tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81685221648253995042024-03-04T22:58:06.955-06:00Aspiring Mom2threeAspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.comBlogger465125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-38665402743868978402019-01-23T00:21:00.000-06:002019-01-23T00:21:06.023-06:00For Ava Maria - a little quilt<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<b>A close friend's daughter, </b> who was close friend's with Only in highschool, was expecting her first little one, last Fall (she is a year old now), and I wanted to make a little quilt for her. </div>
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<b>I needed it to be fast and quick,</b> but wanted to make sure it was unique for them. Building on her love of Classic Pooh, I tried to go with basic water colors, and it took on a mind of it's own. I certainly was not in love with it when I started, and the back of the quilt soon became the front. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebmgLuE85IZ1jj5uPj5kwOSnui8CdZ0tyGL2NVUvj19JKX3s-YbePmxOM9fsnxGBNQR-FjMJj7FF4ypRxFCGhpT8bpRuYR6oqbAZMn8-AQMLWUHS6BKW6xqFpo8LNDVhnDzskO1cP77k/s1600/49243610_2363431900558486_485404477805821952_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgebmgLuE85IZ1jj5uPj5kwOSnui8CdZ0tyGL2NVUvj19JKX3s-YbePmxOM9fsnxGBNQR-FjMJj7FF4ypRxFCGhpT8bpRuYR6oqbAZMn8-AQMLWUHS6BKW6xqFpo8LNDVhnDzskO1cP77k/s320/49243610_2363431900558486_485404477805821952_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front of the quilt</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERRUPCghEWYxPqpybu1ZQTKa9O1lgQ7bouXwfMaHLU7dkLLF5ypGoBvmehO_UpEhY6WqqsdLgM0dXpEq_A1SSEHMWfxXZ0xlWCqvgY03zwlUHKZ3aRimzYZGlgJUsEFlT2k2PPW6hXgc/s1600/50270044_281007442584199_4314350023845347328_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiERRUPCghEWYxPqpybu1ZQTKa9O1lgQ7bouXwfMaHLU7dkLLF5ypGoBvmehO_UpEhY6WqqsdLgM0dXpEq_A1SSEHMWfxXZ0xlWCqvgY03zwlUHKZ3aRimzYZGlgJUsEFlT2k2PPW6hXgc/s320/50270044_281007442584199_4314350023845347328_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaX2DImTfHi8qu8lUD_q-MAoUm-nMdaGhhtxNHmq4dmSJQLh17nFR5nQeZq8z6QBoNEebcoIYZtWQMM1usSAPA6WtQmJJh9jQaNAmMI7nh5bdfC6XK5UGcUkk2CC839wEkeMK8UwTdXNk/s1600/50396361_2287441454634449_3713917783457660928_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaX2DImTfHi8qu8lUD_q-MAoUm-nMdaGhhtxNHmq4dmSJQLh17nFR5nQeZq8z6QBoNEebcoIYZtWQMM1usSAPA6WtQmJJh9jQaNAmMI7nh5bdfC6XK5UGcUkk2CC839wEkeMK8UwTdXNk/s320/50396361_2287441454634449_3713917783457660928_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oiYmqgg0Dt6dmS4TbBz8VPWZAY6S_tqH0UAOh6_c1uCRL-nUz2YQ52zaLkeSTFrPnubiw3az6Mh_E_EuCwdvHUwTIHH1skSymCuO0NBi2r8omdKq-FkthsJ2djddTpcIjv0NlhLSCDI/s1600/50275092_1970421896346764_5586276477994795008_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-oiYmqgg0Dt6dmS4TbBz8VPWZAY6S_tqH0UAOh6_c1uCRL-nUz2YQ52zaLkeSTFrPnubiw3az6Mh_E_EuCwdvHUwTIHH1skSymCuO0NBi2r8omdKq-FkthsJ2djddTpcIjv0NlhLSCDI/s320/50275092_1970421896346764_5586276477994795008_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>I was able to make the applique flowers </b>on the embroidery machine and applique them on the quilt, which saved me a little time.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBK52B6XZnFd8rWC5XCycJGMxoYY5YjRWLXsVTs03ZKwanzs2xq_RzrjgvN-qc9z0XN6M4oufhTKmo4eec6XZ9qXdAfskqwFUpUp2VMDCLZBqPjN_1cNMtOo21kR_FgeW6IoW1jTPhNAo/s1600/50151298_601399246984289_5056209550105903104_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBK52B6XZnFd8rWC5XCycJGMxoYY5YjRWLXsVTs03ZKwanzs2xq_RzrjgvN-qc9z0XN6M4oufhTKmo4eec6XZ9qXdAfskqwFUpUp2VMDCLZBqPjN_1cNMtOo21kR_FgeW6IoW1jTPhNAo/s320/50151298_601399246984289_5056209550105903104_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTYQcu0mGeOSqeNzHEsJgDZWpG2M_xNJ3B2YbppLCQjKo65UtDZdJJozxMe3VrCEguqtftHo0jI7o2TH0UQYKxIkFP2bNaY6JttA_2QgmeXNVhjxXHOH0fIn_lcLa5xqsXLYeGPOMg0I4/s1600/50508712_340866323306491_264495085498925056_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTYQcu0mGeOSqeNzHEsJgDZWpG2M_xNJ3B2YbppLCQjKo65UtDZdJJozxMe3VrCEguqtftHo0jI7o2TH0UQYKxIkFP2bNaY6JttA_2QgmeXNVhjxXHOH0fIn_lcLa5xqsXLYeGPOMg0I4/s320/50508712_340866323306491_264495085498925056_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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<b>I love adding some details</b> - adjectives and a Bible verse on this one, finishing up with FMQ, free motion quilting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uszTDhZLsqBd4S2CSaH2wM6PhCcHQir5O3eHWc3Vr1Nh2A7LIhrMZCfLz6bQCXrS_7qFDCZF-a6vp7vkPb4B0lwiRUlSlKC-c3XCQgtJbfpY2VdFDbDgEcwkVmKPFUGZUSZc13FrdL8/s1600/50401039_290198801684632_8400922169453838336_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFTfea6Nb-0FdEx5AAXGCdOTHFGYLuMkiozXXof4b4LuYLjGGMUcU0vByD9sCMU2GlqnmSvNL4T7ntscNAN3CSRTLzJ1ZhK9TKInlBgFAsF83su1Z-tTbCcbx8z5bSetEC-O0GO5R3GA/s1600/50183026_430417997499614_3101491752406614016_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTFTfea6Nb-0FdEx5AAXGCdOTHFGYLuMkiozXXof4b4LuYLjGGMUcU0vByD9sCMU2GlqnmSvNL4T7ntscNAN3CSRTLzJ1ZhK9TKInlBgFAsF83su1Z-tTbCcbx8z5bSetEC-O0GO5R3GA/s320/50183026_430417997499614_3101491752406614016_n.jpg" width="320" /></a><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uszTDhZLsqBd4S2CSaH2wM6PhCcHQir5O3eHWc3Vr1Nh2A7LIhrMZCfLz6bQCXrS_7qFDCZF-a6vp7vkPb4B0lwiRUlSlKC-c3XCQgtJbfpY2VdFDbDgEcwkVmKPFUGZUSZc13FrdL8/s320/50401039_290198801684632_8400922169453838336_n.jpg" width="240" /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcIoqj6a8r8wuIx1NUL2jrvb4b7cW1NpfX2PViDvZdTy0-IGp11TEYFSZ9ShzQAhBcGD-5T4JVMq6ExxEc_tAYd8LPrEF5xd6ATNRZZsdtenT_D8Ck1wsCMeafWJOGEPoUSD6isEk66I/s1600/50265694_606504989809274_3250068058588315648_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="750" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixcIoqj6a8r8wuIx1NUL2jrvb4b7cW1NpfX2PViDvZdTy0-IGp11TEYFSZ9ShzQAhBcGD-5T4JVMq6ExxEc_tAYd8LPrEF5xd6ATNRZZsdtenT_D8Ck1wsCMeafWJOGEPoUSD6isEk66I/s320/50265694_606504989809274_3250068058588315648_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Ava Marie</td></tr>
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In the end, I loved the quilt and almost hated to give it up, but Needless to say, she and her husband loved the quilt! Each month, they took a picture of Ava on her quilt, next to her sweet rabbit. <br />
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Until next time!<br />
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Lynnet<br />
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-12600876134787613922019-01-19T23:53:00.000-06:002019-01-19T23:53:07.013-06:00Under an old needle<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Life has been so very busy the last 6 months,</b> but I've been able to have some late nights doing what I love, mainly due to in-ability to sleep. There are perks to this. I love sewing late into the night - no distractions, just me, my machine, Netflix or the Hallmark Channel, and a critter or two. Mainly most of my creations have been working on design testing for a talented designer from Malta, <a href="https://www.bluemoonembroidery.com/" target="_blank">Blue Moon Embroidery Designs</a>. It is a joy to test each one and see how beautifully they stitch out, finding fabric to match the vision for the individual I felt each project matched ... </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AesbFyDGgYGXq7Q9zOKH_MDWMCPE6dacQcKfF35HBsjBMCgDRFTvOcgcBpYp6fBZl0EMfR9LrmsVvIoN28Abf7yjqquiijvuI65dOr1tU3j1MqdQbqKpGZWntwczfDQOl_o_0eCAs8U/s1600/31658009_10216538177673838_8490244514114437120_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9AesbFyDGgYGXq7Q9zOKH_MDWMCPE6dacQcKfF35HBsjBMCgDRFTvOcgcBpYp6fBZl0EMfR9LrmsVvIoN28Abf7yjqquiijvuI65dOr1tU3j1MqdQbqKpGZWntwczfDQOl_o_0eCAs8U/s200/31658009_10216538177673838_8490244514114437120_o.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shadow wants prime attention</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZeW8sAvDEf6soNiQQbQjoAEEucbT2utjrLGjsIrJUZM9wbsK7cGMcaVAqJIVZM6pVT609cN22BsKxmPRIZmoSTn9agF-iL9hFAZcXjMBiByNOsF3wSlqClPu59uNH9C2OCgW_evvVq4/s1600/39211758_2140264106303294_4757292062666129408_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmZeW8sAvDEf6soNiQQbQjoAEEucbT2utjrLGjsIrJUZM9wbsK7cGMcaVAqJIVZM6pVT609cN22BsKxmPRIZmoSTn9agF-iL9hFAZcXjMBiByNOsF3wSlqClPu59uNH9C2OCgW_evvVq4/s320/39211758_2140264106303294_4757292062666129408_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For long-time friend, and avid tea drinker</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NTnpJ5yZOAJd34BtFm-_rIeLTQReGzpQM8WH645RGBaOiGYSTE7MJFPE9_2tb7cIxx18h8pTbBN8A1KWc5cJDg22ILQ2fvfMQGR_sziGAivRadM1fofXHNlGYyhDBLJvCuMphP3SSBw/s1600/42291150_2228339974108646_9168813870452572160_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NTnpJ5yZOAJd34BtFm-_rIeLTQReGzpQM8WH645RGBaOiGYSTE7MJFPE9_2tb7cIxx18h8pTbBN8A1KWc5cJDg22ILQ2fvfMQGR_sziGAivRadM1fofXHNlGYyhDBLJvCuMphP3SSBw/s320/42291150_2228339974108646_9168813870452572160_n.jpg" width="240" /></a><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5cHrVBxk7Up3nb4VLvfq4kYAfO5g0uGHh3ABPDuNymQXBxXtPQUisIMp9UsEKt4txs9a4lyiQFcmHqsQy8Mz8jJbDlocxvfHkLaW7mrk9bNz4kEte4n5VNjWFUK8eJu7hFy6_a_UXdw/s1600/42280357_1850711385036408_8933780117415526400_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM5cHrVBxk7Up3nb4VLvfq4kYAfO5g0uGHh3ABPDuNymQXBxXtPQUisIMp9UsEKt4txs9a4lyiQFcmHqsQy8Mz8jJbDlocxvfHkLaW7mrk9bNz4kEte4n5VNjWFUK8eJu7hFy6_a_UXdw/s320/42280357_1850711385036408_8933780117415526400_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For Dear Daughter</td></tr>
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<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I've not been using a specific quilt pattern for each pillow, but rather scrappy white strips, sewing the scrap fabric forming long strips of miscellaneous length fabric. It's really easier than planning a detailed and specific quilt design and inserting the middle design, hoping it will come out right. <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hl4hmkJ1Wm24m_NjtWPrLSkcDQAEJBAVs5gl-DAKeA7jNJEYSsq47v0J7pVi2wI-3LH7IXAmaWAZNX7xvOZuHYJmcl5S6z8bs1sWLOPQH5qRc7qLBdG6ELVmIN0BUfz3WAvYwUL6dSE/s1600/42541822_301619450622783_397255784498462720_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9hl4hmkJ1Wm24m_NjtWPrLSkcDQAEJBAVs5gl-DAKeA7jNJEYSsq47v0J7pVi2wI-3LH7IXAmaWAZNX7xvOZuHYJmcl5S6z8bs1sWLOPQH5qRc7qLBdG6ELVmIN0BUfz3WAvYwUL6dSE/s320/42541822_301619450622783_397255784498462720_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friend whom loves Fishing</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVeQJ8JFMwRSkfvv9vhkrqh6AYaFpmbZjVdSJ29HRsiXVoO4Oce8dypHQ5fuZX0ZGqM3j5wGqRkH_gcwgIFGyepWDlqnqCgGWGSiqNXcLNE4MBZWLfmiYdQv32ILqNRx6xnzIwnRiGK4/s1600/44255997_779713765702613_2564835129209913344_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfVeQJ8JFMwRSkfvv9vhkrqh6AYaFpmbZjVdSJ29HRsiXVoO4Oce8dypHQ5fuZX0ZGqM3j5wGqRkH_gcwgIFGyepWDlqnqCgGWGSiqNXcLNE4MBZWLfmiYdQv32ILqNRx6xnzIwnRiGK4/s320/44255997_779713765702613_2564835129209913344_n.jpg" width="180" /></a>This I didn't get to finish, but it's on my shelf to finish soon. I do have quite a few projects that need to be finished... It seems they are piling up. <span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ACBunO0Qvn2TLSip_9dysuGMDV0bArJCt4niDypiaqBA5_Y32T1v5MToEGvj7cHFKtp5xarjluu_59kTL0tqJH43b1rRGn2ldW9Q1SFPvKCYISKM0qAH2l5EfiLcENngM9rElhJisQw/s1600/48348589_342540856478328_3017120280972623872_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ACBunO0Qvn2TLSip_9dysuGMDV0bArJCt4niDypiaqBA5_Y32T1v5MToEGvj7cHFKtp5xarjluu_59kTL0tqJH43b1rRGn2ldW9Q1SFPvKCYISKM0qAH2l5EfiLcENngM9rElhJisQw/s320/48348589_342540856478328_3017120280972623872_n.jpg" width="180" /></a>I made a polar-fleece comfy blanket for Oldest and his new wife for Christmas. </div>
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That's all for now, but I have much more to come. I've been a bit behind lately on posting. </div>
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Lynnet</div>
Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-42878815951179376112018-11-23T01:14:00.000-06:002018-11-23T01:14:00.150-06:00Honestly, I struggle<b>Can I be honest?</b> It's my blog, so I need to be. I struggle with things. Big surprise, because most of us do. We don't always see others in their struggles, and sometimes that is isolating. I'm not talking about those that constantly complain, but those daily struggles, or life stuff - Aging parents, teen kids, losing weight, self esteem, forgiveness, anger, home repairs, bills, balancing life... I struggle with posting this.<br />
<br />
I know the Bible tells us to not be anxious for anything. I read it, hear it, underline it, and still it creeps in there.<br />
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<b>The Honesty</b>: I have been seeing a Christian counselor for almost 9 months now. Sometimes, it feels like there is a bad stigma to see or need counseling. Like we couldn't solve it, work through it, we are weak, that there are mental issues, etc, but actually that's not the case. There are many reasons that people seek counseling - broken marriages, new job or leaving an old job, dealing with children, broken past, getting a degree, childhood trauma, PTSD, war, illnesses, being a parent, going to school, being a caregiver, loneliness, loss of child/spouse/parent, changes in life... I've found lately that some of my closest friends have gone to counselors, and we're all really okay with that. Just means that we realize we need someone to talk to that is more impartial. I love that we have Christian counselors available.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "poppins"; font-size: 14px;">When faced with difficult situations or stressful times in our lives, it’s quite common to try to bury our thoughts and emotions, to focus on something else rather than face the issue that’s driving us. It’s in these moments as well as many others when counseling is a wonderful way to cope with your thoughts, have a conversation about how to handle trigger situations, and learn skills to lead a happier and mentally, emotionally healthier life.. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "poppins"; font-size: 14px;">when counseling is a wonderful way to cope with your thoughts, have a conversation about how to handle trigger situations, and learn skills to lead a happier and mentally, emotionally healthier life</span></blockquote>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "poppins"; font-size: 14px;">Whether you need help to cope with a mental illness or just need to speak with someone about a tough situation you’re currently facing, realize that there’s nothing wrong with you. Recognize that you love yourself enough to know you need help and seek it.</span> - <a href="https://familyfirsttherapy.com/overcoming-stigma-seeking-counseling/" target="_blank">family first counseling</a></blockquote>
<b>I love going to my counselor.</b> She listens to me ramble, I share normal family events: graduations, engagements, a new dog with trauma or loss of pet, joys and celebrations, customer sewing projects, travels, solving home-ownership problems of appliances breaking, improvements, etc), how I may challenge myself to learn something new, teaching the cat some pretty cool tricks (shaking hangs, down, high-five), helps me to focus on the issue at hand, whether it is self-worth, anger, or even unforgiveness. I basically pay to have someone to talk with me, without a ton of huge distractions, except her office is always cold and I take a quilt with me to keep warm. She always offers me a bottle of water and we laugh if I have a tea with me because we call it The Hard Stuff - caffeine. She knows when I'm just worn out and when I'm struggling with my fibromyalgia. <br />
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<b>Here is the honesty again.</b> I go because I have been upset, angry/irritated if you want to label it, with my brother, for the way that he treated our momma and the sturggles while she was going through the journey of Alzheimer's. I had already worked through, many years ago, the un-forgiveness and anger stemming from my abusive biological father, but it's amazing how connected things are. Some things she has helped me realize, along with speaking to an aunt, is that genetics are deep, but it is not up to me to make sure other people take responsibility for their actions and words. I have discovered, that even though we had the same parents, that at the age of eleven and twelve, our parents divorced, due suspected abuse. Now this is something I did not find out about until my mom was struggling with the Alzhiermier's, and my aunt revealed it to me. I chose to live with my mom, and my brother lived with our father. I now realize how family dynamics and imprinting affects children, and the long-term struggles that can bring. Our father's side of the family is riddled with abuse from generations in different forms, physical and mental, the inability to balance actual life events to where they change those events in their minds and believing them to be so true and actual, in order to cope with either not taking responsibility for their actions or lack of, that they believe that is how the event actually happened and no one can reason or prove otherwise. <i>Does this make sense? I feel like I'm a puppy chasing my own tail with this one. I really don't need you to fully understand, but I need to give voice to it. </i> I am not stating that my brother has all these issues, but rather... I just need to stop now. It's the experiences of two children, born just one year apart, to the same parents, raised separately by each parent, would have such profound impact on characteristics, mannerisms, actions, words, belief's, and choices made. It's not an excuse for his actions and words, but it brings things into perspective, and it makes me thankful I was raising by our mother.<br />
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<b>I will tell you, that I really feel I had an ideal childhood.</b> I was raised near grandparents, had wonderful experiences, lived in several states and even Japan, due to military, and have the most fond memories. I really wouldn't trade it or change it. I was surrounded by aunts and uncles, cousins, family gatherings, laughter, and small town life. It was like living in Mayberry (the Andy Griffith Show) without Sheriff Andy and Barney Fife, but even there, you see generational influence.<br />
<br />
<b>Honey and I have repeatedly talked to our kids about generational sins </b>of the past and how we have to make a choice to not allow them to continue and damage the future generations. We have spoken very frankly to them about specifics, raising their awareness of dangers and the lasting impact it has on emotions, mental clarity, safety, character representing Christ, choices in spouses, and decisions we make. We are not perfect parents, and have made so many mistakes, it's how we learn, but we want our children to be aware, be on guard, chose wisely, follow His instructions, and don't forget.<br />
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<b>I work on forgiveness,</b> with the possibility of never getting an apology or righting the wrong. It doesn't mean I forget, but I can let go. It's giving voice to my frustrations, using a source unrelated to the situation to give fresh eyes and perspective, and she has even given me home-work. I will admit freely that I struggle greatly with self worth/esteem. The way that I allow Uninvited feelings to creep in and slap me upside the heart and present themselves in the form of loneliness, low self-worth, or left out.<br />
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<b>One tool she has given me is a simple phrase:</b><br />
<i> I feel _____________ when _____________________, because ______________________. </i><br />
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This gives me a moment to <u>voice my feelings</u> in a <u>situation</u> and t<u>he reason for that feeling</u>.<br />
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<b>One book that I've been slowly working through for a year now,</b> is <a href="https://www.p31bookstore.com/products/uninvited" target="_blank">Uninvited by Lysa TerKeurst</a>, and I've learned so much about myself and those ugly feelings of hurt, pain, rejection, and insecurities. It's not been fun, but it has been good. I have several tools to help me recognize how I allow things to control me and my relationship with family, others, and God.<br />
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<b>Well, it's late</b> and I've rambled long enough to you, plus the temp in the house has dropped to 66* and all the critters and Honey are snoring.Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-82911233241622872512018-11-19T01:21:00.000-06:002018-11-19T01:42:49.348-06:00Grateful worry<b>I have blog post running through my brain constantly, </b>but they never seem to make it here. Usually my brain has something zipping through it, especially at night when I'm trying to sleep. I think it's part of being a mom and having to multi-task, and some inherited ADHD. Needless to say, I have a notebook with my list with me constantly, so I can write things down when needed. I'll confess that when I do something that's not on the list, I'll write it down and then mark it off. Tah dah! I've gotten a lot done! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpv8a8ss8-29R_yPhyphenhyphenkTUpup7yAcoUulCKYxn3Sb6aJm1NNyo1EPmMNWGec1KT7lHomm74ACBIcnzn_fC1eASeNmljhVnYhjhktXBkfdrkBbYvcfkCjqJZhftkkzWeoeuOHN-prpec14A/s1600/38912134_1865610210191947_1077950531172827136_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="888" data-original-width="889" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpv8a8ss8-29R_yPhyphenhyphenkTUpup7yAcoUulCKYxn3Sb6aJm1NNyo1EPmMNWGec1KT7lHomm74ACBIcnzn_fC1eASeNmljhVnYhjhktXBkfdrkBbYvcfkCjqJZhftkkzWeoeuOHN-prpec14A/s320/38912134_1865610210191947_1077950531172827136_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oldest and Mrs-to-Be</td></tr>
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<b>Lately, my brain has been filled with wedding stuff,</b> mainly the rehearsal dinner, since the wedding is in less than <b><u>46 days</u></b>. So my notebook has a few pages of list and diagrams of the room where we're doing the dinner, with things to do and check-off. Items to be purchased, food that needs to be made, people that offered to help, items I don't want to forget... Thankfully, we are not planing the whole wedding, and I have Only to help me, because I'm not great at this. She is awesome with ideas and Pinterest is our best friend! We've decided to do a few fun activities, if time permits, with Youngest as the Host, which will be perfect for him. I think he is planning on doing a Roasting of Oldest, since he's not a groomsman. I am thankful that Mrs-Oldest-to-Be has shared with me a few special moments, trying on her dress, bridal pictures, plans, etc. Wedding shower is done, and they were very blessed during that time. <i>I think I'd like to get married again or renew our vow and register for gifts so we can replace our worn out stuff! Doesn't that sound like a plan? Maybe another time.</i> We have already moved Oldest in the apartment they will be sharing once they get married. We told him, this was the third time we've moved him and next time, he needs to make some friends and enlist them to help!<br />
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<b>We will be spending Thanksgiving with Honey's family,</b> which is always a fun time. We always have a card game or wahoo going on somewhere in the house, lots of food, and naps. We can't forget the naps! I am so thankful for oldest's nephew's wife and her organization each year, for my dear SIL and her laughter and encouragement, and for memories made. She is a natural at organizing and at making things so easy for the rest of us. I can hardly wait to have all our kids in the same place and just enjoy family time. It's the best thing in my world. Even though I love going, I don't sleep well at all there, which makes me more tired and the brain fog sets in.<br />
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<b>I must say that throughout our married life of 28 years, </b>I have missed every Thanksgiving with my side of the family, except two. Those two were great treasures and gifts to me. My side of the family is very steeped in traditions for different gatherings, but it's also very rich in family experiences. I have the most wonderful childhood memories of family gatherings, especially at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Lots of hugging and laughter, sampling food when no one is looking, and I miss those times. Some years more than others, but I always got Christmas with my family. Now <a href="https://aspiringmom2three.blogspot.com/2017/04/time-and-memories-move-in-two-directions.html" target="_blank">that Momma is gone</a>, it is pretty much just time with our immediate family (Honey and our kids), and I don't get to see my Aunt and cousin (and her family) much. Makes my heart sad, but I realize that I'm not alone, and those in Honey's family have also missed Thanksgivings with their families. I get it, really, but I still miss Thanksgiving. and I'll miss Momma again this year. This probably should be left out, but for now, here it is.<br />
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<b>Oh, wait, the worry?</b> That will be the special cake I need to make, the rolls, pies, laundry, packing, checking The List to make sure I didn't miss anything, getting someone to take care of the critters since our regular person isn't available. Oh, I've lost 30 pounds, since July, but I'm afraid I'll cave and start eating things I've eliminated, due to availability, and I'll have to begin again. Oh, did I mention the fridge started pouring water from the dispenser where we get ice? Yeah, that's a bit off. I'm thankful that Honey was able to take it apart and do something, and it seems to be working again. The bad thing is the ice filled coolers did not keep all the food frozen and my freezer is now meat free. All that space!!! It's pretty nice to have a clean freezer again! I know, this is just stuff, and there is no need to worry about stuff, right? Don't sweat the small stuff...<br />
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Lynnet<br />
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<i>I'm still aspiring to be a good mom, but as the kids are grown and are getting married, that number is growing. I can't be the perfect mother-in-law, but I can only do my best. I'm bound to screw up, because I'm not perfect, but I sure hope the family will forgive me and forget when I do. If not, I may have to dredge up some of those childhood pictures of the kids that they've begged to be forgotten. </i><br />
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<br />Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-82004168068791955152018-11-08T17:00:00.000-06:002018-11-19T01:59:22.543-06:00Under my needle... <div class="js-share-action-hover-target u-rel-pos u-display-inline-block" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; display: inline-block; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; position: relative;">
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<a href="https://cdn3.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZibG9nbG92aW4tdXNlci1pbWFnZXMtcHJvZC5zMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGdXNlci1pbWFnZS0zMDUyNzkxLTE1MzAwNzU5NDMtNWIzMzFiMjc3ZDZkNA==?checksum=293e371d68ecfd0003edea89abc576e01228d9ce&format=j" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" class="large-post-content-image-media" height="240" src="https://cdn3.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZibG9nbG92aW4tdXNlci1pbWFnZXMtcHJvZC5zMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGdXNlci1pbWFnZS0zMDUyNzkxLTE1MzAwNzU5NDMtNWIzMzFiMjc3ZDZkNA==?checksum=293e371d68ecfd0003edea89abc576e01228d9ce&format=j" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin-top: 0px; max-height: inherit; max-width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 0.25s ease 0s;" width="320" /></a>After more than five years hiatus, due to my mom's Alzheimer's, from sewing and quilting, I began again last year. I wanted to share a few things I've been working on. </div>
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<div style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.68; margin-bottom: 10px;">
I connected with a <a href="https://www.bluemoonembroidery.com/" target="_blank">designer from Malta</a>, near Italy, with fantastic designs, that I have started testing designs for. I love how her embroidery designs stitch out! It’s still sitting on my shelf, folded and ready to leave my sewing room.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn1.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZibG9nbG92aW4tdXNlci1pbWFnZXMtcHJvZC5zMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGdXNlci1pbWFnZS0zMDUyNzkxLTE1MzAwNzU5NDgtNWIzMzFiMmM5ZGQ0YQ==?checksum=85f7e7bd7213c5aaba60e4f5078e5991be0c448a&format=j" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" class="large-post-content-image-media" height="240" src="https://cdn1.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZibG9nbG92aW4tdXNlci1pbWFnZXMtcHJvZC5zMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGdXNlci1pbWFnZS0zMDUyNzkxLTE1MzAwNzU5NDgtNWIzMzFiMmM5ZGQ0YQ==?checksum=85f7e7bd7213c5aaba60e4f5078e5991be0c448a&format=j" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin-top: 0px; max-height: inherit; max-width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 0.25s ease 0s;" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For Honey's nephew who has twins</td></tr>
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<br /></div>
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For Dear Daughter and Son-in-love, using fabric from their Pinwheels and Postage Stamps wedding Quilt Four years ago.</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://cdn1.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZibG9nbG92aW4tdXNlci1pbWFnZXMtcHJvZC5zMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGdXNlci1pbWFnZS0zMDUyNzkxLTE1MzAwNzU5NDgtNWIzMzFiMmMxMTQwZg==?checksum=74a8b12cc5ab6058cea3c4016e3ef20b60f98fd9&format=j" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" class="large-post-content-image-media" height="320" src="https://cdn1.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZibG9nbG92aW4tdXNlci1pbWFnZXMtcHJvZC5zMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGdXNlci1pbWFnZS0zMDUyNzkxLTE1MzAwNzU5NDgtNWIzMzFiMmMxMTQwZg==?checksum=74a8b12cc5ab6058cea3c4016e3ef20b60f98fd9&format=j" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin-top: 0px; max-height: inherit; max-width: 100%; opacity: 1; transition: opacity 0.25s ease 0s;" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For Friend of the Heart</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.68; margin-bottom: 10px;">
For a sister of my heart, has been there for me through so many hard times and the good, yet she still chooses to be my friend.</div>
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For <a href="http://pursuingjoy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">The QL...</a> who has taught me so much and challenges me to learn more and challenge myself</div>
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Under my needle on Francis, my sewing machine, is a colorful pillow with aqua, corals, browns, and grays. Working on matching quilt. </div>
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Branching out on paper piecing with this boy quilt. I’m still working on how I’m going to quilt it. I'm thinking clouds in the sky.<br />
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That's all for now. Have many project piling up, but I need to show you, soon, the make-over to the now, spare bedroom, that has become my sewing room! I love going there! </div>
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Lynnet</div>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-38941931095609725092018-07-04T05:44:00.004-05:002018-07-04T05:44:50.009-05:00Ring Day - She said YES! <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Oldest asked his girlfriend to marry him!!! </div>
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Exciting times ahead!!! </div>
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<br />Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-66056123999142605742018-07-02T22:51:00.000-05:002018-07-02T22:51:03.110-05:00Kitchen Island - June 2017<b>When I sold our massive china cabinet last summer,</b> I knew I wanted to replace it with something much smaller, but struggled to find exactly what I wanted and needed without spending hundreds of dollars. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhap_Lpz-xakAKKthVHgHPu4NI2yfyXJFGuYFZxd4z54Ck5DYGEHeHy6xxDMzIwC0sh0ENmJt9-KSBXL1a9n0GT1NusxYWM2mYeWhvpHTnxhQ_FCGaCsNJxMyB9-ItoU7YdAEhXR8kFlYc/s1600/IMG_5895.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhap_Lpz-xakAKKthVHgHPu4NI2yfyXJFGuYFZxd4z54Ck5DYGEHeHy6xxDMzIwC0sh0ENmJt9-KSBXL1a9n0GT1NusxYWM2mYeWhvpHTnxhQ_FCGaCsNJxMyB9-ItoU7YdAEhXR8kFlYc/s200/IMG_5895.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Honey suggested an island that his work was no longer using after their remodel, and the dimensions were perfect! It was somewhere in one of their seven storage units and they said if we could locate it, we could have it. We were fortunate to find it in the second unit, but it was in the VERY back of the large unit. We spent an hour moving boxes of documents and office chairs and desk and there it was... A tad bit of water damage on the top, but that was okay.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-_9rxkf4IBqCZU7Tl7jUmKkn9Y_pec8tkZG9cyfjI69uZFYUubfXzBXXNbEP-ZNo3MK-JYR1F1mk-mLYD1-kTTY23DMbHN-z5GOu8OBzWpR4qjA803O64nlhm4mq2WX7hlqhyDE2tJE/s1600/IMG_5897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc-_9rxkf4IBqCZU7Tl7jUmKkn9Y_pec8tkZG9cyfjI69uZFYUubfXzBXXNbEP-ZNo3MK-JYR1F1mk-mLYD1-kTTY23DMbHN-z5GOu8OBzWpR4qjA803O64nlhm4mq2WX7hlqhyDE2tJE/s200/IMG_5897.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Water damage</td></tr>
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It was so heavy that we had to put it on a small furniture dolly we have, so I could move it around. Some of the gems we discovered was a piece on the back that would extend out an additional 27" if it had the piece attached. We thought it would fit just right into our kitchen style and the spot we needed it to go. Turns out it was worth over $1,000, but we got it for free! I love a great bargain! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUF_IkjKR3WXeQbuudH7kSUXAHwwdKT0q08d9KSH-C0qtA6Aq_qfXtJxuPmC0IPTqH7_n0l9I3qILUog9g_IFSplrlM6LFBfyOv2GgvfZlKjFkCF4D4AsBDfIfX9c-FzBbtznJ8KPehPY/s1600/IMG_5899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUF_IkjKR3WXeQbuudH7kSUXAHwwdKT0q08d9KSH-C0qtA6Aq_qfXtJxuPmC0IPTqH7_n0l9I3qILUog9g_IFSplrlM6LFBfyOv2GgvfZlKjFkCF4D4AsBDfIfX9c-FzBbtznJ8KPehPY/s200/IMG_5899.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">back extension</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwE06tBhKVyb800CogOcGHRBsc-3awCkMvfxx8Vf45nVrSRjUNGJ2_rxRuMhDq7cLWtnwyW-YPsP7TVB-s2-fOtjR-fx_maw_p9AEfQUhVPJCSm0ILVbTQGsy_QERM9bVqlHMI2gcrrM/s1600/IMG_5915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEwE06tBhKVyb800CogOcGHRBsc-3awCkMvfxx8Vf45nVrSRjUNGJ2_rxRuMhDq7cLWtnwyW-YPsP7TVB-s2-fOtjR-fx_maw_p9AEfQUhVPJCSm0ILVbTQGsy_QERM9bVqlHMI2gcrrM/s200/IMG_5915.JPG" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB96frKesYiyts2h-BxtX6G4L8sWB5Ry4HhDvj4KCxqiayHUrmxMjsLcVZkUryozj2ZSB9ThcsJgqS9RXx-KiwAyl2KWKH0nWRT-hJXs_hAlQWCeT2lp1oU_Q7w-dATK7VqijsPx845Fg/s1600/IMG_5916.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB96frKesYiyts2h-BxtX6G4L8sWB5Ry4HhDvj4KCxqiayHUrmxMjsLcVZkUryozj2ZSB9ThcsJgqS9RXx-KiwAyl2KWKH0nWRT-hJXs_hAlQWCeT2lp1oU_Q7w-dATK7VqijsPx845Fg/s200/IMG_5916.JPG" width="150" /></a>First thing was adding knobs so I could access the draws as I started on the make-over. I started with a coat of regular teal wall paint to match our kitchen cabinets, added a little burnt umber to antique, and finished with some white to transform it to it's new version. <br />
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The top was a bit more tricky as it was glossy. A little sandpaper to rough it up did the trick and painted it white. Honey liked the natural wood look for the top at first, but he eventually, he concluded, the painted version was great. i added a little burnt umber to highlight and add details to the top, and now it looks like it's always been distressed. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZatoADcJYb0SvPW_L9Y4BFAROAMQgcgJWy_wGPK11mkqEcSYGYczMIttIMvl5Af4xN5wK-YtIEkeOiLn7Z4KUL9KnzjJ4q5sTll8NbJwhKDgXJ7oPQeIg8aPiE2yM6NMh9wjSjn6j2o/s1600/IMG_5976.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ZatoADcJYb0SvPW_L9Y4BFAROAMQgcgJWy_wGPK11mkqEcSYGYczMIttIMvl5Af4xN5wK-YtIEkeOiLn7Z4KUL9KnzjJ4q5sTll8NbJwhKDgXJ7oPQeIg8aPiE2yM6NMh9wjSjn6j2o/s320/IMG_5976.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YL6j4QvouhTDxTRi0qVOxGr97suyrltXJ35ZoDBRd07nCPfKodwbsT0uKjmfEb5jblp1GFSxZchRRtZIt4Ijtt7mfYtZ3p1BiirKI5Bm0aGwrajl41e_Y0UgVeBIIGxEs4ZWDID7CRk/s1600/IMG_5980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4YL6j4QvouhTDxTRi0qVOxGr97suyrltXJ35ZoDBRd07nCPfKodwbsT0uKjmfEb5jblp1GFSxZchRRtZIt4Ijtt7mfYtZ3p1BiirKI5Bm0aGwrajl41e_Y0UgVeBIIGxEs4ZWDID7CRk/s200/IMG_5980.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc_pX45H8NLWXTO_wr-Qc0pCDGrgYAHBBkfaQK3oRYE_5kYWVluQhc0u6Qqfkek8KZuEiRyMGBr6he6hjbSnGD6l2Vjthho_AMdAGb1-f6ZNwWj8GP9hUiT5cLRFDgM-fZOk5zHfNHgdU/s1600/IMG_5983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc_pX45H8NLWXTO_wr-Qc0pCDGrgYAHBBkfaQK3oRYE_5kYWVluQhc0u6Qqfkek8KZuEiRyMGBr6he6hjbSnGD6l2Vjthho_AMdAGb1-f6ZNwWj8GP9hUiT5cLRFDgM-fZOk5zHfNHgdU/s320/IMG_5983.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The back</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm3Xj5HS6hUmReOo8Xhc9QHMHSjbjtZMSix4QFuP4abtDmhXOLJWWOZHlgiNs7Idg3O6MDdRLr4KkOH4WL1xWHUpuUBPi8EzqSelNPYDZcCc30ViUsbJQhomb34JoLuhuhZqBn-V-8jc/s1600/IMG_5991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNm3Xj5HS6hUmReOo8Xhc9QHMHSjbjtZMSix4QFuP4abtDmhXOLJWWOZHlgiNs7Idg3O6MDdRLr4KkOH4WL1xWHUpuUBPi8EzqSelNPYDZcCc30ViUsbJQhomb34JoLuhuhZqBn-V-8jc/s320/IMG_5991.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My adorable new helper</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0tI-lv5KmfUqhlF1MNVPp6OXuJ3GANF92YTG8F9S6ueKefRydbosKjHyRfu9E2s9iwKGApwYOiyNAejs2zoIWkQnwxcUjOmzAgZ_8nG5uAnz6q3nzym_fiWSY5cd82lqux2B0rg5uO8/s1600/IMG_5984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm0tI-lv5KmfUqhlF1MNVPp6OXuJ3GANF92YTG8F9S6ueKefRydbosKjHyRfu9E2s9iwKGApwYOiyNAejs2zoIWkQnwxcUjOmzAgZ_8nG5uAnz6q3nzym_fiWSY5cd82lqux2B0rg5uO8/s320/IMG_5984.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f-GOXaUuvTN_IChZqOyUSoUkpCREIYzfQ2Ki1rIOvrFtDwgFMUe0-NBuxuVYF1x1-K0M8RKpZJn4893gKZK0s48WVFGqG9JvBsu-vWpZT7GO38XQxoA6CHov4NMFxY4D113VpUVw7kA/s1600/IMG_5996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_f-GOXaUuvTN_IChZqOyUSoUkpCREIYzfQ2Ki1rIOvrFtDwgFMUe0-NBuxuVYF1x1-K0M8RKpZJn4893gKZK0s48WVFGqG9JvBsu-vWpZT7GO38XQxoA6CHov4NMFxY4D113VpUVw7kA/s320/IMG_5996.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I must have missed a spot</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFsl9CDbdkHwNUtF-oQJgzag-IfRAuqlCKevM1elJ6XJlp6yjH2_nTUM-aPwjlJ73x0z6YcWfUN7MlSKBOLO1nTCxv1t7kb2Sq_rfuLBlqNtx9-eIiovOMUD17dfPhlEgSJjL2O5KYVY/s1600/IMG_6002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicFsl9CDbdkHwNUtF-oQJgzag-IfRAuqlCKevM1elJ6XJlp6yjH2_nTUM-aPwjlJ73x0z6YcWfUN7MlSKBOLO1nTCxv1t7kb2Sq_rfuLBlqNtx9-eIiovOMUD17dfPhlEgSJjL2O5KYVY/s320/IMG_6002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final version</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We decided it was time to move some pieces around to make everything look better and give us more space, and we were very pleased with the final look.<br />
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-3022832596302516102018-06-28T22:17:00.000-05:002018-06-28T22:17:11.327-05:00Sewing Relief<br />
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After more than five years hiatus, due to a family illness, from sewing and quilting, I began again.</div>
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I connected with the designer from <a href="https://www.bluemoonembroidery.com/" target="_blank">Blue Moon Embroidery</a> from Malta, near Italy, with fantastic embroidery designs, that I have started testing designs for. I love how her designs stitch out! It’s still sitting on my shelf, folded and ready to leave my sewing room. </div>
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For nephew and niece on Honey’s side of the family that has twins.</div>
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For Dear Daughter and Son-in-love, using fabric from their Pinwheels and Postage Stamps wedding Quilt Four years ago.</div>
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For The <a href="http://pursuingjoy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">QL</a>... who has taught me so much and challenges me to learn more and challenge myself</div>
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Under my needle on Francis, my sewing machine. <a href="http://pursuingjoy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">QL</a> challenged me with sketching out the FMQ designs before stitching them out. Admittedly, she was right on this one (as always). I noticed a new FMQ design called Onion Peel. It's hard to find a good tutorial or example on how to achieve this, so I cornered <a href="http://pursuingjoy.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">QL</a> in church (shameless, I know). She quickly whipped out a scrap of paper, and it suddenly made sense. I'm such a visual person. Working on matching quilt. Hope to sell it.</div>
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Branching out on paper piecing with this boy quilt. I’m still working on how I’m going to quilt it. I'm thinking of clouds and a flight path for each paper plane. Hope to sell it as well...</div>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-82050896874998776902017-07-13T09:09:00.000-05:002018-06-28T22:57:43.058-05:00Daycare Cubby Storage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBK5lSjwIrzy6cUT4TvivsOEqedJvfdmacdYXrIiFTuJ94fL7Qy4HvcndS8jiN2XX0x2QPnKjcc4Oaf00wYuVV1ErkVX2zsJBGH_gldGEzu1ePfWhNNyRFnVi1rJymO8nEgYAwiWsVB0/s1600/IMG_5546.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEBK5lSjwIrzy6cUT4TvivsOEqedJvfdmacdYXrIiFTuJ94fL7Qy4HvcndS8jiN2XX0x2QPnKjcc4Oaf00wYuVV1ErkVX2zsJBGH_gldGEzu1ePfWhNNyRFnVi1rJymO8nEgYAwiWsVB0/s320/IMG_5546.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Add caption</td></tr>
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<b>It was getting out of hand and my frustration was growing. </b> Toys. Because I own and run my daycare business from my home, the kids live here daily and they come to feel that it's their home as well, which I love. The big issue is dealing with the things I need daily to use for my daycare. Things are stashed here and there. Mats, cribs and blankets in the spare room, puzzles and kitchen type toys in the hall bench, but the majority of items occupy a space in our living room, or Playroom as the kids refer to it as.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfda9IE3kjh96xLc5MaLskUNKZsguq7GR93KuDUIRQAPvV-wir2I4nOpM0Yh9AizE9jVyFbN5iThLCVTD0qbcQ0AJbzv5Lpl39Tx16G-uKkNS_W7X-fyqIthwBEtg0DfdU-AaTxo2zEtM/s1600/CCI_000004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1229" data-original-width="1600" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfda9IE3kjh96xLc5MaLskUNKZsguq7GR93KuDUIRQAPvV-wir2I4nOpM0Yh9AizE9jVyFbN5iThLCVTD0qbcQ0AJbzv5Lpl39Tx16G-uKkNS_W7X-fyqIthwBEtg0DfdU-AaTxo2zEtM/s200/CCI_000004.jpg" width="200" /></a><b>The Bin system I found at a yard sale years ago was not really working</b> and the space was not being utilized very well, but alternatives were expensive to purchase and they were not made of real wood. I got some inspiration after seeing a cubby system that Honey's nephew had built for their home, and began researching. After talking to Honey about it, he told me to draw out what I was thinking and he would take it from there. He's a keeper! He quickly drew up the plans and confirmed that is what I needed and off to Lowes for a date night we went. <i> Are we the only ones who spend a date at a home improvement store?</i> We spent one Saturday morning building the Cubbies with really nice quality pine and I'm so happy with the results. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzEj6Ok6vo34QxCot47ljx8iKZuGVGsYoMxeMf1ALeTiGESe5NSpRtFkRU_kz-njIdDcDrn9wfOVcuv3dx0i7e3o8nqixPAqz7sj8XlynhuiFI6fsxIRdKMkuhvKlYyCxq8Vz8EYn9BI/s1600/IMG_5530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyzEj6Ok6vo34QxCot47ljx8iKZuGVGsYoMxeMf1ALeTiGESe5NSpRtFkRU_kz-njIdDcDrn9wfOVcuv3dx0i7e3o8nqixPAqz7sj8XlynhuiFI6fsxIRdKMkuhvKlYyCxq8Vz8EYn9BI/s200/IMG_5530.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hand sanding</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB-DZjMS20uiOn5e-JuBkgDoce5tLeWtV9y9U2_XMWuAIl73wJ47i4pdNBuEVKedmHwSnEvgK0cY6KxdokTUzvjXeW82j2IqfXx_JxfezNSsD9dHf_jNmM938N68Tjl5H7VpMMTj0lKM/s1600/IMG_5532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB-DZjMS20uiOn5e-JuBkgDoce5tLeWtV9y9U2_XMWuAIl73wJ47i4pdNBuEVKedmHwSnEvgK0cY6KxdokTUzvjXeW82j2IqfXx_JxfezNSsD9dHf_jNmM938N68Tjl5H7VpMMTj0lKM/s320/IMG_5532.JPG" width="240" /></a><b>As Honey cut the boards, </b>I began hand sanding with a block sander because Honey couldn't find his palm sander. It was a ton of work, but we are both pleased. The boards were almost as smooth as a baby's bottom! <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwoE6J29YnJD_X79X0Wq0NHWIJOg-KH6gugUNtSzfakffsSxGMu20gp3HgBVCMP4tGT_zn_WKKuiGVQR5T9YgX5jkZasFX7yxEyHW5HmXK_dslduiF9zfpo9ZL7YxWI3mJmnzwnl3uQs/s1600/IMG_5531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitwoE6J29YnJD_X79X0Wq0NHWIJOg-KH6gugUNtSzfakffsSxGMu20gp3HgBVCMP4tGT_zn_WKKuiGVQR5T9YgX5jkZasFX7yxEyHW5HmXK_dslduiF9zfpo9ZL7YxWI3mJmnzwnl3uQs/s200/IMG_5531.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWaEN6X7F7MTs4bdIbxARogFHT5rDjwDOSORafVFlZYfNleyY_eRx7xV2sQgOM8btMmkmvGpIGZV6EuMul1z3ZZqd_jIGQq4A3DhHRJOqRL9qERJzDAleoNLHSm9r5im9FJbXrLBdSKs/s1600/IMG_5533.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxWaEN6X7F7MTs4bdIbxARogFHT5rDjwDOSORafVFlZYfNleyY_eRx7xV2sQgOM8btMmkmvGpIGZV6EuMul1z3ZZqd_jIGQq4A3DhHRJOqRL9qERJzDAleoNLHSm9r5im9FJbXrLBdSKs/s320/IMG_5533.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
<b>There are two sets of cubbies:</b> Set one has six storage spaces and Set Two as four normal spaces and two double spaces. The double space will allow for a hidden space in the corner. <br />
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<b>I was able to find fabric baskets at Target</b> just the size and price I needed. I looked at Amazon, but was wary of the thin fabric that so many seemed to be made of. After going through, sorting, getting rid of some, and putting other toys in plastic and fabric bins, I still have organizing and rearranging to do, but I'm pretty pleased with the results. I love that I have such a wonderful space now to store and organize toys, puzzles, and things I use for daycare, but I LOVE the nice flat top surface to place those bulky toys that won't fit in the baskets or plastic bins. I originally planned to paint it, but I'm not sure if I'll do that now. Running out of time and steam for completing projects this summer. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWsMEu2s3aP7ozEBBD7RjF4-XvRB-6_du1RHk4abJM9xrKPvVUWaEOXzQ3UW0TMRUAqIHRvbUb_nu2Ulc0TVDsqP4eAg_QA-vRgn4fRUjI9_ar-MO6aV9yyu8-wJvzfp7ey8QKHslDro/s1600/IMG_5537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkWsMEu2s3aP7ozEBBD7RjF4-XvRB-6_du1RHk4abJM9xrKPvVUWaEOXzQ3UW0TMRUAqIHRvbUb_nu2Ulc0TVDsqP4eAg_QA-vRgn4fRUjI9_ar-MO6aV9yyu8-wJvzfp7ey8QKHslDro/s200/IMG_5537.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Set two</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAQozBlEwzBeeEMjjJ6VRKsHoSmrzTjLxyffrpy9NJuVjeyNPoBOc7NgiXxaGhHxivgBKSfrgP2HZx7jpUNNs79_nIKq1Uie43yMiwjEyx_ESUImJmso7cW7YN3scTk0A4vqRjyCHBew/s1600/IMG_5536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggAQozBlEwzBeeEMjjJ6VRKsHoSmrzTjLxyffrpy9NJuVjeyNPoBOc7NgiXxaGhHxivgBKSfrgP2HZx7jpUNNs79_nIKq1Uie43yMiwjEyx_ESUImJmso7cW7YN3scTk0A4vqRjyCHBew/s200/IMG_5536.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Set one</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLz7XGbGjPSfWMPIKTZNHMFfxmrYNmTQzAd5HFCIsRhyBK3LVBpfC1jfa-VzOIpR9d0ZbytdQqYx4A34SFsR8vbY61lyGlu6_hyphenhyphenrS3VVS4fwnN6aZ4CQkZ-Rb1BhqHFWtL9VjpVv2jdM/s1600/IMG_5547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLz7XGbGjPSfWMPIKTZNHMFfxmrYNmTQzAd5HFCIsRhyBK3LVBpfC1jfa-VzOIpR9d0ZbytdQqYx4A34SFsR8vbY61lyGlu6_hyphenhyphenrS3VVS4fwnN6aZ4CQkZ-Rb1BhqHFWtL9VjpVv2jdM/s200/IMG_5547.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Told you it was a mess of toys! </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyk4oIAxGjyG-ta2BdoYKq3BQcKsbUasobc9K12ox5bEtC-v6J18zsH7P_Zii-q82dlRR6ZLL1HDPI4F52TyUVt_k68YU3v_B9oh6IL6zWCVP2tDVrmB8Fek2o5R9Y69eCpHcsqgizlps/s1600/IMG_5548.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyk4oIAxGjyG-ta2BdoYKq3BQcKsbUasobc9K12ox5bEtC-v6J18zsH7P_Zii-q82dlRR6ZLL1HDPI4F52TyUVt_k68YU3v_B9oh6IL6zWCVP2tDVrmB8Fek2o5R9Y69eCpHcsqgizlps/s200/IMG_5548.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzr8fJaNC4CZKIozqWH_ibEhUeHyxgm7ORirTrHcHkIh6c-s6Esi-ylt1P-n4FXapBs0pEW-reT6AI8bwdotrMobLmskWAd3pfYUnWx9yg10ziSH6dA3TK6Q0M7XTcp8RvSO-KMKE9e8/s1600/IMG_5549.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEzr8fJaNC4CZKIozqWH_ibEhUeHyxgm7ORirTrHcHkIh6c-s6Esi-ylt1P-n4FXapBs0pEW-reT6AI8bwdotrMobLmskWAd3pfYUnWx9yg10ziSH6dA3TK6Q0M7XTcp8RvSO-KMKE9e8/s320/IMG_5549.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">without backs so you can see the hidden space</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adding backs to each cubby cabinet</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xTlEXOkLvDUdHYSWbgHBhDAfMUsFIBEAEBv99lzTIBKcDrem0KOIEconG63d5VQ4dJm4Ww6QDVdhwHUY4_p2FUsOoFetq12N8gVhSs7BlDLhGOAlra0EdbA1pF2V1uI-AdSH2etWOV8/s1600/IMG_5614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xTlEXOkLvDUdHYSWbgHBhDAfMUsFIBEAEBv99lzTIBKcDrem0KOIEconG63d5VQ4dJm4Ww6QDVdhwHUY4_p2FUsOoFetq12N8gVhSs7BlDLhGOAlra0EdbA1pF2V1uI-AdSH2etWOV8/s320/IMG_5614.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Finally finished </td></tr>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-37410794376629019532017-06-19T09:37:00.000-05:002017-06-19T09:37:11.340-05:00Mowing by Osmosis<div>
<b>Growing up, I was expected to help out around the house.</b> I never got an allowance or was paid to do those jobs, but incurring the disappointment of Mom by not doing them or doing them not to her expectations was not a good thing. Typically resulted in completely redoing the chore or a really good chewing out. Being a single mom most of her Mom years, meant she needed help and I needed to learn these things. I wasn't always the brightest star in the sky. <br />
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<i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bF0KBDNih01408AvUJ0Upj0C-tB0adBmazX2k1e-cad7sxB81g4dyNMyfL70Cr1aT4VnC42a4Ob2F_H6anfOZKFygeupSjZWf0bA6hLKRmy9_BB05GWwgWLm6aori_wfL0uT-CmwBoU/s1600/IMG_5062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3bF0KBDNih01408AvUJ0Upj0C-tB0adBmazX2k1e-cad7sxB81g4dyNMyfL70Cr1aT4VnC42a4Ob2F_H6anfOZKFygeupSjZWf0bA6hLKRmy9_BB05GWwgWLm6aori_wfL0uT-CmwBoU/s320/IMG_5062.JPG" width="240" /></span></i></a><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"> <a href="https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/osmosis" target="_blank">Webster's Dictionary</a> defines Osmosis as this: <span class="intro-colon" style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; display: initial; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.8px; margin: initial; padding: 0px;">:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"> a process of absorption or diffusion</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"> suggestive of the flow of </span><a class="d_link" href="https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/osmotic" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; color: #ae0015; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration-line: none;">osmotic</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"> action; </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">especially</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"> </span><span class="intro-colon" style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; display: initial; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; font-weight: 600; letter-spacing: 0.8px; margin: initial; padding: 0px;">:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"> a usually effortless often unconscious assimilation </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"><a href="http://afterschool.smarttutor.com/learning-through-osmosis/" target="_blank">Smart Tutor</a> states:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px;"> </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.6);"><span style="color: #20124d;">“Learning through osmosis” is an analogy for natural, organic and indirect way of learning. To learn through osmosis means to learn by immersion an exposure. For example, children learn their family’s native language through osmosis.</span></span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><span style="color: #20124d;">So if you want your child to learn something, immerse them as much as possible in whatever it is as a way of learning seamlessly. Learning a language is a prime example of this, however it can apply to anything, through a gradual, unconscious process... You never know what they will pick up and what connections they will make." </span><span style="color: #74c043;"> </span></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>While I do agree that kids pick up on things they have observed, some things just need to be outright taught</b>. <span style="background-color: transparent;">As a mom, I understand this completely. It's the countless hours of doing and folding laundry, vacuuming and moping the floors, putting away dishes, brushing their teeth, making their beds, driving to them to various functions and so much more. You think they would observe you doing these things daily, but these are things we've had to teach our kids. Sometimes, they pick up on things we never knew they were observing, and it befuddles us. </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI29_OR0c8BN7ljj28z9rgR4wyXbkXOAUVXFCan5NGNxS8XD2UsyqGjmqMscPaXKoAiPgIIoKt3ffrC2ByNML5t8j59zlxxiBHAW0g4nU-X6Z6DAO-QPsgLn2nUCvR_tJlIPdV4hourlU/s1600/IMG_9022b.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1540" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI29_OR0c8BN7ljj28z9rgR4wyXbkXOAUVXFCan5NGNxS8XD2UsyqGjmqMscPaXKoAiPgIIoKt3ffrC2ByNML5t8j59zlxxiBHAW0g4nU-X6Z6DAO-QPsgLn2nUCvR_tJlIPdV4hourlU/s320/IMG_9022b.jpg.jpg" width="307" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom, brother, and myself (at the wheel)</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Every time I help Honey mow the yard, I am reminded of my mom. </b> In fact, I remember the first time I was allowed to use the riding mower and it was not good. My mom had mowed the yard hundreds of times, but I didn't sit there observing her while taking notes. That's where she went wrong. That red Snapper mower was a work horse, but the secret to a nicely mowed yard and making it work efficiently was due to my mom's persistence to details and taking care of her equipment. I remember standing by her side as she showed me how to clean the under carriage of the mower, scraping off all the moist grass and dirt, hosing it down with a strong stream of water, and leaving it clean and ready to go the next time. She showed me how to add gas, oil, check the spark plugs, lower the mower deck, etc, but I not ever remember her teaching me specifically how to mow the yard. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="450" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDIA9N47tr5sFTB_CfM4v_0JJYgzyQYJfhQoJICAVPDlwekQ646nCvjty3eo4txpO81TKobN3P7vgyFSwa1IRZGaC6H9qud2wwRQ-dfLA7CgZu-QZqqbjcp6_PMwwsw79CVe1tcfJ9AYY/s200/mowed+yard.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.lawnfertilizingservice.com/heat-tracks-on-michigan-lawn-www-mastergardenerlawncare-com/" target="_blank">similar to my first mowing</a></td></tr>
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<b>Disaster in the making.</b> We had over 10 acres to mow of our yard, grandma's yard, and pastures, and she couldn't do it by herself. She told me what section to start on, made sure the deck height was just right, told me to stay on speed 3, and walked off. I wonder if she watched from a distance or just hoped I was listening. It was pretty fun and I thought I was doing pretty good until I heard her yelling at me while waving her arms. Her face conveyed she was pretty upset and I had no clue. <i>Did you know that you're not supposed to mow your name in the yard, do great spiral designs, and not run over her favorite blooming flowers? </i> Yep, I told you it was a disaster! After I got a fantastic chewing out and precise instructions that I wasn't to nick the trees, to follow a pattern, not mow in the center to a wide piece leaving a small section on either side of the mower, to set my eyes on a marker in the distance and mow straight towards it, so I would mow in a straight line. You get the picture right? With instructions, I actually did pretty well, but I'm not an osmosis learner by any means.</div>
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<b> I love mowing actually.</b> It's me time. I put on my earphones, set my Mamma Mia music to play and sing madly along as I go, but I always am reminded of my mamma and that first time I ever mowed. I now set my eyes on a marker, as I make each turn, but every once-in-a-while, I am tempted to mow my name in the yard... </div>
Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-57139116415316180792017-06-11T22:09:00.000-05:002017-06-12T17:41:41.512-05:00Magic little word of purging<b>It all started with nine little words:</b> "I'm having a garage sale, want to join me?"<br />
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<b>Honestly, I've wanted to have one for so long.</b> I feel like I live in clutter, and it really does bother me. Some of the clutter has come from 27 years of marriage, three kids, two parents passing away and acquiring some of their belongings, and having an in-home daycare. I was pretty giddy when Honey suggested we work on cleaning out the garage. So we only cleaned out 1/3 of the garage, but it's a start!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3iNp-GjmVlT602_zPGqyEWP76cV76Igi2DQN8PvjSzM8Bi9XKYuPipfG9K9rkJRG8WRSp2XBay-bEdMPXAi2bcJjHtVzVBE_-hQkKYHTUD14Ftavb4CECCv_Kqiy7ze4dFctF_X8Bh4/s1600/IMG_5135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB3iNp-GjmVlT602_zPGqyEWP76cV76Igi2DQN8PvjSzM8Bi9XKYuPipfG9K9rkJRG8WRSp2XBay-bEdMPXAi2bcJjHtVzVBE_-hQkKYHTUD14Ftavb4CECCv_Kqiy7ze4dFctF_X8Bh4/s200/IMG_5135.JPG" width="200" /></a><b>When the garage sale came up</b>, I was so excited! I'd not had one since the kids were little and there was so much I wanted to purge. First was the antique china cabinet and former front storm door sold, then we wanted to get rid of our Big comfy Couch. We attempted to list it on a local on-line garage sale, but we found that people want to low ball, no matter what something is really worth. Something for nothing. Grrrr... It didn't sell at the garage sale, even though we had a live model sleeping on it. Eventually it did sell and we were beyond excited. We were so tired of hauling that thing back and forth.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hCgzpqw1Oy8KesshcriqeDWyKjMrWSfm1M3smzsH4_JdsNrFIhdmYdF2T_qNz6quQl1AtDBGhpkKhd3NB4TQxsnApAgxxNcnkYz-wICjmfX4mXU3nUExPm5JqGAOH4rPhfZFrBLbvoM/s1600/IMG_5211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9hCgzpqw1Oy8KesshcriqeDWyKjMrWSfm1M3smzsH4_JdsNrFIhdmYdF2T_qNz6quQl1AtDBGhpkKhd3NB4TQxsnApAgxxNcnkYz-wICjmfX4mXU3nUExPm5JqGAOH4rPhfZFrBLbvoM/s200/IMG_5211.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Zp83g5GtmgqU-0GyeHmfqgVX9nYxVXUSuyec3K1cFPlf8yKRfAd_KMzEVv5xoxD5FUSY9iLfMj_7EGOwiBotR50C3JfPW0EWeJI47rVOk4Nuly8NNrAQ70Bs3o9HkDBIEigwa2UU1XI/s1600/IMG_5128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_Zp83g5GtmgqU-0GyeHmfqgVX9nYxVXUSuyec3K1cFPlf8yKRfAd_KMzEVv5xoxD5FUSY9iLfMj_7EGOwiBotR50C3JfPW0EWeJI47rVOk4Nuly8NNrAQ70Bs3o9HkDBIEigwa2UU1XI/s200/IMG_5128.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kNrQBkh8fRi45N9NaV6ajYX6r6yV5ASjiL5W-8FA6B9wlk-EhKpeoCw6uzy37V2uRtpy2IePUo5F40mPu_lhvTS_Kj_5OwMGmXE2_i3a0cZoIHBUkxZhMsDWY_63NowHFc4TgGeEdwI/s1600/IMG_5457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0kNrQBkh8fRi45N9NaV6ajYX6r6yV5ASjiL5W-8FA6B9wlk-EhKpeoCw6uzy37V2uRtpy2IePUo5F40mPu_lhvTS_Kj_5OwMGmXE2_i3a0cZoIHBUkxZhMsDWY_63NowHFc4TgGeEdwI/s200/IMG_5457.JPG" width="150" /></a><b>What I did love was the openness that we suddenly had in the living room.</b> We have been longing to replace the old massive entertainment center we purchased over 25 years ago. I knew we wouldn't be able to re-sell it, so re-purposing was perfect. Some of it became a new storage center in the now empty bedroom after Oldest moved out of state. It still needs to have a cap put on the top, but I'm pretty happy. I may use another portion to make another storage bookcase if needed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX_h5KAhe4EabfccKw6rXTl39DW-sUOBXmLkBnFz_GbwglE5eD-jfY0HcV-75vCANe6pAi4W434mpx7v31uWyWFHmqihYKsWRENhWHX8t4ppDSjCTJ5G3apTP9VyBi7ZWrIvqcSagiCY/s1600/IMG_5131.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="360" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEX_h5KAhe4EabfccKw6rXTl39DW-sUOBXmLkBnFz_GbwglE5eD-jfY0HcV-75vCANe6pAi4W434mpx7v31uWyWFHmqihYKsWRENhWHX8t4ppDSjCTJ5G3apTP9VyBi7ZWrIvqcSagiCY/s320/IMG_5131.PNG" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Original</td></tr>
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<b>The search began for a new entertainment center and we wanted to go small</b>. We are working towards the empty nest and paring things down. It's really kinda exciting! I found a cute antique dresser for $50. I can't figure out why someone would paint over the beautiful pulls, but after cleaning up the beautiful handles, Honey reconfigured the drawers, and drilled two holes in the back for cord access. I repainted and distressed it, before setting it up. We're quite pleased with the final look!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_I9fxb5CYDVDHriW6cRlt2phZyCGlzYoNGKAdyYR-CDlIg2e2O9DpVJMt5zvQYuFGvnM_zL-h4U-F04indpmdxW8bMMzRLEcZz2n7_j0C6NUK3DOqmcOZpsDtaWR4UY6su1n20SuNTo0/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_I9fxb5CYDVDHriW6cRlt2phZyCGlzYoNGKAdyYR-CDlIg2e2O9DpVJMt5zvQYuFGvnM_zL-h4U-F04indpmdxW8bMMzRLEcZz2n7_j0C6NUK3DOqmcOZpsDtaWR4UY6su1n20SuNTo0/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="200" /></a><b></b><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyVIKU6W7L51pd2Ecih472GkiLFjLdU0875eWW9nK7gFZvSYAc0cCHQttKoo14CcbtmKZPB7Y5YF13pF5GOVGLJ0WOOMUizM-pGBcjmyQJNsBibWN9P4aoGS8EXxOdVRkJFNZygJe-gM/s1600/IMG_5154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUyVIKU6W7L51pd2Ecih472GkiLFjLdU0875eWW9nK7gFZvSYAc0cCHQttKoo14CcbtmKZPB7Y5YF13pF5GOVGLJ0WOOMUizM-pGBcjmyQJNsBibWN9P4aoGS8EXxOdVRkJFNZygJe-gM/s200/IMG_5154.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hidden beauty</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04Z9w_ZBCap0Ai2cbtb9apjtEqcHtNYISfTL9bOupeUR5yXsdWbHthJaVMoLikatY3cAN4W-CShB3YxHx5zN7vJObSCWg6pfo19IBXVki3uh4AI42aHidl2AZze9_Xm0SGHYkFAuHxzc/s1600/IMG_5156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh04Z9w_ZBCap0Ai2cbtb9apjtEqcHtNYISfTL9bOupeUR5yXsdWbHthJaVMoLikatY3cAN4W-CShB3YxHx5zN7vJObSCWg6pfo19IBXVki3uh4AI42aHidl2AZze9_Xm0SGHYkFAuHxzc/s200/IMG_5156.JPG" width="200" /></a><b>We have since purchased brand new couch and recliner,</b> and filled up that wonderful open space we made. My mom's piano now occupies part of one wall, and a major tuning needs to happen, but I am really looking forward to playing it once again. I plan to purge the daycare toy area, getting rid of needless toys, and hang some pictures before I'll be finished, but it's a start! <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3DpEriEQQh_5FphX4xyJtXShkCYYlbHtW4OdWhiyvgMPfvVzfl6tUZOo1MPIW_04d3RYNUIXDZVTt4AzstbExbPrQl4nCXGX3nMt_ZWoHzvl6O_oHUdMfDjV6EdmmE9ASe_VLT0BqnU0/s1600/IMG_5209.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3DpEriEQQh_5FphX4xyJtXShkCYYlbHtW4OdWhiyvgMPfvVzfl6tUZOo1MPIW_04d3RYNUIXDZVTt4AzstbExbPrQl4nCXGX3nMt_ZWoHzvl6O_oHUdMfDjV6EdmmE9ASe_VLT0BqnU0/s200/IMG_5209.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
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Now if I could only get the spare bedroom cleaned out!!!! Guess we need to hold another garage sale!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0bHwDVi96TeS7wDaus2HBeWxJ8aBI_ZllLrCsBt_sa48JjKGfZm2Zs82Gpas3hsCIG7U0TPhxNtXeU9usa-NQoDTMODGYu3sBujyN3UfKsuBeYn1GAs3G4qd0wx9ZdnwBqke2VEDf_s8/s1600/IMG_5221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0bHwDVi96TeS7wDaus2HBeWxJ8aBI_ZllLrCsBt_sa48JjKGfZm2Zs82Gpas3hsCIG7U0TPhxNtXeU9usa-NQoDTMODGYu3sBujyN3UfKsuBeYn1GAs3G4qd0wx9ZdnwBqke2VEDf_s8/s200/IMG_5221.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Updated</td></tr>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-12013091433347054422017-05-16T13:29:00.003-05:002017-06-11T22:12:25.977-05:00Crazy like a fox? <div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5L_ChbhjJuIFjW7zEdKUMnamJFKMGD_AnubaGPj251zxgRNYU9vyQ_9w_PPe9_2oE1j2YIqvDueQ70847UqzDpjfMXkHJKwF9ks7oAjBOqr2Av6W4rk2eAJNhauE8xKzR6Hj2hdzxBs/s640/blogger-image--249887749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkp-kCwCfYOzmb_ECojR90xV0lEq6gu4-fquJg-3xzscfa48-bgOQv3WTOswd_ocul7I-ADhWUQdypqxIso-SetqwlAtDLKALBZg3khiNP188fxtrHY5878704jGZxgEHCY4TjfSa1D8M/s640/blogger-image-1436606559.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkp-kCwCfYOzmb_ECojR90xV0lEq6gu4-fquJg-3xzscfa48-bgOQv3WTOswd_ocul7I-ADhWUQdypqxIso-SetqwlAtDLKALBZg3khiNP188fxtrHY5878704jGZxgEHCY4TjfSa1D8M/s200/blogger-image-1436606559.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Destroyed Fuse </td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5L_ChbhjJuIFjW7zEdKUMnamJFKMGD_AnubaGPj251zxgRNYU9vyQ_9w_PPe9_2oE1j2YIqvDueQ70847UqzDpjfMXkHJKwF9ks7oAjBOqr2Av6W4rk2eAJNhauE8xKzR6Hj2hdzxBs/s640/blogger-image--249887749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
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<b>It was such a crazy day for April 21.</b> We had two rounds of storms, trees down all over the area, lightening stuck the fuse just outside our home. Thankfully, we never lost power but everyone south of us did. <br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5L_ChbhjJuIFjW7zEdKUMnamJFKMGD_AnubaGPj251zxgRNYU9vyQ_9w_PPe9_2oE1j2YIqvDueQ70847UqzDpjfMXkHJKwF9ks7oAjBOqr2Av6W4rk2eAJNhauE8xKzR6Hj2hdzxBs/s1600/blogger-image--249887749.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-5L_ChbhjJuIFjW7zEdKUMnamJFKMGD_AnubaGPj251zxgRNYU9vyQ_9w_PPe9_2oE1j2YIqvDueQ70847UqzDpjfMXkHJKwF9ks7oAjBOqr2Av6W4rk2eAJNhauE8xKzR6Hj2hdzxBs/s200/blogger-image--249887749.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Adorable! </td></tr>
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<b>Youngest texted me with a picture of a puppy</b> that was found at church between some storage buildings, between the crazy storms. He has a bit of a soft heart for critters like the rest of our family. Said it was going to be taken to the pound if someone didn't take it. I told him to send it home with Daddy and we would care for it until it was Adoptable age. Poor thing still had it's eyes and ears closed. A lady, who works with Gerber Baby foods was at the church preparing for a special Mom and Baby event they do each year at our church, rushed out and bought a bottle and some puppy formula. Youngest had already named it Bear, cause that was written on the box he sent it home in. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb0PFW2Jl6D0icA_V6XE11O92qp96-hcXGnaJO0GvSACxmMP4xoOFrxTflKZChZUap7cyySlrXhoCkKlrZbBTpSEEU4WMIoFTbNkNhOIRiJj4_9Q_nhuaLmUMrZV52SMFrdpiYojZN-jY/s640/blogger-image--1209696375.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb0PFW2Jl6D0icA_V6XE11O92qp96-hcXGnaJO0GvSACxmMP4xoOFrxTflKZChZUap7cyySlrXhoCkKlrZbBTpSEEU4WMIoFTbNkNhOIRiJj4_9Q_nhuaLmUMrZV52SMFrdpiYojZN-jY/s320/blogger-image--1209696375.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0q-ExoRokfEFtxPFnk9npEyew_j23k1Peh7rfEaLK_YMBCNjUdfsLa-_TkEH8o1dpBy4DkzkRaQ-gugn6K0m7HUbQUDzfw1l2wMXmBplqxj5u2cql56n2O2rXaLQqbYLPsH1uykBUdP8/s640/blogger-image--1625842414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0q-ExoRokfEFtxPFnk9npEyew_j23k1Peh7rfEaLK_YMBCNjUdfsLa-_TkEH8o1dpBy4DkzkRaQ-gugn6K0m7HUbQUDzfw1l2wMXmBplqxj5u2cql56n2O2rXaLQqbYLPsH1uykBUdP8/s200/blogger-image--1625842414.jpg" width="150" /></a><b>Honey said it was up to me</b> because I would be the one taking care of it all the time, so while the kids napped, I fed the pup from a medicine dropper and kept it warm. Can you see a "but" coming? As I was holding in, I started to notice that it didn't look like a normal puppy, at least not one I had seen before. It's nose and toes looked different, it was larger than a normal puppy, and it wasn't soft. I called my cousin who raised Golden Retrievers, and as we talked, and I shared a few pictures of it, she said "Oh, I think it's a fox cub!" That started a fury of research and googling (that's a word right?), and it did look like a fox pup. I found out that foxes are legal to keep as pets, so I started to get excited a little bit, until she texted me that she didn't think it was a fox after all.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvMJtli3q8WP5zl5L1I5_qZHlrWQR0_Fk7xsv3aCkXYFGSx7l9M3m0nsOjPpQ9vSlbxGhz5gWa2KSncaIudT9NrrdTtld6PXALH-HIqceh6CLxrDKiWUFuj92PP23iRP65kpV1jq-HGE/s640/blogger-image--409129983.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvvMJtli3q8WP5zl5L1I5_qZHlrWQR0_Fk7xsv3aCkXYFGSx7l9M3m0nsOjPpQ9vSlbxGhz5gWa2KSncaIudT9NrrdTtld6PXALH-HIqceh6CLxrDKiWUFuj92PP23iRP65kpV1jq-HGE/s200/blogger-image--409129983.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lady was NOT impressed nor happy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRtv7BW3nhYUyoEhUQXsSM6Ddx5wrrmsUbXxQ8J1oRlVLhu7-f0ujPo9dM8FBZ5ZUFfLZoQ3ohc8p3vyFuv0ldwCu1lDCeqMBIqUMEA-4iBxQiPD0jQXe_8BS2S8bAXVNj2DBQWcOrfg/s640/blogger-image--306334812.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlRtv7BW3nhYUyoEhUQXsSM6Ddx5wrrmsUbXxQ8J1oRlVLhu7-f0ujPo9dM8FBZ5ZUFfLZoQ3ohc8p3vyFuv0ldwCu1lDCeqMBIqUMEA-4iBxQiPD0jQXe_8BS2S8bAXVNj2DBQWcOrfg/s640/blogger-image--306334812.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yummo! Feeding time! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0GZ1jM1mZVazrO5YMFkoDlvgy9qN1dF9eUVbIrhgGqyvitPcgNH0d_e7Y3rYEeb9HUJ3tfm-MgwaVoMjuCsF0YCWF0YmRH6PhstCIW4ImqNvaC17DaD0pqWb6PC7yMWj-ZBjaHldYyY/s640/blogger-image-1269759982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0GZ1jM1mZVazrO5YMFkoDlvgy9qN1dF9eUVbIrhgGqyvitPcgNH0d_e7Y3rYEeb9HUJ3tfm-MgwaVoMjuCsF0YCWF0YmRH6PhstCIW4ImqNvaC17DaD0pqWb6PC7yMWj-ZBjaHldYyY/s640/blogger-image-1269759982.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Funny toes and nose</td></tr>
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<b>I found a lady in Austin that runs a rescue organization </b>for wild abandoned/injured critters (raccoons, foxes, skunks, coyotes, ettc.) and after a 45 minute conversation with lots of pictures and questions, she determined it was indeed a <b><i><u>coyote pup!!!</u></i></b> That started a debate what it's name should have be: Todd, from Fox and the Hound Disney movie, or Carl, after a man from our church who's last name was Fox. What do you think? <br />
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Since they are predatory to small children, and it was a COYOTE, I knew it couldn't stay. Oldest and I ran back into town and returned it where it was found, and decided to return after dinner to check on it. We knew it couldn't crawl off on it's own, but it was hard to leave it there defenseless. I know, I must have been crazy to be worried about this critter. The hard thing about returning it was I knew that at some point, someone would probably shoot it when it reached adulthood, due to coyotes in the city. So sad!<br />
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<b>Thankfully, when we returned, it was gone. </b> It's momma had returned and claimed it, which was an immense relief. I really wasn't looking forward to trying to keep this one alive and find a place that takes in coyotes. So there is my yarn about the day I held a coyote pup, loved it, and was in total awe and wonder about the sweet and rare opportunity we had. Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-66704076781196328942017-04-19T01:24:00.003-05:002017-06-11T22:15:48.115-05:00Time and Memories move in two directions<div>
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, "times new roman", serif; font-size: inherit;"><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>"Time moves in one direction, memory moves in another.</i></span><span style="border: 0px; font-size: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">" -William Gibson</span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyNqn8rMF91ocH9XkYgY7JFBCWZb8quSKtZ0xrVhk6KA2yBHvXFPcfyrbOLnQ2IULLFD3iHykf0XNS5RAgoZKGA3RcEPDyAavT9BEPpbDx0TqU9EtvAKLp_mUlPvKNncgfIwakttcsiQ/s1600/boston+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdyNqn8rMF91ocH9XkYgY7JFBCWZb8quSKtZ0xrVhk6KA2yBHvXFPcfyrbOLnQ2IULLFD3iHykf0XNS5RAgoZKGA3RcEPDyAavT9BEPpbDx0TqU9EtvAKLp_mUlPvKNncgfIwakttcsiQ/s1600/boston+2.jpg" /></a><b>Some of my earliest memories </b>are flashes of the late 60's and muted colors- greens, reds, a friendly Irish setter, snow (lots of snow), a lighthouse, and a friend who wore an eye patch. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41_KjfykAO80qB283zTLyNQendIok61O5ScMHQ3FaYgG_e8F7mCoUrvUmbU00BekJ4lhTNX9vcmdkgMTzZdWsZgGi3YoyEYaLYWcIWwysfExSvY7Pp_uzgBjcYT0YxHvbGbIXOj0GPeo/s1600/boston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg41_KjfykAO80qB283zTLyNQendIok61O5ScMHQ3FaYgG_e8F7mCoUrvUmbU00BekJ4lhTNX9vcmdkgMTzZdWsZgGi3YoyEYaLYWcIWwysfExSvY7Pp_uzgBjcYT0YxHvbGbIXOj0GPeo/s200/boston.jpg" width="200" /></a><b>Pretty random, but all of those memories have one thing in common - my Mom.</b> She was the one that built a snow igloo in Boston and giggled with us as we froze, took us to the <a href="http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=517" target="_blank">lighthouse</a> and romped with us on the Massachusetts shoreline after exploring Plymouth and the MayFlower. She was not afraid to be silly, take us on adventures, chew us out, or make things fun. She worked hard to make sure we knew how to do chores, do our best in school, be responsible for our decision and actions, and learn about Jesus. She taught me how to fly kites, fish, hunt for pheasants (yes, with a gun), make things that we couldn't afford, save for what we wanted or needed, and know that we were loved.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCrPqekfCKQPXDWEP4cTq3Azwu3yXOXzAx_nYe31I1eKW8Rbg6JCvp2U6N-f1qhf8T1pgz6FbwHTwD8m2ReWD829syrpFQJTpUlnUK3imazPaVZyj4SnvPko8yzZBmWPzx_HONMHQ8KA/s1600/Connor+144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKCrPqekfCKQPXDWEP4cTq3Azwu3yXOXzAx_nYe31I1eKW8Rbg6JCvp2U6N-f1qhf8T1pgz6FbwHTwD8m2ReWD829syrpFQJTpUlnUK3imazPaVZyj4SnvPko8yzZBmWPzx_HONMHQ8KA/s320/Connor+144.JPG" width="240" /></a><b>In 2009, we began seeing changes in Mom</b> and eventually, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer's Disease. <i>On October 20, 2016</i>, my Mom changed her residence from earth to Heaven, and is forever free from the horrible disease that robbed her in so many ways. <br />
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<b>Mom would have been so horrified </b>to know how the Alzheimer's had left her. I know that's why she tried to hide it so long from us. She learned early in life to be independent, and I feel she knew something wasn't right. She knew things were changing. She would have mourned<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8_DA6LC4UB6YyuHq8NvnpJEdKqb3dwRNRdXDyqvJcrlb7LdrsCOnMsufAt6yaJSInkHab10-sbIBUHaxitF9Mk8BxFXZmK9XPlKPSpq1jUgCnHi5rjaeOlsMKc6VsRUjaJulEjX077U/s1600/Connor+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga8_DA6LC4UB6YyuHq8NvnpJEdKqb3dwRNRdXDyqvJcrlb7LdrsCOnMsufAt6yaJSInkHab10-sbIBUHaxitF9Mk8BxFXZmK9XPlKPSpq1jUgCnHi5rjaeOlsMKc6VsRUjaJulEjX077U/s200/Connor+002.JPG" width="148" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Momma and Sister</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Missing her grandchildren getting married, and having babies of their own.<br />
<ul>
<li>Not being close to Sister and the closeness they shared. </li>
<li>Not being in her own home, church, and with her friends</li>
<li>Taking care of "her birds" and helping others like she did. </li>
</ul>
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<b>In the midst of all this,</b> I knew I was losing the Mom I always had, but I didn't want others to think less of Mom or forget who she was. I didn't want the Alzheimer's to define her or us. It was just a final speed bump and challenge that she would experience and endure. There are a few things I am thankful for during these last few years:<br />
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<ul>
<li>For the first time, we spent an incredible amount of time together that we normally would not have had. It wasn't easy, but we did have some laughter, many tears, challenges, and memories. It was a strange, but rare gift I am so thankful for. </li>
<li>Momma would not remember all the hurts, frustrations, anxiety, the health issues it presented, nor how it made her behave. </li>
<li>It brought our family closer through the challenges and gave us experiences that helped us to empathize with others walking through this journey. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1sDmqT2S9B_LVwc3S60-MKjd_jocXKfp2fxxkoKj-izvFBhKSV_vth1SzE-hMZrRAEou8qtapXBW14KbP3p-hpu-xVt8w8Rjd8uVWysm4_9w3SqsopdeVXT05reCfhQDPOZI9QgZ8tY/s1600/Connor+202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_1sDmqT2S9B_LVwc3S60-MKjd_jocXKfp2fxxkoKj-izvFBhKSV_vth1SzE-hMZrRAEou8qtapXBW14KbP3p-hpu-xVt8w8Rjd8uVWysm4_9w3SqsopdeVXT05reCfhQDPOZI9QgZ8tY/s320/Connor+202.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<b>Our family has been "fortunate" that we have not experienced grief and loss</b>, but we knew that it was coming. With Mom, I grieved with each visit and memory that would pop up, and with her disease, there is a dual grieving time and I didn't quite understand that completely, but I live it almost daily. <br />
<b style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></b>
<b style="font-weight: bold;">It's in the still of the night, when all other distractions of the day, </b>are quiet, that the only thing moving is my brain. It's then that the memories and pictures start playing in technicolor, and somehow, my brain starts adding to those memories. It doesn't matter how tightly I close my eyes or try to think of nothing, they rush at me like waves on the beach, constant, inching closer and closer, till I'm left with a restlessness that is resolved only by filling the void with quiet nighttime distractions. <br />
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<b>I wanted to share with you what I </b>shared with family and friends at Mom's celebration service following her death. It is about things I learned from Mom, but I wish I had added one more paragraph - what I learned from Mom about Faith and God, but my brain was attempting to put a whole life into five minutes, and I just couldn't do it. Mom would not have liked all the attention and people talking about what a great person she was. But we did. We tried to honor Mom during her service, so Elvis, Alan Jackson, and Cat Stevens "came" to sing, and at Mom's graveside service we shot off fireworks. Yep! Right there in the cemetery we lit her favorite "One Bad Mother" and the 100 Missile shots. I think she would have been delighted, but she would have made sure we picked up every bit of trash because that's how she was.<br />
<div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom taught me a lot of lessons
growing up</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">. They weren’t through lectures or even those
switches I had to cut from the tree out back, but they were through daily
life. riding a bike down a dusty gravel
road, learning to balance without holding on to the handle bars while clapping
and singing about Peter and John healing a lame man. </span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">“If you fall off, you get back on and don’t
give up</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">.” This is what my mom told my 8-year-old self
when my new birthday gift, a palomino, decided to bolt and I didn’t have my
feet in the stirrups. When she finally caught up with us 5 blocks later, I was
shaking and couldn’t wait to get off that horse… But she wouldn’t let me and
made me ride that horse, with corrected stirrups, all the way home. We later had the best memories riding our
horses in the country. She didn’t once
tell me I couldn’t break or train my colt, but encouraged me to work every day,
sharing what she knew from growing up on the farm, showing and checking to make
sure I wasn’t missing any important steps.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqw5uRwbyOeR_S5mu6uTD0wTJH8r7iL-jPEnbeOBYp4V3oYOYMlqVvxB3Ni558sGafhSe5iCtgB3dSZMLDIF1pKo-jn_dZFSAOXMadd1Ng1bwNSpt-IBVgIC-EJ8LJzTizlAdjijzRjY/s1600/IMG_9022b.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaqw5uRwbyOeR_S5mu6uTD0wTJH8r7iL-jPEnbeOBYp4V3oYOYMlqVvxB3Ni558sGafhSe5iCtgB3dSZMLDIF1pKo-jn_dZFSAOXMadd1Ng1bwNSpt-IBVgIC-EJ8LJzTizlAdjijzRjY/s200/IMG_9022b.jpg.jpg" width="191" /></a><i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Don’t quit</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">… Mom never let me quit anything,
just because it was hard or I lost interest. The first day of college was
always the hardest for me, and exactly three times, I called her from the
payphone, begging her to come get me and let me come back home. She would drive over two hours to the college,
help me settle in and then drive all the way back home.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span></i><i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></i><i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Be frugal and Creative</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> – She had many interest - wood
working, crafting, taking care of wildlife birds, and taking care of others. We
didn’t have a lot of money growing up, but from the time I was a baby, mom
created clothing for me until the time I married. Side-by-side, she taught me to read patterns, make
short cuts, and pattern alteration. Hands on learning at it’s best! When I was growing up, she created the cutest
and fun birthday cakes that looked so professional. This only frustrated me
when I attempted to do the same for my children and they ended up looking like
something a child would do.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span></i><i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></b></i><i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Plan and know</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">!!!
She was a planner… She would research anything she wanted to purchase,
pros and cons, or plan to do. That is
something I inherited from her. She
always knew the day of the month of the year that she would pay off any bill or
save for what she needed. Sometimes I
think that may have been a curse she tossed my direction. As the sign changer for TCC, she prided
herself at not using the same saying more than once.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m0GBgxMe0DhwSZr1An2RPYqb2A05-zqHz9ikW2HErxHxvP4iphO0vOYyh0QDu9ATlYHwAjV_IPwGohkFimwE23nwpD2SlDtobbPSea4cD2iIfsvaDeOYKBMncZY5i1a5E4eFYlYhGjA/s1600/IMG_9036a.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0m0GBgxMe0DhwSZr1An2RPYqb2A05-zqHz9ikW2HErxHxvP4iphO0vOYyh0QDu9ATlYHwAjV_IPwGohkFimwE23nwpD2SlDtobbPSea4cD2iIfsvaDeOYKBMncZY5i1a5E4eFYlYhGjA/s200/IMG_9036a.jpg.jpg" width="200" /></a><i><b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;">Life is an adventure – Have fun and
laugh!</span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"> We used to play tons of games growing up,
and whether it was Candy Land, Gin Rummy, or Yahtzee, she never went easy on me
and let me win. A win against her was
earned! When my brother graduated from
college, she drove to Joplin to stay with me so we could go to his graduation. The night before the ceremony, she decided
she wanted to TeePee and fork his yard. It was a ton of fun to sneak over there
and decorate, but a little instruction on holding on to the end of the roll
when you throw it was needed. She loved
being silly, holidays with the family and making a big deal of accomplishments,
small or large, but she didn’t like the focus to be on herself.</span></i></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Grandkids – </i></span></b><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>She was an awesome grandma and loved
seeing them when she could, creating memories and traditions as she went. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye on how she
wanted to spoil them, but she loved them like crazy. From creating giant bubble solutions, teaching
them to drive stick-shift, holding tea-parties, shooting off works, chase
fire-flies, sticking a coffee packet on her nose to get the kids to laugh, listening
to them play their musical instruments together, or always having waffles with homemade
blueberry syrup when we stay with her</i>. </span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<b>I would also like to share what my sweet cousin and friend, Raine</b>, wrote, because she shared her heart and memories from a different perspective. <br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Many family gatherings were spent at Aunt Betty’s.</b> As a young child, I was always excited to go
to Niotaze to spend time with my many cousins, Aunt’s, Uncle’s and
Grandparents. Since Aunt Betty lived
right across the road from my Grandparents, it was always a bonus because I
would get to see Aunt Betty, Lynnet and Bryan every time I would visit my
Grandparents. After my Grandparents
passed, Aunt Betty’s house became the place for all the family gatherings. At Easter, the cousins would gather to hunt
Easter eggs in her yard; a tradition that continued with the birth of her
grandchildren and great nieces and nephews.
A yard that was always neatly
manicured, adorned with beautiful Japanese Maple trees around her patio to the
peach trees and grapevines growing on the east of her property and a large
garden to the south. </span></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcf-P2sCXoUZ6HmmN-SwnQIbTeI5lWAlMVjVYZU7bJ2CeLbyB2UiNn33QGAnJxwbMptEOVBl_Ilg3T2QZwMk850MNtegxFXHCH4ijxCJxxfZD8oLQPBN0cDZySh0DcA6Yk-BdmX2lYOKc/s1600/IMG_9040.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcf-P2sCXoUZ6HmmN-SwnQIbTeI5lWAlMVjVYZU7bJ2CeLbyB2UiNn33QGAnJxwbMptEOVBl_Ilg3T2QZwMk850MNtegxFXHCH4ijxCJxxfZD8oLQPBN0cDZySh0DcA6Yk-BdmX2lYOKc/s200/IMG_9040.jpg.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>4<sup>th</sup> of July was always spent at Aunt Betty’s </b>– A family
tradition that my children always looked forward to attending. It seemed each year, the fireworks show be better
than the year before. Because 4<sup>th</sup>
of July was her favorite holiday, she saved money just to go shopping at Jakes
in Coffeyville with her sister Jerre, my Mom, carrying the list of which fireworks were her
favorite - A list that was created from
the previous year. You see, there was a
rule we had to follow. Us kids gradually
learned the requirements it took to be able to light ANY of the fireworks with
Aunt Betty’s satisfaction and for people that knew the rules, we would secretly
laugh at the ones that broke the rules or were unaware of the rules. 1.) You first had to announce the name of
the firework you were getting ready to light.
2) You also had to make sure she
heard the name of the item that was going to be lit. 3.) You then had to make sure she had time to
write it down. THEN she would way ‘OK! I’m ready!”
Afterwards, she would give the item a rating
as to whether it was worthy of being part of next year’s fireworks show! New comers to the gatherings, such as
friends, or impatient and anxious teenagers that wanted to hurry and shoot off
some fireworks, were often scolded for not announcing what was being lit and
sometimes had to retrieve the already shot item and try to read the name of
firework. Words like “Wow!” “Alright!” and even “That was a dud! I’m marking that off the list!” were the comments she would make! Aunt Betty
was serious about her fireworks and we all were thankful to be able to share
this love with her. A love which
resulted in creating memories with three generations of family.</span></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>When I was 12, I was in the hospital</b> because I broke my leg
and Aunt Betty came to sit with me. The
following year, I had my tonsils removed and because of some complications, I
didn’t go home right away and again, Aunt Betty came to sit with me. At one of the visits she cheerfully stated “I
brought you something from home that is much softer than anything you have
here!” I look over to see her pulling a
roll of toilet paper out of her bag! She
always had a way of making me laugh! Always a caring heart. </span></i></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>At Thanksgiving</b> she always made her famous pumpkin pies adorned
with a crust leaf in the center and a cranberry dish that was always in the
same white stemmed milk glass bowl. She
always remembered our birthdays, sending a card in the mail, being there for my
children’s first birthday, graduations and wedding. Aunt Betty was a stranger to no one, always
being fascinated or interested with the people around her and making them
comfortable. She worked hard for
everything she had, took pride in her children and grandchildren and loved life
being in the outdoors. She will be
greatly missed by many and I can imagine that when she saw Heaven the first
time, she said her famous word “WOW!” </span></i></span></blockquote>
<br />
Lynnet<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="background-color: white; color: #181818; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, serif; line-height: 21px; margin: 0px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;">
<i><b>“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” Vicki Harrison</b></i></blockquote>
<br /></div>
Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-65047773490155037742017-03-17T18:20:00.002-05:002017-03-17T18:20:30.677-05:00Here a chick, there a memory<b>I have a confession. I love going to Tractor Supply or farm supply stores.</b> I love the smell of the leather, the salt blocks, livestock food... <div>
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<div>
<b>I know it goes back to my childhood of having critters around. </b>The smell of the hay, which occupied half of the barn, permeated every nook and cranny, often housed small gray mice and rats, which scampering one could hear upon creaking open the heavy wood door. I have memories of standing as still as possible, in the middle of the barn, waiting with baited breath, to see if I could spot of the critters, stomping on the wood floor to send them to their hiding places again. It was like a game, but in reality, they weren't really that scared of us. A large hay hook enabled one to pull a bale from the tower of hay, sectioning off a few squares of hay to fluff for that day's winter feeding. Plunging the huge metal scoop into the 50 lb bag of horse food. The pellets spilling about as the horses crowded close to snatch the first bite before the plinking of the falling pellets hit the wood trough. Their velvety soft noses exploring coat pockets for special apple or carrot treats if you didn't act fast enough. Tromping to the north end of the pasture, water from the cistern was pumped into the white chipped and dilapidated claw-footed tub that served as a water trough. the horses scattered droplets of cold well water with their noses, shaking their heads before plunging their noses under and blowing bubbles. </div>
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<div>
<b>Hefting the 40 lb bag of grain-free lamb dog food in the basket</b>, I glanced towards the back of the store, drawn by the glow of heat lamps in the middle of the aisle. I was instantly propelled back to my childhood, as I glanced into the huge galvanized feed troughs, from which chirping, fluffy balls of yellow huddled beneath the warming lamps. If it weren't for the locked enclosure keeping people from handling them, I would have been in the middle of them. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
<b>Growing up, we didn't have a farm implement store close</b> and ordered our baby chicks through the mail. The second you walked into the doors of the post office, the much anticipated peeping of the chicks filled your ears... Looking back, it was such a wonderful time building memories. I actually have felt sorry for my own children, that they did not experience the same chores and memories that Honey and I have growing up in more rural settings.<br /><div>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-68598720995878570532017-02-28T07:00:00.001-06:002017-02-28T07:05:51.289-06:00A new Sparkle<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Engagement</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-weight: 600;">I'll always remember that day, Friday, October 13, 1989.</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px;"> </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 17px;">We drove to the city park, in the city where we had attended college, and in the fading of the day, as the city settled down to sleep, he asked me to be his wife. I remember looking at that ring on my finger, so many times in the hours and days that followed. It wasn't the biggest ring, the most sparkly, or expensive, but what made it so incredibly perfect, was Honey picked it out. At the time, Honey made a statement that, someday, he would replace that "small" ring for something bigger and better, but I told him I didn't want that. He felt bad that it was all he could afford on his limited salary at his new job, but, to me, it was the most beautiful ring ever.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day of the accident</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So long dead Explorer</td></tr>
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<b>I've worn that ring for 26 years now, until that fateful Christmas Eve in 2015, when it was damaged in an accident that totaled our worn out Explorer.</b> The only injury I sustained was to my hand, and I didn't realize until weeks afterward, and the swelling went down, when I tried to put my ring on, that it was in such horrible shape, and the diamond was missing. I was so incredibly heartbroken.</div>
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<b>So I left it off for a whole year and I missed it.</b> I thought about wearing it on a necklace, but instead wore my mom's simple diamond ring when I went out in public. This last November, Honey said he was tired of me not wearing a ring, and he had been saving up for a new one. Off to Zales, with my original ring we went, hoping for good news on getting it repaired. We were shocked to hear it was go my to cost over $1,300 to repair all the prongs, strengthen the bands, replace the diamonds, and make it new. "Looks like its time for a new ring," he said.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old ring and new</td></tr>
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<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 600;">The representatives/saleslady was so incredibly thoughtful and patient to walk us through this.</span> She listened to me babble and occasionally cry, heard my comments, and presented me with a narrowed choice of three rings, that I might really like. It was really fun, a tad nerve wracking, to really figure out what my ring style was. Blessings: I was a tad nervous to think about paying for this new one, but when she said it was part of the collection on sale, then she gave us an additional small discount, but the part that tore at my heart was when she said "You can apply the value of your old set towards the new ring, but you'll have to turn it in." I just bawled at the thought of letting my ring go. We knew our kids wouldn't want it, but I was so emotionally attached to it. Eventually I handed it over to her, cried some more, as she kept handing me tissues.<br />
<a href="https://cdn2.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZzMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGYmxvZ2xvdmluLXVzZXItaW1hZ2VzLXByb2QlMkZ1c2VyLWltYWdlLTMwNTI3OTEtMTQ4ODI3OTY1NC01OGI1NTg2NjI2MzE2?checksum=f670d057cf0e30c754d3298fd193c28c99c17a64&format=j" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" class="large-post-content-image-media" height="288" src="https://cdn2.blovcdn.com/bloglovin/aHR0cHMlM0ElMkYlMkZzMy5hbWF6b25hd3MuY29tJTJGYmxvZ2xvdmluLXVzZXItaW1hZ2VzLXByb2QlMkZ1c2VyLWltYWdlLTMwNTI3OTEtMTQ4ODI3OTY1NC01OGI1NTg2NjI2MzE2?checksum=f670d057cf0e30c754d3298fd193c28c99c17a64&format=j" style="border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline-block; margin-top: 0px; max-height: inherit; max-width: 100%; opacity: 0.9; transition: opacity 0.25s;" width="320" /></a><b>This was my first time to ever pick out a ring, but I must say I love my new ring.</b> I think it is me and it's so sparkly and I feel married again. It's amazing how that ring in my finger, or the lack of it, affected me. I was sitting at a stop light once, and the sparkle and zing of the light hitting it distracted me. The cars behind me had to honk to pull me out of it. Boy was I embarrassed! </div>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-72449503655036526452016-09-11T22:19:00.000-05:002016-09-11T22:26:37.153-05:00Between the lines of Faith<b>It's been a very long time since I've attended Sunday School.</b> You would think that after attending the same church for over 26 years, that I would be steadfast in this, but it's been a struggle. <br />
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<b>Honey and I used to teach K-1st grade together</b> before we had kids, and it was just a joy! The way the kids think and how they think is pretty hilarious at times and oh so refreshing. Some of the first kids we taught are now 30 and have families of their own. </div>
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<b>Then I took some time off when we began our own family... </b>Okay, so I took a long time off, but Honey loves the little ones, and he has been teaching the same class each Sunday, for longer than we can remember. They love their Mr. D! He is easy going, goofy at times, and doesn't mind the noise, and is just lovable. But me? After being with our kids 24/7, and watching other people's children, working in the public schools, etc, I was worn and frankly, I had little tolerance for outright disobedience/disrespect that I saw in some of the kids. I know, it begins with the parents, but that is another time and discussion. </div>
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<b>Each Sunday for I've tried different ones through the years and each semester they do change.</b> Some are WAY too deep and philosophical and I was constantly lost and dread attending, some I struggled to relate to the direction or style of teaching, some had those who liked to debate and made me want to run away, and others left me wishing I'd slept in. One, I particularly really gleaned a ton from, was from a pilot who has spent time in the middle east. He has the most wonderful insight to customs, the people, and when he puts it in correlation to the Bible, it really just becomes so clear. One of the lessons that stuck with me was on the simple lesson on Zaccheus, a tax collector. How totally bad it was for a middle Eastern man, to climb a tree, run, or or just be in the presence of Jews (because he was a crooked and wealthy tax collector). Another was the lesson he presented on the Parable of the Prodigal Son - again, how the actions of the son, who would have been really dead to his family, and brought much shame and disgrace to them, but Jesus used the story to show the most disgusting and shameful things, could and would be forgiven and how the wreckless/abandoned love of a Dad brought forgiveness and rejoicing. </div>
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<b>This morning, I decided to give Sunday School a try again.</b> Fruit of the Spirit lead by our lead pastor's wife. I knew that she was real, focused, and had a passion for sharing. I must say, this class is EXACTLY what I've been looking for all these years! While the focus is about the Fruit of the Spirit, it is about each of our broken stories, how we cry out so many times to God, and without Him, we truly cannot do it on our own. Then she shared her story, her struggles, and fears and I knew, this was the class I could not miss. This was not just a class, but it is about relational and personal. She said we all have stories, a background, experiences, some are broken, some are healing... Today she related and spoke simply about Faith... </div>
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<b><u>Faith</u></b> - it is trust and it is intellectual</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><b style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">1. </b><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">strong</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">or</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">unshakable</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">belief</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">in</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">something,</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">esp</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">without</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #1d4994; cursor: pointer; line-height: 19.5px; text-decoration: underline;">proof</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">or</span><span style="background-color: #f8f8f8; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"> </span><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;">evidence</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="hvr" style="background-color: #f8f8f8; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 19.5px;"><b>2</b>. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">belief and trust in and loyalty to God</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> </span><span class="sub sense num" style="color: #3b3e41; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; left: 0px; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: static; top: 0px;">(2)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> </span><span class="intro-colon" style="color: #3b3e41; font-weight: bold; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding: 0px;">:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> belief in the </span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">Tr</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">aditional</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> </span><a class="d_link" href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/doctrine" style="color: #ae0015; font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: x-small; letter-spacing: 0.04em; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">doctrines</a><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #3b3e41; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">of a religion</span></blockquote>
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<b>Faith is:</b></div>
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<li><b>An attribute of God </b>- <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Psalms 146:5 </i></span><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="text Ps-146-5" id="en-NASB-16347" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; position: relative;">How <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NASB-16347A" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NASB-16347A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, </span><span class="text Ps-146-5" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px; position: relative;">Whose <span class="crossreference" data-cr="#cen-NASB-16347B" data-link="(<a href="#cen-NASB-16347B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 22px; position: relative; top: 0px; vertical-align: top;"></span>hope is in the <span class="small-caps" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-numeric: normal;">Lord</span> his God,</span></span></i></li>
<li>A<b> positive characteristic of men </b>-</li>
<li><b>A characteristic that men lack -</b><br /> Romans 1:31<br /><h1 class="passage-display" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: 500; line-height: 1.1; margin: 0px 0px 20px;">
<span class="passage-display-bcv" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; display: inline; margin: 0px; padding-right: 10px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Luke</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 18px;"> </span><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">8:25 </span></i></span><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><span style="line-height: 24px;">And He said to them,</span><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span><span class="woj" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 24px;">“Where is your faith?”</span><span style="line-height: 24px;"> </span><span style="line-height: 24px;">They were fearful and amazed, saying to one another, “Who then is this, that He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey Him?”</span></span></i></h1>
</li>
<li><b>A characteristic of the Holy Spirit</b> - <br /><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">2 Corinthians 5:7 <i>We live by faith, not by sight</i>.<br />Hebrews 11:39-40 <i>These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised, 40 since God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.</i></span></li>
</ol>
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<div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>If we don't have faith, we cannot do make it on our own. We cannot be victorious. </i> </blockquote>
<h1 class="passage-display" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 20px;">
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; font-weight: 500; line-height: 15.4px;">John 10:10 </span></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "verdana" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: 500; line-height: 15.4px;">10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.</span></i></h1>
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<div>
<b>I know I didn't take the best notes,</b> but frankly, I was struggling to just breathe. My heart was still, listening... I've been thinking of the words she spoke all day, and I know... For me, it's about lack of trust, self worth, forgiveness, purpose, childhood parental inflected scars and memories, search for approval, belonging, trust (yeah, there it is again), and let's not talk about fears yet (beside canned biscuits and balloons)... </div>
Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-80831465208962101792016-09-03T09:24:00.000-05:002016-09-08T14:28:18.570-05:00I Felt the Earth Move Under my Feet<b>I'd been up for a few hours,</b> with only three hours of sleep. Brain just won't quit sometimes and it kept playing a <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://francescamusic.com/?frontpage=true" target="_blank">Francesca Battistelli </a></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">song, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FBmDCDbmtpc" style="text-decoration: underline;" target="_blank">Write Your Story</a>. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"> Finally gave up at 5:30 and decided to work on emails, bills, and stuff.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span>I was sitting at the computer at 7 a.m., suddenly the computer screen swayed, my chair moved and I felt dizzy. I must have been drinking too much tea too early in the morning!!! I looked around for the dog, thinking she had laid against my chair and moved it, but she was looking at me from across the room, like I was kinda crazy. I think I was...<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2016/09/03/us/oklahoma-earthquake/index.html" target="_blank">Earthquake felt in seven states </a>- CNN </td></tr>
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<b>Getting on facebook, </b>I quickly discovered that what I had felt was a <strike>5.6 </strike> 5.8 (updated a few days after the quake) magnitude earthquake centered in Pawnee, OK and felt in SEVEN states!!! <br />
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<b>I've got to stop blaming the dog for everything!!! </b>What a way to start Labor Day weekend! I will be very happy with some kind of normal for the weekend! <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="true" allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="400" scrolling="no" src="https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fmike.eilts%2Fvideos%2F10154715096432345%2F&show_text=0&width=400" style="border: none; overflow: hidden;" width="400"></iframe>Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-64241812423774809182016-08-25T21:02:00.000-05:002016-08-25T21:02:47.286-05:00Mr C goes to college<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRA1gp85dL1x0ge56wOL6CL199N6RCgFgXDEsqtBrxBH_EBVv5ioC4m3H8JT63rzqBzxGB8M1OGKDm_QrOWsvAwz4CbrTAY60jfsHT1_jsj1LKaQW6B0j7CORfSvC-5P_nZf1btOKJFbU/s640/blogger-image--711374389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRA1gp85dL1x0ge56wOL6CL199N6RCgFgXDEsqtBrxBH_EBVv5ioC4m3H8JT63rzqBzxGB8M1OGKDm_QrOWsvAwz4CbrTAY60jfsHT1_jsj1LKaQW6B0j7CORfSvC-5P_nZf1btOKJFbU/s640/blogger-image--711374389.jpg" /></a><b>Hard to believe, but Youngest started college this week.</b> He resisted greatly having his picture taken, but I played the "mom" card and won out. You only have one "very first day of college" in your college career. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPS4t0_Dj_AJNcihqt9eJ-YkI52CSlte7Ibj16vQXm3iqtV2WLoQbx6W4P1N-KzFY5YvwAgB7yzeKpedLJZsNu6ZcNSCn298GJ6pzSuwn4cONzYrJLhCfuLzrHkfa14K07b8PEQ_okIM/s640/blogger-image--908262192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidPS4t0_Dj_AJNcihqt9eJ-YkI52CSlte7Ibj16vQXm3iqtV2WLoQbx6W4P1N-KzFY5YvwAgB7yzeKpedLJZsNu6ZcNSCn298GJ6pzSuwn4cONzYrJLhCfuLzrHkfa14K07b8PEQ_okIM/s320/blogger-image--908262192.jpg" width="240" /></a>Tuesday evening, after he finished his second day of calculus (what 17 yr old takes a class like that his first semester?!) and he was bouncing off the wall with excitement. He tried to explain how awesome it was, but the words <b><i>math</i></b> and <b><i>awesome</i></b> do not belong in the same sentence in my world. This is the kid who solves a Rubics cube, in close to a minute, and says it's simple because it's just an algorithm... Who is this kid??? He tried to explain how fun and challenging it was to solve the problem below, but my mind couldn't fathom any of it. </div>
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<br />Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-84770553933989670472016-08-23T22:04:00.002-05:002016-08-24T21:07:04.348-05:00Definition for $100 please<b>So I can be a bit snarky at times.</b> Sometimes it's in my brain and I mentally reply to a person who was a bit more than rude. Most of the time it happens when I'm driving. <i>Sometimes I think people really did get their driver's license from a Cracker Jack Box!!! </i>Other times, I think I've mentally replied and, based on the look on the other person's face, it actually came out of my brain via my mouth. <i> sigh I did it again! </i><br />
<i><br /></i><b>
Before you <i>Google</i> Snarky,</b> I'll help you out:<br />
<u><b>SNARKY:</b></u> <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28px;">A witty mannerism, personality, or behavior that is a combination of sarcasm and cynicism. Usually accepted as a complimentary term.</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 28px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">sarcastic, </span><span style="color: black;"><a class="d_link" href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/impertinent" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">impertinent</a><span style="background-color: white; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">, or </span><a class="d_link" href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/irreverent" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); background-color: white; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; text-decoration: none;">irreverent</a><span style="background-color: white; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> in</span><span style="background-color: white; font-variant-ligatures: no-common-ligatures; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;"> to</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0c343d; letter-spacing: 0.8px; line-height: 30px;">ne or manner</span></span><br />
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<b>From what I can tell, I'm not the only one that has this issue...</b> Doesn't make it right or acceptable. I've often told Honey that I could not work as a automotive service advisor. I would be fired for telling a customer that, it is not our fault they didn't plan ahead and waited till the day before their vacation, which they planned 6 months ago, to have their auto problems fixed, new tires, or oil changed. <br />
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<b>I've been snarky with my kids.</b> Their lack of planning is not going to cause an emergency on my side. They <u>may</u> have inherited some of this from me.<br />
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<b>Time and time again, I chide myself and wish </b>I were kinder, sweeter, more Proverbs 31 (but honestly, this woman seems to be a bit beyond my reach), prettier, in better shape, easier to talk to, less distracted, blah, blah, blah... You fill in the blank. One Sunday, I was talking to a friend and they made a comment about a subject close to my heart and their opinion just about seared my soul. They weren't meaning to. Maybe it was a due to a bit of honesty in their observations, but their words were stomping on my heart...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8L_loY0o6j0tsCsRy2ivhhAPiB-hKxAvO6OMfClCRqyyK7evftBQl5bA2Hp-TfJf_hLRi1onI3wdn4mYd-9fr4FuZoX4gOJo1QGgEFlAi8xWoWwXsxzySZVlcU-DiKL2dfM49znnoCw/s640/blogger-image--596993920.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz8L_loY0o6j0tsCsRy2ivhhAPiB-hKxAvO6OMfClCRqyyK7evftBQl5bA2Hp-TfJf_hLRi1onI3wdn4mYd-9fr4FuZoX4gOJo1QGgEFlAi8xWoWwXsxzySZVlcU-DiKL2dfM49znnoCw/s640/blogger-image--596993920.jpg" /></a><b>It was a tough week with my mom,</b> school was starting back up, my regular school year kids were back in my care, too little sleep, a bit of loneliness... Not the best week, but it sure wasn't hopeless! Getting ready for church on Sunday, my playlist began running through some of my favorites... Tripping over dogs underfoot, outfit change #4, foundation, some blush, oh shoot... chipped polish on my toes won't go with those comfy sandals... then the first strum of guitar and beat of drum pulsed through the speakers.... "<i>He Knows My Name"</i> by Francesca Battistelli <i><b><span style="color: #20124d;">Listen</span></b> </i> I heard Him say to me.<br />
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>Spent today in a conversation<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In the mirror face to face with<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Somebody less than perfect<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I wouldn't choose me first if<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I was looking for a champion<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />In fact I'd understand if<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You picked everyone before me<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />But that's just not my story<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />True to who You are<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You saw my heart<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And made<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Something out of nothing</i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>I don't need my name in lights<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm famous in my Father's eyes<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Make no mistake<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm not living for applause<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm already so adored<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />It's all His stage<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name oh, oh,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name oh, oh</i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>I'm not meant to just stay quiet<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm meant to be a lion<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'll roar beyond a song<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />With every moment that I've got<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />True to who You are<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />You saw my heart<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />And made<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Something out of nothing</i></span></div>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>I don't need my name in lights<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm famous in my Father's eyes<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Make no mistake<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm not living for applause<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm already so adored<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />It's all His stage<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name oh, oh,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name oh, oh</i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>He calls me chosen, free forgiven, wanted, child of the King,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />His forever, held in treasure<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I am loved</i></span></div>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>I don't need my name in lights<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm famous in my Father's eyes</i></span></div>
<div class="verse" style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 20px;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><i>I don't need my name in lights<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm famous in my Father's eyes<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />Make no mistake<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm not living for applause<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />I'm already so adored<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />It's all His stage<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name oh, oh,<br style="box-sizing: border-box;" />He knows my name oh, oh</i></span></div>
<span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-family: , "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></blockquote>
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<b><i>Listen...</i> </b>He said again... though I heard her voice begin, picking up where she had just left off. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;"> "</span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small; font-weight: 700; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">If We're Honest"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Truth is harder than a lie</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">The dark seems safer than the light</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">And everyone has a heart that loves to hide</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">I'm a mess and so are you</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">We've built walls nobody can get through</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Yeah, it may be hard, but the best thing we could ever do, ever do</span></span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">[Chorus:]</span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Bring your brokenness, and I'll bring mine</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">'Cause love can heal what hurt divides</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">And mercy's waiting on the other side</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">If we're honest</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">If we're honest</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"><br style="box-sizing: border-box;" /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Don't pretend to be something that you're not</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">Living life afraid of getting caught</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">There is freedom found when we lay </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">our secrets down at the cross, at the cross</span></span><br />
<i style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">[Chorus]</span></i><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">It would change our lives</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">It would set us free</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;">It's what we need to be</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b>By the time I arrived at church, I was a bit of a mess.</b> First friend I saw was Miss "I", who visiting with her sweet <a href="http://humehappennings.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Momma</a>. She gave me the biggest hug and then a mug with all these wonderful quips about friends (my favorite one was "Friends become our chosen Family") and I cried. I cried as her momma hugged me. I miss her coming here daily, but I am so thrilled for the new opportunity that God has placed their family in and thankful I do get to see them from time to time. She is a friend of the heart. As I turned from her, I saw a longtime friend, tears in her eyes approach me. She just reached out and enveloped me in a hug and let me cry. The frustrations and self-doubts finally came out. She told me of her mom's struggle with dementia and her struggle with that, and as we talked, she listened. <i>"My brain just can't wrap itself around why I would be good friend material. We go from work to nursing home, do dinner and go to bed, only to do it all over again. Late nights that Honey works, schedules. I have no clue what is going on with anyone or even watch the news.</i>" </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://thyme-is-honey.com/2014/06/16/you-are-enough/" target="_blank">Thyme is Honey</a> blog</td></tr>
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<i><b>"Can I ask you something?</b> Those things that you say to yourself... Would you ever say them to someone else,</i>" she asked, understanding deep in her eyes. <i>"No, of course you wouldn't! Then why do you say them to yourself?</i>" <br />
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<b>This week is better.</b> Her question and challenge has echoed through my head all week. My head is clearing and I'm listening... I'm working toward being less snarky...<br />
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<strong style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; font-family: Cardo, serif; font-size: 20px; line-height: 32px;"> </strong><i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="verse-12" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 32px;">I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. </span><strong style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 32px;"> I </strong><span class="verse-13" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 32px;">can do all this through him wh</span><span class="verse-13" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 32px;">o g</span><span class="verse-13" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: inherit; color: #404040; line-height: 32px;">ives me strength. -Philippians 4:12-13</span></span></i>Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-17567224989211697962016-08-13T16:17:00.002-05:002016-08-13T21:10:50.660-05:00Fuzzy Memories <div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My brother and I at our grandparents in Kansas</td></tr>
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<b>As I get older, some memories seem to pull up less frequently, but given a nudge, they seem to explode. </b><br />
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<b>Last month, Honey and I took a weekend get-away to attend Niece's baby shower back home. </b>While there, we made a quick jaunt up to Mom's house to check on it. Honestly, I dread going in there. While it is cleaned up and pretty neat, there are still reminders and memories tucked in just about corner that flood my heart. Most of the time, I leave so sad. My Momma should be there, hugging us when we arrive, her list of Do-projects sitting on the bar, standing at the door, waving as we drive away. Now, all I leave are tears... Alzheimer's just sucks.<br />
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<b>As we were checking on different areas of the house</b>, I discovered her old <a href="http://www.ashleyandthenoisemakers.com/blog/2015/3/20/singer-500a-the-rocketeer-review" target="_blank">Singer Slant-O-Matic 500</a> <a href="http://www.ashleyandthenoisemakers.com/blog/2015/3/20/singer-500a-the-rocketeer-review" target="_blank">Rocketeer</a> Sewing Machine shoved back in the corner of a closet. It was the machine I learned to sew on a a very young child , Mom made most all my clothes, and my bridesmaid dresses were created on it. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom's Rocketeer</td></tr>
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Such great memories there! Grabbing it, I started searching for the box of feet and accessories I knew went with it. If I could get it running, I thought I'd give it to Only, since she doesn't have a sewing machine. In my search, I came across a forgotten box of photos and slides shoved under some material. Grabbing those, I added them to my growing pile of memories on the bar. Behind the photos and slides I found the accessory box for the sewing machine! It was a great day for discovering! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAEEmnEWU4DhlaMGSTfVRjZz_sXyT5Y5132YSjImAX6aCfPWlMhkc6Jnx8gYSK_c4uA_j9s14lXX76QFH_ZyWmFEuZVBZ-tbncnz6MTmr2lEHv2zONe9dy-_8RGK7CU7QQBDGBmPzjnE/s1600/Claire+646.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFAEEmnEWU4DhlaMGSTfVRjZz_sXyT5Y5132YSjImAX6aCfPWlMhkc6Jnx8gYSK_c4uA_j9s14lXX76QFH_ZyWmFEuZVBZ-tbncnz6MTmr2lEHv2zONe9dy-_8RGK7CU7QQBDGBmPzjnE/s320/Claire+646.JPG" width="320" /></a><b>Honey grabbed a sturdy "vintage" 16' wooden ladder from the garage</b> that was used out on the farm during the depression. I wanted it to put my quilts on. Because it was so incredibly long, we had to cut it into two 8' parts to get into the truck bed. Since the smaller section was still too tall for the space I needed, I decided to put one section in my kitchen above the cabinet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The forgotten Outhouse</td></tr>
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<b>My discovery in The old Outhouse</b>, which Mom used to store tools, made me cry upon finding the old sled from my childhood, and begged Honey to let me take it home. So many memories made on that during those cold Kansas winters. It should make it's decorative debut this winter on my front porch. </div>
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<b>Once home, I allowed myself an evening to venture into the box of slides and photos</b>. To my delight, I found this nifty Guild Mini-Master slide viewer and with each slide, memories came flooding back. I found if I held up the Mini-Master up to the light and held my cell phone up to take a picture, I could awkwardly manage it. Before I knew it, I was texting pictures to my brother and we spent a good two hours going back and forth. Many of the pictures that have Mom in them... She looked so incredibly young and, of course, she had this boundless energy that helped her to keep up with two active kids.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ga9epEb0RKTMyHRprgUGzzZMYMpmM7Jhg5nlTad5TuCi3azBf8gwHrAMP3IkIgE-nnEyxUq0tJt_bcGc5yjWtS8BBMV0t431-A7pwxeWPgO28oDc62Xfze8dr4hYAJjU6JUjCv62gOo/s1600/blogger-image--1011156435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNnDm23JTJVG32icgRIUrmOEKgBJlWY-GSkYQ7VoF9_g4zk2cEyD4TTQNC5Pxo9IlZbw1zRhgJ6i-uXOXL5zavYYNoG2hed_u5Z6HmQrxd5-lo0fJJhYS06bJot_-r2QQGVIxBpPAFXU/s640/blogger-image-1767469044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeNnDm23JTJVG32icgRIUrmOEKgBJlWY-GSkYQ7VoF9_g4zk2cEyD4TTQNC5Pxo9IlZbw1zRhgJ6i-uXOXL5zavYYNoG2hed_u5Z6HmQrxd5-lo0fJJhYS06bJot_-r2QQGVIxBpPAFXU/s640/blogger-image-1767469044.jpg" /></a><br />
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<b><a href="http://aspiringmom2three.blogspot.com/2010/10/piggy-tales-1st-perm-thanksgiving-and.html" target="_blank">Boston Memories:</a> </b> Santa was not a favorite of mine when I was younger, but I'm sure I was not alone in my fear. I wish I could remember more of our time in Boston, but am thankful for the picture to fill in the blanks. See the car in the background? That dusty station wagon was our family vehicle until I was probably in middle elementary. The dust would literally roll in through the cracks and windows on the old country roads. I can almost feel the grit on my face. <br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ga9epEb0RKTMyHRprgUGzzZMYMpmM7Jhg5nlTad5TuCi3azBf8gwHrAMP3IkIgE-nnEyxUq0tJt_bcGc5yjWtS8BBMV0t431-A7pwxeWPgO28oDc62Xfze8dr4hYAJjU6JUjCv62gOo/s1600/blogger-image--1011156435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Ga9epEb0RKTMyHRprgUGzzZMYMpmM7Jhg5nlTad5TuCi3azBf8gwHrAMP3IkIgE-nnEyxUq0tJt_bcGc5yjWtS8BBMV0t431-A7pwxeWPgO28oDc62Xfze8dr4hYAJjU6JUjCv62gOo/s320/blogger-image--1011156435.jpg" width="203" /></a><br />
<b>Christmas: </b> If you look closely, past the cool toys that we got and some we still have (that doll and firetruck were AWESOME!), you might be able to see several Elf-on-a-shelf predecessors, that Mom put on our tree each year. Since we had several of them, they really were just a decoration. I'd like to say we were "perfect" children and didn't need Elf-on-a-shelf, but the spanking board and cut switches we had testify otherwise. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6oaRbnu_7A4B_J5R4VpawMYTC_HZuwZEAV5RP00nwKSMxm5K8HDgPQCWHO4yYQx3cIaj-ipyS5vOTW-uFlAK3k2iAkxiTstPJFdetorrBdP9KfRMmBKFzPCCPKv1Q3SricKM2VHtzzs/s1600/Claire+616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE6oaRbnu_7A4B_J5R4VpawMYTC_HZuwZEAV5RP00nwKSMxm5K8HDgPQCWHO4yYQx3cIaj-ipyS5vOTW-uFlAK3k2iAkxiTstPJFdetorrBdP9KfRMmBKFzPCCPKv1Q3SricKM2VHtzzs/s320/Claire+616.JPG" width="220" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This one made me smile.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtoxC6n4Lqilh5oc4lA2JSqzIc-atDFt6ZwOVEHDzxHh31sgMS_MChrWAif3rvtYag4-bS3HY73Gm0QdjgvSwkFYrlumSOvZDrx8NG6gd1V_JYoUHgjfvOawBx6beQHXxP3IAVwghI6tk/s1600/blogger-image--1116534151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="155" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtoxC6n4Lqilh5oc4lA2JSqzIc-atDFt6ZwOVEHDzxHh31sgMS_MChrWAif3rvtYag4-bS3HY73Gm0QdjgvSwkFYrlumSOvZDrx8NG6gd1V_JYoUHgjfvOawBx6beQHXxP3IAVwghI6tk/s200/blogger-image--1116534151.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://aspiringmom2three.blogspot.com/2010/10/piggy-tales-1st-perm-thanksgiving-and.html" target="_blank">Time in Kansas</a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My childhood home</td></tr>
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<b>At some point, we returned to Kansas briefly,</b> to buy a house, start some renovations on the early 1900's home to make it livable. We had no indoor bathroom, but an outhouse and cistern off the back porch served their purpose. The 1970's avacado colored kitchen was about the size of a small bedroom, but the suited us perfectly. Our baths were taken by hauling water from the cistern at the back of the house, heating it on the stove, and pouring it into a galvanized washtub. It was always nice to be the first one in the tub! The house doesn't even look like this now. The two porches were remodeled for more bedrooms and a new kitchen, but the memories on those porches were priceless! On days when we had summer thunderstorms, my brother and I would take our toys, games, and Barbie/GI Joe dolls, and play on the side porch. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2h4DR5LqrDvH-1-2GYbjDzT5zCAh1ccTxFEWdn_THb6XD0oEo4qoi1mis5dwrg2xy9IhTFmHo5gVtWlkHm1G7lTgXw0sj3tGlE2qIp-BV78siLdr3T7QGRUf2-Dxc7p6GeIAHWZWspdM/s1600/Claire+610.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2h4DR5LqrDvH-1-2GYbjDzT5zCAh1ccTxFEWdn_THb6XD0oEo4qoi1mis5dwrg2xy9IhTFmHo5gVtWlkHm1G7lTgXw0sj3tGlE2qIp-BV78siLdr3T7QGRUf2-Dxc7p6GeIAHWZWspdM/s320/Claire+610.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">side Porch and back of house</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JGndgItghyCLmYho94V_hkP32mLmkQOxGO8w31xydVMKPM342A20Xnm-7JfHnQgUxfywm4zudlpT-CBNCL1hkBpa5YRS3PVZBUYBqUIVzU660W2I59gGjeV-d0gbkFaDD7kV6LGpc80/s1600/blogger-image--52327036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3JGndgItghyCLmYho94V_hkP32mLmkQOxGO8w31xydVMKPM342A20Xnm-7JfHnQgUxfywm4zudlpT-CBNCL1hkBpa5YRS3PVZBUYBqUIVzU660W2I59gGjeV-d0gbkFaDD7kV6LGpc80/s640/blogger-image--52327036.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hanging stocking on the door</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma and Grandpa Wilson</td></tr>
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<b>One of the best things about living in KS was having Grandma and Grandpa live directly across the street from us.</b> They had this huge tree in the front of their home with a wood swing under the front part and up by the trunk was a huge tractor tire filled with sand for grandkids to play in. On beautiful days, one would find them sitting on the swing, just enjoying the day or resting from chores.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALtCj7AbQpKrvSUndvF30SHTOlzEELJb6tEt510inlLERW48Kbhys-RLantekexpwESTK8Z0w4ZtSHwAYY_nONyyOVlxLcahJ5EKgUX3Ck8D8rYOQivQ3szJGh0IzzJBBpbG6DBnRib0/s640/blogger-image-633262576.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ugh, Easter Pictures and lace</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ICg2SVhL_FQ1M8f65I7bH62ZnRVRnXWDO-5bRsURYzEZheh3c5U8_1ZxY8mU621rScyawQ5cqA3hZSJz-gu4BeKEw6BV0ZNhLWfTE2G43GVh1wYhs83le5PtueVAg0WhcUs82g516Xc/s1600/blogger-image--784787241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ICg2SVhL_FQ1M8f65I7bH62ZnRVRnXWDO-5bRsURYzEZheh3c5U8_1ZxY8mU621rScyawQ5cqA3hZSJz-gu4BeKEw6BV0ZNhLWfTE2G43GVh1wYhs83le5PtueVAg0WhcUs82g516Xc/s640/blogger-image--784787241.jpg" /></a><b>Most of my early childhood was spent sharing </b>this bunk bead with my brother. We had the most fun with that thing! I learned quickly that I could aggravate my brother to pieces by putting my feet on the underside of the top bunk and push up quickly. Probably pay-back for all the torture he dished out. That baby doll I had was one of my favorites, but Mom told me that after I got her, I somehow pulled her hair out, and she used a marker to "draw" hair on her. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXBNOs35W7i5wCYv4XIVcw-GApYWhEkq8DaLqXwHwZ3tSrz759kMUMkMaYUQUnDyJDaBsZ_8Vgw51c2J3u6_lBBudIFezaMJW62I6SN5SzB5PicxmjSLK267pStyaUKcEGUdV7IKSQzs/s1600/blogger-image-37368220.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="121" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVXBNOs35W7i5wCYv4XIVcw-GApYWhEkq8DaLqXwHwZ3tSrz759kMUMkMaYUQUnDyJDaBsZ_8Vgw51c2J3u6_lBBudIFezaMJW62I6SN5SzB5PicxmjSLK267pStyaUKcEGUdV7IKSQzs/s200/blogger-image-37368220.jpg" width="200" /></a>Easter Egg hunts were fantastic in KS, especially with the cousins! There were tons of hiding places, old trees, old tractor tire that was our sandbox, flowers, porches, and more. Mom used to count all the eggs she put out, to make sure we found them all. <br />
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<a href="http://aspiringmom2three.blogspot.com/2010/06/piggy-tales-on-move.html" target="_blank">Florida</a><br />
<b>Life was pretty carefree for us</b>. We loved our school, have a wonderful choir and piano teacher, a block full of kids our age (we lived on a military base), we walked or rode our bicycles everywhere by ourselves (choir, swimming pool, movies). We knew which yards had the wonderful friendly dogs that loved to be petted, and frequently got chewed out by officers for my brother making me ride on his handle bars when we were out. I'm not sure if Mom ever followed us in the car on our escapades, but she somehow trusted us. Mom made us take Judo lessons, which I hated, but my kids think it's pretty funny. I wanted to take gymnastics like all my friends and wear the cute outfits and dance, not wear a bulky uniform (which I still have). Notice that after two years, my belt is STILL white!!! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQcUqRnwoTECyYfAov5v9y9F2JtooxAQvEJ8xqVQpfO3Gjk1b2Kp93MwgA7KvMnj8YrfPtl4TFQEQhWi6eah7lJqgyhWT3l1zzt7E1UZWPdoYmLt8g23TjBTYxlRmUUcF8x1N_CbL2m8/s1600/Claire+552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHQcUqRnwoTECyYfAov5v9y9F2JtooxAQvEJ8xqVQpfO3Gjk1b2Kp93MwgA7KvMnj8YrfPtl4TFQEQhWi6eah7lJqgyhWT3l1zzt7E1UZWPdoYmLt8g23TjBTYxlRmUUcF8x1N_CbL2m8/s320/Claire+552.JPG" width="304" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Choir and Piano teacher</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5fkiWOZvIwf5pAh67r6MyVvUGtswAjJv67KtVjbLEp7wo7TxBkR2BsBE80pGonaiBCn2aLGjah_MUzyh7P2CczZRO_-bRW41cCTDIIJbcWqL5t3RxnFwfTkZCkipl4zDWgTIN7ARAnc/s1600/Claire+550.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEju5fkiWOZvIwf5pAh67r6MyVvUGtswAjJv67KtVjbLEp7wo7TxBkR2BsBE80pGonaiBCn2aLGjah_MUzyh7P2CczZRO_-bRW41cCTDIIJbcWqL5t3RxnFwfTkZCkipl4zDWgTIN7ARAnc/s320/Claire+550.JPG" width="240" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qx8xKpid6XK1g7TujUG-NEQzTbIJKVleSKvxi4gwKcEluncOG4gUnvYpRsaUcICOkbFrtUN7oZ282Qso8HTNuJ7a1uS12a93guTSsKEVVqOqCCZpjmxf9eu5pzQ51M0GY3Bq9YaWkII/s640/blogger-image--1824786586.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1qx8xKpid6XK1g7TujUG-NEQzTbIJKVleSKvxi4gwKcEluncOG4gUnvYpRsaUcICOkbFrtUN7oZ282Qso8HTNuJ7a1uS12a93guTSsKEVVqOqCCZpjmxf9eu5pzQ51M0GY3Bq9YaWkII/s320/blogger-image--1824786586.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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This was one of our first Christmases<br />
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there. Can you spot the vintage toys? They were a blast to have! That Barbie plane, Viewmaster, GI Jim RV, Barbie Camper, Blythe doll,...The nativity set under the tree was always the first decoration brought out before any other. until close to 2008 when it became too much to have Christmas at Mom's home.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iMbla2wR3duKMxkRfdpSF2LpRp0T9KGMORZ-X4bcwbhjhvU8UbPnP6_7xiJA7zfj1_qiJ6uGcUdm5lFNDP_HRNLlLbh7YqAS618rLKvWCppQge0xzqSyB8lVufxvfkoW4oUOM-uDng8/s1600/Claire+608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7iMbla2wR3duKMxkRfdpSF2LpRp0T9KGMORZ-X4bcwbhjhvU8UbPnP6_7xiJA7zfj1_qiJ6uGcUdm5lFNDP_HRNLlLbh7YqAS618rLKvWCppQge0xzqSyB8lVufxvfkoW4oUOM-uDng8/s320/Claire+608.JPG" width="237" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0OsDT3hE0LQC1qqSdWnXq3FgyZiKF44ZsihWLOWxF2V5SRYZn5dlo1EQamZUXcOgkR1iWCto7AJLAgYUJmpMYCCavB2apUgiHGlBrf8XRqjo-_shzQeKkNaKYxCmgwnKZFRntS4cx_8/s1600/blogger-image--1946184583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0OsDT3hE0LQC1qqSdWnXq3FgyZiKF44ZsihWLOWxF2V5SRYZn5dlo1EQamZUXcOgkR1iWCto7AJLAgYUJmpMYCCavB2apUgiHGlBrf8XRqjo-_shzQeKkNaKYxCmgwnKZFRntS4cx_8/s320/blogger-image--1946184583.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pinball machine we loved. </td></tr>
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Mom had just had back surgery the second Christmas there and she had to sleep in the pullout couch in the living room. It made the best place to sit and keep her company, playing games and dolls, and reading books.<br />
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<b><a href="http://aspiringmom2three.blogspot.com/2010/07/piggy-tales-goodby-city-life-hello.html" target="_blank">Back in Kansas</a></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Lux6LF0H54pI1D220jfXoKrgkf5Ku7JkwwAG-F09qwKMS8kf7cn9rRyU2i7wrf01MDhnB2vJ2poffTfqyy-Q3Bv2xL8YaPDAHMrR3LasEbtw-R6cGTjU4GW9_OgLQWxIUCoxwyM-bn4/s640/blogger-image-278376048.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kindergarten Picture</td></tr>
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<b>At this time, </b>the side porch of the was converted to an extra bedroom, and my brother and I, for the first time, had separate bedrooms. I remember when a septic tank was installed beside the house and we actually had running water! The back porch and storage room were converted to an indoor bathroom with toilet and shower, and the laundry room for a brand new washer and dryer! No more laundry mat and outhouse!!! Mine was yellow shag carpet, with a yellow canopy bed yellow sheer curtains with white embroidered daisies, and posters of kittens, horses, and puppies on the white paneled walls. We had chores of feeding chickens and gathering eggs, feeding the cows, tending to the garden, and keeping our rooms spotless. Mom would tell us that the minister was coming over for Sunday lunch and he would be checking our rooms. I can't believe I fell for that! If only that ruse worked now!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKtV702uFRIrx_zuiIxrSCg9IlOkVdsyoCNJKi43zG0V9XQfRm8vtYWLwka5_g6a-EuAaHshY2Jz7mdb-IzDBq8hgvvj5JIDGWv3A-uEvHZXArJMZXmlASca0DfquKpdQaENyL0R5Cg0/s1600/Claire+526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRKtV702uFRIrx_zuiIxrSCg9IlOkVdsyoCNJKi43zG0V9XQfRm8vtYWLwka5_g6a-EuAaHshY2Jz7mdb-IzDBq8hgvvj5JIDGWv3A-uEvHZXArJMZXmlASca0DfquKpdQaENyL0R5Cg0/s320/Claire+526.JPG" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raine</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsYtywAvsE3kWmGyUilhoFkiltY58ElRliOIsi1c1msJ_8DEr5PfMDUdflbcEKfjfMywd8mL5jSsOd5Ja-g-Egr30lRmwglek4kkWTluegghD98JSiZq66HXppBWYyAxw5wLkCqDjjLs/s1600/Claire+531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZsYtywAvsE3kWmGyUilhoFkiltY58ElRliOIsi1c1msJ_8DEr5PfMDUdflbcEKfjfMywd8mL5jSsOd5Ja-g-Egr30lRmwglek4kkWTluegghD98JSiZq66HXppBWYyAxw5wLkCqDjjLs/s320/Claire+531.JPG" width="240" /></a><b></b><br />
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<b>One thing I loved about being back in Kansas,</b> was being close to the cousins again. Our extended family was pretty close and nothing compared to a Saturday afternoon to play with <b>Raine,</b> while the parents got together. I always envied her blonde curls, but I later learned that those curls came with a price - sleeping in hard plastic rollers with pins stuck in them. A few years ago, we had a good laugh during her visit here, when we figured out that we have the exact same desk as children, except hers is white and mine is brown. Somehow, her white one always seemed so much fancier than my brown one.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqcg3G3O5ZN6Fa_LeOwirdUA5LvoCkOljIUY6AVIR18Dkml5NBlUE5_4tY9YaWfu3F3FtpFa8HygJdj_OIyIDIGZJ2VBJPv7Qzmzi65NpT9N6eB4kw6ZYn-bHtstVaTHaN1Q-lZTsXhM/s1600/Claire+520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEqcg3G3O5ZN6Fa_LeOwirdUA5LvoCkOljIUY6AVIR18Dkml5NBlUE5_4tY9YaWfu3F3FtpFa8HygJdj_OIyIDIGZJ2VBJPv7Qzmzi65NpT9N6eB4kw6ZYn-bHtstVaTHaN1Q-lZTsXhM/s320/Claire+520.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Off to school! </td></tr>
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Thanks for stopping by and going on a memory journey with me. Do you have a favorite memory from your childhood that you could share? I would love to hear about it!<br />
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p.s. I was able to take the sewing machine to our local Sewing Machine Center and $90 later, it was in good working order. Only was thrilled to have it when we delivered it to her a few weeks ago and is looking forward to learning to sew more using a 66 year-old machine that was her grandma's. </div>
Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-19309090267064206992016-06-30T09:00:00.002-05:002016-06-30T09:00:03.025-05:00Silliness<div>
Monday, I took Little K to VBS, knowing he would love all the fun activities and learning about Jesus. On the way home, he stated "<i>Jesus is mean</i>!"</div>
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<i>"Um, what are you talking about? Jesus loves us and cares for us greatly!</i>"<br />
<i>"Well, He told Zacheus that he couldn't play in the tree anymore and had to get out!" </i>Little K stated.<br />
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Needless to say, we went back over that event and made sure he was clear on what really happened.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day one and lego hand is forming</td></tr>
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Two weeks ago, I had my first surgery for Carpal Tunnel. Youngest has been so impressed with my Wolverine scar and my Lego positioned hand. Not what I was thinking when he asked to see it, but the humor was welcome. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYp30cx1t-vSYHK4bZ3agjGKHp2kxhU9r0m1YgG1wWPr60xa0P5kVzbIBbIVTJbVueZWaY330jYgC_hlVyJp1RDTjIqk41WIbWOW3axoeygvnb0sC4kc1BK34b4IXTkZdvA3NxgphyphenhyphenMM/s640/blogger-image-2069787476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYp30cx1t-vSYHK4bZ3agjGKHp2kxhU9r0m1YgG1wWPr60xa0P5kVzbIBbIVTJbVueZWaY330jYgC_hlVyJp1RDTjIqk41WIbWOW3axoeygvnb0sC4kc1BK34b4IXTkZdvA3NxgphyphenhyphenMM/s200/blogger-image-2069787476.jpg" width="150" /></a>I decided to watch some of my old DVR shows, after having carpal tunnel surgery two weeks ago. I happen to be watching one from Christmas from the Hallmark Channel, when Youngest walked by and a Countdown to Christmas ad was playing. <i> "Are you kidding me Hallmark Channel!!! It is not even the end of June!"</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paul and Tracy</td></tr>
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<b>Sunday, we attended a "sending off" </b>to some dear young-at-heart, recently retired friends, Paul and Tracy, who are just the dearest. Many people were there, telling stores, sharing a meal, and singing songs lead by Paul. Tracy has been the biggest encourager to me in regards to surviving being a mom to boys, plus she loves to sew and do embroidery work on her machine. I can't wait to hear of their new adventures as they travel the US. There were not a lot of dry eyes, and my heart was aching a bit, but I'm thrilled for them. After telling hugging Tracy, she looked at me and then at Youngest and laughed:<br />
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<i>"You know, the memory I will always laugh at with Youngest was during church. He decided he wanted to sit with me during service, he must have been 3-4 years old. Someone had made a hilarious comment during service and the auditorium was filled with so much laughter, but I looked down and he was completely stone faced. So I asked him what was wrong and he said "I'm laughing inside my head." I just lost it! </i></blockquote>
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I'd never heard that story before and was so thankful to hear it now.</div>
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<b>Went to the Farmers Market this morning for some yummy corn and potatoes</b>, and whileYoungest was buckling Little K back in his carseat... Little K said to him: <i><b>"Don't mash my Peter.</b></i>" Lol! Oh the joy of boys!!! </div>
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<b>Would you care to share a funny story that has happened lately? </b>Have you had a good belly laugh? I'd love to hear it! </div>
Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-82884875619834256872016-06-28T13:14:00.000-05:002016-06-29T23:03:38.781-05:00Update to a Privy<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Before</td></tr>
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<b>I've been itching to update the front bathroom (aka Kids' bathroom). </b>Oldest had painted it many years ago and it looked like a teenage boy had painted it with a lack of finesse. The week of my hand surgery, I knew it was my only chance this summer. Our boys were at church camp, and Honey was spending a lot of time at work, due to having to move to a different building before renovations begin. I didn't tell them I was going to work on the bathroom, and since Honey never uses that bathroom, he had no idea!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-sTodIPmZ_YC3NHURD0EwRgBpnRYTqIZZOTE5SSfS_2TRfYqwz0fDPgldFnV8GyQcgwxM4wQiMT7WWc-Im1o-bKU_4N6JHMn8z-VwEShKzGEXEafUWDWdoINqSW9gf3YWf2xdAZ2TN98/s640/blogger-image--1172819358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-sTodIPmZ_YC3NHURD0EwRgBpnRYTqIZZOTE5SSfS_2TRfYqwz0fDPgldFnV8GyQcgwxM4wQiMT7WWc-Im1o-bKU_4N6JHMn8z-VwEShKzGEXEafUWDWdoINqSW9gf3YWf2xdAZ2TN98/s200/blogger-image--1172819358.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">removing backsplash</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLukiqob-0MzFT58QZKGfDRVN8vfWQbUXSOQnPN-gx9YoryGR6jYxZQy8ne-u9FR6I4katwn8SMOXE54nSYxekX6a8fPL9RLLpqhGdac3FBOTqww94aCRmouBhZ5eqG51H_AVXL4sh_8/s640/blogger-image--796160731.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLukiqob-0MzFT58QZKGfDRVN8vfWQbUXSOQnPN-gx9YoryGR6jYxZQy8ne-u9FR6I4katwn8SMOXE54nSYxekX6a8fPL9RLLpqhGdac3FBOTqww94aCRmouBhZ5eqG51H_AVXL4sh_8/s640/blogger-image--796160731.jpg" /></a><b>Monday, I began by ripping off an ugly wood shelf backspash trim </b>(note the white spot) and brainstorming how to proceed. Yes, I was going forward with no real concrete plan and leftover paint. I wanted the walls to be an off white to lighten it up, but only had two cans of brown and white. Mixed some brown to the white to achieve the cream I desired and painted away. Next, was the issue of the ugly white space the back splash left, and with the leftover tile from our Kitchen reno, I decided to use it there. I was a bit nervous at doing some tiling by myself, but knew Honey didn't have time, so I dove right in. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be... </div>
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<b>Of course, I still had Little K coming that week,</b> so I worked between naps and downtime. Sometimes he would play in the doorway as I worked. As long as he was chattering away and playing in my sight, he was one happy kid. His puppy, who comes with him (we absolutely love her), decided she needed to be in the middle of it as well. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdQw9hbsS2B4uVwsZ3R8QTnvcqWKSp94VdKhXwzSHUrz6YFCovEFyi4WUv2kr6gQ5_-2rRmA58IfxnaZdZUPwnRmqD4ctxyzoDXFM9I3jy66xfGrPlCcmyFZ85-RWfbkw9Fj6WJaMsfc/s640/blogger-image--1696539751.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkdQw9hbsS2B4uVwsZ3R8QTnvcqWKSp94VdKhXwzSHUrz6YFCovEFyi4WUv2kr6gQ5_-2rRmA58IfxnaZdZUPwnRmqD4ctxyzoDXFM9I3jy66xfGrPlCcmyFZ85-RWfbkw9Fj6WJaMsfc/s200/blogger-image--1696539751.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little K</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hazel, the pup</td></tr>
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<b>There was a hole in the wall that </b>Honey made to gain access to fix the water heater. Spent three days spackeling and making that as smooth as possible. That was hard for me, and Little K kept asking why I was putting pink stuff on the wall. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fixing a mess</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a bit distressing</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhapaBlMp9m_wVD5LVWQmKXDf5bzInyeu5nREwv5kRtnNVRMBjMg3j_OMlVkv1RTN5jo7hsmqlL795_gEO86mJjsVWBsC6X6uuWzQd87KneHWX2DtJ_EfQk2InQ2SADU7aQCS8OMCwVk/s640/blogger-image-1793855555.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhapaBlMp9m_wVD5LVWQmKXDf5bzInyeu5nREwv5kRtnNVRMBjMg3j_OMlVkv1RTN5jo7hsmqlL795_gEO86mJjsVWBsC6X6uuWzQd87KneHWX2DtJ_EfQk2InQ2SADU7aQCS8OMCwVk/s640/blogger-image-1793855555.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New pulls and knobs</td></tr>
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<b>Knowing the bathroom cabinets, trim, and door needed to be repainted</b>, I mixed some of the white paint with the brown to achieve the right color, painted them and distressed them. It takes no time at all and is really a bit of fun for me. Just hope I got it right! Only and I picked out drawer pulls and cabinet handles at Hobby Lobby on Monday,<strike> and hope to talk Honey into drilling the holes for me, since I can't lift over two pounds yet with my right hand. </strike><i>Shoot, I can't even brush my teeth with that hand yet!</i> I'll update a picture once that is done. Well, I attempted to find Honey's drill in the <i>eh hem</i> garage, but got frustrated with Honey's "keeper" side. After a trip to the Farmer's Market for some fresh corn and potatoes from Crabtree Farms, we swung Lowes and I bought my own drill to keep in the house. I'm pretty happy with my purchase and it was so easy to use.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QeHJS69KtWYC7GrY2gRzewrlDuT19BIoZgerRD0AUNI4tTK2P3Zo74gfgmtjdxJ5xdLoRp_rzsH_zPYrjrRyWPO7lJ3UIXzZ2Yz8VNinPLNyUwCUdYyVYtyURkzNQHs-xaJPvASHKps/s640/blogger-image--630823759.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QeHJS69KtWYC7GrY2gRzewrlDuT19BIoZgerRD0AUNI4tTK2P3Zo74gfgmtjdxJ5xdLoRp_rzsH_zPYrjrRyWPO7lJ3UIXzZ2Yz8VNinPLNyUwCUdYyVYtyURkzNQHs-xaJPvASHKps/s640/blogger-image--630823759.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsKUQYoFJWI2yDEtIEvTtmLnf5HP0V93LPekK8O0q5-dnbBQadebyAF6Oz1dH_4xTBprEOpEJ3CC2-Btj1oqC0SBrf1wsNGunwcmdUY-dwp0RRTyaC_VyDVbIquUOZ8AlGnYiAXzrweA/s640/blogger-image-1683172544.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwsKUQYoFJWI2yDEtIEvTtmLnf5HP0V93LPekK8O0q5-dnbBQadebyAF6Oz1dH_4xTBprEOpEJ3CC2-Btj1oqC0SBrf1wsNGunwcmdUY-dwp0RRTyaC_VyDVbIquUOZ8AlGnYiAXzrweA/s200/blogger-image-1683172544.jpg" width="150" /></a><b>Noticed when I was painting the walls, </b>that the previous owner did NOT nail the trim boards on well and they easily came off. Made for painting easier. Now to ask Honey to add some nice trim that isn't so cheap and bulky. <i>It seems that Honey's Do List is growing steadily. </i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.concealedcabinet.com/clearance/imperfect-regular-white-concealed-picture-frame-medicine-cabinet-with-white-interior-imp0000.html" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8NsHvmd-Orq0E_xA9KgznjGMEcdZK8rBoWvDSD75fuAqIbr8T8y4YryUEv6Ql2PPCNgMdWTOvNabnSI9Cf6aEifiHgHQ0cWrWFrJIpCOLmm8pmqexKz_v52_fA7ojP6C-pEdZe8Tmooo/s200/The_Concealed_Cabinet_by_i-innovators_the_worlds_only_medicine_cabinet_with_a_picture_frame_door_800x733__53679.1465079012.1000.1000.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.concealedcabinet.com/clearance/imperfect-regular-white-concealed-picture-frame-medicine-cabinet-with-white-interior-imp0000.html" target="_blank">framed Medicine cabinet</a></td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxJ7hWggJFRp7zlF1Lbw7-wVX36eencnPc76lhBillupz6b37plBM0955Q3wImyGOfMR_ajkRXaBw2ihjPj-ZmFaeTQ_Wx4FuRrhdWkrtpZ1bqI3U2UuPDLIuVNEKe_74y_7SnlmVXHk/s640/blogger-image-2129263039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmxJ7hWggJFRp7zlF1Lbw7-wVX36eencnPc76lhBillupz6b37plBM0955Q3wImyGOfMR_ajkRXaBw2ihjPj-ZmFaeTQ_Wx4FuRrhdWkrtpZ1bqI3U2UuPDLIuVNEKe_74y_7SnlmVXHk/s640/blogger-image-2129263039.jpg" /></a><b></b><br />
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<b>Last, I added an accent color to the mirror </b>by using some of the left over paint from the kitchen reno and distressed it. Only thing left is to work on the light fixture over the sink area and the mirror frame for the small medicine cabinet. My dream for that, is to actually make it as a picture frame and take out the mirror since it is pretty useless in that corner. It may never happen, but it's a thought. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Distressed Mirror </td></tr>
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<b>I love the distressed look,</b> as it hides a multitude of imperfections and gives some character to an otherwise bland bathroom. Boys came home from church camp that Friday and were totally shocked, but Honey loves it. Says it looks so much bigger and fresh, so all is well! <br />
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<br />Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-27000806715677804042016-06-06T09:00:00.000-05:002016-07-11T14:30:09.054-05:00Ordinary Moments<div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yep, I tried to eat a stick</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pulling a tractor</td></tr>
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<b>The weather during the last week of school was pretty nice</b>, so we headed outside for some fun after naps. I love watching the kids chase bubbles, pick clover and dandelions, and just play in the dirt. They do not really care that the toys are about 15 years old, but that they roll in the dirt. With five kiddos to care for on most days, venturing outside is not always ideal, but watching them play makes it all worth it. I love their laughter and dirty hands! I do love my "mommas", as each is unique as her child. Three are seasoned moms with an older child, and the others are learning that it's okay to say "no", set limits, routines are good, add some laughter and a few sweet teas, and all will be okay. Kinda...<br>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutie Pie "L"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Honey and his supervisors</td></tr>
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<b>One of the "perks" of home ownership?</b> Searching for that hidden water pressure gauge installed back in 1994 that is now faulty and causing low water pressure. I'm not sure who is more tired, the dogs watching us dig or Honey and I. After digging for over an hour and only discovering some great fishing worms, a snake we accidentally cut in half, lots of mud, and only water pipes that seem to be going deeper into the ground, we gave up. Guess we'll call the plumber tomorrow.</div>
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<b>Wednesday, I got some contractor grade gravel to fill in the "pot holes" in our driveway.</b> It zapped my energy for the next few days, but it was worth it! Do you have those projects that you put off, but desperately need to do? This was one of them. It was like riding a bucking horse pulling into our driveway! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">begging for attention</td></tr>
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<b>Poor Bandit is feeling the absence of Oldest</b>, after he left for church camp and has desperately tried to distract me. There are only so many times I can let the poor guy out for him to turn around and come back in. I have a feeling he'll be sleeping close to me tonight! <br>
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<b>Oldest and Youngest left for church camp today.</b> It's going to be a quiet week for us! Honey has a ton going on at work with upcoming renovations and moving to a temporary building this week. Not sure I'll see him much. This is my first summer in years to have some days off each week, as I will only have one child doing part time. I'm so excited, but know my summer will get away from me quickly. <br>
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<b>Do you have any special projects/home improvements planned for the summer? </b>do you have any projects you've been putting off? Our list seems to be growing by the week, but I'm considering doing Rock, Paper, Scissors to determine which one to do first. I'm having carpal tunnel surgery on Thursday and will not be able to use my hand for two weeks, so I'm leaning towards just painting the bathroom this week. <br>
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<li>the house needs to be power washed and treated sealer applied</li>
<li><strike>clean out the gutters (can I confess we have, <i>eh hem,</i> trees growing in ours</strike></li>
<li><strike>find that pesky water pressure gauge<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVo1aI6VV3Byh3IknIYhfpSLjnx3oRI6TxntWPBo2gI9UKHB6dz0L71X_-7FgLBu2oC69geJTZ_-iBJx3TEIhk8CeeKA-QwBXsL9C9d6VGLKcerMCQBpSKh9s8IQnK2QTp930R2XEIefA/s640/blogger-image--1584324700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVo1aI6VV3Byh3IknIYhfpSLjnx3oRI6TxntWPBo2gI9UKHB6dz0L71X_-7FgLBu2oC69geJTZ_-iBJx3TEIhk8CeeKA-QwBXsL9C9d6VGLKcerMCQBpSKh9s8IQnK2QTp930R2XEIefA/s640/blogger-image--1584324700.jpg"></a></div></strike></li>
<li>get a DQ Blizzard </li>
<li>replace the front door knob</li>
<li>dejunk</li>
<li><strike>paint the kids' bathroom</strike></li>
<li>fix treadmill</li>
<li><strike>clean honey's new temporary office before Wednesday</strike></li>
<li>take a nap</li>
<li>Kiltz paint the shed</li>
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<i>Thanks for visiting today. I'd love to hear about your latest project you want to accomplish this summer! </i><br>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-14128156633670952892016-06-04T23:17:00.001-05:002016-06-25T10:55:52.997-05:00Momma and Alan Jackson<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>You've looked at your phone You know the moment..</b>. It has happened to most of us in the grocery store, a business, vehicle, waiting on hold on the phone, and a song comes on that you knew from childhood or younger years. You may not have heard it for a very long time, but suddenly you are singing along, and not just in your head. Those lyrics are coming from your mouth. Music has a way of getting into our hearts and brains and there is a reason for that, but more on that in a little bit. If I could, I would tell Mr. Alan Jackson how greatly his rendition of those older hymns have meant to my mom. In the advanced stage of her fight, when the <play> button on the CD player in her room is pushed, and his voice fills the room, she will visibly relax, her toes tap on the foot board of her bed, and in the if you wait just a bit, you will hear another voice joining him in song. <span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 23px;"> </span></play></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>It is a bit amazing,</b> that in the midst of this alzhiemer's, my mom knew the words to many songs she sang growing up and even into her 30's, until just a few months ago. When Mom entered the nursing home, many of the CNA's on her hall put Elvis Presley music on a playlist on their phones because it was something that mom reacted positively to. Her mood would become playful, she smiled, attempted to dance, and was happy. Hmmm, there had to be something to this!!! I began searching for music that would help calm her down when she became upset. At first it was the classic oldies country from the 70's that had her tapping her toes and singing along - Patsy Cline, George Jones, Barbara Mandrell, Glen Campbell, Loretta Lynn, Charlie Rich, and more. Those were great, but we needed something for bedtime or when she was very agitated. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Last year, one Sunday evening, during a special old-fashioned sing-a-long at church</b>, I saw Momma relax, sing lyrics she shouldn't remember, and there was this peace. I knew what I needed to do, find hymns that sounded just like that little country church in Niotaze that </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">we grew up attending. It took a few weeks of searching and listening, and one afternoon, I found an artist that sang as if he were in that church. Just listening to him sing, I could close my eyes, feel those hard pews beneath me, those wooden floors creaking, pages shuffling, voices lifting as the pianist played from that old hymn book ... How Great Thou Art, Softly and Tenderly, Standing on the Promises, I Love to Tell The Story...</span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Memories-Alan-Jackson/dp/B000E6UJP6" target="_blank">Precious Memories </a></td></tr>
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<b style="font-size: small;">In the advanced stage of her fight, </b><span style="font-size: x-small;">when the <play> button on the CD player in her room is pushed, and his voice fills the room, she will visibly relax, her toes tap on the footboard of her bed, and in the if you wait just a bit, you will hear another voice joining him in song. Lately, she is singing less, but she still recognizes the songs. It is amazing to walk down the hall and hear various types of older hymns and songs floating through the hall. The CNA's will testify that when it is stormy, or anxiety is high, they will put on the the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Memories-Alan-Jackson/dp/B000E6UJP6" target="_blank">Precious Memories</a> CD and it calms the residents down. Last week, as I entered the hall where Momma lives, I noticed one resident had her chair parked right outside of my Mom's room. "Whatcha doing?" I asked as I walked by. <br />"I love your Momma's music and I sit here to hear it." she replied. The CNA later told me that she does that frequently. </play></span><br />
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<b style="font-size: small;">If I could, I would tell Mr. Alan Jackson</b><span style="font-size: x-small;"> how greatly his crooning of those <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Precious-Memories-Alan-Jackson/dp/B000E6UJP6" target="_blank">older hymns</a> have meant to my mom. <play>I would tell him how his soothing voice takes her back to that old country church, and somehow, the in deep inner-working of her diseased brain, she remembers those hymns. Honestly, Momma doesn't know who Mr. Jackson is, she can barely recognize me when I visit her, but what she does know he is singing about the Jesus she loves. While she may not know who Jesus is, but He still knows her. What would I tell Mr. Jackson??? I would tell him <i>Thank you for helping my Momma through her journey with Alzheimer's</i>. </play></span></div>
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<b style="font-size: small;">So why does it work like this?</b><span style="font-size: x-small;"> If you are curious, music is stored in a part of the brain that is not immediately harmed by the progression of Alzheimer's. Read on for the more technical layperson's explanation. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></div>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"><i>"Favorite music or songs associated with important personal events can trigger memory of lyrics and the experience connected to the music. Beloved music often calms chaotic brain activity and enables the listener to focus on the present moment and regain a connection to others. </i></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"><i>Persons with dementia, Parkinson’s and other diseases that damage brain chemistry also reconnect to the world and gain improved quality of life from listening to personal music favorites.</i></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: "pt sans" , sans-serif; line-height: 21px;"><i>" </i> <a href="http://musicandmemory.org/about/brain-music-connection/" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Memory and Music.org</a></span></span></span></blockquote>
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 12px;">According to the <a href="http://alzfdn.org/EducationandCare/musictherapy.html" target="_blank">Alzheimer’s Foundation of America</a>, when used in the right way, music can allow the patient to “shift mood, manage stress-induced agitation, stimulate positive interactions, facilitate cognitive function, and coordinate motor movements. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">Music has power—especially for individuals with Alzheimer’s disease and related dementias. And it can spark compelling outcomes even in the very late stages of the disease.</span></span><br />
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<span style="border: 0px; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; line-height: normal;">
<span style="border: 0px; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , "geneva" , sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 12px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Many Alzheimer's patients can remember and sing songs even in advanced stages, long after they've stopped recognizing names and faces. Dementia care homes often use music as recreation, since it brings patients pleasure. But beyond the entertainment value, there's growing evidence that listening to music can also help stimulate seemingly lost memories and even help maintain some cognitive functioning. <a href="http://www.alz.org/cacentral/documents/Dementia_Care_9-Music_Therapy_enhancing_cognition.pdf" target="_blank">Alzheimer's Association</a></span></blockquote>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">This wasn't the direction that I really wanted to go with this post, but I'm hoping that somehow, this might help someone else, whom is walking through Alzheimer's with a family member. </span></div>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8168522164825399504.post-91949097824240645412016-05-25T08:55:00.001-05:002016-05-25T10:05:41.820-05:00Wishy Weeds<b>I have long joked about our yard - the only thing we grow are weeds.</b> It's really not a joke. That's what we grow, but I'm thankful they at least give the illusion of a grass filled yard. Several times we have played around with the idea of using a weed killer and planting grass, but we didn't want to deal with a totally dirt yard. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Youngest at age two</td></tr>
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<b>One thing we do grow well are dandelions. You would think we grow them professionally, but we actually have to credit God for that. </b></div>
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<b>One of the fondest memories I have of my children, </b>is them attempting to blow the seeds from a dandelion that has gone to seed. It is a simple childhood joy. "Make a wish and blow!" <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5B_z_dsbXIKrYbJXWw8DDnauieuP-P_p3xB0DxPnVIfkC2srD91xj2UNEeIhTF7Rh_Q91vQSsxY10jHAYTuJzqhXmeAjF24gNb_tnqdXPsdtyDuIyi6tNoclhApemRh_CecTuJDN0kI/s640/blogger-image-976789266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5B_z_dsbXIKrYbJXWw8DDnauieuP-P_p3xB0DxPnVIfkC2srD91xj2UNEeIhTF7Rh_Q91vQSsxY10jHAYTuJzqhXmeAjF24gNb_tnqdXPsdtyDuIyi6tNoclhApemRh_CecTuJDN0kI/s640/blogger-image-976789266.jpg" /></a></div>
<b>I love that wonder and joy, </b>and decided to make a pillow after seeing one of my little charges do just that a few weeks ago. It's his favorite thing to do when we go outside. To watch him blow and then run like crazy chasing the seeds as they float merrily away in the wind. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50EQWgImyR9n0p-RCxtxEFLeakJ-ByYxVoyTthsn17Qabm7qcoGp5nbZBNYZGPlCOQCOJeuItg5PGHtOWvOaOl5YhXIoUmoRpXSQ3vIHS0TTpS5-AT0bM8o2oIT5MqhlDF9mJZQiX_vc/s640/blogger-image-1344094041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh50EQWgImyR9n0p-RCxtxEFLeakJ-ByYxVoyTthsn17Qabm7qcoGp5nbZBNYZGPlCOQCOJeuItg5PGHtOWvOaOl5YhXIoUmoRpXSQ3vIHS0TTpS5-AT0bM8o2oIT5MqhlDF9mJZQiX_vc/s640/blogger-image-1344094041.jpg" /></a>Using my embroidery machine with the <a href="http://www.urbanthreads.com/products.aspx?productid=UT1661" target="_blank">dandelion design</a> from Urban Threads, <a href="https://www.designsbyjuju.com/honey-bee-embroidery-font" target="_blank">Honey Bee</a> font from Designs by Juju, and <a href="https://www.etsy.com/transaction/1049263164" target="_blank">Vintage Handwriting</a> from Rivermill Designs, I was able to pull the on from my brain make it appear on cloth. Simple invisible zipper on the back makes inserting the pillow form easier. </div>
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">So if you stop by my house, </span>feel free topics a dandelion, make a wish, and become like a child again... We need more wishy weeds... It's all a matter of perspective. </div>
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Aspiring Mom2threehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13823281380825825244noreply@blogger.com0