tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24716106691851406022024-02-18T19:52:34.163-07:00Hear Me RoarStefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-12936472918933363042011-08-28T02:42:00.000-06:002011-08-28T02:42:05.969-06:00New blog is (sorta) ready<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So come visit me over at </span><a href="http://wisesass.com/" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">http://wisesass.com/</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. Why? Because I'm wise & sassy. Okay, okay - sometimes I'm a wise-ass too. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-22077550511167776732011-08-24T11:10:00.001-06:002011-08-24T11:23:49.414-06:00Homework, HTML & Hardware<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I am going NUTS trying to work on this blog re-do, re-design, re-everything. There's a problem with mapping my new blog domain to my new blog platform and when I inquired of technical support their response was that "it's a bug in our system." YOU THINK? You can't map a domain to other nameservers and YOU THINK there's a bug in your system? Holy hell, people. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And then there's the whole theme editing and html stuff and what do you mean I have to use HTML to change the font? Or upgrade. And how come the new font only shows up on half the blog post? And a Gravatar? And Favicon? And, so, yeah, that. Going nuts. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And I was on a business trip to my company HQ in San Francisco last week (where I got to spend 2 days in a conference room with no less than 5 stinky sales men at any given time. Lucky, lucky me). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And my oldest son AND my husband started school on Monday. My youngest doesn't start until Tuesday next week so I have to work from home while the hubby is gone to school some mornings. You know, so my youngest doesn't burn the house down playing with matches or decide to scale the roof or something.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And my work laptop decided to crap out last week while in San Francisco. Perfect place for it to happen though; my IT guy there worked on it all day. It should be good as new. Should be. Except now I can't get on my home wi-fi network. Which makes working from home rather difficult. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This too shall pass. This too shall pass.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I will get this damn blog stuff figured out. Even if it means transferring registrars and begging and pleading for help with the html. The work laptop stuff will get figured out too. That's why we have IT guys. And little one will be in school next week and we'll get back into the school routine. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It always works out. Everything always works out. It's just an absolute bitch to get there. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In the meantime, here's my guy on his first day: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOu_hJNu3G6TWI_iooP40spWdzVxnI9qq6EcLZE2fbEDSpPE8CgvhvlRFTr_S3tPr3Pt0EKUXN32DcksXrUF6KRPrDnPwTv-FfIO2WycW6r52005TENB-FlCb1z6iS1mcR68AiPLkIgwP2/s1600/First+day+of+4th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOu_hJNu3G6TWI_iooP40spWdzVxnI9qq6EcLZE2fbEDSpPE8CgvhvlRFTr_S3tPr3Pt0EKUXN32DcksXrUF6KRPrDnPwTv-FfIO2WycW6r52005TENB-FlCb1z6iS1mcR68AiPLkIgwP2/s320/First+day+of+4th.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First day of 4th grade</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">He loved it. He called me at work when he got home to tell me it was great and his first homework assignment was to eat Oreos and then write about it. His teacher obviously knows how to win over her students. <br />
<br />
Okay, as I was writing this missive I took a break to go outside and get the mail. Little Bubba decided to come with me and ride his bike. He has a very little bike because for quite some time he's been too scared to ride without training wheels. Just last week we took the training wheels off and he hopped on and rode like a champ. Like he's been doing it all his life. But the bike is so small that his knees come up to the handle bars. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So I said, "hey, little dude, try out your brother's bike and see how you like it."<br />
<br />
At first he didn't want to try, but he's a good kid and he likes new things so he agreed to try. Here's the result:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/W6brV0v1YJw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have to go buy a new big boy bike now. SMH. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Ta!</span><br />
<br />
Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-57379362275972666142011-08-14T18:04:00.001-06:002011-08-14T18:06:23.505-06:00Ode to Idaho in IG<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We moved here almost 6 years ago. We left a congested city, a small house, bad air pollution, and, the only bad part, my family. There have definitely been ups and downs, good and bad, but overall I'm so glad we made that move. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We have such a better living environment here. For reals. Bigger home, better neighbors, better feeling of community. It's safer. It's a healthier lifestyle for the whole family. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I miss my family terribly at times. It has gotten easier with every subsequent year, though, and I have found that I (mostly) get my fill of family time in our regular visits. It's tough to miss the good things - like visits with my grandma, holiday celebrations, weddings, or baby births - but missing the drama, the inevitable family bickering or gossip or intrigue that happens with a close family, really balances things out nicely. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's some IG to prove Idaho awesomeness:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9indICEdEtgrlH0MI5WnPNPBJGDXKnn4s0o73LiwuQ4vdFJi_8IYMBCjyh0XwCanxOPQQZUlvstJgNXUOtASW8xqzmJ40jmNNgL5m5PZCQpyR4CfosY3Nga-rnQHVY9oqi1pM4mpkq_P/s1600/wood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif9indICEdEtgrlH0MI5WnPNPBJGDXKnn4s0o73LiwuQ4vdFJi_8IYMBCjyh0XwCanxOPQQZUlvstJgNXUOtASW8xqzmJ40jmNNgL5m5PZCQpyR4CfosY3Nga-rnQHVY9oqi1pM4mpkq_P/s320/wood.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We bought wood on the side of the road coming home from my in-law's one evening. Just grabbed a bundle and put $3 in the money box. Yep. NBD. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_I3GL0i1s-zCuDsQaeK-yHFDavJgmzMgVqL5Vn207wX4NL4pkr2ZjJujBf7ohKldyrtc7HP3Z0p3pHsWsUo5WV3iKjn-wPnxqM_pSpLnJOxg0blljEDaZWvqUEgd3OOO3yb89_LnQQZE/s1600/sunset+Aug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_I3GL0i1s-zCuDsQaeK-yHFDavJgmzMgVqL5Vn207wX4NL4pkr2ZjJujBf7ohKldyrtc7HP3Z0p3pHsWsUo5WV3iKjn-wPnxqM_pSpLnJOxg0blljEDaZWvqUEgd3OOO3yb89_LnQQZE/s320/sunset+Aug.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As the hubby was grabbing the wood, I snapped this pic. Farmland sunset. Hello? Gorgeous. This was taken 5 minutes from my house. And, okay, maybe I could get this same pic back in California but I didn't. I got it here, in Idaho. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihdaLgjeGlA5FJIAkGay0xPUkUzS1-e6_ZaUqnCDxPLnxmFUdP66K5aWc36UfYYU-M1BYfE3icv-ZIYi0mXx145Q7XdmyeWOhdtGSuMSOxfkCo85PlUanjlRGNfM52eNob8BX0g1TDw7Ap/s1600/drive+in.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihdaLgjeGlA5FJIAkGay0xPUkUzS1-e6_ZaUqnCDxPLnxmFUdP66K5aWc36UfYYU-M1BYfE3icv-ZIYi0mXx145Q7XdmyeWOhdtGSuMSOxfkCo85PlUanjlRGNfM52eNob8BX0g1TDw7Ap/s320/drive+in.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The drive-in. The only drive-in in the area and it's about an hour outside of town. It's extremely family-oriented, clean, and has been run by the same family (who live next door to the theater) since the 70's. Oh, and all the bathroom stalls have doors. This is a step up from my hometown drive-in, believe it or not.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUJ7WdL_VrlQ6iUQRvAkVGVrcleSwRErLvh_Zz9l3ZdFwunB_Hmk3RHgeJWNX1D1oNXoctbUlYx2AiuwRwhiZYkvjcMWUbxE9rVooVk-L8z63vWnP0zVek2DJWVJig0km8CaO-sCwyn1v/s1600/market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnUJ7WdL_VrlQ6iUQRvAkVGVrcleSwRErLvh_Zz9l3ZdFwunB_Hmk3RHgeJWNX1D1oNXoctbUlYx2AiuwRwhiZYkvjcMWUbxE9rVooVk-L8z63vWnP0zVek2DJWVJig0km8CaO-sCwyn1v/s320/market.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I live in a beautiful, community-minded city. This is a pic of the Saturday Farmer's market. It spans 2 blocks one way and 3 blocks another way and it's ah-maz-ing. Good food, good people, good vibe. I love that the downtown area is essentially shutdown for foot traffic only for like 5 hours every Saturday. Awesome sauce. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">There's so much more. The river that bi-sects the city. The 30+ miles of greenbelt. The Shakespeare Festival. The gorgeous parks. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I miss the ocean & the beaches of Califorrnia. I miss Disneyland. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I can still visit those places, but I can really LIVE here. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-1673638453904125952011-08-13T17:29:00.000-06:002011-08-13T17:29:02.436-06:00It's time for new things<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm a fickle little thing and I'm feeling the need to change things up a bit around here at Hear Me Roar. Here are the likely changes you'll see happening semi-soon:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1. I'm likely moving over to Wordpress. I think so. I'm almost sure. I hate Blogger's comments section. I want to be able to comment back on specific comments. I also want to section out my blog so I can have multiple sections - which takes us to point two . . . </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2. I'm probably going to segment the blog out a little bit and add a section on cooking. This is primarily inspired by my niece, Jenell, who called me yesterday and said, "Aunt Stef, I need you to show me how to cook. Can I have some of your recipes?" She's young, married just a few years with two little kids and a husband who works a lot. She needs some basic recipes and techniques to work with; the basics and a bit more. I said I would send her recipes and then I thought, OH MY GAWD, I can't imagine organizing my recipes enough to send to her without doing something MORE with them, you know? Like putting them out there in a blog for other people to use. So, that's just what I'm going to do. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3. Name change. Yep, I'm changing Hear Me Roar to something else. I have a few ideas. Nothing set in stone yet, but maybe something with "sassy" in the title. Because I'm sassy. (My husband says so). Hear Me Roar is always going to be aligned with the women's lib movement and, though I'm AM a feminist, I don't necessarily write about those things. I need a name that will reflect the foodie in me as well. So the name change is about finding a name that's perfectly me. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Back to the foodie thing. I have to admit it: I am a foodie. I love good food. My husband said the other day that he thinks when we really cook a good meal it's better than what we can get at most restaurants. Plus it's made with love just for us and our friends and family. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I love cooking & baking. Love it. If I could quit my job I would go back to school to be a baker and open a bakery/coffee shop thing of some sort. (As if we don't have enough of those, right?) But, seriously, my husband worked as a barista eons ago and managed a coffee shop - we could do this. The thought just absolutely makes me giggle. And if it was a used book store too? Heaven. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Okay, so that's a bit of a pipe dream, right? Right. In the meantime I'll be changing my blog so keep an eye out. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-51450424759605136972011-08-05T17:50:00.001-06:002011-08-05T17:55:07.844-06:00My New Friday Anthem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ey-VNes5YQs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I FREAKING LOVE the Glee version of Friday by Rebecca Black. It's HAPPY and uplifting and makes me smile. So I'm sharing it with you, my little friends. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You might think I'm a little late getting this anthem posted today but I say au contraire, ma soeur! It's 5:30 and that means my Friday, and the kick-off to my weekend, is JUST BEGINNING. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My boys are home from their impromptu camping trip and my husband is preparing dinner as I type. I'm looking forward to fun with my guys, good BBQ, and a cold (adult) beverage.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*sigh* </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Is there anything better in the world than the start of the weekend??<br />
</div><blockquote style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue",Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>It’s Friday, Friday<br />
Gotta get down on Friday<br />
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend, weekend<br />
Friday, Friday<br />
Gettin’ down on Friday<br />
Everybody’s lookin’ forward to the weekend<br />
<br />
Partyin’, partyin’ (Yeah)</i> <i><br />
Partyin’, partyin’ (Yeah)<br />
Fun, fun, fun, fun<br />
Lookin’ forward to the weekend</i></blockquote><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Happy Friday! Have a wonderful weekend, <span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps">mes petits amis. </span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span class="short_text" id="result_box" lang="fr"><span class="hps"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Note: I didn't actually retain any French that I "learned" in high school. I just have a fascination with <a href="http://www.google.com/language_tools">Google's Language Tools</a>. </span></span></span></div>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-73704998433644574822011-07-30T12:57:00.007-06:002011-08-02T17:08:39.504-06:00I am not really the "working-out" type<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I hate to sweat. Like seriously. I hate to get over-heated. And I hate it when my fingers swell. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I absolutely loathed P.E. class in jr. high and high school and was happy when I didn't have to bother with it anymore for my junior & senior years. (Plus my jr. high P.E. teacher, Mrs. Phillips, was a royal witch with a capital "B.")</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">BUT. Big ole BUT. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I had been thinking about it for a while. Thinking about how so many women I know run and do marathons and just absolutely get that bug and then they get all skinny and then I have to hate them. AND I HATE THAT. Having to hate them, that is. So I thought, hey, could I do that? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then I said shut up, you're not a runner. You hate running. You hate sweating. What's wrong with you? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then I said, no, YOU shut up. Because I could totally do that. I just need to shift my paradigm.<br />
<blockquote> (<span class="hw">par·a·digm</span> n.<b> 3. </b> A set of assumptions, concepts, values, and practices that constitutes a way of viewing reality for the community that shares them, especially in an intellectual discipline.) </blockquote></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So I did. Or have been. It's an on-going battle. I decided to start on my first full day back from vacation - July 10. So for the past three weeks I have been doing it.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I've mostly been working-out on our elliptical machine. I like it. I like being inside. I do intervals on the elliptical too - I'll go really fast for a bit and then go back to a more moderate pace. I have a bit of a routine - I definitely work-out every Monday night. That's when I watch my guilty pleasure TV and working out at the same time balances that nicely, I think. I've been doing 3.1 miles consistently on the elliptical on Monday nights. Then I try 2-3 more workouts during the week as well. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When I work-out outside I try to do run/walk intervals. More walk than run because I know I need to start conditioning before I run too much or I will literally fall-down dead. Other things make working-out outside less desirable - like my own insecurities. I don't want people to SEE me working-out. I'm sure I just look ridiculous. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This morning I was determined to work-out outside. It didn't go as well as it could have due to a sore left heel, I forgot my water, my nose closed up due to allergies, and it was 89 flippin' degrees and I was roasty-toasty. I came home early and took a COLD shower. All in all, I did just about 2 miles today. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But, HEY, if it was 5 weeks ago then I wouldn't have done that at all, would I? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Conclusion: I still don't like running or sweating but I love the feeling I have after doing it. I feel like I really accomplished something. And I just feel better about myself. Like I'm actively doing something to better myself. I feel SEXIER already. That feeling just absolutely rocks. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Two people have told me that I look thinner. I've only lost about 4 lbs so far. We'll see. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Now I think I need to invest in a better sports bra - because these girls CANNOT be contained - and new trainers (Britishism). My current tennies give me blisters on the inside of my arch, just before my heel. Odd.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So there's my first work-out update. I'll try to post anytime I have something worthwhile to say. Please keep the support and encouragement coming - I will definitely need it. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-4355665527016125722011-07-27T17:18:00.005-06:002011-07-28T11:49:35.354-06:00Amy Winehouse (Warning: F-bomb)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/boJOZDw-iFI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Live. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/iVaqQe3V498?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">Official video. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/6ScdaHc7J8g?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;">I love this one too. </div><br />
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</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">RIP Amy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-78840711483390255062011-07-25T12:42:00.005-06:002011-07-27T16:51:46.074-06:00Losing Faith: Politics & Madmen<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It would be quite easy to chalk up the events in Norway this weekend to the work of a madman (comforting because no "normal" person would commit such an atrocity) but I fear that isn't the case. Maybe he IS mad - who am I to judge - but his rampage wasn't random. It has the appearance of being politically motivated and this sickens me to no end. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">How is it possible that someone can feel so strongly about a political party that they would execute, SLAUGHTER, the children and young adults affiliated with that party? HOW? Tell me how because my brain can't process it. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The U.S. government in Washington, D.C. has stalled in debt ceiling talks. Normally this is a routine piece of legislation, however this time some members of the political parties seem to think this is a win or lose situation for them rather than *simply* the financial fate of our country. </span><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I don't usually get political on my blog - because I'm not interested in debating my beliefs with anyone - but I have to say that I'm simply aghast that with a financial catastrophe absolutely breathing down our necks our representatives are not doing more to work together. Compromise, people. Work towards the greater good.<br />
<br />
Have they forgotten that they work for the citizens of the U.S.? Their decisions impact our collective futures. <br />
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Silent Majority. I saw that term in a headline over the weekend and immediately reacted to it. The headline was something like, "The U.S. Moderate Silent Majority is Fed-Up with Washington." </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">To which I say: YOU ARE DAMN WELL RIGHT, I AM. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I lean left most of the time. Sometimes I swerve right. Sometimes I can be undecided. Other times I'm steadfast. I listen. I observe. I listen to their words and I watch their actions. Then, at the polls, I vote my conscience - on the issue AND on the person. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>I AM the Silent Majority.</b></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As I watched my Twitter feed this weekend I saw a lot of Norway tweets mingled with newsy tweets about the failed debt ceiling talks. President Obama is angry. House Speaker Boehner is apparently trying to appease the fringe Tea Partiers. He left the meetings. They held dueling press conferences. They don't agree on anything. Blah, blah, blah. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">All I can think is MY GAWD, have you NOT seen the news about Norway? About what happens when a (likely) political extremist takes his views too far? Is your damn hubris so all important that you can't bridge the gap and come to a resolution for the GREATER GOOD of our country? Please, for the love of Maude, stop the polarizing rhetoric and political posturing. You are making me mad. And sad. And just plain scared for our future.<br />
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The constant hate-filled political rhetoric and the negative-loving media beast is perpetuating the creation of extremist viewpoints. <u>No good can come of this</u>. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We are on a path of political, financial and cultural destruction. We are slowly committing suicide as a country. Our patriotism, or belief in our political system and our leaders, are all dying a slow death that we are bringing upon ourselves. We are killing everything that we love about our country. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I just want something to believe in. I want to believe my leaders are representing the best interests of my family. Even if I disagree with specific pieces of legislation I want to have that trust, that assurance, that they are looking ahead to the future and protecting the interests of all Americans. That they are listening when smart people tell them what the impacts of their decisions will be and that they are then taking the BEST (non-biased, non-partisan) option for our collective futures. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Our similarities are greater than our differences. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mend those fences, compromise, please, before my children's financial futures, not to mention their hope and faith in their country's leaders, are decimated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We have the judicial, legislative and executive branches of our government for a reason. Checks and balances. Oversight. The prevention of anarchy, chaos & tyranny. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Memo to Congress: please see beyond your own self-interest. This is my country too. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-62680604499191295132011-07-22T10:25:00.000-06:002011-07-22T10:25:19.711-06:00Kids are really obnoxious<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Okay, y'all know that I love my kids. They are a part of me - why I live and breathe every day. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But, seriously, they are so LOUD. Loud, obnoxious and unrestrained. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Things were so quiet when they were in California. I often talked out loud to myself when I was home alone. Just because it was so dang quiet. Not anymore! We're lucky to get a word in with each other. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Last night we were in the car and my mom was sitting in the backseat between the boys and she was plugging her years because she was getting it from both sides. Bickering and playing with each other - in just about equal parts. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On one hand, I'm happy my kids don't feel inhibited or restrained. I want them to be able to speak freely to me, my husband and our immediate family - especially my parents. I want them to be kids and act like kids and let the creativity flow and if that means having competitions about which of them can sound more like a girl when they scream then so be it. (However, not in the freaking-ass car).</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On the other hand, when they are being loud it makes it really hard to hear their parents or grandparents, it makes it impossible for us to talk to each other, and there comes a point where we cross from creative outlet to just plain ole bad manners. It's a balance. Right now I feel like we are teetering a little over on the bad manners side - maybe because they are just home from a 3 week vacation and need to figure out their boundaries at home again? I'm guessing that's it. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In any case, I LOVE my children but they just might be the death of me this weekend until they get back in the groove. The grandparents are staying through Sunday morning and then we can get back to our normal lives.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Speaking of normal lives, we seem to have gotten into a bad sleeping pattern/night time habit with the kids. It doesn't get dark here until 10 pm. Often we don't make the kids to go to bed until 10 pm. It's summer, it's fine. But they stay up in their room screwing around, talking, playing, getting in each others beds for at least another 2 hours. It drives us crazy. At 10 pm, and definitely by 11 pm, we are ready for some adult quiet time. No obnoxious kids. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Last night was particularly frustrating. I started getting them ready for bed at 9:30. At midnight I made one of them go sleep on our bed and, later after he had fallen asleep, my husband moved him back to his bed. But before that we had to interrupt the movie we were watching about 6 times to tell them to settle down. It was just flat-out outrageous behavior. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So, as a result of all this, I'm considering dismantling my office, my girl sanctum, and making separate rooms for the kids. It's no longer so important to have a guest room (since my parents bought a travel trailer and will use that when they visit). The trade-off would be that I would take a room that has been traditionally a playroom/pets room and I would clean it up and re-organize my office space there. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Con: </b>it doesn't have a door. It's just one end of a long room. The other side of the room has the stairs up to my husband's loft office and the door to the dog run. Oh, and I wouldn't have a window facing the front of my house anymore when I'm sitting at my work station. I would have to keep a tortoise's habitat in my office.</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Pro:</b> none for me personally. The benefit of peace and quiet that would come from the boys having separate rooms is a win for the whole family though. Oh, yeah, and I would have a tortoise in my office. </span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The boys are 9 & 7 years old. What do you think about giving them their own rooms? Will it be a good thing or can this be seen as giving in to their tyranny? I think the alone time would be a benefit to them. They each kind of re-group when they are alone. But would it hamper their closeness? I want them to grow up close to one another. </span></span><br />
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</span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Help. Please. Thank you. </span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCQBIqzGYiG436BOmt3m4__gLcg_A3KwjSeAti0tla6DvlJ0ypKJYkIW0PY_GJ6MwJ6tyXisMvVvkZDK3zKzE2_9Su30TbvvJ8czSd0afyknp4qgscuVDwZP4Y2w44V6P86D-qgX3JI7f/s1600/Copy+of+Summer+2009+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJCQBIqzGYiG436BOmt3m4__gLcg_A3KwjSeAti0tla6DvlJ0ypKJYkIW0PY_GJ6MwJ6tyXisMvVvkZDK3zKzE2_9Su30TbvvJ8czSd0afyknp4qgscuVDwZP4Y2w44V6P86D-qgX3JI7f/s320/Copy+of+Summer+2009+018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-56879516279183168842011-07-21T11:10:00.002-06:002011-07-21T13:11:15.851-06:00Thankful Thursday: Too Much Good Stuff<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I am indeed very thankful today. For many reasons: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li>Last night my boys came home after being with their grandparents in California for 12 days. I'm so thankful they came home safely to me. It felt weird having half my heart beating from another state. The two halves belong together just like my babies belong with me. </li>
</ul><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li>I'm thankful for having a mom & stepdad who would take my children for 12 days just so they can be with them and take them to do fun things. They went to the mountains, they kayaked, they swam a lot (and are still learning and getting better), they went to the Jelly Belly Factory, they helped my parents buy a travel trailer - okay, so not always fun for the kids. But my kids will get the benefit of that travel trailer (we're already planning a trip for the 6 of us to Yellowstone next year) and how awesome are those grandparents? </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiydlIwIfDotce78heca8tLdKncofiBI3ULknQ6p9I3q1liWKBgRiUH8YGxcel6-XGX83WvTEKXC3F9JCWymdEmKaLc8GqIwl1AceHsOOHp7_DvPOX9IkHXQqvxR6KZQbP7NT8Ic9QAUmwU/s1600/Pinecones.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiydlIwIfDotce78heca8tLdKncofiBI3ULknQ6p9I3q1liWKBgRiUH8YGxcel6-XGX83WvTEKXC3F9JCWymdEmKaLc8GqIwl1AceHsOOHp7_DvPOX9IkHXQqvxR6KZQbP7NT8Ic9QAUmwU/s320/Pinecones.JPG" width="226" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdHlmCDL7g_h9a1e9JXKaZlzxLZX5Br4ezkBtIhJQPsQBXZAAM3C9QK752sOwUh-i6pZkgTQwqfj0JBnR_yi-gEWaa_tvrI0LizbAxzuRscSfiabnzZmI1vofnzh00MPGhoZt0-rDmNv4/s1600/Cam+Kayaking.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqdHlmCDL7g_h9a1e9JXKaZlzxLZX5Br4ezkBtIhJQPsQBXZAAM3C9QK752sOwUh-i6pZkgTQwqfj0JBnR_yi-gEWaa_tvrI0LizbAxzuRscSfiabnzZmI1vofnzh00MPGhoZt0-rDmNv4/s320/Cam+Kayaking.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YEEV5NjQ1UMVuXB853z2pQY5-s1D37uHgeJTJNlmvoxj-WbxnDHEoy3Fs8IfW30AvfKhTaAEAFMcmuODNHjdvpfBys4o1qWBXjHVhQAnVFlwvpMI_Y9GFkRYilHXM74ewvv1_zQocC12/s1600/jamie+swimming.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4YEEV5NjQ1UMVuXB853z2pQY5-s1D37uHgeJTJNlmvoxj-WbxnDHEoy3Fs8IfW30AvfKhTaAEAFMcmuODNHjdvpfBys4o1qWBXjHVhQAnVFlwvpMI_Y9GFkRYilHXM74ewvv1_zQocC12/s320/jamie+swimming.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOePCqo5LUsGB7el-qo1Zd4X4owAxr6whqj2JUGhKIymgM2-rC68eiUskUS1gHmdFqvF81Xqc9QAJf06jhDXcE-bVlHbk5mTW9UEdlWmJDmi2bSqygOpVXjUwTvnPMev-PJ3GdF4h3Y0X3/s1600/boys+at+Jelly+Belly.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOePCqo5LUsGB7el-qo1Zd4X4owAxr6whqj2JUGhKIymgM2-rC68eiUskUS1gHmdFqvF81Xqc9QAJf06jhDXcE-bVlHbk5mTW9UEdlWmJDmi2bSqygOpVXjUwTvnPMev-PJ3GdF4h3Y0X3/s320/boys+at+Jelly+Belly.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li> I'm thankful for the time I had with my husband over the past weekend. We NEEDED to reconnect romantically without kids, parents and stressors and we did just that. And I was spoiled. He was spoiled. It was GOOD. After 12 years together (11 married) we don't expect heart-shaped explosions all the time, but respect, understanding, caring, and a teacup or two of passion will put us in good stead for a while.</li>
</ul><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSG0lyQNFIzvBbUl_LKMRCmDl77mS3D7lm3akWJY7Ms5M3OhF6iY5TfT_gKfv47FONkT2mEuoMZ9Z5mr-j8biKBcMctnUxLVA3zEWGBwo0sO9rY4Ub0RCQOF9UC9px7KJoDpm0ytEZcR4s/s1600/Downtown+Boise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSG0lyQNFIzvBbUl_LKMRCmDl77mS3D7lm3akWJY7Ms5M3OhF6iY5TfT_gKfv47FONkT2mEuoMZ9Z5mr-j8biKBcMctnUxLVA3zEWGBwo0sO9rY4Ub0RCQOF9UC9px7KJoDpm0ytEZcR4s/s400/Downtown+Boise.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Date night. Downtown Boise. We saw <a href="http://www.buckthefilm.com/">BUCK</a> and it was SO GOOD. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li>I'm thankful for the time I had alone. My husband had shows or rehearsals every evening so I had my house to myself. WOW. I didn't know what to do with myself. I was paralyzed in indecision from the options. Do I want to write a blog? Make dinner for MYSELF only? Clean house? Watch a chick flick? Pay bills? Work out? Paint the hallway? WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS HOLY SHOULD I DO? In the end, to be honest, I didn't do much. I did the dishes some days. I watched some girl TV (we don't need details. moving on.) I worked out. I watered plants. I did (some) laundry. I did NOT bake a darn thing. One night all I ate for dinner was <a href="http://www.natalieskillercuisine.com/2010/01/baked-zucchini-chips.html" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Zucchini</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">. It was awesome.</span></li>
</ul><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li>I'm thankful for friends who are like family. 'Nuff said. </li>
</ul><ul style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li>Last, but not least, I'm thankful for my renewed work-out ethic. I came back from vacation with the intention of beginning my work-out regimen. That Sunday I got out mid-day and started day 1, week 1, of the <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml">Couch-to-5K</a> program using the <a href="http://www.c25kapp.com/">C25K iPhone app</a>. I didn't finish it. I ended up walking half the "runs". Because, hello, I'm not in the best of shape. But I'm going to persevere. I'm going to get it done. I've been hitting my elliptical at night. I'm very proud of myself. Very proud of the effort I have been making and I hope to keep it up. In the last 12 days I've done 3.1 miles on the elliptical a couple times, and then about 1 to 1 1/2 miles a few other times. I'm using a Pedometer app on my iPhone to track the elliptical work-outs. This is good for me. Baby steps. I will get there. But first I need new shoes. :) </li>
</ul><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1Q07Nyxzb1jbXEsxOVdY47kHA5XjAKx0aEJjxtZ2wuV2aL4sFcpb1sEX8OM7y8gWZMjzA0z7oAQTJCrtv4Q6jtGLdwqALeScHt-ymiuFEP8oZVl2CrjgMc-XkrU6wtk0w2eF8H53-t3k/s1600/Pedometer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1Q07Nyxzb1jbXEsxOVdY47kHA5XjAKx0aEJjxtZ2wuV2aL4sFcpb1sEX8OM7y8gWZMjzA0z7oAQTJCrtv4Q6jtGLdwqALeScHt-ymiuFEP8oZVl2CrjgMc-XkrU6wtk0w2eF8H53-t3k/s320/Pedometer.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What are you thankful for today? </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-56311877937831561392011-07-14T01:32:00.001-06:002011-07-14T01:33:50.138-06:00On Vacation, Part 3: The party's over already?<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Last Thursday morning when we woke up we knew we had less than 48 hours left in California. At least me and the hubby did. Time to cram EVERYTHING IN that we hadn't done yet. Oh, wait, that's not possible? Okay, let's go to the coast instead.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We crammed the 6 of us into my stepdad's truck, plus all our junk for an overnight stay, plus snacks - because, helllloooo, ROAD TRIP - and we were off! Then we stopped at 15 places like the bank, the gas station, Rite Aid, etc., before we left town. But then we were off!! Woo-hoo. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We made it about 45 minutes to Kettleman City. If you don't know, Kettleman is a town that survives for the sole purpose of being a major pit stop for people traveling down the I-5 corridor. Back in a previous lifetime I used to go on patrols in this town with a law enforcement type friend of mine so I got to know the area better than most people who pass through. There's very little to recommend it other than all the country roads, away from the light pollution, and the gorgeous starry skies. Oh, and the In-n-Out Burger. Yep, forget the starry skies - In-n-Out is probably the best thing about Kettleman. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So, duh, we stopped there. Now I typically order straight off their simple menu - just a cheeseburger (no grilled onions or tomatoes), but In-n-Out has a not-so-secret-menu that they don't advertise. You just have to know what to order. For examples, you can say you want your burger animal style and they will add pickles, extra spread & grilled onions and Mustard fried into the patty. Or a 4x4 is 4 meat patties and 4 pieces of cheese - this is the largest burger they will serve. You can also order a Flying Dutchman - you can Google that one yourself. Or, if you are brave, just order it next time you swing through In-n-Out and find out what it is. But, hey, cool, right? Secret menus FTW. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Okay, back on the road after our burger fill. Morro Bay or BUST! And my bladder nearly did. But we made it to our hotel/motel place. (Never stayed there before. It wanted to be good but it just didn't quite make it. Sad Panda.) But YAY. Morro Bay. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Morro Bay. Ah. My heart belongs to Morro Bay. I love Cambria and Cayucos and now Avila Beach as well, but there's just something about Morro. It tugs at me. It's my spiritual home. I want to eventually live there. In my good, long retirement years. (Fingers-crossed).</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We drove out to the rock first thing. What rock, you ask? Well, this one:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPkNbKalX9LZjMk3AAEiT-YqPi3-lQan8Kqmrh832zradz9l5GbXW9AfgYgg3eCijaX0tq8bGXopDHIAqrcPDQCjpJRDOyqF15O_bg-1wfuHBVqFoXnC1Wg_bQqXyEKqCtJ-3T2AplMLD/s1600/Morro+Rock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVPkNbKalX9LZjMk3AAEiT-YqPi3-lQan8Kqmrh832zradz9l5GbXW9AfgYgg3eCijaX0tq8bGXopDHIAqrcPDQCjpJRDOyqF15O_bg-1wfuHBVqFoXnC1Wg_bQqXyEKqCtJ-3T2AplMLD/s320/Morro+Rock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Confession: I didn't take this pic. I don't know who did, but I do know that I love Google Images. Amen. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Big, right? And awesome too. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So we went out to the left side of the rock and hung out on a little beach there for a while. I snapped some Instragram pics (duh) while hubby and the boys climbed all over tarnation. (Spell check doesn't recognize "tarnation" as a word. Obviously spell check isn't Okie or Southern at all. It's a word, dang it). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFv3qUvN06d4RJhlY2Pthx9_UKMvwwo4nu2t_qroASi4aMhxYsFc4xz0IBVAdGoHvocCCYNFWfmAhXxbro8mKjQfnCnCcgEiGSFk5eLutNWePBU0id7MPemmQkZye3RCV-owpxvGNWZuYe/s1600/family+at+Morro.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFv3qUvN06d4RJhlY2Pthx9_UKMvwwo4nu2t_qroASi4aMhxYsFc4xz0IBVAdGoHvocCCYNFWfmAhXxbro8mKjQfnCnCcgEiGSFk5eLutNWePBU0id7MPemmQkZye3RCV-owpxvGNWZuYe/s320/family+at+Morro.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boys. Hubby. Tarnation. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I perched on a rock (not THE rock. a significantly smaller one) and snapped away. This was at the rock (yes, THE rock) looking back at the little coastal village that is Morro Bay:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG90uMqDYzTVtC9PdNmiKkvCIJM3Xx87tyLhD-OeSU4oF960yRUPVM_SFotIVD-LROh99OoArlfFGmMZoZwWR4JH-x9byGZrV4qP4kO14lPo9vSbOPWDr6Yp7asv72QAuGuuxpEtvlUMO_/s1600/Morro+Bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG90uMqDYzTVtC9PdNmiKkvCIJM3Xx87tyLhD-OeSU4oF960yRUPVM_SFotIVD-LROh99OoArlfFGmMZoZwWR4JH-x9byGZrV4qP4kO14lPo9vSbOPWDr6Yp7asv72QAuGuuxpEtvlUMO_/s320/Morro+Bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And then I said, oh, look, there's a boat!! And let's use a different IG filter:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYH2-ZNOYQZ2aGQ98xqCyh_SFtbFsrILZVo__2PMc7_seI7f-xymbPgcmlbVPZ0kLf8ngHT4DW0XhGX7ciUgUqV8EwBzIm4CR2S4rfrc4oSjrrHAyT1xEHp4M6oFnfqiflVXv2jx9ZqFW/s1600/Morro+Bay+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYH2-ZNOYQZ2aGQ98xqCyh_SFtbFsrILZVo__2PMc7_seI7f-xymbPgcmlbVPZ0kLf8ngHT4DW0XhGX7ciUgUqV8EwBzIm4CR2S4rfrc4oSjrrHAyT1xEHp4M6oFnfqiflVXv2jx9ZqFW/s320/Morro+Bay+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">With a boat or without, with an IG filter or not, Morro Bay is gorgeous. It's quaint. It's touristy but not. You get the impression that the locals just go about their business and they don't mind the tourists too much at all. There's the embarcadero for that, but the little downtown area really shouldn't be missed; little book shops, antique stores, unique coffee places, and all with a coastal charm. Love, love, love. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We stayed at the coast that night and until about 4 pm the next day before jumping back in the car to drive the 2 to 2 1/2 hours back to my hometown. Then the hubby and I packed and fretted about leaving our boys with their Grandma & Papa for "up to two weeks." We had made the decision long ago but that didn't make it any easier. In the end, we got up the next morning at 3:30 AM, kissed our sleeping boys, and drove to the airport. We were back home (via two planes and 3 airports) before they even woke up. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's been 5 days since then and they tell me they don't want to come home. They want to stay at Grandma & Papa's where they can swim every day and go kayaking at Shaver Lake and go to the Zoo and go to the movies and go to Adventure Park as well. Well, YEAH. Duh. So apparently Grandma & Papa will return them kicking and screaming at the end of next week. Something to look forward to.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Oh, yeah, one last thing. 11 years ago today this happened:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqT9Gc4EjK8iGNmE-LLY1HknqORo74YSR5D-VV4d7K3MwoUNb773k6eAfFWQocn5o8ptf2g0_xxIDakA0LZt2FoGDgdyFio0pkwnwS8xnGpGqr5PXYgPdY4eVM3xO5vzdBA_I2UWKQKsL/s1600/Wedding+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicqT9Gc4EjK8iGNmE-LLY1HknqORo74YSR5D-VV4d7K3MwoUNb773k6eAfFWQocn5o8ptf2g0_xxIDakA0LZt2FoGDgdyFio0pkwnwS8xnGpGqr5PXYgPdY4eVM3xO5vzdBA_I2UWKQKsL/s1600/Wedding+pic.jpg" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Don't we look ridiculously young? We were. We were leading with our hearts. Happy 11th wedding anniversary to my life partner. Mwah! </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">(And, yes, there was nothing in the champagne flutes. They were/are awesome, and engraved (thank you Auntie) but at the time the photographer wanted to snap the pic we didn't have an champagne or sparkling cider available. C'est la vie, I always say.) </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Things I love in this blog post? At least 3: Morro Bay, vacation, and my guy. (In no particular order). </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-51801464190401993602011-07-07T01:56:00.003-06:002011-07-11T14:50:46.670-06:00On Vacation, part 2: Partying like Rock Stars<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We are having a little too much fun at my mom & stepdad's house in California. Just a smidge. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sunday, July 3rd, we had our annual Independence Day BBQ/Swim Party. 45 people, and it went for about 10 hours. Marathon party. 13 people slept at the house that night.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Yo, our parties are off the chain (or hook. either one, really) . Slammin'. Bangin'. Totally ballin'. The bomb. Badass and whack. Like yo.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Okay. Forgive me. Sometimes my thiry-something self reverts back to a 21 year old. A 21 year old that was nothing like ME at 21. In any case, WE HAD FUN. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We swam. A lot:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RY9Pb0TVmXr-g73e8lVv2OZZbpcOjaEMObl7kPzoGGZ8pSeufWbVXVTXRdBWdmrHG-aLMcmCfsJBlApO3htFiqm4Jb2g4vtldsEbE_AGDEiAMz2QYJ1WuzNpMbUMlDLJK4qbAKTyL5kp/s1600/Swim+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RY9Pb0TVmXr-g73e8lVv2OZZbpcOjaEMObl7kPzoGGZ8pSeufWbVXVTXRdBWdmrHG-aLMcmCfsJBlApO3htFiqm4Jb2g4vtldsEbE_AGDEiAMz2QYJ1WuzNpMbUMlDLJK4qbAKTyL5kp/s320/Swim+party.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was really freakin' hot (seriously, like 106 degrees Fahrenheit. No lie.(that's about 41 degrees celsius for you people from across the pond.))</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iBdNrG23YO786liy7VKU6aY45_qSGqVyLHDzpqv_Liw1gQjvUlhPNyQuw1hwTww9KEQFvlAGpZAU_QtYFGSUZxLCYMFEF9pVhdI2xopmWO3AeosRGqen6mAy3P1eksbC8Djt2xQoO99n/s1600/Boys+swimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5iBdNrG23YO786liy7VKU6aY45_qSGqVyLHDzpqv_Liw1gQjvUlhPNyQuw1hwTww9KEQFvlAGpZAU_QtYFGSUZxLCYMFEF9pVhdI2xopmWO3AeosRGqen6mAy3P1eksbC8Djt2xQoO99n/s320/Boys+swimming.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And we lit about a bazillion fireworks in front of the house:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9owFQF8n1EkqiFEEdzR6i-f0JhSqrbr2-EG9BrvmQSiuRJtkl3S8flCSFIjewBrJZqIgprEZIgEEYR3TvrWD_KlDkuKfLei7Gx64lwuALBHkSuKv_bb4E8WoFmPMQs4hxSSbPS3VhX1s/s1600/Fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm9owFQF8n1EkqiFEEdzR6i-f0JhSqrbr2-EG9BrvmQSiuRJtkl3S8flCSFIjewBrJZqIgprEZIgEEYR3TvrWD_KlDkuKfLei7Gx64lwuALBHkSuKv_bb4E8WoFmPMQs4hxSSbPS3VhX1s/s320/Fireworks.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">As you can imagine, we were a little overheated and peopled-out the next day. The guests left and we kept out of the sun at the movies in the afternoon (Kung Fu Panda 2. Cute.), then went down to my old high school for a community fireworks show. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We waited for the sun to go down:</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKmtsLWYrwaqPY6usiNrxbO8vh86o5n4i07cxcALdVzZSVfwQHdHD-V82G96RtbKM-XxxrWNqQRjLG41VaEgnG7-cgar_IZNkHvgKa5JzJjtUaFayZqJH6_fyxpSrY9ApHtPLMxXZ7hFiQ/s1600/Waiting+for+fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKmtsLWYrwaqPY6usiNrxbO8vh86o5n4i07cxcALdVzZSVfwQHdHD-V82G96RtbKM-XxxrWNqQRjLG41VaEgnG7-cgar_IZNkHvgKa5JzJjtUaFayZqJH6_fyxpSrY9ApHtPLMxXZ7hFiQ/s320/Waiting+for+fireworks.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And took some pics: </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNuDOiLAqXrDxsoXx2T99NZaQr1DZ_Xwy571-J4xB2Vt3roa6C2APUfP-5JWAnVPoYHuP2GKfDBvvsED22mmQFOA69h9jIeKMGWByd59PZ8Jf_i1uRPGPsrHsir6Um94wubyjvJ52YRm9/s1600/Flags+on+the+4th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNuDOiLAqXrDxsoXx2T99NZaQr1DZ_Xwy571-J4xB2Vt3roa6C2APUfP-5JWAnVPoYHuP2GKfDBvvsED22mmQFOA69h9jIeKMGWByd59PZ8Jf_i1uRPGPsrHsir6Um94wubyjvJ52YRm9/s320/Flags+on+the+4th.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKX4CpBPFUSeMr0rS1c34NZiRzyzeMu0la6edLvHteW-ZLSj25yCqMAMTzfqLsaVkYkBL8Fw-hojOzlkko4NdUoPhGtXNVk8Mat3lUObJUxWAYnlWsUBmkZ9gM35hc7kwfrlYmzZr-2UNQ/s1600/Eric+%2526+stef+waiting+for+fireworks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKX4CpBPFUSeMr0rS1c34NZiRzyzeMu0la6edLvHteW-ZLSj25yCqMAMTzfqLsaVkYkBL8Fw-hojOzlkko4NdUoPhGtXNVk8Mat3lUObJUxWAYnlWsUBmkZ9gM35hc7kwfrlYmzZr-2UNQ/s320/Eric+%2526+stef+waiting+for+fireworks.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We had snow cones:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnd-jftDd39n_Yi7kHt72RCYTQDeR6fvECS114zEyEbKDNduOSJKBmyX5PLpGavEq8h0JW8quwVvKR9eMnb5e29bVcy3AFKkFn1i5uf0B9THGPq6jDjvHfZc_UjHPHd9R0KepR4HtvkZh/s1600/Snowcone+tongues.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnnd-jftDd39n_Yi7kHt72RCYTQDeR6fvECS114zEyEbKDNduOSJKBmyX5PLpGavEq8h0JW8quwVvKR9eMnb5e29bVcy3AFKkFn1i5uf0B9THGPq6jDjvHfZc_UjHPHd9R0KepR4HtvkZh/s320/Snowcone+tongues.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And the boys played with bubbles: </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5M_vZEX42ZL7-DraFdtjZILOQyTrKCcrfE-A6FpkV9SutV0idmFVa_HywT9aPZjjNVjd-A1OLWK087PZ3DZ8bURef9lEZjjyTnasHfjAqieIQtSRkIYyQX5EZ_PrTaoe8DV2ZVxpOPcUc/s1600/Boys+playing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5M_vZEX42ZL7-DraFdtjZILOQyTrKCcrfE-A6FpkV9SutV0idmFVa_HywT9aPZjjNVjd-A1OLWK087PZ3DZ8bURef9lEZjjyTnasHfjAqieIQtSRkIYyQX5EZ_PrTaoe8DV2ZVxpOPcUc/s320/Boys+playing.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then we had fireworks:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8-KJaCoJ9vTH06lzOGUOZR2GDvX5jSQjvcXkY5UlP6yHzdmF3OK8ajtJCPIEbz_3BdMtptDoDVWVKTRnA8ZCTn_OqF1acTZlL6KFfKIqBXo79m9fVaTwmOVrqBKVXShO-ksH9AtUEJOW/s1600/Fireworks+bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK8-KJaCoJ9vTH06lzOGUOZR2GDvX5jSQjvcXkY5UlP6yHzdmF3OK8ajtJCPIEbz_3BdMtptDoDVWVKTRnA8ZCTn_OqF1acTZlL6KFfKIqBXo79m9fVaTwmOVrqBKVXShO-ksH9AtUEJOW/s320/Fireworks+bowl.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">IT.WAS.AWESOME. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That night we all died from exhaustion and heatstroke. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then we got up the next morning and went to breakfast with the best grandma ever. Like, in the world. I couldn't love her more. We hung out at Grammy's house and did a whole lot of nothing, which, at Grammy's, consists of putting together puzzles, playing dominoes, and eating Taffy cookies. Sometimes stale. Oh, and sucking on butterscotch candies. The boys played in her "playroom," sometimes affectionately referred to as a "junk room." Toys from the 1960's & 70's hide there among aging avocado green lampshades, lodge robes and memorabilia from kids and grandkids alike. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEk2G-oVQ_nsBk6KD_lFAClDYx4dgA4e4Gjvv_mMQpe7djer5d8sEcIouq8DwnyMfyFD_4LaSt12kq_Mzm_r9B38AL0HqY5N9bqi4o7okAFixMD1BHfDz3xWMenl3WHnZzp8oUIMCIs83B/s1600/Mom+%2526+Grandma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEk2G-oVQ_nsBk6KD_lFAClDYx4dgA4e4Gjvv_mMQpe7djer5d8sEcIouq8DwnyMfyFD_4LaSt12kq_Mzm_r9B38AL0HqY5N9bqi4o7okAFixMD1BHfDz3xWMenl3WHnZzp8oUIMCIs83B/s320/Mom+%2526+Grandma.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My mom & gram. Puzzle making. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Have I mentioned how much I adore my Grammy? She's going through radiation right now for a very deep melanoma that was removed from her temple a few weeks ago. She'll be 84 next Saturday. I heart her with my whole heart. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*moment of reverence*</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Moving on - </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That night we partied AGAIN. See what I mean about being rock stars? It's like every night with us. No stopping us. Somebody better hold an intervention. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So, y'all know </span><a href="http://mommabare.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Joni,</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> right? She came over, with her brood (husband, baby Ella, and 3 big kids) and her old friend (and my old acquaintance), Staci, and her big kid daughter, and we all hung out in the heat gulping water, laughing, and sharing stories. Oh, and we ate some sumptious BBQ fare, cotton candy ice cream and Joni's delectable chocolate, chocolate cupcakes. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCPprSGhq3-BNNo9qmbyuY6cRybYN5xhyKeSUFjMrVUllUTYEgxPO6tgkqTpQ9TjgH2VZmN0MHz8sGEimUDAsPt4pqcjcPe-LlSi1X-BrUBViw0xu1SG5n3mmR53wuRMgGZpabbpy87hmq/s1600/Stef%252C+Joni+%2526+Ella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="233" m$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCPprSGhq3-BNNo9qmbyuY6cRybYN5xhyKeSUFjMrVUllUTYEgxPO6tgkqTpQ9TjgH2VZmN0MHz8sGEimUDAsPt4pqcjcPe-LlSi1X-BrUBViw0xu1SG5n3mmR53wuRMgGZpabbpy87hmq/s320/Stef%252C+Joni+%2526+Ella.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Photo courtesy of Staci. :) (I realize my boobs appear to be missing. It's the swimsuit that I had on under my dress. It has failed me terribly in the support category. Not that a blame it, per se. The job is onerous.) </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm very sad to say we only have two days left of vacation in California. We're heading to the beach tomorrow for the last two days so you can all wait for a third, and final, installment of our on-vacation antics. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mwah!</span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-14440910778280330402011-07-03T15:11:00.002-06:002011-07-06T23:20:19.786-06:00On Vacation, part 1: the U.S.S. Hornet<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Saturday we got up early and caught a flight to San Jose. This was the first time the boys have flown since they were babies and they LOVED it. My oldest was a little afraid when we were taking off, and that's naturally his way, but he relaxed really well after that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My mom & stepdad picked us up and we drove up to Alameda to tour the </span><a href="http://www.uss-hornet.org/exhibits/photos/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">U.S.S. Hornet.</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> This is the ship my grandpa was on in WWII, circa '43-'44. It was surreal to walk in areas where he may have been as a young man. Incredible. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Here are some pics we took there: </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkLfrVgUAGLyII1PenLrIf128mhov_mU0VXPL3250ATzpLs4hhn-PoyzfZ3qVNp7dvNqo3KpqZu5_dI1t77gPFJQ654QMuH5MtieVNZg84Ok9zNVaK55v26hwhuptLzuoGC5agPWUQsVg/s1600/USS+Hornet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOkLfrVgUAGLyII1PenLrIf128mhov_mU0VXPL3250ATzpLs4hhn-PoyzfZ3qVNp7dvNqo3KpqZu5_dI1t77gPFJQ654QMuH5MtieVNZg84Ok9zNVaK55v26hwhuptLzuoGC5agPWUQsVg/s320/USS+Hornet.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplXJRr3GD9gIumN3p1Zagptt_w4U2BbotG2145O2UU8TKlg0hpdhPY0AE8BUkUyDS-Vhv4cofkuk_JajuQ3fGKAw0Vx5LCWcu4oiECmpbsAeZPAE89wQvb9oWEbGMrWSvMpoaZH0shIOw/s1600/Eric+%2526+boys+in+front+of+flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjplXJRr3GD9gIumN3p1Zagptt_w4U2BbotG2145O2UU8TKlg0hpdhPY0AE8BUkUyDS-Vhv4cofkuk_JajuQ3fGKAw0Vx5LCWcu4oiECmpbsAeZPAE89wQvb9oWEbGMrWSvMpoaZH0shIOw/s320/Eric+%2526+boys+in+front+of+flag.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" i$="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSUMhp96cCdMwUz8mSRxok7YNwRW7OHIGD1DH675hEllH6oH1bVkatbOFATiJZ-bs5szQtlNj-eFYoAa8GJ7gBOGU0K-E4b5ux-SQe7px8Gyljxpa4POwh4tJOnBb2GJKu-CibJQ47CAJA/s320/Stef%2526Eric+on+Hornet+deck.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A friend told me my husband looks a little like Richard Branson. What do you think? </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Stay tuned for the next chapter of our vacation travels. Happy Independance Day everyone!</span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-90260820254299595972011-06-27T17:31:00.004-06:002011-06-27T17:33:48.140-06:00A Monday Affirmation<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On this Monday let's pause and take a deep breath. Now think about some good stuff - something that makes you happy happy. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's a couple for me: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The sun's shiny golden loveliness makes everything else beautiful and small at the same time: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdDiNFkULsLJfLn7ZfxnL2gj0PgsnIS-9X0ED7F__AQuURpYwMIw99ETcpdoiApE1dJukKQqk4o3jZqp6Si61ybw7Ch3gnbQUQZIIRsr94HJ81SULYAT01qKzfw6pwVnS7JNTC3cYgqTE/s1600/sun.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRdDiNFkULsLJfLn7ZfxnL2gj0PgsnIS-9X0ED7F__AQuURpYwMIw99ETcpdoiApE1dJukKQqk4o3jZqp6Si61ybw7Ch3gnbQUQZIIRsr94HJ81SULYAT01qKzfw6pwVnS7JNTC3cYgqTE/s400/sun.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The fleeting beauty of a lily - so fragile and temporary. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXQMjP36yaqPJRxfJeNpWv4eegfY2IiE1X0TCCp3ej9Jx6tsikxKDtfoOPKeJNd0xrfSBxXcEDxTuaPAYmPSgP_d_XeHldZaWP_h6jxnfsdJpRGZbGRmNcHrlUCIS79xTKnx7ZMdQwRjJ/s1600/daylily.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFXQMjP36yaqPJRxfJeNpWv4eegfY2IiE1X0TCCp3ej9Jx6tsikxKDtfoOPKeJNd0xrfSBxXcEDxTuaPAYmPSgP_d_XeHldZaWP_h6jxnfsdJpRGZbGRmNcHrlUCIS79xTKnx7ZMdQwRjJ/s400/daylily.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Some of the most beautiful things in life are ephemeral. I think the trick is to savor every single one of the sweet moments you have. Just jump in and bask in the GOOD. Revel in it.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Don't waste what precious time you have in anger, doubt or distrust. No good can come of it. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-77075019448213328472011-06-22T18:11:00.005-06:002011-06-24T10:28:27.855-06:00Shakespeare in the shower<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Summer. I get to sleep in a wee bit later and it's fantastic. I snoozed until 7:20 this morning and noticed when I was getting up that my hubby was stirring a bit as well. I took my time in the shower, lost in the lather of the moment, trying to wake up and face the day. (You know how you get into the shower and the white noise keeps you lost in your thoughts? Sometimes I can't even remember if I shampooed already or not.) Today, though, I was busy lathering and planning my world domination when I was pulled out of my thoughts by my husband's voice in the next room. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I paused. I listened. I heard . . . . Shakespeare?</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">*sigh* </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Yes, Shakespeare. Oberon. Or possibly Theseus. From <i>A Midsummer Night's Dream</i> (hereafter known simply as "<i>Midsummer</i>"). It is the soundtrack of my days. I hear "dost thee," "hast thou," "couldst" and "fare thee" every hour of my time with my husband. In the kitchen, in the car, while grilling, and doing laundry, doing the dishes, during commercial breaks on TV, and in the bloody bathroom. The boys are asked, "Hast thou gone pee?" and I'm told, "Fare thee well, nymph," when I leave the room. It certainly makes things interesting. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Have I told you about my husband? He's an actor, you see. Well, really he's a writer for hire. (HIRE HIM, por favor). But about five years ago when he started acting in community theater it TOOK OVER HIS SOUL. I may be exaggerating just a teensy, weensy bit. Maybe not. When he's in a role it is his life until the show is over. No lie. For reals. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">For about three years he participated primarily in a somewhat traditional musical theater company where he played in well known shows like<i> Miss Saigon, Cinderella, A Christmas Carol</i> and, his favorite, <i>Jesus Christ Superstar</i>. He was Jesus. He loved it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1E0Dkv61aUoOgeUZIcyBe17GhPJ3zYM9k4K1Zk3nawCZT1GMjWewqI_FhnuqHeOCNRL93tZVNzP170BP6iVzYe8X9GSk_LZj9DirJjfcZi6sbfJE432XZWhyphenhyphen_c0DGlBfO8fZhovDMBRx/s1600/Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN1E0Dkv61aUoOgeUZIcyBe17GhPJ3zYM9k4K1Zk3nawCZT1GMjWewqI_FhnuqHeOCNRL93tZVNzP170BP6iVzYe8X9GSk_LZj9DirJjfcZi6sbfJE432XZWhyphenhyphen_c0DGlBfO8fZhovDMBRx/s320/Jesus.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br />
He loves being on stage and performing in front of an audience. He loves the applause and kudos he receives when he does it. He LOVES singing and he does it quite well - and quite loudly. My husband and performing for people were MFEO. (If you don't know that reference then go watch <i>Sleepless in Seattle</i> right now. I'll wait here.)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVlh2qfokGgWkcz2GRpeaXzB4MYy9ySwFAYqnSU9ZXcZEVWhWxGmqWLJXWSyVzu_CyixSboODm1bnxtfu6EN2ULm4zuzm5IVplHWiA9namGAisWQjuT42bSv_MHq0BxmvXgx3tGehC4xJ/s1600/Injun+Joe+-+Tom+Sawer%252C+April+2009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSVlh2qfokGgWkcz2GRpeaXzB4MYy9ySwFAYqnSU9ZXcZEVWhWxGmqWLJXWSyVzu_CyixSboODm1bnxtfu6EN2ULm4zuzm5IVplHWiA9namGAisWQjuT42bSv_MHq0BxmvXgx3tGehC4xJ/s320/Injun+Joe+-+Tom+Sawer%252C+April+2009.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Injun Joe from Tom Sawyer - Theater Show. He was a mean SOB.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then he branched out. He started working for a company that provides entertainment on an old train that runs up the mountain and back. He does dinner theater murder mysteries and wild west type shows, primarily, and some seasonal trains around Christmas. He has participated for two years in a short film festival where, one year, the movie short he was in won first place and he won Best Actor. Awesome. (I'd post a link to the full movie if I could find it. Which I can't. Fail.)<br />
<br />
WAIT! It's been found! Hallelujah! It's 13 minutes long but really ridiculously funny: <a href="http://www.productionhub.com/video/view.aspx?item=4113">Beneath a Western Skyscraper</a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JWWyPaGNtfPlXWWQyHxxSZLU08ATBDsWx_1y6wbASvSNJcSUi5N0aNzaxQUW8Mq2CneDV6wTXNq-4RRH1VOC8NXiEAgLZ874hQMXZjvunr7Y2Cz0Imq6oi9Wwd29fqqUZqpFLGa6qOS_/s1600/Eric+the+cowboy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1JWWyPaGNtfPlXWWQyHxxSZLU08ATBDsWx_1y6wbASvSNJcSUi5N0aNzaxQUW8Mq2CneDV6wTXNq-4RRH1VOC8NXiEAgLZ874hQMXZjvunr7Y2Cz0Imq6oi9Wwd29fqqUZqpFLGa6qOS_/s320/Eric+the+cowboy.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Best Actor" cowboy from the movie short. He turned into an emo urban cowboy. Hilarious.</td></tr>
</tbody></table> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipi5tNStqsivT_HCSFqAklEMb2DwJacAAwscYUNXsWoxe6GrY8buDzZ5F5hlC3KBegEnGqfxo5A3Wk6L6eYjrInsZ6UKbcvBak-kzt3qp5nyH8h9F4PP67rcCepjNebAk9bcuBmmbBBtWt/s1600/Curb+Cup+2010+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipi5tNStqsivT_HCSFqAklEMb2DwJacAAwscYUNXsWoxe6GrY8buDzZ5F5hlC3KBegEnGqfxo5A3Wk6L6eYjrInsZ6UKbcvBak-kzt3qp5nyH8h9F4PP67rcCepjNebAk9bcuBmmbBBtWt/s320/Curb+Cup+2010+crop.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mad Hatter - Train Show. Best Mad Hatter ever. (Seriously, if you ever have the opportunity please ask him to do Jabberwocky for you. You will not be disappointed). </td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The train show thing - with a few other things that pop up once in a while - is so much better for us as a family. He's not gone every day to rehearsal. We can plan things and do them together. Novel concept. I like it.<br />
<br />
BUT . . . a few weeks ago he was presented with an opportunity to do Shakespeare for the first time. SHAKESPEARE. The Bard. The Man. The Legend. (Did I mention that my husband and I were both English Lit majors in school? Yeah, that). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The problem? It's a traditional theater show again.This time, though, with a different company. He emailed me the schedule. He said, "Honey, it's SHAKESPEARE." He waited. He emailed again and said, "I told them I won't do it if it's not okay with you. But, honey, it's SHAKESPEARE. And the rehearsal schedule isn't that bad. We can still go on vacation." Good, because I've got non-refundable tickets and my name is already on a pool lounger. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So what's a wife to do? I said yes. Of course I said yes. What I have always told him was simply this, "Who am I to stand in the way of your dreams?" I may be his wife and life partner, but I'm not going to hurt, hamper or detract from his personal growth if I can help it. Provided that fulfilling his dreams don't negatively impact the well-being of our family, of course. In this case, his dream is to play Oberon and Theseus in <i>Midsummer</i>. So be it. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Which brings us back to today. I was in the shower and I heard Shakespeare. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So, first it was this:</div><blockquote style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>O, methinks, how slow<br />
This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires,<br />
Like to a step-dame or a dowager<br />
Long withering out a young man revenue.</b></blockquote><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That's Theseus - the king. I hear this line all the time now. That poor old moon is blamed for so much. Tragic.<br />
<br />
Then it was Oberon, the Fairy King, speaking to Puck:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><blockquote style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>That very time I saw, but thou couldst not,<br />
Flying between the cold moon and the earth,<br />
Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took<br />
At a fair vestal throned by the west,<br />
And loosed his love-shaft smartly from his bow,<br />
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts;</b></blockquote><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">To which I said, "that's some love-shaft!" *giggle, snort* My apologies. Poor taste. Still funny though. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b><br />
</b>Life could be boring. Thank goodness it's not. </div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Fare thee well, my dear friends. Time is apace and my thoughts are much in the bosom of my home. I leave you with dear Puck's parting words: </div><blockquote><div style="color: black;"><b style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">If we shadows have offended,<br />
Think but this, and all is mended,<br />
That you have but slumber'd here<br />
While these visions did appear.<br />
And this weak and idle theme,<br />
No more yielding but a dream,<br />
Gentles, do not reprehend:<br />
if you pardon, we will mend:<br />
And, as I am an honest Puck,<br />
If we have unearned luck<br />
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,<br />
We will make amends ere long;<br />
Else the Puck a liar call;<br />
So, good night unto you all.<br />
Give me your hands, if we be friends,<br />
And Robin shall restore amends.</b></div></blockquote><br />
Edited to add the movie short URL. <br />
<div style="color: black;"></div>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-27546378045095476972011-06-17T00:36:00.000-06:002011-06-17T00:36:41.717-06:00A spoonful of sugar<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Friends, I'm writing with a heavy heart. Someone I love very much is hurting and I can't help her. But I can sympathize. And, even more importantly, I can <i>empathize</i>. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Babydoll, I've been there. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have SO been there, more than once, and I've looked down at the depths of my despair, sprawled out in front of me, and I have crawled back up out of that pit. More than once. The thing is - it gets easier because the 2nd time, and the 3rd and the 4th, you recognize the path better. You see the signs and don't let yourself get quite so far down that it's harder to come back up. Oh, my girl, I have been there. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But I'm okay right now. My little family unit - we are okay right now. Like, literally, at this moment. But tomorrow could change. And yesterday may not have been as good as today. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Marriage & divorce, sickness & health, babies & kids, money (lack of) and bills, time and energy leeches, housecleaning, cars, pets, grocery shopping, dentist & doctors appointments, lack of sleep, lack of motivation, fear, worry, resentment, anger, and, finally, hopelessness and despair. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Show of hands: who has been there? Yes, no? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">If any of you said no than, please, walk away right now. This blog, today, isn't for you. Much love to you - but get the hell outta here and come back when you can say, "Oh yeah, I've visited that big-fat-monkey-ball-sucking-place and I have your back." </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's my hand. Way, way up high. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I have lived, for long, long periods of time, with nary two pennies to my name. When I have maybe paid *some* of my bills and had 10 days until my next paycheck, $20 in my bank account, and four mouths to feed, two cars needing gas (to take us to daycare and work everyday), and somehow we all survived. I would make myself sick with worry (sometimes that still happens, but I try to let it go). I thought if I didn't pay my bills by the due date something awful would happen. Or, at the very least, my power company, or credit card company, or whatever, would judge me and I didn't want to be one of "those people" who didn't pay their bills. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">You know what I've learned? Eff that. Life is too short to let something stupid like money dictate my happiness. I try, more than ever, to live in the moment these days. To enjoy the time I'm with my kids and not spend that time worrying about something that, at that moment, I'm powerless to fix. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">JUST LET IT GO.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But what if, just for arguments sake, that you're broke and barely getting by on one paycheck. Your kids seem determined to throw every elbow they can at you - including getting diagnosed ADD, or Autistic, or OCD - and rant and rampage and say every mean thing they can to tear down your already fragile confidence. You know, you really do, that they aren't doing it to be mean but because they are scared and confused and don't know how to express it so they are lashing out at you - their rock - because they simply CAN and they know you'll still be there. Because you are their MOM and you live your life for THEM. That, coupled with your guilt, all-consuming, mind-imploding, never-ending, wrack-your-body-until-you-are-sick GUILT for making the hard, hard decisions you have made that, yes, may sometimes seem to be a mistake but in moments of great clarity you KNOW, in your very heart, that it was absolutely the right decision - for you and for your little angels. But what if you just don't have that clarity all the time and the guilt, and the arguing, and the signs of mental anguish you see in your kids, and the lack of money, and the all-consuming oh-dear-god-I'm-just-going-to-die feeling doesn't go away. What if it doesn't go away? And they still need you to be their rock? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm not a psychologist and I don't have any fancy answers . . . but I say: go to your happy place. Sound cliche? It is. Totally. But this is how you crawl out of that pit. This is how you shrug off the despair. You find your happy place. Your happy thoughts. Your silver lining. The brightness in an otherwise dark and dreadful sky. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Let me ask you this: What is good in your life RIGHT NOW? Name one thing. Then, tomorrow morning, name two things. Then, tomorrow before bed, name three things. Before you know it you will have climbed out of that pit and, damn, if the world isn't much, much brighter. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Will your troubles be gone? Nope, not at all. They don't just disappear. (I'm not delusional, after all). It's all about perspective, honey-child. You know that old saying that you can catch more flies with honey? The same is true for walking through a quagmire of problems. Be confident and optimistic and things tend to work out a little better. Or at least you feel better about it and that's the part that matters, right? YOU choose how you deal with problems. You, or me - we - are humans with thinking brains and, hopefully, above-average reasoning skills (my readers, you see) and we can conquer the negativity that threatens our healthy perspective. Ooh, I like that. Let's say it again, shouting, in all caps:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">HEALTHY PERSPECTIVE. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Can you parent effectively if you are simultaneously wading through a deep, dark pit of despair? No, right? Are you taking good care of yourself then? No, right? Then let's turn on our thinking caps and dial into the healthy perspective channel. Then we can parent with love, compassion and understanding rather than guilt, fear and anger. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Choose to be happy. Choose acceptance - in your lot, in your kid's foibles, and in the consequences of your decisions - and let.it.go. Let it all go. Choose to honor the decisions you made with faith in yourself. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I love you, my dear girl. You are not alone. You are smart and beautiful and kind and devoted. Please don't, any of you, forget that ever. Bring yourself back from that pit. Love yourself. Do what you need to to understand that. You deserve it and you need it. To be the best mom, person, employee and just the YOU in you. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Gentle readers - holla back if you've been there, por favor. Let's build up one of our sisters. Mwah. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-82943064510731507712011-06-09T14:42:00.001-06:002011-06-09T14:43:13.648-06:00Thankful Thursday: I'm thankful for PTO<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">PTO?? Paid Time OFF. Thank heaven, Allah, Gaia, the sun, and Maude (whoever she is) for paid time off. Time off? And my bills still get paid? Awesome. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What makes PTO so awesome? Let's see:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because of PTO, on a Thursday, I slept in until 7:45 this morning.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because of PTO I get to stay home with my little guy on his first 2 days of summer break.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because of PTO I have a couple extra days to think through some work stuff that's got me all discombobulated. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because of PTO I sat down and played the new Lego Pirates of the Caribbean video game with my son this afternoon. And I might go take a soak in a bath. On a Thursday afternoon. All because of PTO. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Because of PTO, on a Thursday afternoon, I'm writing a blog post and watching my boy ride his bike outside my office window. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_FD95t2BOmonoxKsLO24cg91t2jRQptp4UkXTIL1rr87-eIK8GmxBZJq6t_cIRGM0zqRjPErqjSuohhQ2p6ETNMmqRydpM-Rt8sM0bRCNRZrmNgD6CRhwNSV1asIC4qnttLIk16a0QDn/s1600/Jamie+bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw_FD95t2BOmonoxKsLO24cg91t2jRQptp4UkXTIL1rr87-eIK8GmxBZJq6t_cIRGM0zqRjPErqjSuohhQ2p6ETNMmqRydpM-Rt8sM0bRCNRZrmNgD6CRhwNSV1asIC4qnttLIk16a0QDn/s320/Jamie+bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">What is that saying? You have to relax to reload? I'm going to relax. Today, tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Off to take my bubble bath now. Thank you, PTO, thankyouveryveryverymuch. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-43473242172360512902011-06-08T12:43:00.000-06:002011-06-08T12:43:05.856-06:00Not quite Wordless Wednesday: Peonies, and some unfortunate euphemisms<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZzndAX8qpXKQ1kacnQ_-HXmBxVOrb8i2WTaG4jqvOa5N6w8tMRdEvYCJu1LpFxl6FG_weNoMZZ5_b24vnIkYrebkxylN_kBy4AsiNsWlWuabjYeQm4ct06uQrVnctrkUbdSMbenVsMOt/s1600/Peonies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZzndAX8qpXKQ1kacnQ_-HXmBxVOrb8i2WTaG4jqvOa5N6w8tMRdEvYCJu1LpFxl6FG_weNoMZZ5_b24vnIkYrebkxylN_kBy4AsiNsWlWuabjYeQm4ct06uQrVnctrkUbdSMbenVsMOt/s400/Peonies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Do you say Pee - uh - nee or Pe - OH - nee? We've been discussing this at my house and the hubby says one thing and I say the other. Well, I looked it up today and this is what I read:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><blockquote style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><div dir="ltr"><b><span lang="en-us"><span style="font-size: medium;">Pronunciation of "Peony" Plants and Word Origin:</span></span></b></div><div dir="ltr"><span lang="en-us"></span><span lang="en-us">The standard pronunciation is pee'-uh-nee (accent on the first syllable). However, many people place the accent on the second syllable: pee-oh'-nee. As is often the case with anglicized versions of Latin words, rulings on what should be the standard pronunciation seem rather arbitrary. The word derives from the Latin genus name,<i> Paeonia</i>, which, in turn, derives from a figure in Greek mythology, Paeon (see below). If you want to be safe, stick with the standard pronunciation: pee'-uh-nee.</span></div></blockquote><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us">So, I would say that both are acceptable, right? I don't think I can teach myself to change the way I say it so it shall be acceptable (so sayeth me). </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us"><br />
</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us">Here's the original:</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhbUUmBXRUjgbcLrNc4CNlh_mjFD6Jnunw6JLY04Tz54HknXXuHkCwHmOHRwiUBYEIexnitCvLfNrWGcEh91tWUeVkvfrs5VPnHeudXxnvJ4N26Owvpz2wCw98zi5jAaB1BRhYVJ83Mk6/s1600/Peony+original.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhbUUmBXRUjgbcLrNc4CNlh_mjFD6Jnunw6JLY04Tz54HknXXuHkCwHmOHRwiUBYEIexnitCvLfNrWGcEh91tWUeVkvfrs5VPnHeudXxnvJ4N26Owvpz2wCw98zi5jAaB1BRhYVJ83Mk6/s400/Peony+original.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us"><br />
</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us">I had to hold the stem up because the Peonies are so heavy they droop. (Like a couple other things I know and have to hold up sometimes as well. You know, sometimes you have to be big to be glorious. The heavier they are the more impact they make. The bigger the better. Size is impressive. I could go on. What? Sheesh). </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span lang="en-us"><br />
</span></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Peonies. Peonies. Peonies. It's fun to say either way. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-64641730396013179132011-06-06T01:26:00.007-06:002011-06-08T11:51:22.246-06:00Slacky McSlackerton here<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Hi, it's me. Remember me? I used to try to post a couple times a week but lately not so much and I feel badly about it. There is life happening here, you see. And life takes precedence over blogging. It must otherwise I wouldn't have anything to blog about, right? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's after midnight on a school/work night and I'm going to have to make this brief. And full of pics. Instagram, to be more specific. Because I can't find my real camera again. For reals. I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME. *sigh* Moving on. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So these things have been happening: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We had a mini-twister hit our backyard. It was the weirdest thing. Knocked one tree down, and lifted and twisted a small tree nearly off its stump. And killed a duck. Sad. So this is the big tree that fell:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRz86IkqsE6wrzZFfVTfMdVbgqQoRw3gVKNOW3FfBDNXCucNKkZzsBFL84cOSZXu0eCvIAecaZ_e76_acD0vzaZ2GrQJLoWZdVjL_uLlmHoljMaTw-ABysJdYNvkMTa8zK7_ghZHo2coKX/s1600/Tree+fell.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRz86IkqsE6wrzZFfVTfMdVbgqQoRw3gVKNOW3FfBDNXCucNKkZzsBFL84cOSZXu0eCvIAecaZ_e76_acD0vzaZ2GrQJLoWZdVjL_uLlmHoljMaTw-ABysJdYNvkMTa8zK7_ghZHo2coKX/s320/Tree+fell.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It leaned like that for a week before we got a tree service out to chop it down. For mucho moolah, might I add. Grr. But they left the rounds for us so we can use them as firewood next year. Can I just say that's some pretty dang expensive firewood? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcuBgPDaYSB1uXt_K-S_N-7kaVxWRz021cRMUKC7JQ4PA01vLlAWWarGNeNr84e8CHGB5Te61eKKPR1iJnkBBy6cfheAu939caiiTNEYYMmLzg4ceRRhZsF8A-ROhpyAjhE2YI7uYHEiU/s1600/Rounds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmcuBgPDaYSB1uXt_K-S_N-7kaVxWRz021cRMUKC7JQ4PA01vLlAWWarGNeNr84e8CHGB5Te61eKKPR1iJnkBBy6cfheAu939caiiTNEYYMmLzg4ceRRhZsF8A-ROhpyAjhE2YI7uYHEiU/s320/Rounds.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Since the weather has finally started to get Spring/Summer-like we've also been doing a lot of work in the yard. We've planted a few plants and have just been cleaning up some of the beds. I love that my kids get involved now so much more than they used to. I took this 2 days ago and the light was just perfect (you can see our oldest sweeping on the right):</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sB_owY8MKAKNQX8vsNzJZiL3CF42P2IRIBl6MV15s-GL4hVbcsBVwc6f7tvSmpoyKxbxWx0QmHLrDyk9j4aHommHYN9l1hMFfzjurXs7kX2cvzW4DgW9GqXioiqgFhF81zbOxKzQC7uv/s1600/Home+ablooming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0sB_owY8MKAKNQX8vsNzJZiL3CF42P2IRIBl6MV15s-GL4hVbcsBVwc6f7tvSmpoyKxbxWx0QmHLrDyk9j4aHommHYN9l1hMFfzjurXs7kX2cvzW4DgW9GqXioiqgFhF81zbOxKzQC7uv/s320/Home+ablooming.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We've also had a lot of this going on:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjTbZiLPcxxvgz1mcG_WG2TZ3gLrPVLsk82EM2aZyw4XpmLLVizb31BluB0WVQMDGWpeRmbE2N59GL-EDq5PcaW_N0NCGywVk1wx05SGnVUdDTsjSYj3vTZ7a8W9ryTeB1eLHRqnrBGK6/s1600/at+bat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgjTbZiLPcxxvgz1mcG_WG2TZ3gLrPVLsk82EM2aZyw4XpmLLVizb31BluB0WVQMDGWpeRmbE2N59GL-EDq5PcaW_N0NCGywVk1wx05SGnVUdDTsjSYj3vTZ7a8W9ryTeB1eLHRqnrBGK6/s320/at+bat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But this Saturday was the first time he actually made it home during a game so it was monumental. He has batted last in his previous two games, but on yesterday's game he batted first. He's doing great and getting better each game/practice we have:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9IFlMobBB0sFQtUDX2UPm2vwyH-tuxhU03hRsxzZVfrzLd58HLVqH2eGJolpbp7IgWfFrk4wqPPDiKPXDq1W7DhYQ75Bj0UF3oWkENwoj9mfabjdCvBf_YcAGKs_ZBiBAum2H2iMRyGM/s1600/Coming+home.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9IFlMobBB0sFQtUDX2UPm2vwyH-tuxhU03hRsxzZVfrzLd58HLVqH2eGJolpbp7IgWfFrk4wqPPDiKPXDq1W7DhYQ75Bj0UF3oWkENwoj9mfabjdCvBf_YcAGKs_ZBiBAum2H2iMRyGM/s320/Coming+home.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I love that pic. Great light. But, because of that light I developed a sunburn. Unexpected and weird. I was wearing a cap and v-neck t-shirt so I have half a face sunburn and v-shaped redness on my chest. Weird. (I won't torture you with that pic.)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After that game was over yesterday the rest of the weekend was about getting ready for my sister's visit. My (step)sister from Australia, to be more specific.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">She's awesome. I first met her in '98 and I've seen her maybe 2 or 3 times since then. The funny thing is, she went to my high school 5 years ahead of me but I never knew her. I didn't meet her until after her mom & my dad had been together for quite some time because she had moved to Australia. She met an Aussie in SLO in the early 90's and followed him back to AU and stayed. I like her a lot and we get along great. I wish I had known her a long time ago. Not that I wish my parents had split earlier than they did, but it would have been cool to have an older sister like her. She has a pretty awesome husband and two kids as well. Every time the kids speak I think they are going to sound like Americans and then they sound totally Australian and it's too freakin' cute. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So, interesting side note, my sister worked at the Australia Zoo with The Crocodile Hunter, Steve Irwin, and his wife, Terri. Terri is an American - she's from Oregon - and she and my sister became friends. My sister has always been an animal NUT and the Zoo was an ideal place for her to work. Don't believe me? BAM!:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jXBAXyc4XxmJRkumEo1XqsIzXQvlqRVnQLp4KDxe1g2LaPXUEmk1bEN_mib2sZcDkJj3ZOT_ZryZybbJ06C_iDzXfaL_zaC5WfeNiLtlHMZ6JrPCbFTI1WD2YC5kOPy-P77cHZAFJxcz/s1600/Tracie+%2526+Harriet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jXBAXyc4XxmJRkumEo1XqsIzXQvlqRVnQLp4KDxe1g2LaPXUEmk1bEN_mib2sZcDkJj3ZOT_ZryZybbJ06C_iDzXfaL_zaC5WfeNiLtlHMZ6JrPCbFTI1WD2YC5kOPy-P77cHZAFJxcz/s320/Tracie+%2526+Harriet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That's my sister feeding Harriet - a 166 year old tortoise.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So the cool thing about their visit tonight is that our husbands never met before and we hadn't met their son (though my sister and her daughter were here a couple years ago). I was excited.<br />
<br />
I got up Sunday morning and did a few things in the yard and then started the food prep for 10 of us. We were going to BBQ, but my husband has had performances (he's an actor) both afternoons this weekend so a lot of the prep was left in my hands and it was a LOT of freakin' work. I started the food prep about noon and didn't finish until 4 pm. At which point I still needed to clean the house and shower before they got here at 6:30. I started to PANIC. Then I died. No, not really. Just felt like I might. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Food prep consisted of marinating both chicken & beef for kebabs, cutting up and marinating all the vegetables, making a greek spinach, feta & pasta salad with a homemade dressing, making a fruit salad and strawberry cheese fruit dip, and making cookies. 4 flippin' hours, people, with nary a break - except to make lunch for the kids and occasionally play referee to their bickering:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7eLywgnLVcDeG3B4vh5FohnyJknHTErGiNJ38momovXgZMylNLXqsWWl5vi8OsZFh70yih_pCSv8HSOl76xtomL7ebRIMyLMjyka0hIzweLz3UlFPODo6bkaLTRB65cSXermUTXAg12XC/s1600/Food+Prep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7eLywgnLVcDeG3B4vh5FohnyJknHTErGiNJ38momovXgZMylNLXqsWWl5vi8OsZFh70yih_pCSv8HSOl76xtomL7ebRIMyLMjyka0hIzweLz3UlFPODo6bkaLTRB65cSXermUTXAg12XC/s320/Food+Prep.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">But, thankfully, it all turned out lovely and oh so yummy:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ90hDJIr5jzwqoVuSGOLPbech2FEI7F3qEmMGhwdjuZ6dDze2BGjHHB5hOQ0-i4Jbv1v6ePemzJ_epEJwKN27-4nnvBB2Mcg8C2wsBxLvduq6HWO_Q7tclPJ2_7BdseUzDlvWjMKxSmUe/s1600/Choc+PB+surprise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ90hDJIr5jzwqoVuSGOLPbech2FEI7F3qEmMGhwdjuZ6dDze2BGjHHB5hOQ0-i4Jbv1v6ePemzJ_epEJwKN27-4nnvBB2Mcg8C2wsBxLvduq6HWO_Q7tclPJ2_7BdseUzDlvWjMKxSmUe/s320/Choc+PB+surprise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZm4B0nFp2RA4oMBja0sjc30gfQjvvMpObt-Rofw7eFUsoLezCRsHRz1KpYS3qTlNopl_-46Ih72ab5xxCmnoo-oYugBQFScrtMPNVZ58vGLUg80gKxHCUjOO1_XkqhEx46YXPkQjLQs9Z/s1600/Backyard+BBQ.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZm4B0nFp2RA4oMBja0sjc30gfQjvvMpObt-Rofw7eFUsoLezCRsHRz1KpYS3qTlNopl_-46Ih72ab5xxCmnoo-oYugBQFScrtMPNVZ58vGLUg80gKxHCUjOO1_XkqhEx46YXPkQjLQs9Z/s320/Backyard+BBQ.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And my boys got to play with their Australian boy cousin for the first time - as only boys do:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-w00OkTASzXikzmclJJOwUPfzAn3wxs1SYk-9IVPFLEKSbdK4ASTyy48Vmz5tzPtxbic46NJXYZFTkHPfDcw1RwfZXTeGJp71TI-i-Vj9zl0H5FRb6E22JMCirP69uV89SLDVBq1P2sn/s1600/Boys+Bond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc-w00OkTASzXikzmclJJOwUPfzAn3wxs1SYk-9IVPFLEKSbdK4ASTyy48Vmz5tzPtxbic46NJXYZFTkHPfDcw1RwfZXTeGJp71TI-i-Vj9zl0H5FRb6E22JMCirP69uV89SLDVBq1P2sn/s320/Boys+Bond.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Once the wrestling stopped we got the older girl cousin to sit down with the stinky boys and we clicked a few pics of them:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhFxH88znn2Dg47quPa8xWnfZiht0oVhmwGm7qQePZPEHJAqt8vJt_Yti1cekTJ1UFCv3k7YV2lLMaxSd267m_o4Hj_E4bDlXoCdNgapDn_nQtBi_OicDy5KLRLLyfH8UdTox_6I-J730/s1600/Cousins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhFxH88znn2Dg47quPa8xWnfZiht0oVhmwGm7qQePZPEHJAqt8vJt_Yti1cekTJ1UFCv3k7YV2lLMaxSd267m_o4Hj_E4bDlXoCdNgapDn_nQtBi_OicDy5KLRLLyfH8UdTox_6I-J730/s320/Cousins.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Love it! Love them. Great night with fun people. Now I'm utterly exhausted and apparently I have to go to work tomorrow. Really? Because I feel like I've been working all bloody weekend. I guess it's not the same. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Off to la-la-land for me. G'day, mate!</div>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-84570888478973245192011-05-27T10:34:00.002-06:002011-05-27T10:42:31.710-06:00Flashback Friday - the Cruisers edition<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When I was young I used to hang out at my best friend, Erin's, house <a href="http://stefdwe.blogspot.com/2011/05/flashback-friday-my-old-house.html">across the street</a> and watch the movie<i> Eddie & the Cruisers</i> over and over. AND over. We would lay on the floor in front of the TV in her parents' family room and people had to step over us to get through the room. Erin used to push the buttons on the VCR with her toes. Odd the things we remember, isn't it? </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Anyway, I loved the movie then and I still do now. Here are some clips for you: </div><br />
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If you haven't seen it then I fully recommend watching it some Sunday afternoon when it's raining, the kids are sleeping or gone, and you're feeling a little introspective. And drool over Michael Pare in tight jeans and leather jackets (long before he turned into the asshole, cheating husband in <i>Hope Floats</i>). Note: the Eddie & the Cruisiers sequel isn't even a fraction as good as the first one, but it does tell you what in the hell happened after the somewhat ambiguous end to the first one. Personally I LIKE the ambiguity; I don't need to know the whole mundane story. But maybe that's just me. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Enjoy! Happy Friday & glorious 3-day weekend, peeps!</span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-68331969592412614292011-05-25T00:42:00.009-06:002011-05-25T13:57:16.842-06:00Sometimes I'm a lucky girl<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My company HQ is in San Francisco. Coincidentally, I love San Francisco. Always have. Sometimes I have to go visit my HQ to do work type stuff. When that happens I take full advantage of the opportunity to visit my California family.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So last Thursday night I packed a small bag for the weekend and got my booty into bed by midnight. I set the alarm for 5:30 AM. Then I lay there. And I tossed. Then I turned. Then I tossed again. Then I moved to the sofa. Sometimes I can sleep on the sofa when I can't get comfy in my bed. 2 am, 3 am, and finally, blessfully, I fell asleep around 4 am. I had moved the alarm to 6 am. Yeah, you do the math. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">On the way to the airport I saw this:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLHmjqvUZI10oV-VCuyQJTM0b40w1CJ1OTMv3FTgw7v_EuBUOnPzczGpZQrkinTZ3goAXKIaYgCEppqTzSyPcWeZdCLRT262ad_qP8Ke5NMMGePQ6jMtdi97FYZ2YaG2_3Fcewyd6i5oH/s1600/sunrise.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLHmjqvUZI10oV-VCuyQJTM0b40w1CJ1OTMv3FTgw7v_EuBUOnPzczGpZQrkinTZ3goAXKIaYgCEppqTzSyPcWeZdCLRT262ad_qP8Ke5NMMGePQ6jMtdi97FYZ2YaG2_3Fcewyd6i5oH/s320/sunrise.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">When I got to SFO I took the BART, because I'm thrifty like that, to my HQ's BART stop near Market: </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vmWqWjmlVks0TROd_1t4jkODFST_W-BPQj5cGL2pB4Tz6PNADp2jt9PvYEgyrvHj6rxO-OebO4P9rFgunQfjXYEVwzaMbI08BYAtlSaxiyUHEFO5MO-jouVDuIaKyib6ICE67_rIsrHE/s1600/BART.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vmWqWjmlVks0TROd_1t4jkODFST_W-BPQj5cGL2pB4Tz6PNADp2jt9PvYEgyrvHj6rxO-OebO4P9rFgunQfjXYEVwzaMbI08BYAtlSaxiyUHEFO5MO-jouVDuIaKyib6ICE67_rIsrHE/s320/BART.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And schlepped the few blocks, partially UP HILL, to my office in SOMA. It was an absolutely, unbelievably gorgeous day:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8h6h5ksJ5g6f3V3PsXesZj2gvws_I7BOvYysHtUNVEsX5htdFjSJ2elcV1ZRv21aQ1NcYebG_AkLxZfnfqQSaOGspU6YS7zFWD1bjNa466Hg0jhg_ib-MmoeJHrUA6Wcc2qrE1-C5FwK/s1600/SOMA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE8h6h5ksJ5g6f3V3PsXesZj2gvws_I7BOvYysHtUNVEsX5htdFjSJ2elcV1ZRv21aQ1NcYebG_AkLxZfnfqQSaOGspU6YS7zFWD1bjNa466Hg0jhg_ib-MmoeJHrUA6Wcc2qrE1-C5FwK/s320/SOMA.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I worked for a while. I had a successful, productive meeting. I found out that our HQ has a "Zen room" (more like a Zen closet) which I said was very Zen-like and my co-worker corrected me and said, no, it's more IKEA-like. But, you know, that works for me.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">After a few hours there, I took the BART back to SFO and picked up a rental car. In fact, I got a BRAND SPANKING NEW rental. It only had 70 miles on it. Sunroof, leather seats, satellite radio. I dug it. And I hit the road. And parked. In San Jose traffic. It took me 2 1/2 hours to travel 42 miles. Frick 'n' frack was I annoyed. And tired. Did I mention that I was operating on only 2 hours sleep?<br />
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</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Finally, around Morgan Hill, CA, I hit open road and I kept going until I hit Fresno County. At which point it was about 8 pm and I had to pee. And felt a powerful need to eat a little something too. But, thank goodness I didn't need gas because that's where I saw this:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7ztfsCzaJRl_B9qBSKIZMy5nti5FKmdcHkCL1Kr4YAkaJq1OYtGBO2XgC1Mopw_4sZIfNLo8MfuYVgPzEJkIQjq9ByXHgcQuVQQhRBX4X-4ecBEWEESetjukcJmyw6RBDF8lBxqquaRN/s1600/GAS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn7ztfsCzaJRl_B9qBSKIZMy5nti5FKmdcHkCL1Kr4YAkaJq1OYtGBO2XgC1Mopw_4sZIfNLo8MfuYVgPzEJkIQjq9ByXHgcQuVQQhRBX4X-4ecBEWEESetjukcJmyw6RBDF8lBxqquaRN/s320/GAS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Holy preposterousness, Batman. For reals.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And then I got a text from one of my best friends from high school, Alicia. I call her Leash. Her brother's band was playing at a <strike>dive</strike> bar that night in my hometown and could I come? Pretty please? And bring my mom since her mom was going to be there too? Um, yeah, SURE! Because I may have only had 2 hours sleep and flew across 3 states at dawn, and been in meetings all day and on the road for 5 hours but OF COURSE I'm up for hitting a <strike>dive</strike> bar with friends to listen to a rockabilly band. Duh. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So this happened:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShby4-4GXManaSSJWqOH8HHnoJyMS_WoLVgbwWjRTRRCJY-R2P3Mb27mMYknG4wRsAIKjRwnv2iruFlpTTx2YMS6jRm4uuCS_qY_OgJFQ0A-ztQnJWWTpaYmx2h9uKq3o411m2FLmLCev/s1600/Girlies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhShby4-4GXManaSSJWqOH8HHnoJyMS_WoLVgbwWjRTRRCJY-R2P3Mb27mMYknG4wRsAIKjRwnv2iruFlpTTx2YMS6jRm4uuCS_qY_OgJFQ0A-ztQnJWWTpaYmx2h9uKq3o411m2FLmLCev/s320/Girlies.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It was sorta dark in there and my mom couldn't figure out how to work the camera on my phone. At this point we were all laughing at her. That's Leash on the right. And on the left, Kristen. We all reminisced about getting into a fender bender in Kristen's car on the first day of my Freshman year. Probably the first time my mom let a friend drive me anywhere. Yep. Kristen & Alicia look exactly the same since HS and I hate them. Except that I love them. Moving on. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I spent the weekend with my Mamacita. This is her in her backyard. It's my own personal Zen place. Her house backs up to a field so it's super quiet and there's very little light pollution so I can lay out there in the patio loungers and listen to the fountain and look at millions of stars. Om.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKcpwIuhV1gBzZSO-NKleMS0cVyu6SLnllzKLILQHZUEs25eeYnWA7cIpuDZTzP3CysljbVyjg-WUTRU8dqwzIEZ_63ybOK5AOx_QfK4nNbIMy7Z730TmY4JKjFuhUBw1nRwtgRTPCMcF/s1600/Mama.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYKcpwIuhV1gBzZSO-NKleMS0cVyu6SLnllzKLILQHZUEs25eeYnWA7cIpuDZTzP3CysljbVyjg-WUTRU8dqwzIEZ_63ybOK5AOx_QfK4nNbIMy7Z730TmY4JKjFuhUBw1nRwtgRTPCMcF/s320/Mama.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">One of the biggest reasons I came to my hometown this weekend was to see my Grammy. You see, she's the best Grammy EVER. Without exception. Even my hubby says that she's the best - and he had a pretty amazing Gram himself. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Here's me and my Gram:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Bk8GU7PFcbx66GDG2LCClLtx-EE2rA29qbZA83BYG0Ydf76hfDyBnvWaFu7vuK71SfknVND01uEX0ENpZatWE7qufVKpt6PbVOeUtpqavAH0RYyYgiFYMr6msuRbWTQfLT-uADW_lQAn/s1600/Grammy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Bk8GU7PFcbx66GDG2LCClLtx-EE2rA29qbZA83BYG0Ydf76hfDyBnvWaFu7vuK71SfknVND01uEX0ENpZatWE7qufVKpt6PbVOeUtpqavAH0RYyYgiFYMr6msuRbWTQfLT-uADW_lQAn/s320/Grammy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was laughing in this pic because she was clutching her blouse up around her neck in order to hide her "turkey neck." She is so silly. The best parts of me, my cousins, my mom & my aunts all came from her. She's ornery, nurturing, loving, understanding, and the epitome of gracefulness. Except when she burps out loud. Man, can she burp. And snore. My goodness. Oh, how I love her.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I also spent a good part of the weekend with this dude: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgipvwReKmUPeMUf4z99Ft069S7EO2BANck8eghyphenhyphenpHFIX26NjDGtwX7Rt8HS13f3PrOgFJ_j8I5hS6LFpzZCnlMT3hDfEvCso4HuuNH6FgeRt3A3ASG21O96QGVKCuIwUTbChKVssns0RKI/s1600/Justin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgipvwReKmUPeMUf4z99Ft069S7EO2BANck8eghyphenhyphenpHFIX26NjDGtwX7Rt8HS13f3PrOgFJ_j8I5hS6LFpzZCnlMT3hDfEvCso4HuuNH6FgeRt3A3ASG21O96QGVKCuIwUTbChKVssns0RKI/s320/Justin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Okay, so his hair is a little crazy in this pic, but he's still cute right? And he has kind eyes. He's my cousin. He's my brother/cousin. And he's single. Swoon, ladies, swoon. Also, he's 30 and he likes older women. If you live in the valley and want to meet him just email me. (He's also a journeyman/electrician looking for steady work so, you know, email me for that too). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Saturday night something momentous happened:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUF1Int2nmdFD3Zp4hyphenhypheng6uMp9ngJ62zhd-6MHfh1YOwlrfEkduI_5tZ4XyXV58JN-qST3k8DqPld_j3qhxeFBSCoJflScQ7XejH0OIECouiSQ2X6U26XHKmZxdDixBCsdwgbP8D4f6CVJ/s1600/Joni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyUF1Int2nmdFD3Zp4hyphenhypheng6uMp9ngJ62zhd-6MHfh1YOwlrfEkduI_5tZ4XyXV58JN-qST3k8DqPld_j3qhxeFBSCoJflScQ7XejH0OIECouiSQ2X6U26XHKmZxdDixBCsdwgbP8D4f6CVJ/s320/Joni.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">That's <a href="http://mommabare.com/">JONI</a>! Yeah, <i>THE</i> Joni. My <a href="http://stefdwe.blogspot.com/2011/01/my-blogging-inspiration-aka-im-so.html">blogging inspiration</a> and altogether-awesome-person Joni. And that bitty baby is Ella. I tried to hold Ella. She took one look at me and screamed her adorable little head off. C'est la vie. But I did get to try one of Joni's chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter frosting. Delicioso. (That baby WILL like me someday. I'm determined).</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sunday afternoon I packed up my fancy rental car and headed for the bay. I pit-stopped at Harris Ranch in Coalinga. I sang my way along I-5 and 152 over Pacheco Pass. I smelled the garlic in Gilroy. The drive went quickly and before I knew it I was standing at the window in the airport looking out at the bay and thinking how much I love California. Politics, finances, even pollution aside - I love California. I love the way I feel when I visit. I love the roads that I know by heart. I love the colors. I love the ocean, the country and the mountains and that in one afternoon's drive I can experience all three. Until we meet again, California: </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlhUF4BHKRDJgLQJtjtWfB5VEIJISvCNYFiG07xkhIlh3UuWhU4MaC_DWIEckQOe1yyY6lYqECdydLxNxA_0nTmFIJ5_XI1Zm1U-OksrRJyw7qFOEmC9ASxbXPJBPZ05Qx0WbDXkCt-Nh6/s1600/airport.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlhUF4BHKRDJgLQJtjtWfB5VEIJISvCNYFiG07xkhIlh3UuWhU4MaC_DWIEckQOe1yyY6lYqECdydLxNxA_0nTmFIJ5_XI1Zm1U-OksrRJyw7qFOEmC9ASxbXPJBPZ05Qx0WbDXkCt-Nh6/s320/airport.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Sometimes I'm a lucky, lucky girl. </div>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-87566428914073158632011-05-17T22:03:00.002-06:002011-05-17T22:03:56.274-06:00Compliments & ValidationI was reading an article about Jill Scott and she made this comment:<br />
<blockquote>It's silly to be stingy with compliments. If you see someone and they strike you as beautiful in any way why not let them know?</blockquote>Then, later, I was cruising through some Twitter feeds and saw that several people had retweeted that comment. I found that to be so interesting because, by and large, I think we are generally reserved and not apt to simply compliment other strangers even when we notice that a compliment may be warranted. There's this fear, "how will they react? what will they say?" Which is kind of silly, when you think about it, because most people are more than happy to get compliments or at least some form of validation.<br />
<br />
Validation. I love that word. It embodies all the "I was right" or "yes, I rock" or "holy crap, I actually accomplished something" exclamations into one simple, sophisticated little word.<br />
<br />
Here's the official definition:<br />
<blockquote><b><span class="hw">val·i·date</span> </b> <br />
<div class="ds-list"><b>1. </b> To declare or make legally valid.</div><div class="ds-list"><b>2. </b> To mark with an indication of official sanction.</div><b>3. </b> To establish the soundness of; corroborate. </blockquote>Official sanction. That's the President or Queen passing on the crown, right? Or just your boss saying, "good report" or your mom saying "I'm proud of the mom you have become." Someone with authority giving approval and encouragement simply because they see a reason to give it. <br />
<br />
I have found I'm one of those people that needs some sort of validation - especially in my professional life. Validation can be small and personal, "hey, nice haircut" or "thanks for folding that massive pile of clothes," or large and professional, "since you do such good work we are offering you an annual retainer incentive of $150k." Both types significant in their own way. Both of them designed to validate me - the first in my appearance and the second from my actions, knowledge and experience. (Ok, the second one didn't happen. But I keep wishing. Instead the occasional pat on the back and annual pay bumps must to suffice). <br />
<br />
So what's the point? Whether you are in a position to validate the actions of another (like your child, your spouse, or your employees) or simply compliment a peer or a stranger JUST DO IT. Recognize positive actions and reinforce the behavior. Let them know that they did something that you liked. Let them know that you think they are awesome. Or that you simply like their shoes. Whatever it is - tell them. They will feel 100 times better and I bet you will too.<br />
<br />
We can get so bogged down with negativity in our lives. Deadlines, bills, homework, stress, etc., that just a few words of encouragement can make a big difference.<br />
<br />
So I'm going to try to remember to give compliments when they are deserved and validation when it's needed. I hope you will too.<br />
<br />
Here's my first - I'm thankful to each and every one of you for taking a few minutes out of your busy days to read my words. I'm thankful for you.Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-15491554477105249362011-05-13T15:20:00.003-06:002011-05-13T15:22:23.166-06:00Baseball Mom<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">It's starting. I've resisted for a long time - he's too young, he's not ready, let's just do martial arts instead - but now it's time. To push it off any further would be doing him a disservice. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My oldest has joined an organized sports team. Baseball, to be specific. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3 weeks ago when I reminded my son that he was signed up for baseball and it would be starting soon he had a gigantic fit. He didn't want to do it, how could I make him and why didn't I warn him before I signed him up? Well, he knew I was signing him up, he chose baseball over soccer, and I even double-checked with him. So what was the problem? Nerves. He was scared to meet new people and do something he wasn't used to doing.<br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
2 weeks ago when my mom & stepdad were here they bought him a bat, a couple baseballs, and a mitt. We went out to a baseball diamond at a school nearby and practiced a bit. After that I didn't hear a word of complaint.</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
Last night we went to the first practice. I signed all the forms, got his uniform and signed up to bring the snacks for one of the games. In true sports mom form. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I was so proud of him last night. No nerves last night. He jumped right in. And when the coach was asking for a volunteer to demonstrate where center field was he raised his arm the highest. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">In the next 5 weeks we have 4 practices and 10 games. Here we go. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5lykLN1uzvGYU0oK6btDy5I4bF2usp2QQtKb_IQXohv8VlRL5s79FGbr8qpyCG2LFdMa-rAx2y3cUWxUIbosUwd9xzNl7iLwnFUCKE64YPdZEf1TPtIBrWwf8WIM-emQaYlYJZfEO8FA/s1600/baseball+Angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5lykLN1uzvGYU0oK6btDy5I4bF2usp2QQtKb_IQXohv8VlRL5s79FGbr8qpyCG2LFdMa-rAx2y3cUWxUIbosUwd9xzNl7iLwnFUCKE64YPdZEf1TPtIBrWwf8WIM-emQaYlYJZfEO8FA/s320/baseball+Angel.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's an Angel. And a handsome devil. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdERFNj635WCFisKisahErFX2gJbYwzbIDgbqUn33jerrvIwhF-g296uDRrPdR2Gu-L4ju9vII8d8GNY7ejOayJaYX8fgN4YwvH9IF_rruHhEP-P-RmZMU_hfkN29e657F8tT-XBgo_P6/s1600/supportive+brother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdERFNj635WCFisKisahErFX2gJbYwzbIDgbqUn33jerrvIwhF-g296uDRrPdR2Gu-L4ju9vII8d8GNY7ejOayJaYX8fgN4YwvH9IF_rruHhEP-P-RmZMU_hfkN29e657F8tT-XBgo_P6/s320/supportive+brother.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">His brother giving him words of encouragement just before his first time up to bat. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkld3gLwYTte-aDqHMCCwLbetRZxdB71bB9B7XvO0jQC6Mzx8VSS6pbo03a06PrUaCuHrW_chVfmDIEd8Xndj53qoKX5PvlYS4CSHEKOCEgNCrREKG6x38a6ycGNWG7kZa-5bR5_IoWzYz/s1600/baseball+diptic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkld3gLwYTte-aDqHMCCwLbetRZxdB71bB9B7XvO0jQC6Mzx8VSS6pbo03a06PrUaCuHrW_chVfmDIEd8Xndj53qoKX5PvlYS4CSHEKOCEgNCrREKG6x38a6ycGNWG7kZa-5bR5_IoWzYz/s320/baseball+diptic.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Because I love themed collages. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-631467141246291102011-05-09T13:44:00.004-06:002011-05-09T16:48:39.315-06:00Bitchfest & IG LW review<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I'm annoyed. For several reasons:</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><ol style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><li>I'm at work and it's Monday. </li>
<li>I'm getting a cystic/nodule type acne bump on the side of my chin. I could ignore it but it freaking hurts. Like I-can't-forget-it's-there kind of hurt. So that sucks.</li>
<li>What started out as a nice Mother's Day yesterday went south in the middle of the day when my kids completely forgot that they ever had manners to begin with and proceeded to act like whiny, annoying, born-in-a-barn, selfish 2 year olds. They are 9 & 7. I was taking THEM shopping for stuff for THEM. On Mother's Day. Ungrateful little wretches. People used to compliment me about their manners. What the hell happened?? </li>
<li>My oldest decided to continue this trend through this morning when he laid on the floor for 30 minutes because we were making him wear jeans to school that make his butt look big. For reals? I mean, really? He's 9. He's small. 51 inches tall and maybe 52 pounds. Nevertheless, kicking, screaming, pounding the floor tantrum this morning. He is grounded from the TV & the computer now. </li>
<li>We decided to try an ADHD med for my little one this weekend. He has never taken ANY meds, and there's some concern with treating the ADHD because the medicine can cause Autism characteristics to become "worse" or just more defined. Well, we tried one on Saturday and, OMFG, the child turned into a holy terror. We were in survival mode with him until it wore off. I held him until he calmed down and then quietly handed over the the Wii remote and slowly backed away. So, yeah, we won't be trying that again. I would rather deal with his concentration issues than that mad, angry and aggressive little spawn of satan.</li>
<li>My insurance guy keeps calling (when I'm not home so I just get these annoying messages) to sign up for a service or I'm about to lose a discount for the next 6 months. This is my thing: I obviously was signed up for it the last 6 months - why the hell are you bugging me about it again? When I sign up once I expect it to stay in effect. Do you really think I have time to deal with ONE MORE THING? And I have to carve out the time to do this during the day while I'm at work. </li>
</ol><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Which brings me back to WORK. I try not to talk about work too much here - but I just have to say something. I've been doing this job for over 5 years. Which is a long time, in this field, to stay with one company and in the same position. I'm getting a little freakin' burned out. I'm tired of the same problems and the same non-solutions. Home annoyances on top of the typical work stuff makes days like today really hard. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I would love to be Susie Sunshine and see the bright side of every thing, every day - but that's just not me. Sometimes I can do that. Other times I want to wallow in my annoyance with the world or just go back to bed already. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I know I'll get over it soon. Except for this stupid cystic pimple. That's going to take several days and a lot of <a href="http://stefdwe.blogspot.com/2011/05/oil-cleansing-method-ocm-limited-review.html">oil massaging</a>. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So enough bitching. Here's a look at how last week (LW) went, in Instagram (IG):</span></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmicr45SBz-5mSrq8_k1HNXcZxA_AKbLOwMx-xaNaempGXluHYMJWgh_JFkImT9yEWI18bb4sXJZeG2Lsv0pvULqGIrA1LMoPRA0dSlByuas4YKFB8rVr4LLP-9wNifFRvXhOe0Ml3OR1/s1600/rocket.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUmicr45SBz-5mSrq8_k1HNXcZxA_AKbLOwMx-xaNaempGXluHYMJWgh_JFkImT9yEWI18bb4sXJZeG2Lsv0pvULqGIrA1LMoPRA0dSlByuas4YKFB8rVr4LLP-9wNifFRvXhOe0Ml3OR1/s320/rocket.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sunday:</b> We shot off the rocket my 9 year old got for his birthday. It was SO COOL. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BqqU0jA6e9hWbncHkNv7zueBe1qUPiHJvMPGwUfRl7pOjHgX6yBJMhcud0BBYrQ9Vxa429kWn54KxL0HYvmKE2q2uzU0cn92F_TigF5738Vyqk2UaRX7pDOkXVm-5ozQh9ryOvgCcCki/s1600/try+again.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_BqqU0jA6e9hWbncHkNv7zueBe1qUPiHJvMPGwUfRl7pOjHgX6yBJMhcud0BBYrQ9Vxa429kWn54KxL0HYvmKE2q2uzU0cn92F_TigF5738Vyqk2UaRX7pDOkXVm-5ozQh9ryOvgCcCki/s320/try+again.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Monday:</b> I took my little guy to his developmental pediatrician. This was in the waiting room. </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oHscuLPk8_qlHXqd0esLzF7BxgBr7jB8H0j2UoV6l7fPLibMz91WTpt3CYEnTcXFc_KQ_x900QyC-Y003Kt8HJo0UAFsjJbqXTiejRcVojIq0DR00O7noGKKmALyskMkGkNjCkBOLeig/s1600/specs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3oHscuLPk8_qlHXqd0esLzF7BxgBr7jB8H0j2UoV6l7fPLibMz91WTpt3CYEnTcXFc_KQ_x900QyC-Y003Kt8HJo0UAFsjJbqXTiejRcVojIq0DR00O7noGKKmALyskMkGkNjCkBOLeig/s320/specs.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Tuesday:</b> I got new specs. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5nDDdMkSD0uO2bLvERPOi2JG9fH9j7S1VOBXUGYTxYEKLmHCnmDJKVsN8QzwzUGiDw2rAh8zq8Ij6PP5SdiOJWGpoq83mXMRYx9fOUA5PO7g2y8vXumEQiyTW8j0Pg_dbSost3Gy20_t/s1600/wicked.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5nDDdMkSD0uO2bLvERPOi2JG9fH9j7S1VOBXUGYTxYEKLmHCnmDJKVsN8QzwzUGiDw2rAh8zq8Ij6PP5SdiOJWGpoq83mXMRYx9fOUA5PO7g2y8vXumEQiyTW8j0Pg_dbSost3Gy20_t/s320/wicked.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Wednesday:</b> We went to see Wicked. This is the stage before it started. It.Was.Awesome.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWA9j8QqDQyBMi9RCQOvYSyeHKltE021_SQaxxa_VHEb9ywt2834Fy4ND-hyKBjIn3qW7sAScFn421Iucm_h7amFBanL578o9CrGBTbgDLVwlTo3oRS0f_nHC4YuXvmKBa75Jo7H1o7Hb/s1600/duck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpWA9j8QqDQyBMi9RCQOvYSyeHKltE021_SQaxxa_VHEb9ywt2834Fy4ND-hyKBjIn3qW7sAScFn421Iucm_h7amFBanL578o9CrGBTbgDLVwlTo3oRS0f_nHC4YuXvmKBa75Jo7H1o7Hb/s320/duck.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Thursday:</b> There was a duck in the road. I persuaded her to move for her safety.</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUygQ7c0A8AvyPDBuzSPRvrFmsqJ-J4vu_dj1tJqUQg2gs-z_AZJvDHSfujcXfK4AaaMmhgNinfyQz9j61XjGR9ckOqVtIbQdve0KaWW7r2_DWHEuSxHSovz4pHsToq6JccY-NOloZb5JH/s1600/puppet+show.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUygQ7c0A8AvyPDBuzSPRvrFmsqJ-J4vu_dj1tJqUQg2gs-z_AZJvDHSfujcXfK4AaaMmhgNinfyQz9j61XjGR9ckOqVtIbQdve0KaWW7r2_DWHEuSxHSovz4pHsToq6JccY-NOloZb5JH/s320/puppet+show.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Friday:</b> Read Night at my oldest's school. Every year we put on a puppet show for the event. We = my husband as the puppeteer with help from a nephew and friend. It's a real crowd-pleaser. </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfI7yFu4eOkCrDTMuIPt1cfayneXNxOOsF8JbUqBKgv0ZfmUxRUwyUZRKj1xaxH3tmhDXpcT3ljSBbvhyj-H1mqk96Dwv7EkeBDl53TE8u-HMioY52HtHC5PbBuR0q_hjZAcdUi3g-bXCf/s1600/plumber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfI7yFu4eOkCrDTMuIPt1cfayneXNxOOsF8JbUqBKgv0ZfmUxRUwyUZRKj1xaxH3tmhDXpcT3ljSBbvhyj-H1mqk96Dwv7EkeBDl53TE8u-HMioY52HtHC5PbBuR0q_hjZAcdUi3g-bXCf/s320/plumber.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Saturday:</b> The hubby got all handy and installed our new water heater. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2ciPXlI7hXnQg79XR_Bxpq4AxQqpjjTordadmykGB_bP27FxuCxAwXr-0eomu_YashOxvRxcte6q9cWy3J72nGBTCdorc0leCvme-zyyD_vtD3mFm4nKmq68hRlSfDJfJ14pG2my6kmb/s1600/mad.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiK2ciPXlI7hXnQg79XR_Bxpq4AxQqpjjTordadmykGB_bP27FxuCxAwXr-0eomu_YashOxvRxcte6q9cWy3J72nGBTCdorc0leCvme-zyyD_vtD3mFm4nKmq68hRlSfDJfJ14pG2my6kmb/s320/mad.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Saturday:</b> During the medication snafu: angry eyes and a thunderous brow. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Xxu_DFxIrSHnkjZKuvrqZRy8x6CRieO0GUBE5y7Hso3GPi-CIF0meie-Hk9PaCrCWHXhs5DMmTKm_E0USkegJGRxfJIXAMqNHFGPhmLOi6xbigp0DZvK1hHq-7-Cg9K1CZNQEDs6LS01/s1600/bubbly+toes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Xxu_DFxIrSHnkjZKuvrqZRy8x6CRieO0GUBE5y7Hso3GPi-CIF0meie-Hk9PaCrCWHXhs5DMmTKm_E0USkegJGRxfJIXAMqNHFGPhmLOi6xbigp0DZvK1hHq-7-Cg9K1CZNQEDs6LS01/s320/bubbly+toes.JPG" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Saturday evening</b>: Hot water. Bubbly toes. Fantastic. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WXaWEIZ-4E4b5DKXccQlXxTl5JHseoCtg7SBKtzut3yEvcgwjOwpRfPCbs0ntO76OBJbeAvc8g-p_SXxF3I8nvu4qt5RbpLYManxmHd8B5QXFyCz7T91QxVgxJ3n96oYWmbom8xcBhro/s1600/breakfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3WXaWEIZ-4E4b5DKXccQlXxTl5JHseoCtg7SBKtzut3yEvcgwjOwpRfPCbs0ntO76OBJbeAvc8g-p_SXxF3I8nvu4qt5RbpLYManxmHd8B5QXFyCz7T91QxVgxJ3n96oYWmbom8xcBhro/s320/breakfast.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sunday:</b> Mother's Day breakfast in bed. Crepe with Nutella & whipped cream. There was bacon too but somehow it disappeared before the picture was taken. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyk1Y-PAnABz28fbhvhyphenhyphene17W-HEo9FgoZqLzdNnOOJa523vPO-U9ThnMcstWxadgKdzlozlwyMqV5mhbPsB5eIX9u-1ToSpQ3eWPUTsM7VXrH6d15gKCVFJRF8ehXn_EliatSoTxKo8Ka/s1600/loot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyk1Y-PAnABz28fbhvhyphenhyphene17W-HEo9FgoZqLzdNnOOJa523vPO-U9ThnMcstWxadgKdzlozlwyMqV5mhbPsB5eIX9u-1ToSpQ3eWPUTsM7VXrH6d15gKCVFJRF8ehXn_EliatSoTxKo8Ka/s320/loot.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Sunday:</b> some of my Mother's Day loot. Chocolate (of course), funky socks, and homemade books. Plus a card with a tropical island and tropical music in it (no drink with an umbrella in it though). I also got a color bowl (flower pot) for the front porch AND, drumroll please, <b><i>I did not have to wash a dish all freakin' day</i></b>. Hallelujah!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2471610669185140602.post-91299753792000120752011-05-06T16:23:00.000-06:002011-05-06T16:23:49.980-06:00Flashback Friday - my old house<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZUKwOYLfeLeji6e_dOPOJbk7BOoiPFDRxQfJRQd9GShsAEmohbA4Ql4YdyPeP0Di0eloK_geDMsgMM_cUFtUIMSEa7Ri78Ju386eSGfqcGEvrDKcoGh66oC8SVWPFOWD_ymEhIfU34AP/s1600/Cabrillo+house+smaller.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJZUKwOYLfeLeji6e_dOPOJbk7BOoiPFDRxQfJRQd9GShsAEmohbA4Ql4YdyPeP0Di0eloK_geDMsgMM_cUFtUIMSEa7Ri78Ju386eSGfqcGEvrDKcoGh66oC8SVWPFOWD_ymEhIfU34AP/s320/Cabrillo+house+smaller.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">This is the house I grew up in and it's currently for sale. The house looks different than when I lived in it. We didn't have so many flowers. Holy cow. But it still looks like my house. My old bedroom is behind the arch closest to the garage. There were Spanish style shutters inside the bedroom windows - which was a really interesting concept for a 7 or 8 year old. We eventually took them down. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I lived there during the majority of my growing up years. My "formative years," I guess. My best friend lived across the street and then moved next door (and gained a pool. bonus). I had several other friends that lived in the neighborhood. The street used to dead end and we always played in that field as kids. My best friend's stinky older brother and his friend used to pick on us and throw things at us in that field. There was one tree that had a tire swing on it that we loved (and was the best tree to use as our "fort"). Oh, and one time I found a porno mag in that field. Was that ever elucidating! Eeek. (My mom found me with it and I'm sure she must have completely freaked out). </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Then, in my early teens, my friends and I would sneak out of my bedroom window during sleep-overs to go tee-pee friends' houses. Or just go meet with boys. It was innocent stuff though, thank goodness, because I got caught every time. (The darn screens on the windows were SCREWED IN and do you know how hard it is to screw them back in in the dark?) (When I got older I didn't have to sneak out AND I learned how to not get caught when I was being ornery. But that's a different story.)</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">So many memories at this house. My dad mowing the lawn every Saturday morning. Our big half Golden/half Bernard dog Shawna who we got when I was two and died when we lived there. My first ten-speed bike. My best friend and I sitting out there on the grass under the stars in 1987ish listening to our radio and crying because our parents wouldn't let us go to the Bon Jovi concert (we were about 12 or 13). Watching the neighborhood teenagers with envy and wondering when I would be that old. Then, when I was that old, my first formal date coming to pick me up here in his '73 Mustang fastback. I loved that car and I loved the dress I wore that night. </div><div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><br />
</div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My old house is for sale. Somebody with kids should buy it and love it. Then their kids can have precious memories of living there like I do. </span>Stefhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12150268541513830609noreply@blogger.com4