tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21345281978173365722024-03-14T02:22:10.721-05:00Keep it SimpleSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.comBlogger92125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-25187993899901789332010-06-17T17:00:00.000-05:002010-06-17T17:00:32.715-05:00This is Gonna' HurtThis past weekend, my 7 year old daughter went with her grandmother, my mother, to Oklahoma to work at a charity race. On a whim, Princess decided that she wanted to run in the one mile fun run. She ran a 6 minute mile, and my cousin who ran with her said she could have run it faster if Princess hadn't had to wait on her.<br /><br />This past Little League season, Princess played baseball for the first time. She played in coach pitch, she was the only girl on her team, she had the coaches wrapped around her little finger, she could outrun the boys on her team around the bases by a full second, and there were at least two times that I saw her beat the ball to first base.<br /><br />My friends, my daughter is showing natural athletic ability. MY daughter! <em>I</em> have no <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">athletic</span> ability. <em>I</em> will trip over an air current. I am 35 years old, and I have never made contact between a ball and a bat. The only think I have ever managed to do with a vollyball is get my nose broken. But, my daughter <em>is</em> athletic...and that means that I'm gonna have to suck it up, and encourage that in her by at least being an example of someone who tries. This, my daughter, is my impetus to getting off my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">tuckus</span> and doing something about all that baby fat.<br /><br />The last time I was at a healthy weight for me was in November 2001, when I found out I was pregnant with Princess. Since then, I have fluctuated somewhere between 40-50 lbs overweight. Or, to put it painfully, I have fluctuated somewhere between obese and obese +10 lbs. This hasn't really bothered me, because also since November 2001, I have given birth to three children, and Rock loves me more than he did when we got married. So, I am fat and happy.<br /><br />I am still happy, but I cannot remain fat. Not only do I need to encourage my daughter, but I also need to take care of myself. This last year, my father was diagnosed with prostate cancer, he is doing fine now, but during the course of his treatment I found out a lot of family health history that I did not know. For instance; my maternal grandmother died from congestive heart failure, and so did her mother, and so did her grandmother. Also: Every generation on my mother's side has had insulin dependent Type 2 diabetes. You know this information can really make you think..."Hey! Maybe I should shed a few lbs."<br /><br />Yesterday, I finally came about and realized that I have to do something...and I have to do something now, today, right this very instant. And I did. Stick with me because, folks...This is gonna' hurt.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-54958981130872374182010-06-17T12:00:00.002-05:002010-06-17T15:50:50.530-05:00Day 1 of the HurtI'm a couple of days behind on my getting healthy updates, but I promise you will get over it.<br /><br />I am a very goal oriented person. If I don't have something for which to work, the things I want to do will simply languish in the abyss of procrastinated enterprises. To thwart the demons of delay, I have laid out several short and long term goals. Let's start with weight.<br /><br />6/15/2010: 198 lbs<br />Goal Weight: 150 lbs<br />Goal Deadline: May 15, 2011<br /><br />This is a goal of 1 lb a week. When I look at 48 lbs, I overload. When I look at 1 lb a week, I'm pretty sure I can handle that. I have downloaded a calorie and exercise tracker to my phone to help keep me on track, and Rock is in full knowledge and support of what I am doing.<br /><br />Next, lets deal with fitness. My body hasn't seen any real exercise since college...I graduated in 1998. Then top that with 4 c-sections and gallbladder surgery, and you can pretty much guess that my abdominal muscles have forgotten that they even exhist. Cardio? Please! My sides!Wait, let me catch my breath.......just a minute more.......no, not yet......okay. I hate running, but I'm thinking that is going to be the best remedy for me, and apparently the more you run, the more you can eat!!!! I'm going to be following the "<a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/engine/2/2_3/181.shtml">Couch to 5k</a>" running plan by <a href="http://www.coolrunning.com/index.shtml">Cool Running</a>. I have downloaded an Ap to my phone that takes me through the paces of each run.<br /><br />Short Term Goal: Finish week 1 of the plan<br />Long Term Goal: Run in the 5k of the Cow Town<br /><br />I must be crazy.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-20416560694834859952010-06-16T21:52:00.002-05:002010-06-16T22:03:42.591-05:00Okay, sooooooo...somehow I manage to blog about once every six months. I mean, it's not like I have anything to write about. You don't really want to hear about my kids....do you? Or, what we are doing around the house?<br /><br />Well, in reality I am suffering from writers' block. Not the kind where you can't think of anything to write, but the kind where there are so many things about which to write that you just completely shut down and quit writing altogether. Then when you do sit down to write, not only do you have things to write about now, but there are also things you wish you had written about earlier. Then you play this gigantic game of catch-up and keep-up, and if you are anything like me, whatever you write must, must, MUST, be in the correct cronological order. It's enough to make you want to just pull your hair out.<br /><br />So, how have I been coping with my writers' block? I have been reading books, reading blogs, reading magazines, and reading curriculum catalogs. Now, I have reached a point where I want to write again. So, I tried yesterday, but that stupid wall of ideas was just too intimidating. There are too many ideas, too many thoughts, and too much stuff to catch up. Hence, I am going to start where I am, and not begin at the beginning. I may take a time trip or two, here and there, but for the most part I will simply be moving forward.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-65910140534916079842010-01-21T15:48:00.005-06:002010-01-21T22:47:37.664-06:00Paper or DigitalIt's been a while since I have blogged, and I know I am going to get into some kind of trouble from someone because this isn't about the kids or the family. However, I have been in the mood to read and write lately, and I don't have time to upload pictures and make sure we get caught up. So, here is what you are getting for now.<div><br /></div><div>I have been reading some about the new e-readers, and how so many people are excited about them. Now, I am not a person who shies away from new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">fangled</span> and button-y gadgets, but I still haven't decided how I feel about these inventions. </div><div><br /></div><div>For those of you who may not know, an e-reader is an electronic device to which you can upload reading materials such as books or newspapers. These marvelous machines allow you to carry several books, magazines, and/or newspapers in a single device, the largest of which measures slightly smaller than a piece of paper and just over 1/2 inch thick. To me this sounds pretty cool, especially if you are a voracious reader who spends a lot of time out and about, a vacationer planning on sitting on the beach, or a student who wants to avoid back problems before their thirties. The readers also allow you to take notes, highlight passages, bookmark pages, change the font size, change the font, and one of them even has a read-to-me function so that you can "read" your book/magazine/newspaper while you drive.</div><div><br /></div><div>But, and this is a pretty big but, I am not completely sold on them for several reasons. The first reason being price. These things range in price from $259 up to $489. That's not exactly chump change in a one income household, and I could buy a-whole-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">buncha</span> paper books for that price. However, the majority of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">downloadable</span> books cost around $10, and many libraries carry e-book resources. You pay for the cost of that library care whether you use it or not.</div><div><br /></div><div>The second reason I'm not completely sold is actually pretty small. Not all of the books I read, or the writers I read, are available on e-books. Now, granted, when I read history or nonfiction, I prefer original documents or works as opposed to treatises on those documents, and those can be difficult to find in the first place. It actually looks as if a very large majority of books are being offered for e-readers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thirdly, there is still some question regarding property laws on these devices. In July '09, Amazon remotely deleted some editions of George Orwell's books, <font class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">Animal Farm</font> and <font class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;">1984</font>, from their owners <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Kindle's</span>. Now, in their defense, the editions were added to the store by a company who did not have the rights to the books, and they did refund the Kindle customers' money. However, if someone sells you a paper book, that you purchased in good faith, then the book is yours. The seller must remove all unauthorized copies from their shelves, but they cannot come and take your property. But, in this case that is basically what happened. Amazon has since changed its terms of service agreement. I pray that the literary irony of this particular incident in regard to these particular books is not lost on my readers....down the memory hole.</div><div><br /></div><div>Finally, my largest reservation about these devices is simple romance. There is just something very satisfying about a paper book. To me, books are beautiful, and nothing looks as good on a shelf as an entire row of books. Unless it is a stack of finished books by the bedside table. There is a certain feeling of accomplishment when you can see that you are nearing the end of a very heavy, thick tome. There is a feeling of relief when you see you are nearing the end of a short book written in stream of consciousness. Then of course there is the way you can inspire your children to read, when they see you holding a book, that does not come when they see you reading from a computer screen. Plus, that little bit of an ego boost when your oldest, who has discovered his own love of reading, is impressed that you have read <i>"that huge book."</i> It's fun to turn heads when you and your four children leave the library carrying arm loads of books. It's encourages your children when they can bring you their book and say, "Look how much I've read, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Momma</span>!" That is the romance of paper books.</div><div><br /></div><div>All in all, I say these devices are going to be a big hit, and I will probably get one (though not any time soon). On a Kindle the words of classics will ring just as beautifully, on a Sony the history will be just as enlightening, on a Nook the theories just a thought provoking, and on an Apple Tablet the theology just as humbling, but for all their conveniences they will never replace the beauty, history, and romance that is a paper book. </div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-83006401390939789312009-07-28T22:44:00.003-05:002009-07-29T00:05:48.441-05:00Balancing ActI'm sorry I've been gone for so long, but you, see things have been out of balance. And when I say things...I mean most everything in my life. Let's begin with the moving of the weights.<br /><br /><strong>First weight</strong>: I have only recently been having a daily Bible and prayer time on a consistent basis again. This was the first weight on the wrong side of the scale. Christ promised, "I will never leave you, nor forsake you," and he has always kept his promise. I also made a promise to Christ to be faithful, but I have time and time and time and time again done exactly that. I have left. I have forsaken. But God is so good, so merciful, so gracious. He sent his Son to die on the cross so that I could have life, and continually I toss it aside. But, He stays. He never leaves. He loves me, and most miraculously of all He pulls me back into his arms, holds me close to His heart, and puts me back in my place of honor as His child as if it never happened. Now? I still disappoint my Father, but I am not ignoring it. I am more aware of my sins, am more appalled by my own sinfulness. God has put a much larger mirror in front of my face, and though I still see my own reflection instead of His, "...I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ."(Phil 1:6)<br /><br /><strong>Second weight:</strong> I became more interested in what was happening on Facebook or in politics than I was with my family and my home. Some of you know this about me, but I love to learn. I am a fount of sometimes usefull information because I read everything. Search engines are a dangerous tool for me. I may begin by searching for a recipie, but I will end up 3 hours later learning about vermicomposting and how to use the resultant product. During this time, I would kinda sorta take care of things. I would keep the kids fed, clothed, and safe, but I was not being their Momma. Thank God, this part started after we were finished with school and my children's education did not suffer. But my relationship with them did, and that is far more important. The housework? Well, it suffers still, but for a different reason. I'm snuggling on the couch with my babies and a book. How did I get past this? Rock. He is truly my rock. I wouldn't be who I am if it wasn't for him. He fulfills his job as my spiritual leader. I thank God he has given me Rock. Rock basically grounded me from the computer for almost a month. I still go to my favorite websites to read, but I am only allowed a certain amount of time. <br /><br /><strong>Third weight:</strong> This part is physiological, and I have an appointment with my Dr. at the end of this week. Please pray for my Dr. that she will have wisdom to be able to help me. My hormones are all out of whack. Which basically means that I am fighting for control of my emotions 2 weeks out of each month. This is new ground for me. I have never really had many of the symptoms of PMS, and only slight cases of Baby Blues for a couple of weeks right after my babies were born. Now? Rock has to rescue me at least a couple of days a month, and I am fighting tears the rest of the time. The symptoms have gotten worse, but since I have been having a daily quiet time I do not have feelings of panic.<br /><br />Slowly but surely, the scales are tipping back into balance. I understand the reality of weight one and weight two. These are direct results of my disobedience to God, but again He restored my soul, and He will lead me down the paths of righteousness for His names sake. I do not understand the whys and wherefores of weight number three, but I do know that He is saying to me as He said to the Apostle Paul, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9)Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-2935372895103011762009-04-18T06:00:00.000-05:002009-04-18T06:00:01.631-05:00Have a Blessed Day Everyone!<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/WkBepgH00GM&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/WkBepgH00GM&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-80704883895465647502009-04-17T06:00:00.000-05:002009-04-17T06:00:00.320-05:00Coloring Eggs<div align="center">In our family we have always loved coloring eggs. Why? I don't really know, but we do. I know that my brother and I would color eggs and hide and hunt them when we were in college. We of course did this indoors, because we wouldn't want people to think we are weird or anything.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Well, Rock and I have now passed down this love to all of our offspring. It is a big deal when out come the dye, stickers, crayons, and anything else we might want to try.</div><br /><div align="center">Professor makes sure that all of his eggs have something to say. I believe that one of them even said, "I am yummy!"</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwukyoj3IXt9ij0k0h2lGHS9YyYSUEs82bHC5H4FGnDbymk-LEciSrl5fdcSslSI8zBZf9S8gBFMHBRqi3ENc26WDKryH4tql5rAKX9jPVK4I-IiiuZXc7NV-wLpaotJrxSMsFBkdewc/s1600-h/IMG_0785.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463324456577874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJwukyoj3IXt9ij0k0h2lGHS9YyYSUEs82bHC5H4FGnDbymk-LEciSrl5fdcSslSI8zBZf9S8gBFMHBRqi3ENc26WDKryH4tql5rAKX9jPVK4I-IiiuZXc7NV-wLpaotJrxSMsFBkdewc/s320/IMG_0785.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VX7tLWggLjslBCZc3q3zrtgm-1FHvBwDVZ-0J9dfYNaMh5DcbE3wnVv0CrL0uXATk4aM7nyBsed5oOlq0samrfBhIksjtBoAbtFH03MdV7bGJZtzZ3KVndpuymK7xUqN7_vO6O9comY/s1600-h/IMG_0787.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463147107781522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VX7tLWggLjslBCZc3q3zrtgm-1FHvBwDVZ-0J9dfYNaMh5DcbE3wnVv0CrL0uXATk4aM7nyBsed5oOlq0samrfBhIksjtBoAbtFH03MdV7bGJZtzZ3KVndpuymK7xUqN7_vO6O9comY/s320/IMG_0787.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Princess is a decorator. Her eggs had designs instead of sayings.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1gK8N5fl_ya_Lz7K6R0uG2-_GcJXf3oCFVZFOta5Mr5RWoJz68alIYNx34hMRO886yUIv2ev05YCNqwclxwexpGAiOj1f20HQ_mg9onNOI1HHQyQPcpH8ZTz_SYn5uo5PwS7EYHCJj4/s1600-h/IMG_0756.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463141736101858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1gK8N5fl_ya_Lz7K6R0uG2-_GcJXf3oCFVZFOta5Mr5RWoJz68alIYNx34hMRO886yUIv2ev05YCNqwclxwexpGAiOj1f20HQ_mg9onNOI1HHQyQPcpH8ZTz_SYn5uo5PwS7EYHCJj4/s320/IMG_0756.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-i3OF5T1YxF5ippuqWN7x1yLZUSI-kTnG7xKw_QK2zM198OUb32huf_71QfoiYnC4IQYijuHexCC9jhyleHimRw0wQs6rq_cMbihIoNCOutJlabjNHT3QMTYuA6Q-hQjmUr5FgUqxsE/s1600-h/IMG_0762.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463141332304978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz-i3OF5T1YxF5ippuqWN7x1yLZUSI-kTnG7xKw_QK2zM198OUb32huf_71QfoiYnC4IQYijuHexCC9jhyleHimRw0wQs6rq_cMbihIoNCOutJlabjNHT3QMTYuA6Q-hQjmUr5FgUqxsE/s320/IMG_0762.JPG" border="0" /></a> Look at those eyes!<br /><br /><br /> We honestly didn't expect Warrior to get this involved, but he was very quiet and focused throughout the whole thing.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXdN6QZDN2KDuIU8gcHcQtSMyLrz34U4oCx98q5W57InsGN-8eMko9-Ti9wCKSvA_Q8PDpo5TrWBJ29wKIrlFWi-0UK65i9kl0n9xTePJHVDbdWigOPLLOKqSvI7PEIrRhRuWRP60OxA/s1600-h/IMG_0735.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463135664645666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXdN6QZDN2KDuIU8gcHcQtSMyLrz34U4oCx98q5W57InsGN-8eMko9-Ti9wCKSvA_Q8PDpo5TrWBJ29wKIrlFWi-0UK65i9kl0n9xTePJHVDbdWigOPLLOKqSvI7PEIrRhRuWRP60OxA/s320/IMG_0735.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71jUJpq2OT_QJk2HBFM8r7f-uhZqXESlnApV6Lp27ygIt7ILGQHJ9QS0oU4DPXH92rYuYqfYlXooSrxYSdBsNVM5JWr4_ROdYYEjJAloyI6HErKEEsWmNvps3TRjeQZBUljPjNqDLJZY/s1600-h/IMG_0781.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325463131876199010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71jUJpq2OT_QJk2HBFM8r7f-uhZqXESlnApV6Lp27ygIt7ILGQHJ9QS0oU4DPXH92rYuYqfYlXooSrxYSdBsNVM5JWr4_ROdYYEjJAloyI6HErKEEsWmNvps3TRjeQZBUljPjNqDLJZY/s320/IMG_0781.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This was Baby J's first foray into egg decorating, and as you can see he was a natural. Nothing gets by this kid.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRDdu2NmY1-necy6j5D3OHmdGbGS_xVUm5j3m9fxICx-Pd9Tf-pMgXldvxfhhmol-aRQjcLUUXCINfehfG4waKor2Zx5fnpDPYRcaS-ZDgAKluo-D1rmzyvvEebC-yuj3z3z2Na-GVeo/s1600-h/IMG_0753.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462344049462402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRDdu2NmY1-necy6j5D3OHmdGbGS_xVUm5j3m9fxICx-Pd9Tf-pMgXldvxfhhmol-aRQjcLUUXCINfehfG4waKor2Zx5fnpDPYRcaS-ZDgAKluo-D1rmzyvvEebC-yuj3z3z2Na-GVeo/s320/IMG_0753.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4GOW7gRtzcjxwYXodKzsDlReUo3Tczq98khvi_l0SAMg6De3ZlBlMnDJ7ig6ZLSG56a1XH8nNU4CDdBc_MnzDirmGkiifAea-HFlI2sf7qpNrY4SIbb81_f3O183yjb-y3VedW30Hhw/s1600-h/IMG_0754.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462342249489586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4GOW7gRtzcjxwYXodKzsDlReUo3Tczq98khvi_l0SAMg6De3ZlBlMnDJ7ig6ZLSG56a1XH8nNU4CDdBc_MnzDirmGkiifAea-HFlI2sf7qpNrY4SIbb81_f3O183yjb-y3VedW30Hhw/s320/IMG_0754.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />And Daddy had to get some baby loves while waiting for the eggs to dry.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAhaInhTHNYevp7qux1Sysreu8ogMiZBYbjFG3ccTZTBVIuUSzv_WDi7iO8Z8b8-g8oGyXcFff59pCScvREWVZaoCC2lssoHNSwUOuKSGXGyKhXqpIxnpyDvCF3xJNh-Q3pQAlywL5fA/s1600-h/IMG_0798.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462339042782146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdAhaInhTHNYevp7qux1Sysreu8ogMiZBYbjFG3ccTZTBVIuUSzv_WDi7iO8Z8b8-g8oGyXcFff59pCScvREWVZaoCC2lssoHNSwUOuKSGXGyKhXqpIxnpyDvCF3xJNh-Q3pQAlywL5fA/s320/IMG_0798.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This is what fun looks like!<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTWsiPKuDl2lApblepJVOWpNYGKE9A79iGiax2-QC_yQKA7UZ8XPykjP3iHaiLkUCHjOpMoXhsocLtwQHcu0vrUQzX5C7ShfMSCqXY4ejdVE8SQASnc3cp1zy28u9Ir6r_7ClWihjlXc/s1600-h/IMG_0795.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462336325122786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTWsiPKuDl2lApblepJVOWpNYGKE9A79iGiax2-QC_yQKA7UZ8XPykjP3iHaiLkUCHjOpMoXhsocLtwQHcu0vrUQzX5C7ShfMSCqXY4ejdVE8SQASnc3cp1zy28u9Ir6r_7ClWihjlXc/s320/IMG_0795.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div><div>Almost done...<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUP7MfIbzDrsTX6lnrwX38YNVSIzoKXGvEOc72vD2pVB-Vp1iSBIG1L4mXKE3X8ZLhweLikl9U_Lx_djxsqvmiKjAXVsitWKz1j9F1_KuIhKaal3zXt3x2qc1gr7UG4ttZLFIvkwk0tA/s1600-h/IMG_0789.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325462333426993842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYUP7MfIbzDrsTX6lnrwX38YNVSIzoKXGvEOc72vD2pVB-Vp1iSBIG1L4mXKE3X8ZLhweLikl9U_Lx_djxsqvmiKjAXVsitWKz1j9F1_KuIhKaal3zXt3x2qc1gr7UG4ttZLFIvkwk0tA/s320/IMG_0789.JPG" border="0" /></a> Next year we plan on getting more creative...I think they are ready for it.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-89637084258389868922009-04-15T17:29:00.001-05:002009-04-16T13:39:06.075-05:00Your Friendly Neighborhood Radical HereWell, apparently I am a "radicalized right wing extremist," and should watch out for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">DHS</span> (funny how Department of Homeland Security, and Department of Human Services have the same initials...and the same incompetence. But I digress),who now view me as a threat to national security, because I dare to think on my own. But, even worse, I teach my children to think on their own. That whole independent thought thing really scares some members of <strike>the Roman Senate</strike> Congress, because we are actually beginning to questions their viability as <strike>advocates</strike> representatives of the people.<br /><br />The fact that you may have now been declared a radical is not new news to some of you, but for those of you who haven't heard about or read the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">DHS</span> Office of Intelligence (snicker)and Analysis report. I have provided a <a href="http://michellemalkin.cachefly.net/michellemalkin.com/wp/wp-content/uploads/2009/04/hsa-rightwing-extremism-09-04-07.pdf"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pdf</span> file</a> of it for you. After you read it, I think that most of you will find scary similarities between this piece of propaganda and those of the Nazi SS. As in there are no statistics or evidence to support their fears only suppositions and generalities. It targets our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Veterans</span> as potential victims to be recruited and radicalized. It demonizes law abiding citizens who believe we should be granted our rights guaranteed by the US Constitution, by deeming us all racists and anarchists. And while I believe that federal/state/local Government has no place in my home, and the smallest amount of Government possible should be utilized, I also believe that no government leads to...well, anarchy.<br /><br />I am now going to leave you with this <a href="http://michellemalkin.com/2009/04/14/confirme-the-obama-dhs-hit-job-on-conservatives-is-real/">link</a> to the article by Michelle <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Malkin</span> addressing this new "threat." She is much more well spoken than I, plus she has sources and resources. But don't take her word (or mine) for it. Check it out for yourself.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-48678337327179691532009-04-15T17:25:00.004-05:002009-04-15T22:16:26.726-05:00Tax Day Tea PartyToday I took my children on an extreme field trip. "Where to?" You ask. Why we went to one of our local Tax Day Tea Parties. We are talking citizenship in action. The exercise of "free speech" and "lawful assembly." And Oh the irony that we are studying the Boston Tea Party in our school right now. Yes, I know, there was no tea thrown into a harbor in the middle of North Texas, at least where I was there wasn't. And we weren't protesting taxation without representation, but we were protesting the spending spree our congress has been on since January. I was, and so were several others to whom I talked, also protesting HB 1444 which will form a bipartisan committee to research the feasibility of a "mandatory volunteer" program for all citizens of certain ages (since it also includes Seniors who are retired). Even my 9 year old son said, "Mandatory volunteer? Hey that's an oxymoron!" I wanted to say, "Exactly son. An idea made by a bunch of morons," but being a responsible Mother, and wanting to teach my children a <em>healthy</em> respect for our government, and at that moment not being inclined to kindly explain to him why it was wrong, I simply praised him for his prowess in grammar.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Now, there are some of you who would say, "Are you crazy? You took 5 children to a political rally/protest where there could have been violence?" And I would say to you, "Darn tootin!" You see, here in the great state of Texas, we are charged, as homeschoolers, with a mandate to teach our children citizenship. Well, here you go...Citizenship 101. A government for the people and by the people cannot exist without the people. If all we do is sit around and wait for something to happen, something will happen, but we will have no right to complain about it if we didn't at least make our voices heard. However, because I am a responsible mother I also had an exit strategy. Before we even left the house, I talked to the kids about where we were going, and what was going to happen. I also told them that there would be people there who did not agree with the protest, and that these people <em>could</em> say ugly things to us while we were there, but they probably wouldn't. So, if this happened, then they were not to say anything back, not to respond in any way, and were to stay within arms reach of me. I also told them that if I said "Let's go!" then they were to immediately and as quickly as possible come with me. Then I made sure to position myself where I could get away quickly if at all necessary.<br /><br /><br />Well, I am glad to say that I did not need my exit strategy. I was also pleased at the atmosphere in and around the rally. One of the speakers mentioned the counter protesters and made it known that they also had a right to make their voices heard, then he made his voice heard. Not only he, but others as well. He even talked about the fact that this protest was not just Republicans, but also Democrats, Libertarians, Independents, and Constitutionalists, and that even though we do not all agree on everything 100% of the time, we can stand together when there is something (insert bill passed in the last 86 days) this heinously wrong going on. " Those with the counter protest that I encountered were as gracious as they could be. They had their signs and literature. We had our signs and literature. And at no time was I harassed. I was offered literature, which I read and promptly put in the recycling bin. It was a good example of how a protest should happen.<br /><br /><br /><br />My only regret about this day was, that I didn't bring the camera. Mamma's babies at their first protest rally! <em>Awwwwww!</em>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-81826327388409181462009-04-14T06:00:00.000-05:002009-04-14T06:00:01.156-05:00My First BornPoor Professor, his Mother was sick on his birthday and the week following. So, it has taken me a week to post about my boy turning 9.<br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324306474800522738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPpvsWK8Z2AqNVuRpdG9jBH1TphuDN13kw3jZ1qOLjMGy6fmu4ZQr_sdow9q58OAtYPqvYe770mOT9wpLaHNMNwpb4PNKePPUTKRYLBXGSdACSUrxKx17W14_s4pCcgoQQ2f5bFmrpLHQ/s400/IMG_0855.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">Happy Birthday Baby Boy!<br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Look how big he is...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324307710471192034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjSFhe1ITgGCx5454V3Qx1u7V9VzMRY52iYGKVBjADd-nM0uIzNaWmpcarOD2neDMSZqWCRRbGa0IzqmdQ11nMn4w2jp4LTodNBCKiLFGWbq4O4-ThYipZNdwpk6fvn9Jc5FpGpB-DMGk/s400/IMG_0848.JPG" border="0" /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324308352579978066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZog2VoFADJPOay5Fr3w4iq8CROX6bRsZ0E3x1vPv29zCOTdS1xj6O_fzVt4ei2eAwJisR5MXkVXDZbYHTzyzhXaKU1BCtXpraA8xfCoob91QxIEmg-UKb1SkygsMchmPLORLbQfp0u2o/s400/IMG_0851.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">And he didn't complain when I couldn't make him a decorated birthday cake. He got <em>canned</em> icing.</p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-87399037290682945672009-04-13T09:20:00.002-05:002009-04-13T09:27:06.544-05:00Resurection DayLow in the grave He lay,<br /> Jesus my Saviour!<br />Waiting the coming day,<br /> Jesus my Lord!<br /><br />Vainly they watched His bed,<br /> Jesus my Saviour!<br />Vainly they seal the dead,<br /> Jesus my Lord!<br /><br />Death cannot keep his prey,<br /> Jesus my Saviour!<br />He tore the bars away,<br /> Jesus my Lord!<br /><br />Up from the grave He arose,<br />with a mighty triumph o'er His foes;<br />He arose the victor from the dark domain,<br />And He lives forever with His saints to reign.<br />He arose!<br />He arose!<br />Hallelujah!<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>CHRIST AROSE!</strong></span>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-9958048407237496622009-03-31T15:00:00.001-05:002009-03-31T15:02:15.631-05:00I've got more to say but...Just so you know I haven't dropped off the face of the earth...here is a little video I liked.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wUBIJCXz9M8&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wUBIJCXz9M8&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-59788338515956128752009-03-05T15:03:00.006-06:002009-03-09T16:32:57.597-05:00Thank You NotesSo, God has been dealing with me and my independence. "<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Thanks</span>, but I've got it." Used to be my mantra. I was raised to be sufficient, to do for yourself, to take care of others, and to not be a burden. The problem is that I sometimes have a problem distinguishing between "being a burden" and "needing help."<br /><br />Last Monday, Rock woke up feeling a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">little</span> puny. So, he stayed at home and worked here. Then that evening he had a big region meeting. When he came home, he was more than a little puny, he was sick and in pain. By the middle of the night he was really in pain, as in literally writhing in pain. So we decided the next morning to feed and clothe the kids, and go to the Dr. We were at the Dr. by 10 am, and by 11 am Rock was out of the Dr.'s office with orders to go to the ER. <br /><br />Okay, now what.<br /><br />I have to find someone to watch the kids. I can't take them to the ER. Who knows how long we'll be there. So I called one of the lovely young ladies in our church, we'll call her Angel. I didn't give her much time, but since she is such a sweet young lady she was ready in less than 10 minutes, when I picked her up from her house. One problem...she had a play rehearsal at 4:00. Well, at least the kids were taken care of for now. <br /><br />Off to the hospital, and while on the way, I was making phone calls to Rock's managers, his boss, our pastors, and our family. We arrived at the hospital around 12 pm, and they promptly called Rock in to take his <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">vitals</span>, put him in a room, and came in to take blood and fluids for tests. Then the waiting happened. Rock was so tired and in so much pain he didn't want to talk, and didn't want to be talked to. So, I read a book I thought to take with me, every now and then remembered someone I needed to call, and fielded calls from Rocks phone to his Area Managers. <br /><br />Wait, who was going to relieve Angel. I'd think about that while I called our neighbor (remember the one who rescued me from my migraine), to let her know I wouldn't be there to watch her son after school. Well, not only did she not need me to watch her son, but she immediately offered to watch the kids. She would be home just after 3 pm, so Angel would easily be able to get to her rehearsal. Okay, kids taken care of. More waiting.<br /><br />Then the nurse came in and started an IV in Rock. He was extremely dehydrated, and he needed antibiotics because the blood tests showed his white blood cells were very elevated. Next the Dr. came in and asked questions and examined Rock. The first Dr.'s office had done an X-ray, but they decided they needed to do a ct scan. So a little while later they came in and took Rock for that scan. After he returned, it was less than an hour, and the nurse and Dr. were back in to tell us the bad news. Rock had diverticulitis, and had it bad enough that they were going to admit him to the hospital. Okay! Now we wait for a bed and a room. I called our neighbor to let her know that I was going to wait until Rock was settled in a room, and then I would be on my way home. It was 5:00. Not a problem, she was feeding them, and they were playing with her kids. More waiting.<br /><br />For some reason this time the waiting seemed to go on forever. Around 6:45 I realized that it was going to be well past the kids bedtime before I got home, and our neighbor's sons had school the next morning. So, I called one of our pastors and his wife. They love taking care of the kids. They weren't home, but I left a message knowing they would call ASAP. Around 7 pm my parents called and said they were coming down to help. Around 7:15 our pastor called. It wasn't a problem, they would love to help. So, I called my neighbor to let her know they would be picking up the kids. They picked them up, took them <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">across</span> the street, read them a couple of stories, a Bible story, a Proverb, and put them to bed. And in true Grandparent style, they let Warrior wear his Mr. Incredible costume to bed.<br /><br />Well, we got Rock in a room around 9 pm (in the maternity ward because the rest of the hospital was full), and they promptly came in, and gave him some pain killer. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Nighty</span>, night Rock. I got home, in time to eat something and go to bed.<br /><br />The next morning, Z-Man's father called. "Did I need him to keep Z-man so that I could take care of Rock?" No, Z-Man is great, and really easy to care for. So as soon as he got to the house, I loaded all the kids in the suburban and headed to the hospital with Rock's stuff to see Daddy. You should have seen the looks on the faces of the volunteers and staff when I came into that hospital with Baby J on my hip and my 4 little ducks all in a row behind me. The kids were perfectly behaved. My parents showed up later that afternoon, and my neighbor cooked dinner for us. Then because my Mom and Dad were there, I was able to spend the evening at the hospital with Rock. <br /><br />Thursday was pretty much a repeat of Wednesday, and Friday we were able to bring Rock home to actually rest. During this time, I tried to keep people up to date on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Facebook</span>, and through phone calls. We had more offers of help than I could accept, and more prayers than I could have ever imagined.<br /><br />My parents when home on Saturday, since my Daddy had to be in the pulpit on Sunday, but the help didn't stop there. A little later that morning, Angel's father showed up at our house where he proceeded to mow and weed-eat the yard. How's that for a servants heart?<br /><br />Now, what is the point of this terribly long tale? I wouldn't have been able to take care of Rock, without the generous help of my friends and family. And, I didn't tell you that along the way, I was often tempted to say, "Thanks but I've got it covered." I did say that to my parents, but they came anyway. And even though Rock's illness was not necessarily life threatening, because of the knowledge that I would have more than enough help, I was able to take care of my family.<br /><br />I can truly say to each and every one of my friends and family, I am so blessed that Christ has given you to me.<br /><br />Thank YouSarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-89041726474177064702009-02-23T15:08:00.003-06:002009-02-24T14:31:24.826-06:00Proverbs brought to lifeOne of my favorite books of the Bible is Proverbs because it is always timely and true. Whenever I need to correct behavior in my children (or myself), I can always find the words and authority I need in this blessed book of wisdom. This time they came from Proverbs 27:10<br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Do not forsake your own friend or your father's friend, Nor go to your brother's house in the day of your calamity; Better is a neighbor nearby than a brother far away.(<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">NKJV</span></span>)</div><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="left">Now, I have a great relationship with my brother and my sis-n-law, but they live 5 hours away. So when I came down with a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">sick</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">headache</span> on Friday was I ever glad to have a wonderful neighbor nearby.</div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">My headache started as, what I thought was a sinus <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">headache</span>, but quickly turned into a senses dulling, stomach turning, light and sound amplifying, lying on the couch with your face in a pillow and your hands over your ears, hoping that the kids don't destroy the house because you can't stop them, would rather be giving birth migraine. I called Rock, who was in Dallas at a regional meeting, to tell him I had a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">headache</span> and I might need him to come home. Or, at least I tried to let him know that. I'm not real sure my words were all that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">coherent</span>, as it hurt to even try to form a complete thought. Then I proceeded to try to get lunch on the table for my children. Well, the room began to sway. Then it began to be covered in purple and green spots. So...I wisely begot myself to the couch, and called on my neighbor. </div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left">Me: S___.</div><div align="left">S: Well, Hi!</div><div align="left">Me: I have a huge favor to ask of you.</div><div align="left">S: Sure. What do you need.</div><div align="left">Me: Can you come over and put lunch on the table for the kids. I can't get off the couch.</div><div align="left">S: I'll be right there.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">My darling neighbor came over, fixed lunch - from her own fridge no less - for the kids, changed Baby J's diaper and put him down to bed. All while I lay on the couch praying for sleep or death whichever would come fastest. Now, while this is an awesome act of service and kindness, let us not forget that during the day I have 5 children ages 8-17mo in my care. I am so blessed to have such neighbors and to be able to call them my friends.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">Now, lest I forget, let me commend my own children. During the time that I was incapacitated, Professor and Princess kept the younger ones entertained, changed diapers, fixed snacks, and picked up messes. How's that for good kids? </div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-36728634229333378162009-02-11T11:33:00.002-06:002009-02-11T11:44:19.522-06:00Cruel and Unusual Punishment<div align="center">It could be termed "cruel and unusual punishment; " the fact that I made 265 cupcakes last night, put them on a table that Baby J can now reach, and then said the dreaded "n" word. And, if you ask Baby J he would tell you that it is indeed torture.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">This is what 265 cupcakes look like all laid out on a table.</div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301595191324658850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2DTA5RrHQ_nRNX8vAeOQs8O8fRbgki57nNCP8es4OAjOyg9aE2cB9mdUVluGRwpXiPvsXD1XbkL0L7TOs_LMMU3T3YpPIAYsfIy3j1N2R4NlFSKw_FijcDwEqTC52GI7RCE02jqm-ykA/s400/IMG_0474.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSpjvxuBDTYE4F685Xf_QLvlEDAO-ACoHsoXy-X86wOivIjWbY4z-MIrbmzGpB0LPwgXrswvC67yKFDhZ2aMfgNMBMyXpH4xwAiXF-53xJ5jrox50lDinu3QlDip4cGbW9M1rIv8Hhq5k/s1600-h/IMG_0476.JPG"></a><br />This is what a 17 month old looks like after being told, "No, no. You can't have the cupcakes."<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQionN36310v686JdDFrjFGzBu8z_-1M3lJDQQunfFsk45r4DDWVMmfmj31c8Op4MQWmu8jiWTshlTb3ROmhcv-P51xHjAl-c8VlE3LMlSAXpKCTtbertH1v8ZU4ZodAwkqR8pzC9ruvA/s1600-h/IMG_0475.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301595191425122658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQionN36310v686JdDFrjFGzBu8z_-1M3lJDQQunfFsk45r4DDWVMmfmj31c8Op4MQWmu8jiWTshlTb3ROmhcv-P51xHjAl-c8VlE3LMlSAXpKCTtbertH1v8ZU4ZodAwkqR8pzC9ruvA/s400/IMG_0475.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This is what happens the very minute that Mommy turns her back.<br /><div> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301595196809323538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdp0ehzon4rfk8bFOgatKWJcif3Hus0z3YZJ7yxm0Pb8gLymFWC5RrAHbVpvmlzCqDlueyuVEwMoW9MVNrM0LnspCPOf0i-M1prArhapeNpjXDsbVcRdv596Oa-iI830CyfBKGnl-lqk/s400/IMG_0477.JPG" border="0" />Good thing there were extras.</div><div>I'll let him finish it later.<br /><div> </div></div></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-44758722160005514632009-02-09T16:38:00.004-06:002009-02-10T16:08:41.974-06:00Christmas Day (Catch-Up #2)<div align="left">Christmas morning began rather calmly. I woke up, went into the kitchen, put the breakfast casserole in the oven (all without waking CarlDog, who was asleep on the sofa), and waited. I didn't really have to wait very long, as my nephews are early risers ( a trait I have successfully trained out of my children). I then began the task of keeping them fairly quiet until the rest of the kids woke up. It didn't take long, and I want you to know that those kids waited very patiently to open their presents until all were assembled in the living room.</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbseG3n5Mwv8X_i59e94dR57s8tZIxS0kuEszVdmW6cZEsuUz4ibZUpIPhLFpfQFxSyekmm4hnEJ8WIXJDE6kGazmzhXgjLl-3c6dbDE4Mk8VMy5GBk9OkoyVQau5rDUdfP6aLOSiAhPs/s1600-h/IMG_9036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932859369186754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbseG3n5Mwv8X_i59e94dR57s8tZIxS0kuEszVdmW6cZEsuUz4ibZUpIPhLFpfQFxSyekmm4hnEJ8WIXJDE6kGazmzhXgjLl-3c6dbDE4Mk8VMy5GBk9OkoyVQau5rDUdfP6aLOSiAhPs/s400/IMG_9036.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here the 5 older grandkids wait patiently for the adults to assemble...with Bohemian being the last one up.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lfjMbpwtn0M3JwfmmCPrOcz9exVWjmzO6b9jKOJA8M30OScgCARSLRh6mPmyDJ4G63y2MT-RM3eModD3tvEfZm5xL5Vk_6fp8OM9BICiWWvxrNtTsH8KsXnrJ8M7KHNavrUl18eWgXY/s1600-h/IMG_9044.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932860447395154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lfjMbpwtn0M3JwfmmCPrOcz9exVWjmzO6b9jKOJA8M30OScgCARSLRh6mPmyDJ4G63y2MT-RM3eModD3tvEfZm5xL5Vk_6fp8OM9BICiWWvxrNtTsH8KsXnrJ8M7KHNavrUl18eWgXY/s400/IMG_9044.JPG" border="0" /></a> Then chaos ensued.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOo4tne4oeeYXS2o3MUGTgurSp1H5mXTkOGqGjk7br0uZ4OVuEWFNfrb6sf12ANtzoc63AjGNMc45biz6SFDLxggAhsMnDb0rebmYt56gdSXdSOY7Dsv94DrLUnKVr12WlZC9TpNwQ68/s1600-h/IMG_9048.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932852383460626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOo4tne4oeeYXS2o3MUGTgurSp1H5mXTkOGqGjk7br0uZ4OVuEWFNfrb6sf12ANtzoc63AjGNMc45biz6SFDLxggAhsMnDb0rebmYt56gdSXdSOY7Dsv94DrLUnKVr12WlZC9TpNwQ68/s400/IMG_9048.JPG" border="0" /></a> I didn't manage to get very many pictures of the kids opening their gifts, as they were all to excited and moving faster than even my SLR digital could comprehend. Plus, I have decided that I like to watch the proceedings without a camera lens between me and the action. Baby J wasn't too sure about all the hubbub, but of one thing he was sure...He now had a ball.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRa8SsRqzYR-uQHiiKpXvCogETb5qnUF1utqCpYrQZWUNdJm2jihApkbD8u6q9znjqiRE8Vw6eLsAd9G5qtw0SDua4ommJPaJxvQbS4ntfAt24O9AAgehE9L7LqKaw9Bw_6dJg3eR4jaY/s1600-h/IMG_9050.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932023699877202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRa8SsRqzYR-uQHiiKpXvCogETb5qnUF1utqCpYrQZWUNdJm2jihApkbD8u6q9znjqiRE8Vw6eLsAd9G5qtw0SDua4ommJPaJxvQbS4ntfAt24O9AAgehE9L7LqKaw9Bw_6dJg3eR4jaY/s400/IMG_9050.JPG" border="0" /></a> I had to include this picture, because very seldom did we see Baby J and Lil' Spitfire sitting next to each other where one or both were not yelling and/or screaming at the other. We're not too worried as Warrior and Mr. Goldencurls couldn't get along at one time either, and now can't wait to play together.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnohZUNd92BmtFrH4_itMZg1yQblHJmpb6JhpkMhbrEfwTHdsP_IQSJNFkvwEuIBMQxTlib1cHb5LMzRWdl2HnFRzOp8FoaPxMv4QNojr-fr8o_76IdI7Idf4sUN8Bybbff4vIKIPuihg/s1600-h/IMG_9057.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932021882988962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnohZUNd92BmtFrH4_itMZg1yQblHJmpb6JhpkMhbrEfwTHdsP_IQSJNFkvwEuIBMQxTlib1cHb5LMzRWdl2HnFRzOp8FoaPxMv4QNojr-fr8o_76IdI7Idf4sUN8Bybbff4vIKIPuihg/s400/IMG_9057.JPG" border="0" /></a> It didn't take Baby J long to figure out how to use that Batman sword. Bonus: it makes noise (Bonus for Momma: it has an off switch)<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zZMgFmvC0LThZUuxBKy7vn1o9He47XmAlZ2764PUsm6QRDpJ2K7p7s6cZtNDBl64P5ik7KKm1aK72whaJpqhYjAHBEtu3zNZBKJ6kTKoc1Rui2qTZAmAWTvRdWa6I34jyxUdIc1VBzA/s1600-h/IMG_9059.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932018474427874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zZMgFmvC0LThZUuxBKy7vn1o9He47XmAlZ2764PUsm6QRDpJ2K7p7s6cZtNDBl64P5ik7KKm1aK72whaJpqhYjAHBEtu3zNZBKJ6kTKoc1Rui2qTZAmAWTvRdWa6I34jyxUdIc1VBzA/s400/IMG_9059.JPG" border="0" /></a> Now, I know you are wondering why there is a picture of all the ladies in the house, and the grandkids sitting on top of a big lump. Well, the thing is...my baby brother is a huge night owl. Remember how we played Wii after the kids went to bed. Around 1 am those of us with a working knowledge of clocks and time, went to bed. Bohemian and Carldog...well they were still playing when I woke up at 4 am because of one of my children getting sick in their bed (Poor Warrior ended up with a stomach bug on Christmas day. The rest of us had it a couple days later). After the festivities of the gifts, Bohemian decided that he needed to take a nap. Well, Busybee and I decided that he needed to be up to help coral all the children so that all of the adults could get ready and could get the kids ready before the rest of the family arrived. So, being the thoughtful wife and sister that we are, we recruited the children to come and jump on their Uncle/Papa until he got up. Of course, we couldn't let them have all the fun, and did a little bit of jumping, tickling, and pestering ourselves; and my loving mother, of course, felt it incumbent upon her to also help.<br /><br />Eventually we got him to this position, and called it good.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif96J0sX4GjqtohztGbqngTUzZVl8mAclSex8EEVwPn_zYpqV4bb6GeqMfmTv6m1LVkGAEYMjPWTV7fGCWIN2rp-1Uy0spei9GSu-zLc_4-cfur7_WUAI-3Yej1jrHIg_KZR0UWtSeQm8/s1600-h/IMG_9061.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300932008266447314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif96J0sX4GjqtohztGbqngTUzZVl8mAclSex8EEVwPn_zYpqV4bb6GeqMfmTv6m1LVkGAEYMjPWTV7fGCWIN2rp-1Uy0spei9GSu-zLc_4-cfur7_WUAI-3Yej1jrHIg_KZR0UWtSeQm8/s400/IMG_9061.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Now every year, since I can remember, we get up on Christmas morning, open our gifts, get ready, get in the car, and drive a minimum of 2 hours to my Grandparents' home. It is something I always enjoyed. However, this year my parents and grandparents wisely decided that it would be easier for my Grandparents to drive the two hours, than it would be for our family of 13 to pack up and travel. (Yes, 13 people in my parents 1900 square foot house. 7 adults, 6 children all 8 years old and under, and 5 dogs. It was fun. Honestly.) </div><div> </div><div>Now, most people would panic at the thought of suddenly having to cook Christmas dinner for 20+ people (my Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and their offspring came later), but I have this little demented side. I think I could kick Martha Stewart's uppity little tush when it comes to entertaining. It may not be as fancy and formal, but the food will be good, the company entertaining, and I won't be rushing you out the door. I love to have people over, and if it involves a really complicated timetable...Bring It On. So, with help from my Mother and Sister we got dinner served, a little late but served none the less. We opened a few more presents, and generally had a wonderful visit with our family.</div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-31222891107335473312009-02-09T15:57:00.005-06:002009-02-09T16:38:40.413-06:00Christmas Eve (Catch-Up #1)In our family Christmas Eve is called Dad's Birthday. The only thing for which my Father asks is that his family be there to eat dinner with him. However, because my brother, Bohemian, is a Youth Minister, it can be difficult to get us all there on that day as Bohemian usually has Christmas Eve services at his church. For some reason churches expect their ministers to be at the church when they have services. Go figure. I digress. I also got off subject. So, we all managed to be there this year, and it was way fun. <br /><br />I spent all day cooking for Christmas day, and my fantastic Mother and Sis-n-Law, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BusyBee</span>, spent the day helping me and keeping the kids and dogs out from underneath my feet. The kids played, the adults visited, and pretty much a good time was had by all.<br /><br />After dinner, but before bed time, we allow the kids to open one present...that present is (drum roll) <strong>pajamas.</strong> And believe it or not, it is actually a present that they kids look forward to getting. Then of course we have to put them on the couch for that all too important group photo of the grandchildren. After 15 or 20 (million) attempts at getting all 6 of them to look in the general direction of the camera, we will manage to get at least one passable picture. <br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcxIYOKFj7c_W0nCx9e9FoMvij5vdLtQLWLBFwGwXUA5eUd7ThThrSR4-uIab3XpG4GNa0A06eGBC7oy0PlwDsnMrK6YvulFxH8eQvryhJR-Aaty80dcd0LnWYoTSOftLkuWsfBOutn1w/s1600-h/IMG_8988.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300925280790055874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcxIYOKFj7c_W0nCx9e9FoMvij5vdLtQLWLBFwGwXUA5eUd7ThThrSR4-uIab3XpG4GNa0A06eGBC7oy0PlwDsnMrK6YvulFxH8eQvryhJR-Aaty80dcd0LnWYoTSOftLkuWsfBOutn1w/s320/IMG_8988.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here they are! Aren't they cute?</div><div align="center">Lil' Spitfire, Professor, Baby J, Warrior, Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Goldencurls</span>, and Princess</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9rDsB28XueDNse4cJzLeSkqb0hzQquezuD3ls5NGceA_h-GZyG_hCelrIj0n6XNVHITv81hijBuDjBWcvYedB8R0BsPzIM56H5c70364Kv_iOkaEI2syFMZrO9IidU8zTAHwFtizIaw/s1600-h/IMG_8994.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300925282143172418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz9rDsB28XueDNse4cJzLeSkqb0hzQquezuD3ls5NGceA_h-GZyG_hCelrIj0n6XNVHITv81hijBuDjBWcvYedB8R0BsPzIM56H5c70364Kv_iOkaEI2syFMZrO9IidU8zTAHwFtizIaw/s320/IMG_8994.JPG" border="0" /></a> And being the very sophisticated family that we are, we had to get a picture of all of them sticking their tongues out. Because we are very proud parents.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><br />Now, all the kids got really cute pj's, but I think that Baby J's took the cake.</div><div align="center">Nana-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">nana</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">nana</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">nana</span>. Nana-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">nana</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">nana</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">nana</span>. Batman!<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJBPVXQJLpE3e9TBN9t4eUUL4AYKrI99BGX2oRwcjwaJO_rQQ3gXLNDCpLVoa_nQ2GZHHZxMd-Ecv4Kk2Po3cICEPTskqUtyQkCwk0lgzirgn-oo7rWq7XZMEAmewbIEqkN2cq662mpk/s1600-h/IMG_9000.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300925273492089266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifJBPVXQJLpE3e9TBN9t4eUUL4AYKrI99BGX2oRwcjwaJO_rQQ3gXLNDCpLVoa_nQ2GZHHZxMd-Ecv4Kk2Po3cICEPTskqUtyQkCwk0lgzirgn-oo7rWq7XZMEAmewbIEqkN2cq662mpk/s320/IMG_9000.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />complete with cape!</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLZXS3kQQrhvv1gU2FVA893LJHG3fgMtCtJoAFoxV4NDtxj45jOT-Bbgl-grPtK1xz8W-xFW8i7Tcd4NwNAf1T7Gu-R6I8VEh1LMRXhCHhuu2Jjy3v4Wuul7ODwXPfw68i1psNUY2Xlo/s1600-h/IMG_9001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300923985436200114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLZXS3kQQrhvv1gU2FVA893LJHG3fgMtCtJoAFoxV4NDtxj45jOT-Bbgl-grPtK1xz8W-xFW8i7Tcd4NwNAf1T7Gu-R6I8VEh1LMRXhCHhuu2Jjy3v4Wuul7ODwXPfw68i1psNUY2Xlo/s320/IMG_9001.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Now, of course, after all the frivolity of getting to open presents, and getting to change into new pajamas, the kids are very calm and ready for bed. And everyone who believes that...we now know you do not have children.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSTn7y4zXYT_Ab7REKzdQPB2QBmguICalib15aoaTZxrN29L2Snza6cULOFH-m9DEmkQbgp6r0-dc_zfw6SnIFjgDCjftT8DyTZ1o9BRJqhWkIzjh8FcsPovIx-kWVGpljtiQfsmmwsGU/s1600-h/IMG_9006.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300923978353607042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSTn7y4zXYT_Ab7REKzdQPB2QBmguICalib15aoaTZxrN29L2Snza6cULOFH-m9DEmkQbgp6r0-dc_zfw6SnIFjgDCjftT8DyTZ1o9BRJqhWkIzjh8FcsPovIx-kWVGpljtiQfsmmwsGU/s320/IMG_9006.JPG" border="0" /></a> How many <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">grandkids</span> can you fit into an expandable ball? The world may never know, but you can fit 4 into this one.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHF2qNeKQQ3gXBjlph_NofkM89k5ByS80xdaucMTDmPmE4Jsgj1_VREpVUowwBbmFKRA9cbo4imVYQFVI54ZFpNS8EIUKH-HBAYgZOfc4wtO6A4xeIgUQtGAlWb-wmbnEwbUpnV7Xbxw/s1600-h/IMG_9022.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300923976340342706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPHF2qNeKQQ3gXBjlph_NofkM89k5ByS80xdaucMTDmPmE4Jsgj1_VREpVUowwBbmFKRA9cbo4imVYQFVI54ZFpNS8EIUKH-HBAYgZOfc4wtO6A4xeIgUQtGAlWb-wmbnEwbUpnV7Xbxw/s320/IMG_9022.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here Professor and Baby J "help" <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">CarlDog</span> work on his computer. For those of you who do not know, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">CarlDog</span> is my adopted brother. Not legally, but who needs papers when your family!?<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsiHnh-8l289aPC150sUaB7JW6Q23w3UgPL8WRni-mLJG5TENr05B1Hww-nXc0TEMMHXUNqsxFq70VgNxHIEeITGcdnbHDmY33nUUGLR8ohyClRZsabtZYBVf9dkos3mxzomVKdI7lds/s1600-h/IMG_9023.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300923971425328962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBsiHnh-8l289aPC150sUaB7JW6Q23w3UgPL8WRni-mLJG5TENr05B1Hww-nXc0TEMMHXUNqsxFq70VgNxHIEeITGcdnbHDmY33nUUGLR8ohyClRZsabtZYBVf9dkos3mxzomVKdI7lds/s320/IMG_9023.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here Grandpa and Mr. Cash <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Pugface</span> try to help Mr. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Goldencurls</span> calm down for bed. Mr. Cash was a new addition to our family this year...he made himself right at home...and what's more we all loved him.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Now being the wonderful grandparents, parents, aunts, and uncles that we are we did play <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Wii</span>...<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0SEC2BR_GzRi6JlnpJDbMYj6VnIDvrEVWHM1BjFHgCf9Y6M4X56uZAdLsPMcJPzJLSbyMxsTo3Hkfyca0_g7SOHDchsi9ZZADtmis3I3Cug9JF8tcxbsAoRjMBj3fvSoDEFy1T5MYnc/s1600-h/IMG_9033.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300923969787262898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ0SEC2BR_GzRi6JlnpJDbMYj6VnIDvrEVWHM1BjFHgCf9Y6M4X56uZAdLsPMcJPzJLSbyMxsTo3Hkfyca0_g7SOHDchsi9ZZADtmis3I3Cug9JF8tcxbsAoRjMBj3fvSoDEFy1T5MYnc/s320/IMG_9033.JPG" border="0" /></a> After the kids went to bed.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-80233421924035425162009-02-06T16:25:00.005-06:002009-02-06T16:50:52.655-06:00The Sweetest Words<div align="center">The sweetest words in all the world are</div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>"I u u"</strong></span></div><div align="center">Especially when spoken by this face.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAbDuZi6koHBHdVfHq4hE3mHvM81Btn-zpiUqpni6JO6AQFfd-GPekxA1dWHyKxJLi93UzyDdV3CVaRjDcDpmDMkhREgKbTH094mr2UwkAfLoxGB5-a7m40hvC9hKLnCZJTdkxIqLGuE/s1600-h/IMG_0464.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299819966105435906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAbDuZi6koHBHdVfHq4hE3mHvM81Btn-zpiUqpni6JO6AQFfd-GPekxA1dWHyKxJLi93UzyDdV3CVaRjDcDpmDMkhREgKbTH094mr2UwkAfLoxGB5-a7m40hvC9hKLnCZJTdkxIqLGuE/s400/IMG_0464.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />For those of you who do not speak toddler, he said</div><div align="center">"I Love You"<br /><br /><br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-20778990737141158782009-02-06T11:24:00.006-06:002009-02-06T11:42:04.233-06:00I'm a Goober!!!<div align="center"> I Sooooooooo want this book!!!<br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCszRKf8zlxJxh93naAMve5fdQSDQdvmM8n6BvVq2CyH1gbSj8YeJUjoAvNLte8vcoBaRACY6ZCQK2kVXwsIVQZt4QLoq71ZXvXcUZIWELSshl63lNGMjvZiCLa-hIQovWkFDXN8epYQ/s1600-h/piggy1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299737584311049682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcCszRKf8zlxJxh93naAMve5fdQSDQdvmM8n6BvVq2CyH1gbSj8YeJUjoAvNLte8vcoBaRACY6ZCQK2kVXwsIVQZt4QLoq71ZXvXcUZIWELSshl63lNGMjvZiCLa-hIQovWkFDXN8epYQ/s400/piggy1.jpg" border="0" /></a> I am a true goober, because I am (and have been for as long as I can remember) a Miss Piggy fan. Maybe it's because she remindes me so much of ...well, me. She is demanding, vivacious, bossy to the point of irritating, she eats like a...well, a pig, and she can drop kick the nearest person/frog/muppet who happens to tick her off. Plus, unlike me, she manages to be all those things with style and every hair in place. Okay, so I'm not all of those things overtly, after all I have to live in polite society. But...I still want this book.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Then after I went to Barnes and Noble.com to find out how much it was and if it was in stock, I found these.</div><div align="center"><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299737774182270402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDW3bU8s3WWgkzczRqLUJ_K6Rgd13_mkjn6q6la0hv_SUf-XUTu3exqQ6KeD_xgvZMIu9Mu6Q9JDb6rg8sU_ahyhOugdEgHjA7gmQuAO7Ak_MM8OXEOkAkMHHzbucjBhVuNmfE6Vqvfng/s400/piggy2.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299737777162498562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHwrQjXsL365G3ZNqoqWrus-XYnSgu1bawi1j2pOc2YmFEPaygkJIidxJ3wswG481QovZf08pnkPVie_VgLYtG_iz-VRg43gFeiiET6joT8iQSbNPcOkrEimYr_dNsh3FuhCrTvPs9ltY/s400/piggy3.jpg" border="0" /> <p align="center">Wouldn't these make a great addition to my library? I mean who needs Bronte, Melville, or Austin...Bring on the Pig.<br /></p><div align="center"></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-75540734146048045322009-01-24T00:43:00.003-06:002009-01-24T00:48:21.762-06:00Oh, there you are...<div align="center">I have just found my way back to my computer. As I have not had any time to actually sit down and write a post, I have been keeping up with friends and family the old fashioned way...the phone. You see I have Blocked Writers Syndrome; not writers block, as that would mean that I have nothing to say, and that is never the case. I mean Blocked Writer's Syndrome; I can't seem to get to the computer to use it for more than a couple of minutes. I have so many things rolling around in my little head just waiting to be published, and I assure you they are going to be worth the minutes and minutes you are going to be wating with bated breath to read. </div><br /><div align="center">So, just be patient with me because it is late and I am going to bed, because I think it has forgotten who I am.</div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-51534634221598911892009-01-06T14:36:00.003-06:002009-01-06T14:39:42.236-06:00Okay, okay...So, over the Christmas Holiday I sent out Christmas cards and told everyone to "keep up with us on my blog" However, if you will look at the date on my last post it has now been one month since I posted. Can anyone say slacker? Well, hopefully things will slow down soon, since Rock has started Tax Season, and we are back in the swing of school. Believe it or not, I have ideas for several posts, and am wanting to share more day to day and home school stuff. In the mean time (or is it meen time?), if you want to read someone who consistently posts either check out Monks Wife or Virginia Guthries and you will have more than enough to read.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-11114496146260110942008-12-06T06:00:00.000-06:002008-12-06T06:00:00.554-06:00What's Wrong With This Picture?<div align="center">Other than the fact that my baby wants to sit in a big boy chair.</div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIOoA8d2yXn64HrkY8HVjlNdwPTPlbGWfm6KqLcv6iEISkDmXT6YvM5HRr681_Wfm0akphsbuFiB-fbUmWkEtxgrXIQPA3BTzn1kz4YF9Hxw9DrW7sTGpB-nseBTRsIhuiGEUvxFK0jSQ/s1600-h/IMG_8816.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275573951352442978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIOoA8d2yXn64HrkY8HVjlNdwPTPlbGWfm6KqLcv6iEISkDmXT6YvM5HRr681_Wfm0akphsbuFiB-fbUmWkEtxgrXIQPA3BTzn1kz4YF9Hxw9DrW7sTGpB-nseBTRsIhuiGEUvxFK0jSQ/s400/IMG_8816.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-12547553978241077762008-12-04T06:00:00.000-06:002008-12-04T06:00:00.161-06:00Extreme Fieldtripping<div align="center">While to most kids <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">field trips</span> are becoming a thing of the past, to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">homeschoolers</span> they are very real and happen quite often, or when Mom can manage. I have been trying to get a trip to the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">fire department</span> planned for quite a while. However, due to time restraints, scheduling conflicts, and just plain confusion it hadn't happened. Then on Thanksgiving Day the kids and I got an awesome gift. </div><br /><div align="center">My cousin, J.B., is a fireman with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tahlequah</span> (Pronounced "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Tal</span> a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Kwa</span>") Fire Department in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Tahlequah</span>, OK. He told us to come by the station after we had eaten. We didn't tell the kids until we were getting ready to walk out the door. They were so excited, but this trip was well worth it.</div><br /><div align="center">When we got to the station J.B. let the kids simply wander around. They were in awe of all of the different trucks, hoses, tubes, ladders, etc. Although, I was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">disappointed</span> that there was no fire pole. J.B. told me he was also disappointed, but said he tries to not let it affect his job.</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Here the kids are climbing all around one of the trucks.</div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6ht515xrrTTEhsvKzEfIOAQLY7T4a6IC_K5lNf9OmFITnjP8kQO3vU8ETQJEvNxSOUSwV8npM-anMoYu8hP6wcQu-LMqtj_LcqaLuk7D957eiYr2GluhcKrKLxfhZWY163Dt0k54z34/s1600-h/IMG_2399.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412997108529074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy6ht515xrrTTEhsvKzEfIOAQLY7T4a6IC_K5lNf9OmFITnjP8kQO3vU8ETQJEvNxSOUSwV8npM-anMoYu8hP6wcQu-LMqtj_LcqaLuk7D957eiYr2GluhcKrKLxfhZWY163Dt0k54z34/s320/IMG_2399.JPG" border="0" /></a> Then of course they had to try on a real fire helmet<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zGrbx-FGRsaJE-Hp1O5kYurk1suIPu29PqjM-5Fq76hoBSpLOHGNuCo3BClN6toADOlSN0FXceSnD4UJaeSZygEurEv3A8SUuJZGIl2cuXMpHl0R3xO_puYuksoCqPYXKp6NTs2RQaE/s1600-h/IMG_2401.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412990224193282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6zGrbx-FGRsaJE-Hp1O5kYurk1suIPu29PqjM-5Fq76hoBSpLOHGNuCo3BClN6toADOlSN0FXceSnD4UJaeSZygEurEv3A8SUuJZGIl2cuXMpHl0R3xO_puYuksoCqPYXKp6NTs2RQaE/s320/IMG_2401.JPG" border="0" /></a> Warrior<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEemODi0fWYtOgqrKlYMJbSETexQ9L_vzJEoHV6CAB92CR-EwLIqROXKbmdB9VpEadd21Z0xZgayK9FeWXGfNN_kXYGIyg6nK0cwntAwVarWD_KGxy3ANVST1YCBzgD-LZvAGKEXEKN_o/s1600-h/IMG_2403.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412986364951922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEemODi0fWYtOgqrKlYMJbSETexQ9L_vzJEoHV6CAB92CR-EwLIqROXKbmdB9VpEadd21Z0xZgayK9FeWXGfNN_kXYGIyg6nK0cwntAwVarWD_KGxy3ANVST1YCBzgD-LZvAGKEXEKN_o/s320/IMG_2403.JPG" border="0" /></a></div><div> Professor</div><div> </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412981146625650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9n8SLvaPHmqAOpMeqfyKbCnBcohVgeRzRqLkg2rnddC1ffqkvhR4cR2o2UJs_RQBv8imI4JSg1pqh0yGoc0iPdfJuxztwGFAYkPKuq_qb0Yfo6S_n-GITmeTHSYiT79ROHhuZ_O5W89Q/s320/IMG_2409.JPG" border="0" />Princess<br /><br />Then they all got their own hats.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vOyizLQNFRgeFORMOS_EELHlUaTHkd2QCjSdiQAGnSDU-b-Wohyik8y8AyP7-0KAHqCc8wSK51PNyXilCgKqzmoBE92duBNCl118owYozuYd-imNvdpqjTsJCiDaD6C490LGFUOT7Bs/s1600-h/IMG_2407.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412984294248226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4vOyizLQNFRgeFORMOS_EELHlUaTHkd2QCjSdiQAGnSDU-b-Wohyik8y8AyP7-0KAHqCc8wSK51PNyXilCgKqzmoBE92duBNCl118owYozuYd-imNvdpqjTsJCiDaD6C490LGFUOT7Bs/s320/IMG_2407.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412279564413922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbliU2llyGUsRaBug_sbfNQgkGwL7qdecH0HOvEyxIECSR8htk2sUsWlUEIP2iQxCY7hlsMEs1Vg61Zuj3pNXDLLT4Im3C1eD8YI6vJLNB2l1Ke24GTR7wt33cZKZ51lGzbI8jKLWmG8/s320/IMG_2426.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Then J.B. pulled one of the trucks out of the garage/bay, and the fun really began. He let the kids run the sirens. They got to open doors, touch equipment, pull on hoses, and ask more questions than one adult could keep up with, but J.B. did pretty well. And to top it all off, J.B. took the kids for a ride around the block in the truck. How cool is that?<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_E1FJhhEQcQkuwKkkLuMeLATTGucV41OCTicbP5tV_58yR9A50zeERR2Amn1hgQ52q7tsAzKev6Wc8jHQ3d1bIvRYmDZ2G56NYy5nKWr3UG1LgqVQVQCeLUJFB6CM-K41hHDMENT6yWI/s1600-h/IMG_2423.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412287360322050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_E1FJhhEQcQkuwKkkLuMeLATTGucV41OCTicbP5tV_58yR9A50zeERR2Amn1hgQ52q7tsAzKev6Wc8jHQ3d1bIvRYmDZ2G56NYy5nKWr3UG1LgqVQVQCeLUJFB6CM-K41hHDMENT6yWI/s320/IMG_2423.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here Professor and Warrior are buckled in with one of their cousins to take that ride.<br /><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_P9EnsSeyReFtSckr7hSt508ddko13Ekqhev8nRsoapsbzBwPyjtVmMDNj6yrR916OOTM2mO2-FetqCOBrMTsXJNlWdLIYA95tDlSZHfTvplGVfHUYchAp_OtwnbMbjIDjVk3soWal7A/s1600-h/IMG_2429.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412276293905330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_P9EnsSeyReFtSckr7hSt508ddko13Ekqhev8nRsoapsbzBwPyjtVmMDNj6yrR916OOTM2mO2-FetqCOBrMTsXJNlWdLIYA95tDlSZHfTvplGVfHUYchAp_OtwnbMbjIDjVk3soWal7A/s320/IMG_2429.JPG" border="0" /></a> One really funny thing was that Professor was completely fascinated by the windows in the truck. They rolled up and down using a handle instead of a button (ugh! How old am I?).<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0q06adwFMDjqX5xnFYvF65iptMPVK1T8e_kDVmGUdkwXX8fj5z8pRZ6drO2tvRAvTdM2yV5YLvWSb0xDRAJMBQClTy74rr4rUQFcNRRahTZ8Bf43McvXGxmk8G-MgLiRt8pN9iFYBOM/s1600-h/IMG_2431.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412272537716050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS0q06adwFMDjqX5xnFYvF65iptMPVK1T8e_kDVmGUdkwXX8fj5z8pRZ6drO2tvRAvTdM2yV5YLvWSb0xDRAJMBQClTy74rr4rUQFcNRRahTZ8Bf43McvXGxmk8G-MgLiRt8pN9iFYBOM/s320/IMG_2431.JPG" border="0" /></a> Baby J got to participate, too. Although, he was content to do it from the safety of Rock's arms.<br /><br />We did put J.B's first aid skills to the test when Professor shut his thumb in the door of the truck. Praise God it was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">equipped</span> with a safety feature that keeps the door from being able to pinch the finger off. Professor got off with a sore skinned thumb.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuqDKratK47r7oe2n3favP_dLnSYp8ZYRet0mL0Sn6IVhoK8HKY7cDC9T0nKs5u25H2KeGlrJrQJ4b9DN8t9KYyhm4fLJS0d6m1RAs2SkBOL3xOnOGT6ZNYtgcYsjBQfgBnwJnHNh1t4/s1600-h/IMG_2433.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275412261918247042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiuqDKratK47r7oe2n3favP_dLnSYp8ZYRet0mL0Sn6IVhoK8HKY7cDC9T0nKs5u25H2KeGlrJrQJ4b9DN8t9KYyhm4fLJS0d6m1RAs2SkBOL3xOnOGT6ZNYtgcYsjBQfgBnwJnHNh1t4/s320/IMG_2433.JPG" border="0" /></a>Here are all the kids with J.B. For that day he was the "Best Cousin EVER!"<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeStj61kwJLsVoWW0xhl0ufTXkjVkP9i3-SY3coq9O3NrTOk1f73LgqIRspcrlLhPinTD-yd7-4Rf5A3-7YgxoH3VCW6AFdJNnvMMW-VIVgh2N93mWQSM47T8LGRYTWAnjh30P4TPaOO8/s1600-h/IMG_2440.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275411719482956354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeStj61kwJLsVoWW0xhl0ufTXkjVkP9i3-SY3coq9O3NrTOk1f73LgqIRspcrlLhPinTD-yd7-4Rf5A3-7YgxoH3VCW6AFdJNnvMMW-VIVgh2N93mWQSM47T8LGRYTWAnjh30P4TPaOO8/s400/IMG_2440.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Before we left we had to check out the antique truck from 1901. It is still in working condition, although J.B. said it is an all day event to get it started. This truck was also featured in the movie "Where the Red Fern Grows," which was filmed in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Tahlequah</span>.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezqCFFQ8JpJr_SMmUHW0FmjEd-LESDd-hoxcXE8R83kQY0Ws2GdKr7W7fccvMo5v869AwPdnMaGHJNVGtWwyKeQqUpyD0SQ3FyCNZf0wgqWJZbS0QkQD1czUw36iye3LSR0qVOgJ2BxM/s1600-h/IMG_2445.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275411143865589346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezqCFFQ8JpJr_SMmUHW0FmjEd-LESDd-hoxcXE8R83kQY0Ws2GdKr7W7fccvMo5v869AwPdnMaGHJNVGtWwyKeQqUpyD0SQ3FyCNZf0wgqWJZbS0QkQD1czUw36iye3LSR0qVOgJ2BxM/s320/IMG_2445.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguo4Hf15CZjzlux8BkukbMQvMN8wG4uHrMAsf-CkCRrRzUV3SO9haR_o9FxspL6QgsYeJdrKgWx9Lm4hNcLWkHB3zDVNwz4Et3hU54t2aI243Ok1F93emAqpF8yCnbyMl-EKiJLdbNQTU/s1600-h/IMG_2451.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275411120529165586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguo4Hf15CZjzlux8BkukbMQvMN8wG4uHrMAsf-CkCRrRzUV3SO9haR_o9FxspL6QgsYeJdrKgWx9Lm4hNcLWkHB3zDVNwz4Et3hU54t2aI243Ok1F93emAqpF8yCnbyMl-EKiJLdbNQTU/s320/IMG_2451.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUmFfbRjVbKbLDBgbsR4k-TTYXkDaa3tcp-eZ2HjSz9-wpevglmWpMWB8_IOhqGXczwF8hMZw_2e_C2ZjBrWzssb0Rii5pQxTyNYVF_-O1U4EDId8IStMaEDZTN0CBrLFZhDKrfKGyEY/s1600-h/IMG_2454.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275411101558409458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUmFfbRjVbKbLDBgbsR4k-TTYXkDaa3tcp-eZ2HjSz9-wpevglmWpMWB8_IOhqGXczwF8hMZw_2e_C2ZjBrWzssb0Rii5pQxTyNYVF_-O1U4EDId8IStMaEDZTN0CBrLFZhDKrfKGyEY/s320/IMG_2454.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Here are my Mom and Dad with Princess on the truck. My Mom grew up in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Tahlequah</span>, and my Dad met her while they were both attending Northeastern State University which is in town.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vToNdrkJachS4Qnu7_Bv7p2kx_tVqPTwXPz4mpYxoY9df97KDqIB2EiXjQA_Oq7opoRh4XulQ7GI6Jr4o8gw8L6HbXYZLDkRbfFGGrNncYF2YXsoK521hc8Xoow_dh5OPRXa_hANNGY/s1600-h/IMG_2458.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275411077449285650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8vToNdrkJachS4Qnu7_Bv7p2kx_tVqPTwXPz4mpYxoY9df97KDqIB2EiXjQA_Oq7opoRh4XulQ7GI6Jr4o8gw8L6HbXYZLDkRbfFGGrNncYF2YXsoK521hc8Xoow_dh5OPRXa_hANNGY/s320/IMG_2458.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div><p align="center">All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good day, and what a terrific adventure! </p><p align="center">Thank You J.B. and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Tahlequah</span> Fire Department! Keep up the good work!</p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-46764755095623780002008-12-03T13:00:00.001-06:002008-12-03T13:00:00.276-06:00Our Princess<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznboinZr2O76BmyuMKlWqcwXfdFLGT9SnrHiKxi_tLlSRYQQfUpcQhG35et3q9zvsNJ_pkYyBOXpvwXlGqevn4gJfuEfRrQIbybsyPPoFerw6sHsWkUXruTbO2rolEuU2iSCdV6l3WT8/s1600-h/IMG_8811.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275400305646280770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznboinZr2O76BmyuMKlWqcwXfdFLGT9SnrHiKxi_tLlSRYQQfUpcQhG35et3q9zvsNJ_pkYyBOXpvwXlGqevn4gJfuEfRrQIbybsyPPoFerw6sHsWkUXruTbO2rolEuU2iSCdV6l3WT8/s400/IMG_8811.JPG" border="0" /></a> Someday she is going to kill me for this.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UVMboitLrlGpOU5JM9xYyVvgAsrni7xrgcROeyvpHyLLwOeZIAuLfYH9yrNn8gEPQsVOhmGi9lbVQes85s8itpCKDYm8nW5U9gmquj85Gphf1tfyRJad07J4MlVtu_xvihjQOvjQol0/s1600-h/IMG_8809.JPG"></a><br />This is what happens when you let the kids use your camera.<br /></div>Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2134528197817336572.post-74520603991053349782008-12-02T15:42:00.003-06:002008-12-02T16:23:20.400-06:00Why I Love Gift CardsI come from a very pragmatic family when it comes to gift giving.<br />1. You don't give expensive gifts if you can't afford them.<br />2. You keep your personal feelings out of what you give someone (If he wants a singing fish and you can get it cheap, buy the stupid thing.).<br />3. The cheaper you can get the gift the better, and bragging about your bargain is totally acceptable; because that person should be completely impressed that you gave them exactly what they wanted and saved yourself money in the process.<br />4. Things that you have taken the time to make are always better than anything store bought no matter how inexpensive the materials.<br />5. Gift cards are absolutely okay to give. Especially if you didn't have time to make anything.<br /><br />Our family especially likes to give and get hand made gifts. One of my favorite gifts my sis-in-law, BusyBee, at <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5349807">The Beehive </a>gave me were some handmade paper Nutcracker Christmas Tree ornaments. She gave them because she and my brother were newlyweds, and she could make them cheap, but I think they are awesome (Plug: you can see many of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BusyBee's</span> handmade paper products at her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Etsy</span> store <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5349807">The Beehive</a>). I spent $15 my first Christmas I was married and made crocheted tree ornaments, and for the past few years I've had complaints that I haven't been giving ornaments. My Grandmother and Grandfather are always making awesome things for we grandchildren and the great-grandchildren, and we will fight over them, steal them, hide them, and try to get out the door with them even if they aren't ours.<br /><br />However, I also have to say that I love to get gift cards. Why? Well, it is simple really. It is money that is designated for shopping! It is a card that says, "You cannot spend me on groceries, car repairs, bills, or anything necessary. I must be spent on something you don't really need, but you have always wanted." As a mother of 4, I can tell you that a little guilt free shopping is always welcome, and it doesn't matter if it is a card for $5. I promise you that there is something that I will love that costs just that amount. This goes for my darling Sis-in-Law, BusyBee, who sells handmade paper products at her <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Etsy</span> store <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5349807">The Beehive </a>and takes special orders, who loves to get that Hobby Lobby gift card, and my Mother who loves to get that Sonic gift card. For me Creative Memories, Hobby Lobby or Barnes and Noble are winners.<br /><br />So just keep these ideas in mind when you are buying gifts. And did I mention that my wonderful Sis-in-Law, BusyBee has an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Etsy</span> shop, <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=5349807">The Beehive</a>, where you can buy many <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">pre-made</span> or special order handmade paper crafts and the link to her store is in my side bar. I'm just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">sayin</span>'.Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16412630107025581100noreply@blogger.com4