPxRLfJq_lXiubdWwN37UfGZ3CSSM4qxkXqxhW59VfHMpVdVGHIfUR3VmifHHN5nxKgiZPg_VaQVKtbMjdAfedI1ei3Kbl2wpb0nDI7f9bDsILU9-rx-6/s1600-h/Oct2009+100.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp-yuD-xwURXkxpQdUpkyLkl6KPxRLfJq_lXiubdWwN37UfGZ3CSSM4qxkXqxhW59VfHMpVdVGHIfUR3VmifHHN5nxKgiZPg_VaQVKtbMjdAfedI1ei3Kbl2wpb0nDI7f9bDsILU9-rx-6/s400/Oct2009+100.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399351916186878658" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6TUi4lgRkF7JjAH4ROZiGBZqM-7dZjb7NwCTnlAcy6iADFHgYNXjrRo6LuehM7idmkRvkvVRfH3sXALKowN32qYWxldYw5zD9eMP5X5_aWGMu9RIU4J98gOL3-5Polk4PMDp3Y6JYdor/s1600-h/Oct2009+101.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL6TUi4lgRkF7JjAH4ROZiGBZqM-7dZjb7NwCTnlAcy6iADFHgYNXjrRo6LuehM7idmkRvkvVRfH3sXALKowN32qYWxldYw5zD9eMP5X5_aWGMu9RIU4J98gOL3-5Polk4PMDp3Y6JYdor/s400/Oct2009+101.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399351911444864034" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttNnfVQpQRZyOMhQQnc8JGnFuiIsM4mzdVveqelTUD5aeUrw804FOgVFmCUQjecpSJsj9KhlUNgrSJjaOMT6hLYatLr-1DyUcSHCdK95nsGsR2hMfy9EPFEj-mvl6rSe5qr2c8PPU3gQW/s1600-h/Oct2009+102.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttNnfVQpQRZyOMhQQnc8JGnFuiIsM4mzdVveqelTUD5aeUrw804FOgVFmCUQjecpSJsj9KhlUNgrSJjaOMT6hLYatLr-1DyUcSHCdK95nsGsR2hMfy9EPFEj-mvl6rSe5qr2c8PPU3gQW/s400/Oct2009+102.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399351899516886754" border="0" /></a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-38830826764047656882009-11-01T19:58:00.001-08:002009-11-01T19:59:59.101-08:00Happy Halloween!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOw1vKhzv_dmnZ5qmy8FBWC-3cd2hKZSxhDQq-sU1LdwiUU5yDeYhXpdiOGcZChtm4XcZTbQDi5rJEaIpraq9pygPQ8PVGMJYd5KPRFJwoSASVwkUOBE9D-Aad_J1jDtLRYqtZDxXZFkOv/s1600-h/Oct2009+086.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOw1vKhzv_dmnZ5qmy8FBWC-3cd2hKZSxhDQq-sU1LdwiUU5yDeYhXpdiOGcZChtm4XcZTbQDi5rJEaIpraq9pygPQ8PVGMJYd5KPRFJwoSASVwkUOBE9D-Aad_J1jDtLRYqtZDxXZFkOv/s400/Oct2009+086.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399351069327397522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD-2yzwpDW8hqBZD4BmL2IDRDYRqT8OBD2W3kNicp2xR3MEhOx7UaKcDjeGiAU-XIjGJTgYQgLyaGDgeODWrHuJ4icFRElf5TlFjtuozwNoL_XBOydMBIoca2MsHoMj0xAPVZfAm5r1D0u/s1600-h/Oct2009+086.jpg"><br /></a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-7297004888116507032009-11-01T19:47:00.001-08:002009-11-01T19:56:47.993-08:00Family Fun at the Pumpkin Patch<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1T1LiuJ1MO9OFm-T8RQblOkJLhIjNFK8f5Y7huRs05YEFVeqVT5C0cwTc8O_Kwpr_XlI6OIrrFTDW5MwMPqxqY9901zY0t0_OkfC65YYfpY7d_U-aHLz_FJ_pxZJHYlXH4HEVNXasRxVj/s1600-h/Oct2009+057.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1T1LiuJ1MO9OFm-T8RQblOkJLhIjNFK8f5Y7huRs05YEFVeqVT5C0cwTc8O_Kwpr_XlI6OIrrFTDW5MwMPqxqY9901zY0t0_OkfC65YYfpY7d_U-aHLz_FJ_pxZJHYlXH4HEVNXasRxVj/s320/Oct2009+057.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399349320398530610" border="0" /></a><br />You've got to love the PumPkin Patch especially when the trek includes:<br /><br />- tons of fun in the fall leaves<br />- time with my honey<br />- fresh hot apple cider<br />- caramel apples<br />- kettle corn<br />- 96 lbs of pumpkins<br />- 3 silly kids who fought over getting pushed in the wheel barrow<br />- a beautiful, crisp, sunny shiny day in the fall in Oregon!!<br /><br />Praise the Lord!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBUTFrM0k9oq-eC1VJjRcqJjRJf8P0dg-l1S-OiJ6NDiIPW2PTUPaO-eAbCP20Dg8QWNJ3WfdqGayg7Evf0Way9eUJr6JPBjIGfqtAoP7AXb7n-Tsmz8tILx0CzvCIfXOMbbZlD-S95Fy/s1600-h/Oct2009+068.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOsBJOoV2loUbHlv6cmck-uF5V1MOE94fa9IHZusVvl8c2S1w0DAKU9oCM_IyZsUvB6Ig1Y3FKCWlLw7mK3p-AualXtLaXDRh86AaZnQLUzEUFPMIo6Lt1V1fY-lJC8xFxjN00kZQVs5BI/s320/Oct2009+070.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399349823518315570" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_GVSwE3NFiOrulXPUDfoINlYRaIPfX_lVq3-3nPRNpuGn-wHd7IQqPZwAYeGgcmfwIE2WucAwfENLUwKnw147Pc9WXhUpeH0vt2ldCoENHR5IrgxTNLibqRBZnDdeu0nUs4BweCkePbs/s1600-h/Oct2009+064.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_GVSwE3NFiOrulXPUDfoINlYRaIPfX_lVq3-3nPRNpuGn-wHd7IQqPZwAYeGgcmfwIE2WucAwfENLUwKnw147Pc9WXhUpeH0vt2ldCoENHR5IrgxTNLibqRBZnDdeu0nUs4BweCkePbs/s320/Oct2009+064.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399349344667539474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfIA3mieeQ5Yf2M_13JRUxyYR8yYflCP5vo5eznEF4kEbq5KkRQsKm05mg2nGkdgNsU7sHJqTloWhllN_yX_yzDszBnNQp7-zEUTWeBppdT0VFRu31vA9LZC2rY7z3QakBhdFSVON1KYE0/s1600-h/Oct2009+060.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfIA3mieeQ5Yf2M_13JRUxyYR8yYflCP5vo5eznEF4kEbq5KkRQsKm05mg2nGkdgNsU7sHJqTloWhllN_yX_yzDszBnNQp7-zEUTWeBppdT0VFRu31vA9LZC2rY7z3QakBhdFSVON1KYE0/s320/Oct2009+060.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399349342072175474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRDmy2-hozmOHlFlKuY0eVlTzXWyZhhf4_tOURrqV0fX7rdrLGYWAJvUk988Q8Rm0uI32jdhI28kTRBt2UWst7WHbpAh5r1Vkfmd4_tOIIJnqzDbxjqyRbgaPFTyZMVtFbr9nk27PcZ-r/s1600-h/Oct2009+059.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeRDmy2-hozmOHlFlKuY0eVlTzXWyZhhf4_tOURrqV0fX7rdrLGYWAJvUk988Q8Rm0uI32jdhI28kTRBt2UWst7WHbpAh5r1Vkfmd4_tOIIJnqzDbxjqyRbgaPFTyZMVtFbr9nk27PcZ-r/s320/Oct2009+059.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399349331623227058" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVnm2pTf2uClDO2d55V7j820b23e_jIRHT4tb2jnSagdzV2aMPG086T_j1DMkc3wsH-BI_zfFYJlPoThLSRLDBXjTRT3d6yHBwaTGVsq_4Z1CxmlYwufm2P3bqxzYeblTQRZFTpkT5t2c3/s1600-h/Oct2009+058.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVnm2pTf2uClDO2d55V7j820b23e_jIRHT4tb2jnSagdzV2aMPG086T_j1DMkc3wsH-BI_zfFYJlPoThLSRLDBXjTRT3d6yHBwaTGVsq_4Z1CxmlYwufm2P3bqxzYeblTQRZFTpkT5t2c3/s320/Oct2009+058.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399349326044087250" border="0" /></a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-9336910972628231242009-11-01T19:34:00.000-08:002009-11-01T19:46:05.784-08:00Happy Birthday Baby Doll .... Joel's 32nd Birthday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbhzvCtxlXKyIiUTqbyd-yocjMdbxQC2EPh26Pbd5G8rtg3gpDjlBBr58pDswzhs4-1caarUH7xcYfoSyGXgIa2QcHHq7wT_jVE3XJkNborQcu7m3ytWeFzFak7pKoAMAAe6LrT0wu6Lg/s1600-h/Oct2009+043.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbhzvCtxlXKyIiUTqbyd-yocjMdbxQC2EPh26Pbd5G8rtg3gpDjlBBr58pDswzhs4-1caarUH7xcYfoSyGXgIa2QcHHq7wT_jVE3XJkNborQcu7m3ytWeFzFak7pKoAMAAe6LrT0wu6Lg/s320/Oct2009+043.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399346716488702626" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Joel's birthday was a couple of weeks ago and as a special surprise Joel's mom flew in from Arizona to surprise him for his birthday. We hadn't seen her for about 4.5 years and so it was especially nice for the kids to get to know their Grandma Donna :-)<br /><br />Alas, the only "downer" was that I had a doozy of a head cold and so we weren't able to do all the fabulous things that I'd hoped (e.g. beach, pumpkin patch, etc.) ... instead we spent the weekend cuddling on the couch, watching movies, and Grandma let Faithy have a hey-day playing games with her Facebook account (Happy Aquarium and the Cafe were her favorites).<br /><br />It was GREAT to see her and have that special time (thank you Donna!) !<br /><br />:-)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYb5P2OzeW6mYoC9clhNyUTgxhVxXM6D7O9j5dWFDmNY00il7ue9JDLIq4pEywgZ2VotqaV2qlHaruEPdQwn-27e3RztKQxaDEvwoFSDLjv6eXneUdKLsjeT6EG2TpS2xO6IV4bQtEy8D/s1600-h/Oct2009+044.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLYb5P2OzeW6mYoC9clhNyUTgxhVxXM6D7O9j5dWFDmNY00il7ue9JDLIq4pEywgZ2VotqaV2qlHaruEPdQwn-27e3RztKQxaDEvwoFSDLjv6eXneUdKLsjeT6EG2TpS2xO6IV4bQtEy8D/s320/Oct2009+044.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399346724300269650" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bVCfG6_RHZzScXSfkyMqgQr6jf4ZDR7rCWd3aFORAbft4oBb13hQTyyS6-9nHPo-WAsVYb_vUnDlIAoDPsEqaPUc8xRO5hXmOZNOlijf4hMdoOjS7PewST-ToQlN1497YlrrVkAAAie0/s1600-h/Oct2009+046.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bVCfG6_RHZzScXSfkyMqgQr6jf4ZDR7rCWd3aFORAbft4oBb13hQTyyS6-9nHPo-WAsVYb_vUnDlIAoDPsEqaPUc8xRO5hXmOZNOlijf4hMdoOjS7PewST-ToQlN1497YlrrVkAAAie0/s320/Oct2009+046.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399346730905592882" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgW2vAa3tF-JL2I-EtUk5UJIGTRuDjxeCpgrF1BNM1tRy6y1NTJkzClA1JLbA8XjfGSAQwYyL1AXjMXAotGiMA62NCs91WHU_gRnuGLX0uCpaEiJvMpjWWQ4ssGfJ-sOWbKq8Njim83DB/s1600-h/Oct2009+048.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWgW2vAa3tF-JL2I-EtUk5UJIGTRuDjxeCpgrF1BNM1tRy6y1NTJkzClA1JLbA8XjfGSAQwYyL1AXjMXAotGiMA62NCs91WHU_gRnuGLX0uCpaEiJvMpjWWQ4ssGfJ-sOWbKq8Njim83DB/s320/Oct2009+048.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399346738189762450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hyphenhyphenrCm5i8IO6xbXdbUHtsCqvTVXiTJZIDr8X3XilJKgsUkhtVvCCtozi7_YL0yD3OQivlVIg9bKX26yc1yH87niJ8EzruiOzOYqRubLytq-sL8isOdus2Fl3tHRQHX2Y9_eHUJcFCMZ8-/s1600-h/Oct2009+050.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hyphenhyphenrCm5i8IO6xbXdbUHtsCqvTVXiTJZIDr8X3XilJKgsUkhtVvCCtozi7_YL0yD3OQivlVIg9bKX26yc1yH87niJ8EzruiOzOYqRubLytq-sL8isOdus2Fl3tHRQHX2Y9_eHUJcFCMZ8-/s320/Oct2009+050.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399346745895472338" border="0" /></a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-64927083110893159892009-11-01T19:05:00.000-08:002009-11-01T19:18:15.400-08:00Faithy's Field Trip to Thistledown FarmsI got to volunteer to go on a field trip with Faith's class to Thistledown Farms here in Eugene... we had a lot of fun, can you tell? :-)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMS0Vs7Y8s5sx4PwMWhzhYzqYM7JQ3rlQL97EK7ESpPVKEd87kNqhhwnI472F6ENLO_gR1t8fWownFAmJiuinlkkoLJbWrLrUXnFzEAnAirusC8zT6wUSoiALHLhAPy30X9qYMzdRbAEpp/s1600-h/Oct2009+021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMS0Vs7Y8s5sx4PwMWhzhYzqYM7JQ3rlQL97EK7ESpPVKEd87kNqhhwnI472F6ENLO_gR1t8fWownFAmJiuinlkkoLJbWrLrUXnFzEAnAirusC8zT6wUSoiALHLhAPy30X9qYMzdRbAEpp/s320/Oct2009+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338300794329938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">First graders</span><br /></div><br />For the field trip, each of the adult chaperones were responsible for keeping track of three kids... much easier said than done when you have three independent kids all wanting to explore a farm!<br /><br />Highlights:<br /><br />1.) Cuddling with Faith on the bus ride<br />2.) Hayride to the field<br />3.) Feeding the goats (the kids were grabbing leaves to feed the goats)<br />4.) Going through the corn maze with the kids (granted, it was tricky when they each wanted to take a different path in the maze!)<br />5.) Beautiful scenery - the farm was great!<br />6.) Special time together.....<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPneMNA-V-1Nfmq_o6ftVrhWptyJC3G4RZqKbIpc5WO5jQNFKYgXzMZ7BCWC7Kszk4jGdcb3XUfbyt5-fwaEHzFKJd9OOAz-LKFk9uOz52UREpXi-BAVkyEqe-WHjgtTXLGZwR2kfD_9g2/s1600-h/Oct2009+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPneMNA-V-1Nfmq_o6ftVrhWptyJC3G4RZqKbIpc5WO5jQNFKYgXzMZ7BCWC7Kszk4jGdcb3XUfbyt5-fwaEHzFKJd9OOAz-LKFk9uOz52UREpXi-BAVkyEqe-WHjgtTXLGZwR2kfD_9g2/s320/Oct2009+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338296864078450" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBj9X4g3-XMckReDkWIPn9rJt1OURvd5skTjAslL9Mx59yJf-UI7BzYHk2viS8wcaHhBudfmARfbXvYx3VCTs5TkNqhJVvHZ_YwZUJUeMJ922gZZmNg1bjhQsku11UwxXlHpVgw3WzA0-/s1600-h/Oct2009+018.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFBj9X4g3-XMckReDkWIPn9rJt1OURvd5skTjAslL9Mx59yJf-UI7BzYHk2viS8wcaHhBudfmARfbXvYx3VCTs5TkNqhJVvHZ_YwZUJUeMJ922gZZmNg1bjhQsku11UwxXlHpVgw3WzA0-/s320/Oct2009+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338290303121298" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBtcw-pUJl0g_YmIWKOeZDCYOMY_xM_uLJ50nKZ-8OFokTXMnL0osPE3QEMZouIOTUF-lS7cxKuqIXCOOPy9Ji-MpgWynE9r8I9cd4iF60zTQycoeh1wtgtammwT3FRrrsDHuynY75-T9/s1600-h/Oct2009+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBtcw-pUJl0g_YmIWKOeZDCYOMY_xM_uLJ50nKZ-8OFokTXMnL0osPE3QEMZouIOTUF-lS7cxKuqIXCOOPy9Ji-MpgWynE9r8I9cd4iF60zTQycoeh1wtgtammwT3FRrrsDHuynY75-T9/s320/Oct2009+015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338081179196962" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlIWhmLb7CIgWgeMFdLMuJgje0jZG2Bj3HLu-Q1tHGZ3ZwVUZuf3a34JDXJZoFKpZ6ZVZUpWTbq1iS5ZRy_fzGuawYdpCVuoLFkMvLNg03AfMAq8LjDw8CPzLijetpGIQMycOGOwd98G5/s1600-h/Oct2009+014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAlIWhmLb7CIgWgeMFdLMuJgje0jZG2Bj3HLu-Q1tHGZ3ZwVUZuf3a34JDXJZoFKpZ6ZVZUpWTbq1iS5ZRy_fzGuawYdpCVuoLFkMvLNg03AfMAq8LjDw8CPzLijetpGIQMycOGOwd98G5/s320/Oct2009+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338077670362402" border="0" /></a>They had to explore every inch of the field in search of the best "tiny" little pumpkins.... the rule was that they could pick a pumpkin no bigger than their head. One of the girls was in search of the smallest, cutest pumpkin she could find; she ended up with a pumpkin roughly the size of a small orange. The second little girl was kinda quiet and just ran along -- she was the last to pick her pumpkin. Faith was undecided and switched pumpkins a few times. All in all, lots of fun!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oTtk1l55UlwhotvBfUSsgdM0jdAV7ZtdwfWZxXKx9QrMcKRNg60tLOWrltkucEMsqw8f8vo92ZR6o4aZpbrEzp8IjCxUvAtUOfwzpdoW__i9YT-KtkcH-K7rSnxWLrs-HCdnrAVvk5n7/s1600-h/Oct2009+010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-oTtk1l55UlwhotvBfUSsgdM0jdAV7ZtdwfWZxXKx9QrMcKRNg60tLOWrltkucEMsqw8f8vo92ZR6o4aZpbrEzp8IjCxUvAtUOfwzpdoW__i9YT-KtkcH-K7rSnxWLrs-HCdnrAVvk5n7/s320/Oct2009+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338072490305922" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqfURH_L0jfROJApAcYpoEDzwr4Aey9CuMyBCbUGVKrHVQpPY419IUDir1L-lWguvk_EjFDevwUs2BJDAyAFMQ-YVPQYTEahk4ZzsmPnf8b1LnDU2Tczg5IenpNEnm-ucRM2h3ossrqUK/s1600-h/Oct2009+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqfURH_L0jfROJApAcYpoEDzwr4Aey9CuMyBCbUGVKrHVQpPY419IUDir1L-lWguvk_EjFDevwUs2BJDAyAFMQ-YVPQYTEahk4ZzsmPnf8b1LnDU2Tczg5IenpNEnm-ucRM2h3ossrqUK/s320/Oct2009+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338067203919026" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">So many choices!!!</span><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MqiSYJUHYFULikrx7vhZchduVCOtPRtx66U6SI_M492KWy-UvmfyT3w2ULkqbWTh8rcJPQZyChA2WleeCH3jLlogfpjFxZvD4zvutNg_OZ1KzoTtCi8CtvfjU2UVVBQLC9wv7VkU6EAM/s1600-h/Oct2009+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5MqiSYJUHYFULikrx7vhZchduVCOtPRtx66U6SI_M492KWy-UvmfyT3w2ULkqbWTh8rcJPQZyChA2WleeCH3jLlogfpjFxZvD4zvutNg_OZ1KzoTtCi8CtvfjU2UVVBQLC9wv7VkU6EAM/s320/Oct2009+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399338058341885810" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-weight: bold;">A Happy Day :-)<br /></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-41297373429182388672009-09-16T18:46:00.000-07:002009-09-16T18:56:06.655-07:00Happy Birthday Baby!<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Faith's birthday: 7 years old!!</span></b> Can you believe it?!? Wow. (Right now she's big into watching re-runs of "<st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>'s Next Top Model" and posing away... growing up too fast!) We started with the family birthday party...<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01q_ZG8YgloFoqKzAYAF6BvafnzfpsK91UH91lzChwXBxo4zPZ4dGYfUeAyTsa7EwvRq90e0F4gKnQAiaWrQ-CjkYV3A9eKKcX_rhrxvgO1hpDWVAkGC4EaT3sVsh3XtkhmORPdM4RF4t/s1600-h/Sept2009+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg01q_ZG8YgloFoqKzAYAF6BvafnzfpsK91UH91lzChwXBxo4zPZ4dGYfUeAyTsa7EwvRq90e0F4gKnQAiaWrQ-CjkYV3A9eKKcX_rhrxvgO1hpDWVAkGC4EaT3sVsh3XtkhmORPdM4RF4t/s320/Sept2009+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382247167834245794" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26FGT771AKgmby_cUeSkMQdSPhdlRzQJlO_aYR6KXBkVFemd-1KN2Mobkfahh5AkStzxQN_vC3wBjlngW9yE2o0OK8Aa4IATmG_vlneVv7WkYaREaaTjfcEP55xLiXE60LcnII1iFnkXu/s1600-h/Sept2009+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi26FGT771AKgmby_cUeSkMQdSPhdlRzQJlO_aYR6KXBkVFemd-1KN2Mobkfahh5AkStzxQN_vC3wBjlngW9yE2o0OK8Aa4IATmG_vlneVv7WkYaREaaTjfcEP55xLiXE60LcnII1iFnkXu/s320/Sept2009+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382247161582098210" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPYbOo9AbqXzBML24WaS_WS8zozea23zHh0Q75AGU8hpJ8L3aaFAvXS5e4Wv5aDbEK_v0optIjR4HQeAudj13aMlo9eqRhlBLKlCFujV77Yjlln6SfOFrCRrPMe5eywqixNS60DkDDJ-I/s1600-h/Sept2009+014.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQPYbOo9AbqXzBML24WaS_WS8zozea23zHh0Q75AGU8hpJ8L3aaFAvXS5e4Wv5aDbEK_v0optIjR4HQeAudj13aMlo9eqRhlBLKlCFujV77Yjlln6SfOFrCRrPMe5eywqixNS60DkDDJ-I/s320/Sept2009+014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382247154336183106" border="0" /></a><br />And ended the birthday parties marathon ("crazies") this past weekend with <b><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">Faith's very first birthday party with friends</span></b>: pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, pinata, chocolate cake, and presents. What could be better?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA98bhF4m5eW1llcviKDpacwjIwcxJeibqotzBTrpRbvy62lccQ5z36H1jfhQPNck9fYs3UpeoXUGgoCe5BLJPvdAoOd9OK0plynLWhjkgYn8AsV7oKk7U-CUaWPB0Gpvjwt7ejKwrsd5D/s1600-h/Sept2009+021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA98bhF4m5eW1llcviKDpacwjIwcxJeibqotzBTrpRbvy62lccQ5z36H1jfhQPNck9fYs3UpeoXUGgoCe5BLJPvdAoOd9OK0plynLWhjkgYn8AsV7oKk7U-CUaWPB0Gpvjwt7ejKwrsd5D/s320/Sept2009+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382248577178057266" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr5sIdaRxXDPbGtmKFKHd6XtOJib98WdbhoNtsOxGNC_hvrx9yA8kyMFZsr6660IbaJ68ERR94STgkkAhqIGgdWg6KCxvt0OTio5sZVxsswPH6qy18vjSgeY5-lFHAoewN99ltTdjIeWM0/s1600-h/Sept2009+015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQyUKnFCVoCcwY0Dy_yqgZkrEgsc52PcD1BNUmUoT1JktnYUpA21cQ7mDg8OeJzN40dw200ZSQJon3zZDsq5JC1kdcWrEoFMF0W8KXvYm9kTJlLLtsyFi7UyRxAe9-1a2ifVbjQP49RTbk/s320/Sept2009+033.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382247604244026418" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76xSMHSm4h_PvmyGfgqxNI_5luCmfWXpomvYjdAu_8r-Gympf_dV54_hskCtJFKBsn3bAeF4DQ0MeFiMhU1RaI9AMUvYmgjIdhalGGg5NFqf6E1jUzMZSLVpnnb_trC4w32sKKP28m_bc/s1600-h/Sept2009+021.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382233782239383602" spid="_x0000_i1028" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76xSMHSm4h_PvmyGfgqxNI_5luCmfWXpomvYjdAu_8r-Gympf_dV54_hskCtJFKBsn3bAeF4DQ0MeFiMhU1RaI9AMUvYmgjIdhalGGg5NFqf6E1jUzMZSLVpnnb_trC4w32sKKP28m_bc/s1600-h/Sept2009+021.jpg" style="'width:24pt;height:24pt'" button="t"><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hV7uOBv_eIRXF8zWwle0y_KZnt11gpadaVwy9urFRJ6rnNXBa1QAeAf2pFjogiuv7R6qIgx1_KKIiHExc4EEtdRXeamf8yH5TGq8kR9SCWOctEo9R6m2oiz4RWKHz0lDjBE5RIdmOWFN/s1600-h/Sept2009+015.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382233764058378882" spid="_x0000_i1029" type="#_x0000_t75" alt="" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hV7uOBv_eIRXF8zWwle0y_KZnt11gpadaVwy9urFRJ6rnNXBa1QAeAf2pFjogiuv7R6qIgx1_KKIiHExc4EEtdRXeamf8yH5TGq8kR9SCWOctEo9R6m2oiz4RWKHz0lDjBE5RIdmOWFN/s1600-h/Sept2009+015.jpg" style="'width:24pt;height:24pt'" button="t"><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--></span></a> HAPPY BIRTHDAY Faith!! I love you! :-)<o:p></o:p></p>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-63884315524430967932009-09-16T18:29:00.000-07:002009-09-16T18:45:59.649-07:00Let's Talk About Sex Baby...So, about a week or two ago, this is about how the conversation went:<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">[Picture this: I'm sitting on my bed working on my laptop with the TV on as background noise when Miss. Faith comes into my room and sits down on the bed next to me.]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith: </span>"Tell me about the 'S' word." <br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> "Huh?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">[whispering]</span> "You know, <span style="font-weight: bold;">sex</span>"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> [surprised, but playing it cool] </span> "What would you like to know?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">[very matter-of-fact] </span>"Well on TV they were talking about how parents need to talk to their kids about sex. So what do I need to know?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> "What would you like to know?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span> "Well, when should I be doing it?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">[thinking "Never!", but calmly answer]</span> "Usually it's after college ... " <span style="font-style: italic;">[okay, not always]</span> "... and it's usually with the person you're marrying. Does that make sense?" <span style="font-style: italic;">[let's not get into all the other parts of this discussion right now...]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span> "Hmm. Okay. So why do people have sex?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> "Well, it feels nice and some people just have sex because it feels nice. But it's <span style="font-weight: bold;">best</span> when people do it do when they love each other and want to have a baby."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">[as a statement]</span> "So you and Dad have sex."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> "Yep. . . Do you have any other questions?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> [all casual]</span> "Nope."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span> "Feel free to ask me if you have any more questions."<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Faith:</span> "Okay." <span style="font-style: italic;">[And she hops off the bed and heads off to play.]</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">[Dear Lord!]</span><br /><br /><br />Ahh, yet another day with a precocious child.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-53592385456384150942009-09-16T18:03:00.000-07:002009-09-16T18:07:00.379-07:00The First Day of First Grade!I vaguely remember first grade, but one of my recollections was of being really nervous... In contrast, Miss. Faith was all confidence. I really admire her bravery and courage as she started a new school this year.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Te55fYNL3q7xmYrRkGQ2M5pTV1_Scr6hdKTsAUxb3IdV1p0TYxnfF1xC_WrMnPrBpW-muKuZYRPqtHfaOx35tSwKsLyPb-ReHqg4G8wMqPKeOnPnuSu32D8djliSBRtQQcP1VC3j6nHR/s1600-h/dowloaded09012009+475.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2Te55fYNL3q7xmYrRkGQ2M5pTV1_Scr6hdKTsAUxb3IdV1p0TYxnfF1xC_WrMnPrBpW-muKuZYRPqtHfaOx35tSwKsLyPb-ReHqg4G8wMqPKeOnPnuSu32D8djliSBRtQQcP1VC3j6nHR/s320/dowloaded09012009+475.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382236343915848690" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpC9tpwtupRvJTKqUXt0b6F4RkHHVh4YRnj6ZxSDkG7ca2AEdoZ1xthvhpPUv0eO6KTdhapEAmnUpOHsm6rYlgSw1oWIMdP5miPRoe8nUN8IxPIlpV8O3Xqssc5xEeqkHFG9zIgdSXiWPi/s1600-h/dowloaded09012009+478.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpC9tpwtupRvJTKqUXt0b6F4RkHHVh4YRnj6ZxSDkG7ca2AEdoZ1xthvhpPUv0eO6KTdhapEAmnUpOHsm6rYlgSw1oWIMdP5miPRoe8nUN8IxPIlpV8O3Xqssc5xEeqkHFG9zIgdSXiWPi/s320/dowloaded09012009+478.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382236351754614162" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">You go girl!!</span></span><br /></div><br />I love you :-)Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-5323771023948856462009-09-16T17:34:00.000-07:002009-09-16T18:03:27.717-07:00Happy Birthday Elijah!!We just had weeks and weeks of celebrations starting off with <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 153);">Elijah's birthday party</span> on August 29th at some video game playing place in Eugene. Elijah invited a couple of boys over and they spent a couple hours at a arcade and then had a slumber party at our house with even more video games!! . . . what could be better than that for a boy turning 12 years old?!?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-U_VYHrc-5eN_Sfx7LYoaYMpZDT_G8tAxanOlip-M94wRLb1cfPz90QohSWlMaR3QrBdQ_DTAGYO6Pny__jdMk-wa2H-7-g4WcDaBrAP_YYq74Wa_7xISRpIW_FZQ2XIld95K14qHX89S/s1600-h/dowloaded09012009+470.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-U_VYHrc-5eN_Sfx7LYoaYMpZDT_G8tAxanOlip-M94wRLb1cfPz90QohSWlMaR3QrBdQ_DTAGYO6Pny__jdMk-wa2H-7-g4WcDaBrAP_YYq74Wa_7xISRpIW_FZQ2XIld95K14qHX89S/s320/dowloaded09012009+470.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382231505290853186" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwixGkr35nTyBkEDR8ZInQSOgh0FT0wtXawRwTNMmawZvWSyS_UpO-v4U3J1woiwYOhqoRFefc5fc6C2wFW_jmOHKyu9wwS3mc9-ww-O-Nbf7VW4nBDfEJHgMhpF8jYRn8NuQxEJlW0YUg/s1600-h/dowloaded09012009+448.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaTvf811mipZRWB8eWjFi53ueKhG9BK7-SGlnJb5rnKvoqQoKWypB9_iE9_WixYRVtlwG_Rk1YHJo0vmxL4jTv9kB3JMBEii-bHTvp-Xs3tjoTsykZSKlK5Rf1bG8Fux6p75QJCSIA3EZ9/s320/dowloaded09012009+464.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382230511221274738" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIi84xfO_dO-z52B_tbucHtFck-vvn8I5Rf-V6dTcVeogROyz-w4MVmQgJPUZH7iEqJu-stf5uj-tBihLqJ0TS6WDYEU4_MyFEIl_Sx-oGHZOrqVXK8pJdGinSLMFOYAOTetr32gIk9_8/s1600-h/dowloaded09012009+472.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTIi84xfO_dO-z52B_tbucHtFck-vvn8I5Rf-V6dTcVeogROyz-w4MVmQgJPUZH7iEqJu-stf5uj-tBihLqJ0TS6WDYEU4_MyFEIl_Sx-oGHZOrqVXK8pJdGinSLMFOYAOTetr32gIk9_8/s320/dowloaded09012009+472.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382231509885529714" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxCsURN-zgISFlwOk1erI72fTL50G7AE5TXsC2hzQxwUauaV7_kXAd7IQbR10YlwpWoUVKTMfYwKvl0uJrrAeB3rBaPNP1R_HRITIPocYXG_zD3ia1wAXppWVcIb-OhzrCqltIV6Vo9WT/s1600-h/dowloaded09012009+474.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGxCsURN-zgISFlwOk1erI72fTL50G7AE5TXsC2hzQxwUauaV7_kXAd7IQbR10YlwpWoUVKTMfYwKvl0uJrrAeB3rBaPNP1R_HRITIPocYXG_zD3ia1wAXppWVcIb-OhzrCqltIV6Vo9WT/s320/dowloaded09012009+474.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382231515521849874" border="0" /></a><br />Then, we had a <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">family party for Elijah's actual birthday</span> (a couple days after school started).<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkUA3wkBjAYBQpjUY6yIiZNSurwB7q4cjOuqC52IJTwz5fKOIkS-3jgJbogN_9OKNDQUP-38aM29M06Dtl-w6XFNnoM5-ShkGkl69L6GLeIJSPt089ftLLzc3DkGPOLp_wRyLB6ofP35e/s1600-h/Sept2009+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmkUA3wkBjAYBQpjUY6yIiZNSurwB7q4cjOuqC52IJTwz5fKOIkS-3jgJbogN_9OKNDQUP-38aM29M06Dtl-w6XFNnoM5-ShkGkl69L6GLeIJSPt089ftLLzc3DkGPOLp_wRyLB6ofP35e/s320/Sept2009+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382232319314040482" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpph4CbZ_gstAnuZAAxUddWmKl0Wd79x9B9wSSE8zHET5WNu8rzI3HJgNG8Ph3COLsMaY1q3ykbFgoqvR5sbjiDsydZL9CBvEAf1wJP9w0G7va53BucvyMHyrB1UyaprXJbod8hBp_RKd/s1600-h/Sept2009+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcpph4CbZ_gstAnuZAAxUddWmKl0Wd79x9B9wSSE8zHET5WNu8rzI3HJgNG8Ph3COLsMaY1q3ykbFgoqvR5sbjiDsydZL9CBvEAf1wJP9w0G7va53BucvyMHyrB1UyaprXJbod8hBp_RKd/s320/Sept2009+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382232329725085026" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhgbtu3oPCtD_DbBOBizSsSos3OnJ8IgJEOt9wfuk4f9MHItQtuCDd5qmFmja-LqXLWj7ek6W2dUCwdMtCY8Bxx4aMr7dBXeA5KOYqxMaz_HF-5lt8dbCjm4SsO7Rr2Vt0Rmf4cdv2Y7a/s1600-h/Sept2009+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhgbtu3oPCtD_DbBOBizSsSos3OnJ8IgJEOt9wfuk4f9MHItQtuCDd5qmFmja-LqXLWj7ek6W2dUCwdMtCY8Bxx4aMr7dBXeA5KOYqxMaz_HF-5lt8dbCjm4SsO7Rr2Vt0Rmf4cdv2Y7a/s320/Sept2009+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382232336725093394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4q2GQi_cjazEppvn8YrHCJNV3WeeutKmBprIOIIUvnoKcu6wCCuYv9BtAnA-VFro7DTWZj7GIMh6Imqb901pllC-raPZnxPvOBoCxugvdPv-doVW-cdGWtkbJdJ1VlniEZbrOm1pYD5j/s1600-h/Sept2009+008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgR4q2GQi_cjazEppvn8YrHCJNV3WeeutKmBprIOIIUvnoKcu6wCCuYv9BtAnA-VFro7DTWZj7GIMh6Imqb901pllC-raPZnxPvOBoCxugvdPv-doVW-cdGWtkbJdJ1VlniEZbrOm1pYD5j/s320/Sept2009+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382232341585505490" border="0" /></a><br />HAPPY BIRTHDAY Elijah!!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-78442248001528689632009-07-19T19:38:00.000-07:002009-07-19T20:16:50.884-07:00Happy 4th of July!!! (late. . . )Better late than never. . . I'm FINALLY posting some pictures from our camping trip over 4th of July weekend up at Detroit Lake (SE of Salem, Oregon). We headed up Thursday afternoon after work and stayed until mid-afternoon on the 4th of July (we made sure we were home by the evening of the 4th to ensure that the dogs were okay with the fireworks) . . . We were pooped!! But a great time was had by all!<br /><br />What did we do?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFahwp56urYF9bv973eioV491k8OJCkTEbXyFBiqiQVN2-6m_VKU_3-b_uc3L3ucRxlZSfuy1J2Xg19pILCMVDzYyOjQz_TJo7TM3IAwAssfZwBlqWv0w_kDpRjRzHFks9dyhL0I4KHkgV/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+021.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFahwp56urYF9bv973eioV491k8OJCkTEbXyFBiqiQVN2-6m_VKU_3-b_uc3L3ucRxlZSfuy1J2Xg19pILCMVDzYyOjQz_TJo7TM3IAwAssfZwBlqWv0w_kDpRjRzHFks9dyhL0I4KHkgV/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360369407172835474" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">We packed up and headed out on an adventure! </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytFCDTuXL4KPTJWbh6EXnfy-3WzOvKME1Yre_5k1qKcILtQ67UxcWLJGuYVIub9j9b4OA9uvTs1E6MT76pkeFAGsFMBkbg4KeOLAX5V6Xrf9ENB3ft1CvHFth7jnDENlhtDDKDYCKvJcH/s1600-h/July+2009+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytFCDTuXL4KPTJWbh6EXnfy-3WzOvKME1Yre_5k1qKcILtQ67UxcWLJGuYVIub9j9b4OA9uvTs1E6MT76pkeFAGsFMBkbg4KeOLAX5V6Xrf9ENB3ft1CvHFth7jnDENlhtDDKDYCKvJcH/s320/July+2009+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360367123557069058" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">We swam in the lake<br /> (Isaac dislikes having his picture taken these days)...</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVukXMbemC3vlZzVi8CYvgg6AtTUGGlHojNBY5IoJhU_rm5TnVFLxkI1HfHkerbdmZx6P820I03bZrIVeMn7uhw9Mh8CIp7DGPHPQC4wXjXLSwv0waewvzy05wZMYIJLsaAFn5COmxmSZK/s1600-h/July+2009+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVukXMbemC3vlZzVi8CYvgg6AtTUGGlHojNBY5IoJhU_rm5TnVFLxkI1HfHkerbdmZx6P820I03bZrIVeMn7uhw9Mh8CIp7DGPHPQC4wXjXLSwv0waewvzy05wZMYIJLsaAFn5COmxmSZK/s320/July+2009+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360367126582156818" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">the kids played checkers (I played too and lost<br />against Isaac but won when playing Faith<br />. . . It was my first time playing). . . </span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebivxudcCTeUqCPDD73mPmPR2CuAcEe0LNV7OnPsvUGrILU2SbpON-Fs0egvp_6mX_78lmvLfsZ3gAfRKO5vWbQNk0lV6z9uVVYc2NHS2DC4jXmF5TdeeCGDW1RgyGgowfDlmzHv3vdz8/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebivxudcCTeUqCPDD73mPmPR2CuAcEe0LNV7OnPsvUGrILU2SbpON-Fs0egvp_6mX_78lmvLfsZ3gAfRKO5vWbQNk0lV6z9uVVYc2NHS2DC4jXmF5TdeeCGDW1RgyGgowfDlmzHv3vdz8/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360367138030506658" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">we napped. . . </span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Bhwl5xI1n0Zq2kNDC4aMPwiy02jLzRKy3lgJpZ81aaRXPVvWXV1WT9joIXa-ZAFM5qwQopljiMKFafVBUTNECtQ9hAyR-VCs5Rgkrn0uQCg3NwuNWmcnrSwf279jbKy_E052agFYVDA2/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+018.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Bhwl5xI1n0Zq2kNDC4aMPwiy02jLzRKy3lgJpZ81aaRXPVvWXV1WT9joIXa-ZAFM5qwQopljiMKFafVBUTNECtQ9hAyR-VCs5Rgkrn0uQCg3NwuNWmcnrSwf279jbKy_E052agFYVDA2/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360368310802440466" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ACwZOEHw2dH2RKNdyGr8oPDWWWAqyPkv3vQ1CeIF5l5mvYSdYsWEydaTADF87J8i1TOpgHpWMv2MxYW2XgUBg-oENUqEkeUoo9NHDnJVfa9MuzMcdccccWjSMoE8x02t6ZYMZK_V1DBi/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5ACwZOEHw2dH2RKNdyGr8oPDWWWAqyPkv3vQ1CeIF5l5mvYSdYsWEydaTADF87J8i1TOpgHpWMv2MxYW2XgUBg-oENUqEkeUoo9NHDnJVfa9MuzMcdccccWjSMoE8x02t6ZYMZK_V1DBi/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360367139423191874" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">. . . hiked around the campground with our "Camp Hosts" . . . </span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGrVD4AouYB_9tqm7hk06jOEty8TG838IYMJmcCVmgfmGxbHtuj3DbS2qM8viX0YtCjxC-6ePe1CAGlyb9Xt-3Hn2YS2cPLMZkcBRhxGjVLD9pXWMbAKEbNJqtDBu7Wvj8uplMxOk1EdO/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+025.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUGrVD4AouYB_9tqm7hk06jOEty8TG838IYMJmcCVmgfmGxbHtuj3DbS2qM8viX0YtCjxC-6ePe1CAGlyb9Xt-3Hn2YS2cPLMZkcBRhxGjVLD9pXWMbAKEbNJqtDBu7Wvj8uplMxOk1EdO/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+025.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360369412263292402" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">We watched the cute little ground squirrels . . . (good picture Isaac!)</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcG3dEQeZumt-a2EFKsnr0_wEqrY53xg0qk41xENewbdCvCSyaTSY-UJziKvCDwlH8IqBcxnnrR9pTT8xuXALtEHHo0Ee8lVyDdWR2mEPhmvNP3HTHCzlQUcIk0pM2eTZvJs-XEKJjbRax/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+016.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcG3dEQeZumt-a2EFKsnr0_wEqrY53xg0qk41xENewbdCvCSyaTSY-UJziKvCDwlH8IqBcxnnrR9pTT8xuXALtEHHo0Ee8lVyDdWR2mEPhmvNP3HTHCzlQUcIk0pM2eTZvJs-XEKJjbRax/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+016.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360368307566913858" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">We roasted LOTS of hot dogs and marshmellows!<br /> (Don't worry Faithy, smoke follows beauty)</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxiFCS-W_bodfElzCz2j_B3gcIi7dN4Qxco5jD_BnGdSiZPQAgVc9l_di0tLID34oXVqVZw1vnq9XNTiOgHit5TThkdU7nS_ESLjIJ9X1cTtXMhXmCi1WktcpLDFK9CE9L7JXODI6C7fzW/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxiFCS-W_bodfElzCz2j_B3gcIi7dN4Qxco5jD_BnGdSiZPQAgVc9l_di0tLID34oXVqVZw1vnq9XNTiOgHit5TThkdU7nS_ESLjIJ9X1cTtXMhXmCi1WktcpLDFK9CE9L7JXODI6C7fzW/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360368294065854818" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhep54VQyGC6FpSdq76DxbUX5T1JFK4uVJw9g5dI9NYSMWK-voShWfUALGPIvJ-H0Zuxz22yGMlQwLX7nI8Npq0nliZMI6xuAUaZUjViyTz_NAVb70Is6G-nZ-Jsyn0UPbpwvatK1cKiwXa/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhep54VQyGC6FpSdq76DxbUX5T1JFK4uVJw9g5dI9NYSMWK-voShWfUALGPIvJ-H0Zuxz22yGMlQwLX7nI8Npq0nliZMI6xuAUaZUjViyTz_NAVb70Is6G-nZ-Jsyn0UPbpwvatK1cKiwXa/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360368282663727922" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyn5GJPO22ZrzUh4ESbi_jbkw84cvtfTFLrXMLhH8CkB9t2CckFFWqi23bF20JCfweDHqf-aIwp12uEI84_wCai0YLPPagtg0uIe1KCcgZSAjiVpZM383ICr1oAU1kpn1wA_4xd8zFJL-O/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyn5GJPO22ZrzUh4ESbi_jbkw84cvtfTFLrXMLhH8CkB9t2CckFFWqi23bF20JCfweDHqf-aIwp12uEI84_wCai0YLPPagtg0uIe1KCcgZSAjiVpZM383ICr1oAU1kpn1wA_4xd8zFJL-O/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360367144734248706" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">our boys were "boys" as they wrestled<br />around in Mom & Dad's trailer. . . </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4nW2tW1J4TP-d4W18Q9hN6pPhSa9Q5flG4g2lsAkyhbVBgwSNOW1P5QmDqDTcstGacdZ1QXh14Eg7lIVjRnPE0Xz7qjhWCd7HPhe7qvJqDG_LJVUIEleiy6E5bsVq_XSUbAfUVxN2MIe/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+019.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL4nW2tW1J4TP-d4W18Q9hN6pPhSa9Q5flG4g2lsAkyhbVBgwSNOW1P5QmDqDTcstGacdZ1QXh14Eg7lIVjRnPE0Xz7qjhWCd7HPhe7qvJqDG_LJVUIEleiy6E5bsVq_XSUbAfUVxN2MIe/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+019.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360368322031203010" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">and we celebrated the 4th of July<br /> ("Good morning Dad. Do you need some coffee?")</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkZp4z0EGqIXAv32mTW18HNHVCns8C3-ooyXMnhJCm_GzVpJ7f3A24Ecgvs-p-IFDy0YrDvCR5mc9h7hOj656Pltokc_tD11E4aYqQK1s8EPSNXKVtc7tqEskOCr8YGua1bl7P5Q_7oxa/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+026.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBkZp4z0EGqIXAv32mTW18HNHVCns8C3-ooyXMnhJCm_GzVpJ7f3A24Ecgvs-p-IFDy0YrDvCR5mc9h7hOj656Pltokc_tD11E4aYqQK1s8EPSNXKVtc7tqEskOCr8YGua1bl7P5Q_7oxa/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+026.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360369415387784066" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Faith got decked out for the campground's annual 4th of July "Kids' parade" -- bikes, kids, and pets were all decorated and circled around the campground together giving the rest of us a parade.</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJ7fvcIvPisfhV4uhvs6SLR2LW8tO6iC0Va0BZlSQ8BdMnBOg441PQiZD-HNRTuajjc9nMarjGuxDnpzLJurs5POsvyAnsFo1Kfc7VBaKtM9nDbYpRRFUejRPw4lCWRA2jMvx8AbbtG_1/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+029.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQJ7fvcIvPisfhV4uhvs6SLR2LW8tO6iC0Va0BZlSQ8BdMnBOg441PQiZD-HNRTuajjc9nMarjGuxDnpzLJurs5POsvyAnsFo1Kfc7VBaKtM9nDbYpRRFUejRPw4lCWRA2jMvx8AbbtG_1/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360369426582568626" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Elijah did a great job in the J.R. Beaver costume!!<br /> (that's him with Faith. . . <span style="font-weight: bold;">too cute</span>!!!)</span><br /></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMCDEYVlJ5_Iprc4774hzMwPGWrmavZNNLQbpzsyxQsdcf10nqhKDF7p9kyrr5h3goC58WMe4BEKgqWlf0EB5-HadL3BNuliNmfvTgUmXbIvLvZECOr1otkOz0edolCUAIRyVhuDtfGMB/s1600-h/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMCDEYVlJ5_Iprc4774hzMwPGWrmavZNNLQbpzsyxQsdcf10nqhKDF7p9kyrr5h3goC58WMe4BEKgqWlf0EB5-HadL3BNuliNmfvTgUmXbIvLvZECOr1otkOz0edolCUAIRyVhuDtfGMB/s320/July+2009+-+parties,+camping,+weddings+030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360370129157149154" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">HAPPY <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">4th</span> of <span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">July</span> 2009!!</span></span></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-33243360757240615812009-06-21T23:23:00.000-07:002009-06-21T23:39:11.254-07:00Happy Father's Day!!It's waaayyyy past my bedtime, but I thought I'd take a few minutes to wish all of you out there a Happy Father's Day! And, Happy Father's day to my husband, Joel :-)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxz2KzZeaMGLNW6tKqVpnd8xQ7vfWDGh4B-boHJNYfQiYPbieyylph7X7syqnWzm51zZWlIJCjismKSOuITa7rJuZtR_HgcS0d8il4naJY849R7oeCcRt4ZBAi_QGNi7mN7Un57LbZKk30/s1600-h/ScannedImage.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 216px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxz2KzZeaMGLNW6tKqVpnd8xQ7vfWDGh4B-boHJNYfQiYPbieyylph7X7syqnWzm51zZWlIJCjismKSOuITa7rJuZtR_HgcS0d8il4naJY849R7oeCcRt4ZBAi_QGNi7mN7Un57LbZKk30/s320/ScannedImage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350034708956686658" border="0" /></a><br />Today Joel slept in and, per his request, was served breakfast in bed: Biscuits, gravy, and coffee. . . LOTS of hugs and kisses from the kids.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZMXe00qMBhYkrdKOoNCQJR2HQuP551bhB0tF9Z6vpVNVmp3sXjF2-KMAm2EU3dW-_l1y7pM9621xBFeyxo7y70fDtd2JiYAcPkz_nDiKr3wfieh9Gsyy_6J34NmY2gJcseJeOfgdbvGS/s1600-h/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbZMXe00qMBhYkrdKOoNCQJR2HQuP551bhB0tF9Z6vpVNVmp3sXjF2-KMAm2EU3dW-_l1y7pM9621xBFeyxo7y70fDtd2JiYAcPkz_nDiKr3wfieh9Gsyy_6J34NmY2gJcseJeOfgdbvGS/s320/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350034715883370914" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Faith is a total Daddy's girl!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVhv29gvQ4z6MwMGMr_Yq-tcsY9Vf8QgM5qw8VLeYiWU7hxxC-jt-XfkBR2UItmr-doBTIJ_L0H2lfyFOYV88WSqcq60wLvhkhy3cw4eneA-ffI9cRwAMIYvTYDy7i7-cim2OdlmNCYBh/s1600-h/ScannedImage-2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 245px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNVhv29gvQ4z6MwMGMr_Yq-tcsY9Vf8QgM5qw8VLeYiWU7hxxC-jt-XfkBR2UItmr-doBTIJ_L0H2lfyFOYV88WSqcq60wLvhkhy3cw4eneA-ffI9cRwAMIYvTYDy7i7-cim2OdlmNCYBh/s320/ScannedImage-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350036756268635346" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Then, after several loads of dishes and laundry, we headed out to go shopping for a bike helmet for Isaac (his has been trashed), running shoes for Joel, and to see about finding a tent for this summer's camping. . . . Alas, we had no luck with the shoes or tent, but we DID find new bikes for the kids! They were very excited!! Especially the boys who have had the same bikes for more than 5 years (they've grown a lot in the past 5 years!). Isaac and Elijah are now sporting full-grown, 26" tire, MEN's bikes! [sigh, my babies are growing too fast!]<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLN4vBLps6wZrkK6SW6nMq2AfKTVCPBA4RccQ__BEOLnS4-sJogy7ppw1SjRt1pZ-AGbx30asjnv0N2c0QSR2PaD3mZSQIQxM2U4Rca74Yx8JWJisnsuPrZV-FIjcnDGKXGYn50Sy3Gr-Q/s1600-h/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLN4vBLps6wZrkK6SW6nMq2AfKTVCPBA4RccQ__BEOLnS4-sJogy7ppw1SjRt1pZ-AGbx30asjnv0N2c0QSR2PaD3mZSQIQxM2U4Rca74Yx8JWJisnsuPrZV-FIjcnDGKXGYn50Sy3Gr-Q/s320/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350037196731820466" border="0" /></a><br />And Faithy is moving past toddler bikes and into the 20" tire kids' bike categories. . . She's especially proud of her cute blue Bratz bike. Now we just need to get her set up with some good training wheels and she'll be set!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZO5rfVpFjkqx6pGetcdVMSi-ASSr_joqFJHQpoTZLqQcXiE0JtZiL9qBEiz8ZcsAYaynsjUoyw5wv2c0p4mVQ7krEfe_6-hPCPZ6umW9ORGkbYLgpoDKnb0PoxQ8g5oOA1pfsDljtT7-H/s1600-h/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+009.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZO5rfVpFjkqx6pGetcdVMSi-ASSr_joqFJHQpoTZLqQcXiE0JtZiL9qBEiz8ZcsAYaynsjUoyw5wv2c0p4mVQ7krEfe_6-hPCPZ6umW9ORGkbYLgpoDKnb0PoxQ8g5oOA1pfsDljtT7-H/s320/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+009.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350034728958895730" border="0" /></a><br />Sadly, it's time to say good-bye to old friends. . .<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsAQJAZ6IoWG7sneagfqkc_lvXXyHQuCs5SlXWDCZqJ1GnT7-S53xc4hJhVnyIF53mUffe7tw1Rgu0B4-X4U8zd1n48fjhOYUWzCo5dAJ5sK-MJ8DzRX3kVwM3nFo_01Bz4nr9cXEg-BXY/s1600-h/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+011.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsAQJAZ6IoWG7sneagfqkc_lvXXyHQuCs5SlXWDCZqJ1GnT7-S53xc4hJhVnyIF53mUffe7tw1Rgu0B4-X4U8zd1n48fjhOYUWzCo5dAJ5sK-MJ8DzRX3kVwM3nFo_01Bz4nr9cXEg-BXY/s320/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+011.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350037207269736290" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPslS_uQMCtisMlm6m3Ld1XjrvhutrWftCULPi0ZYdUwP_fihgsexREc9FOoIkWi4cMfwvQErdQ5eIffV12gQRU2WsEy7q_BqQxD3JJeLpNADyU8ftrevZ8iXLFOp6sfiqhnX3DeP_0ipc/s1600-h/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+010.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPslS_uQMCtisMlm6m3Ld1XjrvhutrWftCULPi0ZYdUwP_fihgsexREc9FOoIkWi4cMfwvQErdQ5eIffV12gQRU2WsEy7q_BqQxD3JJeLpNADyU8ftrevZ8iXLFOp6sfiqhnX3DeP_0ipc/s320/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+010.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350037203337217234" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;">Thanks for the memories!<br /></span></div><br />Anyhow, we've all ended our day just chilling out: The boys playing video games, me installing the latest update for my phone, Faith watching a Garfield movie, and Joel ending his Father's Day with a favorite pastime. Again, to all of you out there: <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 0);">Happy Father's Day!</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5hl0_beMXBVOywPkf3eCMqAflgWkfBnCt33gBP3KR4ngO3t-1EiMzRA1H03cd-PotIZEzLn7RfEITeL54aeV12z2L-K6kBCOwPQkPEwFMrad0-_yyFF5rtx8dI3GYAwOLKwpdZCnsUHDo/s1600-h/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5hl0_beMXBVOywPkf3eCMqAflgWkfBnCt33gBP3KR4ngO3t-1EiMzRA1H03cd-PotIZEzLn7RfEITeL54aeV12z2L-K6kBCOwPQkPEwFMrad0-_yyFF5rtx8dI3GYAwOLKwpdZCnsUHDo/s320/Happy+Father%27s+Day+-+June+21,+2009+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350034720896610002" border="0" /></a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-14374869172080573922009-05-23T22:55:00.000-07:002009-05-24T00:03:01.247-07:00Faith and ReligionJoel and I just went to see the new DaVinci Code movie "Angels and Demons" (really good!) and afterwards we started talking about faith and religion. . .<br /><br />Me? I was baptized in the Roman Catholic Church when I was a wee babe. I like to label myself "catholic" (small c). Note, according to www.dictionary.com:<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span>cath⋅o⋅lic</span><div class="pbk"> <span class="pronset"><script language="javascript">AC_FL_RunContent = 0;</script><script src="http://cache.lexico.com/js/AC_RunActiveContent.js" language="javascript"></script><script type="text/javascript">var interfaceflash = new LEXICOFlashObject ( "http://cache.lexico.com/d/g/speaker.swf", "speaker", "17", "15", "<a href="\" target="\"><img src="\" border="\" /></a>", "6");interfaceflash.addParam("loop", "false");interfaceflash.addParam("quality", "high");interfaceflash.addParam("menu", "false");interfaceflash.addParam("salign", "t");interfaceflash.addParam("FlashVars", "soundUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fcache.lexico.com%2Fdictionary%2Faudio%2Fluna%2FC02%2FC0221500.mp3"); interfaceflash.addParam('wmode','transparent');interfaceflash.write();</script><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://cache.lexico.com/d/g/speaker.swf" id="speaker" quality="high" loop="false" menu="false" salign="t" flashvars="soundUrl=http%3A%2F%2Fcache.lexico.com%2Fdictionary%2Faudio%2Fluna%2FC02%2FC0221500.mp3" wmode="transparent" align="texttop" height="15" width="17"></embed><noscript></noscript><span class="show_ipapr" style="display: none;"><span class="prondelim">/</span><span class="pron">ˈkæθ<img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" />ə<img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" />lɪk</span><span class="pron">,</span> <span class="pron">ˈkæθ<img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" />lɪk</span><span class="prondelim">/</span> <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/luna/IPA_pron_key.html" target="_blank"><img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/g/d/dictionary_questionbutton_default.gif" onmouseover="swapLunaImage('default', this);" onmouseout="swapLunaImage('selected', this);" border="0" /></a> <span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"> <a class="pronlink" onclick="javascript:show_sp()" onmouseout="status='';return true;" onmouseover="status='Click to toggle pronunciation';return true;" alt="Toggle for Spelled" title="Click to show spelled">Show Spelled</a> </span> </span><span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"><span class="prondelim">[</span><span class="pron"><span class="boldface">kath</span>-<span class="ital-inline">uh</span>-lik</span><span class="pron">,</span> <span class="pron"><span class="boldface">kath</span>-lik</span><span class="prondelim">]</span> <span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"><br /></span></span></span><span class="pg">–adjective </span><div class="luna-Ent"><span class="dnindex">1.</span>broad or wide-ranging in tastes, interests, or the like; having sympathies with all; broad-minded; liberal.</div> <div class="luna-Ent"><span class="dnindex">2.</span>universal in extent; involving all; of interest to all.</div> <div class="luna-Ent"><span class="dnindex">3.</span>pertaining to the whole Christian body or church.<br /><br />versus<br /><div class="header"> <h2 class="me"><span style="font-size:130%;">Cath⋅o⋅lic</span></h2><span class="pronset"><span class="show_ipapr" style="display: none;"><span class="prondelim">/</span><span class="pron">ˈkæθ<img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" />ə<img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" />lɪk</span><span class="pron">,</span> <span class="pron">ˈkæθ<img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" />lɪk</span><span class="prondelim">/</span> <a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/help/luna/IPA_pron_key.html" target="_blank"><img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/g/d/dictionary_questionbutton_default.gif" onmouseover="swapLunaImage('default', this);" onmouseout="swapLunaImage('selected', this);" border="0" /></a> <span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"> <a class="pronlink" onclick="javascript:show_sp()" onmouseout="status='';return true;" onmouseover="status='Click to toggle pronunciation';return true;" alt="Toggle for Spelled" title="Click to show spelled">Show Spelled</a> </span> </span><span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"><span class="prondelim">[</span><span class="pron"><span class="boldface">kath</span>-<span class="ital-inline">uh</span>-lik</span><span class="pron">,</span> <span class="pron"><span class="boldface">kath</span>-lik</span><span class="prondelim">]</span> <span class="pron_toggle" style="display: inline;"> </span> </span> </span> </div> <div class="pbk"><span class="pg">–adjective </span><div class="luna-Ent"><span class="dnindex">1.</span>of or pertaining to a Catholic church, esp. the Roman Catholic Church.</div> <div class="luna-Ent"><span class="dnindex">2.</span><span class="labset"><span class="ital-inline">Theology</span>. </span><div class="luna-Nested"><span class="dnindex">a.</span>(among Roman Catholics) claiming to possess exclusively the notes or characteristics of the one, only, true, and universal church having unity, visibility, indefectibility, apostolic succession, universality, and sanctity: used in this sense, with these qualifications, only by the Church of Rome, as applicable only to itself and its adherents and to their faith and organization; often qualified, especially by those not acknowledging these claims, by prefixing the word <span class="ital-inline">Roman.</span></div> <div class="luna-Nested"><span class="dnindex">b.</span>(among Anglo-Catholics) noting or pertaining to the conception of the church as the body representing the ancient undivided Christian witness, comprising all the orthodox churches that have kept the apostolic succession of bishops, and including the Anglican Church, the Roman Catholic Church, the Eastern Orthodox Church, Church of Sweden, the Old Catholic Church (in the Netherlands and elsewhere), etc.</div> </div> <div class="luna-Ent"><span class="dnindex">3.</span>pertaining to the Western Church.</div> </div><br />See what I mean? I like to believe that most churches are united in some way or another and that, perhaps, we have many more commonalities than differences. Are God and Allah and Yahweh all the same?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">I believe in the creed of the Catholic Church:</span><br /><br /><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">We believe in one God, </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">the Father, the Almighty</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">maker of heaven and earth,</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">of all that <i>is seen</i> and unseen.</span></dd></dl> </dd></dl> <dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">the only Son of God,</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">eternally begotten of the Father,</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">God from God, Light from Light,</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">true God from true God,</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">begotten, not made,</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;"><i>one in Being</i> with the Father.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">Through him all things were made.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">For us men and for our salvation </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">he came down from heaven</span></dd></dl> </dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">by the power of the Holy Spirit </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">he <i>was born of</i> the Virgin Mary, and <i>became</i> man.</span></dd></dl> </dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">he <i>suffered, died,</i> and was buried.</span></dd></dl> </dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">On the third day he rose again </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">in <i>fulfillment of</i> the Scriptures;</span></dd></dl> </dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">he ascended into heaven </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">and is seated at the right hand of the Father.</span></dd></dl> </dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">and his kingdom will have no end.</span></dd></dl> </dd></dl> </dd></dl> <dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of Life, </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">who proceeds from the Father and the Son.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">He has spoken through the Prophets.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins.</span></dd><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">We look for the resurrection of the dead, </span><dl><dd><span style="font-size:85%;">and the life of the world to come. Amen</span></dd></dl></dd></dl></dd></dl><span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255); font-weight: bold;">Taking it apart:</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We believe in one God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is seen and unseen. </span></span> True, I believe there is one God -- different names. For me, I like to see God as a warm and caring father. I believe that God is more. . . and that to best relate, we can put "Him" in a role. For me, Father is appropriate. The ultimate caring father who wants what's best for all of us and who has wisdom and compassion. He can be protective as needed, but he's ultimately the father of all. Creator of all . . . And when I say "all" I mean everything. He gave us the miracle of life and the ability to form babies and unite. Pretty cool.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ,</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > the only Son of God,</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > eternally begotten of the Father,</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > God from God, Light from Light,</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > true God from true God,</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > begotten, not made,</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" > one in Being with the Father. </span> True. It's hard for me to fathom and explain. I believe that Jesus was God's son and was also God placed within Mary as a virgin birth; he is one with God -- like a shared awareness, a shared love . . . It's hard for me to fully comprehend but I'm okay with that. My gut says it's true.<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Through him all things were made. [Wow!] </span></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">For us men and for our salvation </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >he came down from heaven, </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">by the power of the Holy Spirit </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >he was born of the Virgin Mary, and became man.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >he suffered, died, and was buried. </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">On the third day he rose again </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >in fulfillment of the Scriptures; </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">he ascended into heaven </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end. </span></span> I believe that Jesus was given to us as a gift: For God to live among us so we can see how much he treasures us and so God can speak through His own voice and not through a prophet. The Holy Spirit - the invisible movement of God - filled Mary (who was NOT already pregnant and who was of a strong faith) and choose to become a man -- to become one of us -- because he loves us. And, because he loves us, he sacrificed himself for us and was crucified -- so that we may believe and see the miracle. I believe that God's kingdom will have no end. I believe that ultimately good triumphs over evil.</span><br /></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >We believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord, the giver of Life, </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >who proceeds from the Father and the Son. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >With the Father and the Son he is worshiped and glorified. </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >He has spoken through the Prophets.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span> I believe that God moves as a Spirit. I believe when I feel that tingling on the back of my neck that it is the Holy Spirit's presence that I'm feeling. I believe that the Holy Spirit is ever present and that the Holy Spirit speaks through the Prophets.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church.</span> <span style="font-size:100%;">Yes, I believe that there is one universal church and that we strive to be apostle-like.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">We acknowledge one baptism for the forgiveness of sins. </span><span style="font-size:100%;"> All baptisms count . . . All who choose to invite God into their lives and have faith are a part of my family. . . They don't have to be baptized in the Roman Catholic Church to be considered faithful.</span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" >We look for the resurrection of the dead, </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">and the life of the world to come.</span> <span style="font-size:100%;"> It seems like there's something about joyful hope too. . . Yes, we believe that there is a afterlife and that death isn't something to be feared but, rather, we should trust that God has more planned for us. This isn't something to dread, but rather a "joyful hope."</span></span><br /><br />I think that's cool. "Amen!" I agree! I believe! Here, here!<br /><br />I like to imagine the early church gatherings: Apostles spreading the word about Christ. . . Sharing his works in stories in small gathering rooms where they may have met in secret or met with those wanting to know more. Offering prayers and blessings. Reading stories from the Old Testament, the Torah then praising God with David's psalms (words of encouragement or reflection), then telling stories of what they've seen and experienced. . . Saving the best for last: Stories of Jesus' life here on earth. Then teaching the crowd and discussing how Jesus fulfilled the predictions and phophesies of the Old testament. All the while, the Holy Spirit moving within people -- opening minds and changing hearts. Wow!<br /><br />From there they would begin the sacred ceremony of breaking bread with them as Jesus broke bread, reciting Jesus' words, "Do this in memory of me." I imagine the people standing in a crowded room trying to see what was going on. I imagine the people sitting to listen to the stories of the Torah they may have heard before and to listen to the apostles speak. I imagine them falling to their knees as they recognized the reverence of the moment. When I go to mass, this is what I think about. So many people just seem to recite the prayers by rote, but truly, it should be special.<br /><br />I also like to think that the Catholic church tries to unite us all: Agreeing and printing books that list what stories we will hear and what prayers we will say -- lifting a voice in unison of praise to God. Uniting us as brothers and sisters (I can call a cousin in another state and ask, "What did you think of the story of the woman at the well?" discussed at today's mass). And still, we have our apostles trying to share their own faith and praying that God gives them the words to apply the teachings to our lives and to encourage our faith. I try to pray that I'm open to God's word and the Holy Spirit. Some days are better than others.<br /><br />My frustration with the "religion" tends to be more in terms of the politics of it all. I don't like that the Catholic church tends to seem judgemental -- dictating what books and movies are appropriate to see. That's frustrating. I don't like when I've seen people use "faith" as a reason to condemn others (e.g. "I can't go to my son's wedding because he's not getting married in a church"). I dislike how many people seem to just go to mass out of a sense of obligation and not because they want to praise God. I don't like that I've met priests that haven't seemed very holy and that they spoil it for the many wonderful priests I know.<br /><br />For me, I want to be catholic in all the idealistic ways: Believing in the wonder of the mass and reliving the awe-filled moments of those early Christians. I want to believe that I have much in common with my Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish, and other Christian friends (Mormons, Lutherans, Pentacostals, Baptists). I believe that God is a part of my life and that the tingle on the back of my neck is the Holy Spirit (it's that same sense that gives me the nagging urge to call my mom just in time to find out that someone close to us is dying). I want to sing "Alleluia" and feel it to my toes. . .<br /><br />And, I have days. . . Days of wanting to sleep in on Sunday. . . Days of dreading dragging my kids and husband to mass. . . Days of sitting through mass and not recalling a single reading or anything that was said. . . . There are days. My goal is to have less of those than the good days.<br /><br />So. . . Faith & religion? At the end of the DaVinci code one of the actors had a very inspiring line, and for the life of me, I can't recall all of it. But, I remember that the point was that we have faith; religion is imperfect because man ("mankind") is imperfect. . . but faith remains.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> </div> <div class="body"> </div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-42087137450297381782009-04-16T21:32:00.000-07:002009-04-16T22:20:59.885-07:00Happy Easter. . . And everything else<span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >So, what have I been up to? Trouble. . . No good. . . Fun! </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Okay, so I went out with one of my favorite girlfriends tonight for some fun and to celebrate her birthday -- that tends to put me in a good mood (<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Happy</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Birthday</span> <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">Kim</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">!!</span>). As for the rest of it: I was gone to </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Bellingham</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > all last week to meet with a consultant from Microsoft (Steve </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Pontello</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >). Steve was AWESOME and I learned a ton. . . Enough that by Easter Sunday I was exhausted, could no longer formulate thoughts, and was feeling quasi-anti-social. Monday I couldn't think enough to remember my name, Tuesday I felt a bit Attention-Deficit, and yesterday I was able to complete simple tasks. Today I'm back to functioning semi-normal. I can tell you that I arrived in our conference room about 7:15 each day, we started the discussion at 8 AM, took a hour lunch, and worked until 5 PM (with a debrief until nearly 5:30 each night). Throw in the 6 hours to drive there on Monday and the 7 hour drive home Friday, with meetings on Monday and meeting with Steve until after noon on Friday and it was a VERY full week. Awesome, but also busy. Ryan (my cohort) and I agree that the meeting with Steve probably set us ahead in our work about 2 years. Seriously awesome.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Then, Easter weekend was spent at Mom & Dad's in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Stayton</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > watching movies with the kids on Saturday night and then getting </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >waaayyy</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > too little sleep! Sunday morning Faith snuck into our room about 7 AM and said "<span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Happy Easter! Wake up, wake up, wake up!!!</span>" Very cute. . . Way too early! We had a fun time, went to mass, hunted for </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Easter</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > eggs, and had a good dinner with family. Me? I dozed on the couch during the conversations (did I mention that the week had taken a lot out of me?). We headed home early in the evening and spent the evening watching some shows recorded on the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >DVR</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >As for today, I took a deep breath and opted to have courage in talking with my manager about my frustrations at work. I'd written a letter to God beforehand so that I could try to formulate my thoughts and reflect on why I was frustrated (I also prayed that the meeting would go well). Fortunately </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Darian</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > was very receptive and a good listener. Essentially, I've been feeling like I'm driving in 3rd gear on the interstate; extremely frustrated. In trying to narrow identify why, I explained that I'm a production/hands-on kind of person. . . We're developing new architecture for our </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >OLAP</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > cubes and I'm needing to get into it. Over the past several months we've been slowly working our way into it and we've had MANY conversations about what might work best and trying to make good design decisions and we've made a couple of cubes. I'm now ready to dive in! </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >I've got a long "To Do" list at work but it's primarily "mini-tasks" with things like documentation, effort tracking, typing up notes, etc. But I'm craving more "build" work. I'm a multi-</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >tasker</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > by nature and I like to have different types of things to work on to make the most of my energy level and mental-prowess at any given point in time ;-). </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >I also explained that I'm a <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Gemini</span> and a bit of a split personality: I recognize that I have a social side to me that can be very abstract random, take in all sorts of stimulus (non-verbal cues, tone of voice) and process what we're discussing. It's the skills that I use to find compromise in meetings and the ability to participate in long training sessions. However, there's also a very linear, structured side to me: This is how I behave when writing and structuring my thoughts. . . This is also how I operate when programming and doing architecture work -- very logical. I told </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Darian</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > that it can be difficult to transition between the two skill sets. Admittedly, last week during the training with the consultant, I would do fine listening, processing, and taking notes. Then when it was my turn to present and do the hands-on programming work, I'd stumble for a few minutes, ask for a second to collect my thoughts, and then would slip on my programming hat. . . Today </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Darian</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > seemed to appreciate the explanation for my behaviors.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Also, I don't like to talk on the phone much . . . This has been a interesting challenge when my </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >OLAP</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > partner works in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Bellingham</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > and my manager is in </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Bellingham</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >. How best to communicate? Here's today's action items:</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >- I told </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Darian</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > that I need to establish </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >timelines</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > for myself; it gives me something to aim for while realizing that the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >timelines</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > may need to be adjusted due to illness or a sudden high-priority request. The important piece here is that I need to set the </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >timelines</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > for myself but have </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Darian</span> aware of them. . .<span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >- I also told </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Darian</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > that I'll do best if I can send him a email at the end of the week with a list of what I've accomplished throughout the week and what I plan to work on during the following week. . . This is more for me to reflect on my work in a logical/linear way and to gather my tasks for the upcoming week (especially since it's so difficult to remember where I left off come Monday morning). He's good with that.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >- I also asked for an additional/lower priority cube to work on. . . Something to balance the high priority work, the 30 minutes-to-an-hour tasks, and everything else. It gives me something to do while my mind subconsciously trouble-shoots problems I may be having with the high-priority work.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >- And, I told him that, knowing that I have to consciously transition between social and logical/linear, I try to schedule all my meetings close together and then schedule chunks of time to do my programming work. This is how I work best. This includes needing a </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >telework</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > day </span><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >occasionally</span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" > so that I can get through big chunks of work at a time so that I feel caught up.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >. . . So, it's been a few weeks of self-discovery and trying to get back on track.</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >As for the rest of it: I'm not checking my personal email and computer nearly often enough -- my doctor recommended that I avoid my computer in the evenings because it makes it more difficult for me to fall asleep at night. I'm trying to hold myself to it. . . but tonight I felt the need to process my thoughts was more important than needing to avoid my computer. :-)</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >And, as always, I'm trying to balance it all: Work, Friends, Family, . . . Date time with Joel, TV (and discussion) time with the boys, Being Mommy for Faith, Trying to pick up (and spring clean) the house, and . . . trying to take time for myself. . . . Oh, and God fits in there too. . . And exercise. . . And. . . Well, you know how it goes. . .</span><span style="font-size:85%;"><br /><br /></span><span style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:85%;" >Best wishes to you all and I pray that you're all weathering the turbulence of our times as well as can be expected. God bless!</span>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-89123112695633321892009-04-05T00:38:00.000-07:002009-04-05T00:41:14.471-07:00One of my favorites. . .Check this out: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N2QEQ8Mq79c&mode=related&search=">Armed Forces/Memorial Day Tribute 2007</a> (Casting Crown's "Praise You in this Storm"). . . This is so true of so much of my life. Especially relevant right now as we face a lot of uncertainty, a scary economy, and unemployment. . . I'll choose to praise God even in these stormy times. This video, also, reminds us to pray for those soldiers (and their families) who do so very much for us.<br /><br />God bless!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-37746933948570281102009-03-29T21:46:00.000-07:002009-03-29T21:54:31.771-07:00DepressionLet's face it: Life sucks these days. I'm getting numerous emails in my inbox all providing warning signs of depression . . . webmd, health.com, prevention. . . they're all doing it. I suppose that with the highest unemployment rate since the Great Depression and forecasts that things may get worse -- we're all subject to depression. And, I think that the general morale contributes to it. . . I mean, when you're fighting depression you're supposed to avoid negative people; people that bring you down. But truly, right now we're all commiserating with one another and wallowing in the misery. In my small town of Junction City the primary employer (Country Coach) filed for bankruptcy and has been shut down for a couple of months. The news channels feature teasers that if a judge rules in their favor they may be able to reopen (and re-hire the town's people). But the emotional yo-yo and anxiety of people waiting to hear is apparent even in the grocery store.<br /><br />We're no longer greeted by smiling faces when we walk around town. There aren't a community of support people giving you a pep talk and telling you things will get better. Instead, we're told, "Hey, at least you've got a job." Depression seems inevitable. But we try to hang in there and have faith. . .<br /><br />Alas, I'm losing my steam. . . The point of this little blog was to point out that, yes, the economy and employment statistics are depressing, and yes, we need to be aware of the warning signs. But, really, where can we find the "pep talk" we so desperately need?Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-48527434195629562782009-03-06T20:41:00.001-08:002009-03-06T21:16:11.446-08:00Confession: I don't read much. . .I don't read much primarily because when I start a book I can't put it down until I've finished it. . . I'm a read-it-cover-to-cover kinda girl. And, admittedly, most of the time my favorite book is whatever book I happen to be reading at the time. I'm currently reading the <a href="http://www.stepheniemeyer.com/twilight.html"><span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span></a> series by Stephanie Meyer.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjor7Trz3q6ZILMWEp2w0G_RvsUyUPd30_bnp3FZuW8ern5n1PzB3-QLt21D0ciyp3g5kY1N5P1O0cFWda2MZD8GlxD7iQ9MZr8awVuVYtzvpC7jARXS2fJrm1Zeyr7ptHtbSeZjnPN7JqA/s1600-h/twilightcover.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjor7Trz3q6ZILMWEp2w0G_RvsUyUPd30_bnp3FZuW8ern5n1PzB3-QLt21D0ciyp3g5kY1N5P1O0cFWda2MZD8GlxD7iQ9MZr8awVuVYtzvpC7jARXS2fJrm1Zeyr7ptHtbSeZjnPN7JqA/s320/twilightcover.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310308630897531026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'd never heard of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span> series prior to hooking up with old friends via <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.facebook.com">www.facebook.com</a> . I read high-school classmates' postings that <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span> was their all time favorite AND there were <span style="font-weight: bold;">pictures</span> of them with Twilight t-shirts! Argueably, I don't know if they are solely fans of the book or movie, but I was curious-enough to use our Barnes & Noble giftcard to pickup the first book, "Twilight."<br /><br />I read <span style="font-style: italic;">The Shack</span> first (also bought during that trip to Barnes & Noble) and it immediately became a favorite -- I read it cover to cover in one day (Sunday two weeks ago). Alas, <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span> sat unread for about a week; but, our family has recently started to try to have a allotted reading time each Sunday afternoon after mass (week 1 was <span style="font-style: italic;">The Shack</span>). The boys enjoyed the time so much (reading their new books: <span style="font-style: italic;">Halo</span> series books and <span style="font-style: italic;">Bones</span> books) that Elijah asked if we could do this every week.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFfid2g_XNJZz0UfqCKJ2Pphnsvw4HMXh8x9N3kl1togHpueQNKtVyoYS7wl3Zoj4w_LRP8i6gskRVc5l1ozQIkY3o7QAdbipzPp271JFw3knw2cC8pu98VsR9QR6x5DP6zTI-wVQnECA/s1600-h/The+Shack.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 152px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoFfid2g_XNJZz0UfqCKJ2Pphnsvw4HMXh8x9N3kl1togHpueQNKtVyoYS7wl3Zoj4w_LRP8i6gskRVc5l1ozQIkY3o7QAdbipzPp271JFw3knw2cC8pu98VsR9QR6x5DP6zTI-wVQnECA/s320/The+Shack.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310309688934408850" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcoXTftWUpnNU8VBCWyaE-EgaKRpQn3YsKhgit6eZZv4-sigHJEiOAWg17txtF-y9qNWskBiIkkIW74YMl4h9fdPT-WJv1AmpheSrpQqTEPgHQUAoGdqPITttkPQIsmRmEyJUErNztEeeR/s1600-h/bones.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 139px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcoXTftWUpnNU8VBCWyaE-EgaKRpQn3YsKhgit6eZZv4-sigHJEiOAWg17txtF-y9qNWskBiIkkIW74YMl4h9fdPT-WJv1AmpheSrpQqTEPgHQUAoGdqPITttkPQIsmRmEyJUErNztEeeR/s320/bones.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310309680138021874" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCrTPl2AODAYotH8I0QmHBxjECN3nKho_0sBbsTTdRLlzPb1E03Di0dMLa3quL6iV1P8tZae3NonGKEcvYGBYsNTRNqa2RGdV7AVUwgaa5UYv1v4L5huv959_L6vDqnZJpj1myD-2j-_N/s1600-h/Halo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjCrTPl2AODAYotH8I0QmHBxjECN3nKho_0sBbsTTdRLlzPb1E03Di0dMLa3quL6iV1P8tZae3NonGKEcvYGBYsNTRNqa2RGdV7AVUwgaa5UYv1v4L5huv959_L6vDqnZJpj1myD-2j-_N/s320/Halo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310309685074985602" border="0" /></a><br />Anyhoo, last Sunday I picked up my first <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span> book and read 150+ pages the first night. Easy read and I was interested. I love the first person narrative! I finished the book by Tuesday and picked up the 2nd book Wednesday night this week. Thursday Joel & I went and saw the <span style="font-style: italic;">Twilight</span> movie at the dollar theater :-). I'm picky: The book is always better. Finished the 2nd book and bought the 3rd book today. Thankfully there are only 4 books in the series (whew!). I've already bought the 4th book just to have it handy for Sunday's reading session ;-).<br /><br />The point of this blog, however, is to confess that this is precisely the reason why I avoid reading: I'm finding that I tend to neglect my children and my housework because I feel distracted as my mind is essentially "paused" at where I left off in the book. It's a sad addiction really.<br /><br />Also, I'd like to point out the Gemini in me. . . I feel a bit flaky in the fact that I find love (of a book) so easily. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">am</span> loyal in that certain books hold a special fondness for their sentimental value: I enjoyed reading the <span style="font-style: italic;">Jungle Book</span> (and other poetry by Kipling). When reading Maugham's <span style="font-style: italic;">Of Human Bondage</span> and Dicken's <span style="font-style: italic;">Great Expectations</span> -- Dickens was a clear winner! (Would I like Dickens if I didn't have the sharp contrast I wonder?) I have a special fondness for <span style="font-style: italic;">Animal Farm</span> because I admired the author's ability to express his philosophy through the metaphor of <span style="font-style: italic;">Animal Farm</span>.<br /><br />And, while these books were surely educational and good "literature" (nose up and all) -- I also love the easy reads like Nora Roberts and Mary Higgins Clarke, and, God love me, the occassional Harlequin Romance (gasp!). I get a thrill and love the great wording of a Dean Koontz book (he, too, has a great job expressing his philosophy in his writing). And, I smile when I hear Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" because it reminds me of my brother's memorizing it (and reciting it at the dinner table) when they were in high school; then me pestering Joe Duman (poor guy sat next to me in English) as I recited "the Raven" from memory based on listening to my brothers.<br /><br />Then there are the stories that I hold fond: <span style="font-style: italic;">Green Eggs and Ham</span>, and Elijah's favorite, <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh the Places You'll Go</span>. The boys frequently requested that I re-read these books over and over when they were little. I can still see the twinkle in Elijah's eyes and the joy when I agreed to read him these books "one more time." I miss those days cuddling together for story time. I'm trying to make new memories with Faith.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEG49B9YccL4E9iDtC9qF9yZW59Dta1N1iEiw3xU2sbvD-XJha7Qfayq5E1MSx45gY9fJ1JfMm56d6U4q5NOG6Xni9mF7kzuRyI71S49fUWQ3Eu992PQc50rhW0MunF8pKWMRyppWEhIo/s1600-h/Oh+the+places+you%27ll+go.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigEG49B9YccL4E9iDtC9qF9yZW59Dta1N1iEiw3xU2sbvD-XJha7Qfayq5E1MSx45gY9fJ1JfMm56d6U4q5NOG6Xni9mF7kzuRyI71S49fUWQ3Eu992PQc50rhW0MunF8pKWMRyppWEhIo/s320/Oh+the+places+you%27ll+go.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310309683441902354" border="0" /></a><br />So, in an effort to purge my soul (and perhaps identify with others reading my blog): I'm a fickle soul who loves a good book and will avoid it as much as possible. Now please excuse me as I start <span style="font-style: italic;">Eclipse</span> (book 3 of the Twilight series) ;-).Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-1398523745472399672009-01-24T20:30:00.000-08:002009-01-24T20:32:54.616-08:00Family UpdateHere's what I sent to my family (we do round-robin email updates on how we're all doing) but I thought I'd share with you too:<br /><br /><style>v\:* { BEHAVIOR: url(#default#VML) } o\:* { BEHAVIOR: url(#default#VML) } w\:* { BEHAVIOR: url(#default#VML) } .shape { BEHAVIOR: url(#default#VML) } </style><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceName"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><style>st1\:* { BEHAVIOR: url(#default#ieooui) } </style><style>@font-face { font-family: Tahoma; } @page Section1 {size: 8.5in 11.0in; margin: 1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; } P.MsoNormal { FONT-SIZE: 12pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; FONT-FAMILY: "Times New Roman" } LI.MsoNormal { FONT-SIZE: 12pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; FONT-FAMILY: "Times New Roman" } DIV.MsoNormal { FONT-SIZE: 12pt; MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt; FONT-FAMILY: "Times New Roman" } A:link { COLOR: blue; TEXT-DECORATION: underline } SPAN.MsoHyperlink { COLOR: blue; TEXT-DECORATION: underline } A:visited { COLOR: purple; TEXT-DECORATION: underline } SPAN.MsoHyperlinkFollowed { COLOR: purple; TEXT-DECORATION: underline } P { FONT-SIZE: 12pt; MARGIN-LEFT: 0in; MARGIN-RIGHT: 0in; FONT-FAMILY: "Times New Roman"; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto } SPAN.EmailStyle17 { COLOR: navy; FONT-FAMILY: Arial; mso-style-type: personal-reply } DIV.Section1 { page: Section1 } </style><div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">It's Saturday and we're trying to get chores done: Joel's at the vet with Oliver for him to get his shots and I'll be taking Faith to a class birthday party later this afternoon. Faith's been battling a cold and I've had a touch of the flu bug this week and so we're trying to play "catch-up" while also trying not to push too hard. Know what I mean? </span></span></div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;"></span></span> </div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">For our household: Elijah is in wrestling and tends to get frustrated -- he's lost all his matches but Joel reminds him that he had lost all his matches his first year too and then went to State the next year. However, it's nice to see Elijah making improvements at each match :>) Joel's tried to make it to a few of his practices to help out and I think it's nice for them to spend that special time together. Still, we have two hormonal teenage boys with Elijah making comments on TV shows about wanting to see cleavage (lovely.) and Isaac trying not to blush by Elijah's comments. It's an experience and we're just at the beginning! They're both getting acne, they've got pit hair, and we've all got some mood swings. . . . But, we also have our special moments where the boys and I have just sat together and talked about what's going on -- you know, those impromptu conversations :>) And, when I had a really bad headache with the flu bug this week, Isaac brought me up some dinner & juice to bed and then cuddled with me to watch movies. That was special too. :>)</span></span></div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;"></span></span> </div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">Faith, on the flip side, continues to grow and try to assert her independence. She's a handful as she challenges us, gets in trouble then cries, and flips between wanting to cuddle and wanting her space. I try to remind myself that this is normal for a 6 year-old who is on the verge of being a "kid" and still not quite there yet. This week's delight was seeing her lose one of her top middle teeth and so now she's got that really cute, toothless smile :>) (We noted that you could see the tooth underneath coming in already and so it was definitely time to lose that one!!) Today's fun is that she got a "My-nebo" (or something like that) for a late Christmas present and she played it non-stop (a video-game type toy) and when she's cared for the pet on the game long enough the top of the toy flips open and delivers a little stuffed animal-type thing. She was very excited :>)</span></span></div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;"></span></span> </div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">Needless to say, with all the horomones in the house we're trying to buy organic food whenever possible. This includes us trying to switch our dogs to more of a "raw" diet: I have a friend who is a dog trainer and she recommended the diet for our dogs because she says that people don't realize that sometimes their dog's food can contribute to behavior (think Elijah on caffeine and sugar). So, we're trying out cooking for the dogs: stew meat, spinach, apples, oatmeal, etc. all mushed together. Last night was day 1 (we'll see how long this lasts) and the dogs LOVED it!</span></span></div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;"></span></span> </div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">As for Joel & I: We continue to work on our relationship and are trying to incorporate more date nights and time together (grocery shopping?). For me, work is really busy: I successfully built my first SQL Server Analysis Services 2005 and Integration Services 2005 packages to make those "OLAP cube" interfaces for people to drill around in our data (similar to a webpage). . . This is part of a big initiative for the Executive team where they want more dashboard (glance at our corporate data) to see how we're doing. It's a high-pressure project with two OLAP developers and three dashboard developers all trying to learn brand-new software we've never used to get about 30 measures out by March 15th. It's chaotic and crazy because there aren't any "teachers" to help us out and answer questions so it's been a lot of self-taught learning. I guess the good part about it is that we build a real sense of comraderie on this team AND there is a real sense of accomplishment when we get something built. Hence the "Woo-hoo!" about building my first cube; it's also the first one completed for the project. Yesterday I started my second. . . Crazy! Just think of me whenever you hear about the major reform for the health industry being about making "smarter decisions" -- interpretation? Work for me!</span></span></div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;"></span></span> </div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">Joel, on the flip side, got more stressful news: HP just announced that they'll be going through a second round of layoffs in the second quarter. Joel's wanting to volunteer since the atmosphere at HP has really been bad and there hasn't been much work going on for the past couple of months as the company tries to assess what projects to continue and which to toss. Joel's thinking that this may be his opportunity to go back to school to pursue being a high-school science teacher . . . Agreed that this would be a better fit for his personality, we're both stressed about the financial changes, AND change is change -- it's difficult.</span></span></div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;"></span></span> </div> <div dir="ltr" align="left"><span class="915555618-24012009"><span style="font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#0000ff;">Anyhow, that's a pretty long update -- you know me and writing ;>) Hugs to everyone. . . . life keeps steam-rolling along!</span></span></div>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-30671074085251339532009-01-21T13:57:00.001-08:002009-01-21T13:57:53.023-08:00Simple Truths of Service VideoHere's another video that had been sent to me (via work) that got me teary. Enjoy!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.stservicemovie.com/">http://www.stservicemovie.com/</a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-42970205307428028792009-01-21T13:42:00.000-08:002009-01-21T13:43:59.106-08:00Why Don't We Do It In Our SleevesSome of you may have already seen this but it still cracks me up AND it's an important message. Check out the video here: <a href="http://www.coughsafe.com/media.html">http://www.coughsafe.com/media.html</a>.Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-73784233314142955252009-01-15T18:57:00.000-08:002009-01-15T18:58:44.886-08:00Here's a book I need to get. . .My cousin, Amy, sent me this link and, watching it, I was reminded of my Mom (LOVE her!). Check it out: <a title="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_4qwVLqt9Q" href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_4qwVLqt9Q" target="_blank" rel="nofollow">http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_4qwVLqt9Q</a><br /><br />Apparently it's taken from the book "The Middle" by <span>Kelly Corrigan. . . I think I need to get this book :)<br /></span>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-46753898131572518162009-01-11T22:06:00.000-08:002009-01-11T22:07:05.496-08:00Mom SongVery cute: <a href="http://www.raisingsmallsouls.com/mom-song/">http://www.raisingsmallsouls.com/mom-song/</a>Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6717818502889168964.post-47767658628407027842009-01-07T19:11:00.000-08:002009-01-07T19:21:14.014-08:00HELP REQUESTED: Seriously sick & tired of my flippin irregular heartbeat!Be forewarned: I'm grumpy! I just got back from grocery shopping with Faith and while out I experienced another "episode." I mean, seriously! Is there no peace? <br /><br />What's it like? You know how it feels when you hit your funny bone and it's that sharp pain . . . Imagine that sharp pain moving up from your elbow into your heart and growing in intensity as it approaches the heart. My heart feels sharp, cramping, heavy pain that grows in intensity and then gradually subsides. The event typically lasts a total of 5 minutes or so and then I'm left with that dull ache like after you've had an intense muscle cramp. . . . And I'm grumpy.<br /><br />April/May 2007 I wore an "event" monitor for a month and they diagnosed me with an irregular heart beat: Supraventricular tachychardia and something else (I have it written down somewhere). Basically my heart rate fluctuates between 80 and 130 bpm and also skips beats. . . My interpretation? My heart is wiggin' out. The doctors said that it seems to be a normal irregular heart beat but that we should keep an eye on it; no action required for now. <br /><br />However, I can tell you that, when I'm experiencing that sharp pain and am debating about going to the emergency room and waiting to see if the sensation moves below my elbow, those five minutes feel like forever!!<br /><br />Good news? It appears to cycle: I have these "events" periodically over about 2 months (with them growing in intensity and then lessening over the two months) and then they go away for several months. That's the good news: If I can bear it then this too shall pass.<br /><br />So, my request? Does anyone else know anything about this? Suggestions?<br /><br />Thanks!Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17840137612939828799noreply@blogger.com0