tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69454401511507454182024-02-18T21:36:54.524-05:00Dreams of a Country GirlCity Girl Blooms . . . Country Girl RootsDreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.comBlogger995125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-11619210540231480902016-06-01T10:18:00.002-04:002016-06-01T10:43:57.682-04:00The Last Times<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
You have graduated. </div>
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GRADUATED! </div>
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And all I can do is see this...</div>
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When did we exchange Cinderella party hats for graduation hats? </div>
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WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN?</div>
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When was the last time you put on a party hat? The last time you believed when you blew out those candles your wish really would come true?</div>
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When was the last time I washed you hair? If I would have known it was the last time, I would not have been so hurried. I would have relished it. I would have slowed down. I would have just looked at you...a little longer.</div>
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I don't remember the last time I wiped your face. Or when I stopped carrying your diaper bag...when did you not need that anymore? I am certain I breathed a sigh of relief to not have to drag that bag around anymore. If I would have known it was the last time, I would have taken a little extra care in packing it. I would have wiped your face a little more gently. I would have kissed each cheek a little longer. If I would have known it was the last time..</div>
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When was the last time we carried you to bed? One day you were too big to carry. </div>
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WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN? </div>
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I cannot remember. </div>
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If I could go back I would have held you longer. Held you tighter. Sang you one more song. Snuggled 10 minutes longer. Given you that last drink of water. Watched you sleep all night. </div>
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If I would have know it was the last time...</div>
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Remember the Itsy Bitsy Spider? You sang it with Nana ALL THE TIME. Your little fingers were adorable. You loved to WASH the spider out. We would giggle. When was that last time we sang it? I am sure you asked....and I was busy. Did you just stop asking? I remember singing it SO much, but there was a last time....and I, for the life of me, cannot remember. </div>
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There was a last Trick or Treat...</div>
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A last time you asked me to hold you in the water because you were scared. </div>
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I want to hold you again. </div>
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I KNOW I said I wanted you independent so I could lay in a chair and read a book....but I never did that. </div>
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Holding you was better. </div>
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A million times better. </div>
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Remember how you use to wake us up at the crack of dawn? I just wanted to sleep! Now I cannot get YOU out of bed. Do you remember the last time you tip toed into my room and I pulled you up to snuggle? I don't. I wish I did. I wish I would have known it was the last time. I would have smelled your hair. And nuzzled your neck. And kissed your toes. I didn't know it was the last time. </div>
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I rushed it. I wanted to get to the next stage. Because it would be easier. I wished for...</div>
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all night sleeping</div>
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no diapers</div>
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no car seat</div>
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no babysitter</div>
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no baby.</div>
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And soon. You were there. Grown up.</div>
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And now that I watch you sitting on the couch this morning, texting your friends...oblivious to the last summer, I wonder when the last time will be....</div>
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the last time to sleep under my roof, </div>
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the last time you tell me what time you will be home</div>
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the last time you walk into my bedroom and tell me how your date went</div>
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the last time you will leave your stupid dirty dishes in the sink</div>
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the last time you will kiss me bye in front of your friends....</div>
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oh....how I hope I relish these last times. </div>
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This last summer.</div>
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Because soon you will have babies of your own. And a mortgage to pay. And decisions to make. A heartbreak to feel. And you will be grown up.</div>
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And one day...many years from now...you will look at me, and realize....this may be the last time. The last time we kiss. The last time we hold hands. The last time I tell you I love you...that you are more than enough. That one of my brightest days was when I saw your eyes that day at the zoo. One day will be our last time. And when that comes, I am so blessed that you are mine and I am yours and we spent so many last times of our lives together.</div>
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I love you.</div>
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Through all the last times.</div>
<br />Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-88916822718867000242014-10-03T22:56:00.002-04:002014-10-04T11:16:13.535-04:00What a Difference You've Made In My LifeI have always struggled with contentment. Once I reach a goal I am wondering, what's next? Is there more? Can it get better? Is this ENOUGH?<br>
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Even though I am always looking for the next thing... I thought, I was content. But sometimes, just sometimes, even I can be stunned. To my core.<br>
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A little over a year ago I was having some "weird" symptoms. I was pretty sure it was a cyst. I mean, I looked it up on WebMD so I was 99,9% sure I was right. I mean, WebMD was ALWAYS right... right? So I went to the doctor and let him know, "I have a cyst." What I have found is my doc really likes it when I self diagnose. I mean it saves him time and all. I am thoughtful like that. I was very matter of fact. No bones about it. Cyst. Period. It went something like this...<br>
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Me: I have a cyst.<br>
Doc: How do you know?<br>
Me: WebMD...duh!<br>
Doc: Well, let's run some test.<br>
Me: We don't need to. I have a cyst.<br>
...Time...<br>
Doc: Well, I have the results. <br>
Me: Cyst?<br>
Doc: No....<br>
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Shut the front door. I didn't believe him. No way. I was certain a cyst could mask itself in the form of pregnancy. I think I read about that once...on WebMD. </div>
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Me: Well, my cyst is releasing hormones that are showing a false pregnancy</div>
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Doc: That can't happen.</div>
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Me: Uhm. What year did you get your medical license?</div>
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Doc: 1982.</div>
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Me: Exactly. It is a cyst. </div>
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So, he sent me to an OBGYN. Maybe it was because he just wanted to get rid of me. Maybe because he knew EVERYONE who has a cyst has to go to an OBGYN. I mean even the 1982 graduates knew that. Bless his heart. </div>
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I understood his rational. OBGYN. They dealt with cyst all the time. I went in. No worries. And she told me... You are pregnant.</div>
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Me: I KNOW -- crazy thing, right? The deal is...I am not pregnancy. I have a cyst. It is just showing as a false pregnancy.</div>
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OBGYN: Okay. Let's do an ultrasound.</div>
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Me: GREAT. Finally. </div>
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OBGYN: See that. See that flicker? It is a heartbeat. Cysts don't have heartbeats. </div>
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At that time my world stood still. Pregnant. At my age. Strollers. Car seats. Bottles. Baby sitters. Spit up. I was out of all those stages. I now wore 3 inch heels and wore black everywhere. I was not ready for a BABY!</div>
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I was in denial. I mean...I went MONTHS. You couldn't really tell, right? I think it kind of looked like I just ate a bean burrito...or two.</div>
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But then, slowly but surely it started to sink in. I was growing life within me...<br>
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And there were three VERY excited spawn that was ready to add one more life to the mix.<br>
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And 8 months later...here I was. Ready to bring another Twerp into the fold.<br>
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And by NINE months...I was REALLY ready.<br>
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Even my ankles cried forth to the gods of mercy.<br>
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Then, on a sunny day, this happened. This amazing miracle.<br>
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And it just didn't seem real, <br>
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until they laid her in my arms.<br>
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And someone tried to steal the show...Lord help me.<br>
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And I realized. We were finally complete. Our final baby had arrived...<br>
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and our hearts....<br>
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and family...<br>
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I think even she was surprised... Like, What are you talkin about Willis? They have how many kids?<br>
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<span style="text-align: left;">But you know what she taught me? God is never done with blessings. </span></div>
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He is knows more than you know and delivers what you never even knew you needed. <br>
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Because this child. Oh, this child...<br>
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Has brought a light and love to our family that we never knew was missing. <br>
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She turned our world upside down.<br>
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And made us have So. Much. Fun!</div>
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And made us realize. No matter how much we plan. No matter how much we know. No matter how much we control. Sometimes, just sometimes. God knows better. <br>
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And after a military retirement.<br>
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And a move back home to the land that flows with milk and honey. <br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXaMI83Zp48tkg6YgLjwHYHbYChP8jjUNs7yCAMLbvN4qmEkTP2CfQiQirwFGu_AsyX2XaozOo6wHSc_mwkq5uF6jEryX30ObtD4x1YSBGJhkIkGcBt9DP4BXMe4leNUthpvZYvWiKqM/s1600/photo+32.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXaMI83Zp48tkg6YgLjwHYHbYChP8jjUNs7yCAMLbvN4qmEkTP2CfQiQirwFGu_AsyX2XaozOo6wHSc_mwkq5uF6jEryX30ObtD4x1YSBGJhkIkGcBt9DP4BXMe4leNUthpvZYvWiKqM/s1600/photo+32.PNG" height="458" width="640"></a></div>
And the love surrounded by family...<br>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAgbtizSqYyYA43wQ2SyWeWIwTyCYR0fGt82jP8Pksp8vMFkC6u6ZwBDQ5tYClV9E3ytSF2FSGKcU-C0-S5niqBsP8Chixlep16rKGlXczS1VidyFW2EJH4SHAFQpQ1wKolmVFMYWK-A/s1600/photo31.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxAgbtizSqYyYA43wQ2SyWeWIwTyCYR0fGt82jP8Pksp8vMFkC6u6ZwBDQ5tYClV9E3ytSF2FSGKcU-C0-S5niqBsP8Chixlep16rKGlXczS1VidyFW2EJH4SHAFQpQ1wKolmVFMYWK-A/s1600/photo31.JPG" height="480" width="640"></a>We are now compete And content. </div>
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Amen.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-18402513563740306552013-09-15T07:52:00.001-04:002013-09-15T07:52:14.157-04:00Surprise<br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP6lEVIMBqBZS_y_IR-dIT94kwWHYLU5xhROPJ7oRGeOp3oYk3-AYuCiPd8u-67Om5QTUH3t_fIrBz9tksSu9uHcDP5ynfG2xHX8YREAwh-RWB4gf98uM89gG9IiByoAgHuvFNtcZP9M/s640/blogger-image--1514743648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP6lEVIMBqBZS_y_IR-dIT94kwWHYLU5xhROPJ7oRGeOp3oYk3-AYuCiPd8u-67Om5QTUH3t_fIrBz9tksSu9uHcDP5ynfG2xHX8YREAwh-RWB4gf98uM89gG9IiByoAgHuvFNtcZP9M/s640/blogger-image--1514743648.jpg"></a></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-58558886556225917802012-12-27T13:05:00.002-05:002012-12-27T13:05:40.686-05:00Annual Cranberry Eating Contest - Is this the 5th Year?<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Well here we are again. Another year of decorating, baking, wrapping, and the ever so popular Cranberry Eating Contest. I take great comfort in knowing families across America pause on Christmas Eve to partake in the age-old tradition of Cranberry Eating. </div>
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I'm sorry -- what? What is that you say? YOU do not participate in the cranberry tradition? Well, get with it honey child. Everybody is doin it. And yes, if they jumped off a bridge I just might do it to. If there were paparazzi and attention. Cause we all know how I feel about attention.</div>
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Anyhoo...</div>
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Back to the Contest. This year was like none other. The final was a record breaking outcome and we even had to add some new rules to the event.</div>
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Middle Twerp started us off (MT) and boy was he geared up and ready. He had been training his palette that day eating a few cranberries here and there for conditioning. He wanted no one to see him training. He was trying to hide his skills.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltauoDDmfiKbngIfAaXunYzX897WF8dlfFhE2zKtcL-7Vduz1OFP60d_bcjDLwt_xX_WAIvr286CMRQdOBO-EnBGKfmYFHXZIBVdi3WIJcncoJc5y6j6Effe3GgnkSEjxac_Nu5X6qCU/s1600/DSC_0111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgltauoDDmfiKbngIfAaXunYzX897WF8dlfFhE2zKtcL-7Vduz1OFP60d_bcjDLwt_xX_WAIvr286CMRQdOBO-EnBGKfmYFHXZIBVdi3WIJcncoJc5y6j6Effe3GgnkSEjxac_Nu5X6qCU/s320/DSC_0111.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please no paparazzi in the training room.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AUi8TNdnyMqwa6CgTSDnIAVAFnnd6xPmkKQUYRBMnpemo3zgphUQBqUlfQOjTYYKD7cIlgD2E2KZuILIW38RYM1_NZXWFAsYeeAW2_NUgFxqRunqkb45Hau_fuogFC4UFXpE0DFgXYI/s1600/DSC_0110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7AUi8TNdnyMqwa6CgTSDnIAVAFnnd6xPmkKQUYRBMnpemo3zgphUQBqUlfQOjTYYKD7cIlgD2E2KZuILIW38RYM1_NZXWFAsYeeAW2_NUgFxqRunqkb45Hau_fuogFC4UFXpE0DFgXYI/s320/DSC_0110.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's on like Donkey Kong</td></tr>
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Plus he was talking smack. Which made us all want to beat him even more. </div>
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Eldest Twerp was fairly confident in her skillz as well. Confidence is not a character trait lacking in our family. Some call it vain. I always respond "you probably think this blog is about you...don't you? Don't you?" Then I give them a bunt cake and some sweet tea in fear I hurt their feelings. </div>
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Everyone made it through the first round with smiles on their faces. <br />
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Pretty much....<br />
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For the most part...<br />
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I am just sayin... Some of us are more seasoned than others....</div>
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Not to brag or anything...but you probably think this blog is about you. I KID. I KID.<br />
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We were well into the game.... Everyone had survived round after round (Nana sat this year out) -- so we had to step it up a notch. We were going to allow the person before you to CHOOSE your cranberry for you.<br />
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What are you talkin about Willis?<br />
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<br />
It's in....<br />
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And it is...</div>
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GOOD -- the smile got her through another round...</div>
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Next ET got to pick one for BT -- please note BT is our reigning champion. Believe me, he has not let us forget about it. Or fogetta boutee -- as my Uncle Vito says. </div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WhHB4uF6VeAOrcoUXNgw6hi72IjTpjuCkeUlp7Er1vEd1q8HKw66DP52Jw7_bbJuvoy1XB-jiPzXGlq9qUG1Y_Yb5KzYIsxqTaY4YjdIuZHmo0wcq6vlbM4PNdS_7MSJyM0T8xo1Wn4/s1600/DSC_0152.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0WhHB4uF6VeAOrcoUXNgw6hi72IjTpjuCkeUlp7Er1vEd1q8HKw66DP52Jw7_bbJuvoy1XB-jiPzXGlq9qUG1Y_Yb5KzYIsxqTaY4YjdIuZHmo0wcq6vlbM4PNdS_7MSJyM0T8xo1Wn4/s320/DSC_0152.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">It's in...</span></div>
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And...<br />
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Oh, can he hold the smile?</div>
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It's not looking good....</div>
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Oh help us Lord Jesus, the judge showed mercy on his sweet precious soul.</div>
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<br />
And, of course, I made it through..<br />
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It's like a walk in the park I tell ya. <br />
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<br />
Another round of smiles...<br />
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And on we go...<br />
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Until this.... I swear it was the saddest thing of all my born days.<br />
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BT had picked out my cranberry.<br />
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And you would think that the mother of this child would have shown grace and mercy upon the woman who spent hours in labor bringing him forth into this world....</div>
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<br />
<br />
You would be wrong.<br />
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This child showed no mercy.</div>
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But I am strong...<br />
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Determined...</div>
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More than a conquer...</div>
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Help me baby Jesus...</div>
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Sweet Elizabeth, I'm coning home...</div>
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It was a sad day in the universe as I was out. <br />
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And then there were four..<br />
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MT rocked it through...<br />
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ET sailed with flying colors....<br />
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And G-pa.....<br />
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Well bless his heart. </div>
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And then there were three....<br />
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Was BT up for the sour cranberry?</div>
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That is a pucker face if I ever have seen one in all my born days...</div>
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You are OUT.... </div>
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We needed some solace from G-pa. He understood.<br />
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And then there were two... MT and ET...<br />
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It was neck and neck --</div>
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For three more rounds...<br />
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The berry selection was ever so careful...<br />
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Yet time and time again, smiles remained...<br />
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After many more rounds....a few glasses of wine and slices of cake (Hypothetically speakin and all)<br />
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(and a few close calls)<br />
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The judge was ready for his ruling...</div>
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Anticipation swelled as each argued their position.<br />
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But in the end there were CO CHAMPIONS..<br />
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Both ET and MT took the title home for 2012...<br />
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And I may or may not have helped myself to another piece of carrot cake. Hypothetically speakin and all. Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-54129033616002126252012-01-02T19:34:00.000-05:002012-01-03T17:50:04.070-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fourth Annual Cranberry Eating Contest</span></b></div>
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<b><i>We Crown a New Champion</i></b></div>
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I big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love the holidays....and it just isn't quite complete until Nana and Grandpa arrive....</div>
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Or until we have completed our <b>Annual Cranberry Eating Contest!!!!</b></div>
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And this year we had some early weaklings. I am talking pitiful.....</div>
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And believe me -- we showed no mercy in making fun of the lesser than culinary tolerant.</div>
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IJ was out the first round -- first cranberry -- pitiful.<br />
<br />
But MT knew exactly what he was doing -- smiling the entire time he ate the ever so tart cranberry.<br />
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<br />
ET? All smiles too....<br />
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<br />
Nana? She can't handle the TART..... Out. Buh Bye.<br />
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<br />
G-pa? Ain't nothing gonna hole him back -- ain't nothing gonna break his stride....<br />
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<br />
BT -- this was his first year to survive past the first round. And he had been practicing....building up a tolerance all through November. And this conditioning was paying off.<br />
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<br />
But it was no match for momma bear. Uh huh. Oh yeah! We all know how amazingly competitive I am -- and this time, my loves, all the spawn were going down....DOWN DOWN DOWN.<br />
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<br />
You see it is all in the choosing of the cranberry -- slightly still pink, firm, and ....<br />
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<br />
POP -- I can handle it....<br />
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<br />
ALL SMILES!<br />
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<br />
MT -- even without one front tooth -- was still smiling.<br />
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<br />
ET was not going to let a BOY beat her.<br />
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<br />
And G-pa was still choosing wisely....<br />
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<br />
Young grasshoppa<br />
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<br />
BT could not stop bouncing off the walls -- he was the master -- not only SMILES all through the eating but giggles too.<br />
<br />
Good Lord this child has a fighting chance.<br />
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<br />
But need I remind you of the master skills I posses? Look at the perfectly chosen cranberry, We call him the cranchild. <br />
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<br />
Mmmmm -- I am SO enjoying this...<br />
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<br />
Like a fine wine -- there is nothing else I would rather do that eat cranberries all the days of my life. And dwell in the house of the Berry forever....<br />
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<br />
Oh Lord... I have hit a tart center... Help me baby Jesus.. Save me Tom Cruise. Rescue me Oprah Winfrey. <br />
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Call the law. Call my Pa. Call my Ma way down in Arkansas. </div>
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<br />
Good Lord deliver us in our time of need. Cover me in glue and shake me in a bag of glitter. I am over and out. <br />
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<br />
Done. Stick a fork in me. I am an embarrassment to all Cranberry prodigies across the land. Father forgive me. For I know not what I do.<br />
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<br /></div>
So we are down to MT...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoKMNRHIf3_NGvxEpoR6n4FYpALyfBN5NP0urc09Ot1aLM0HZ5aEZiZnG8pccIOrIYSGGMbX8FOW7o5_rVmD5CuWqUEdrqmZcM97-olwGPE7WSZ6WyeNbfVNIrYGYKHMZdrUUliKVlUQ/s1600/DSC_0134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCoKMNRHIf3_NGvxEpoR6n4FYpALyfBN5NP0urc09Ot1aLM0HZ5aEZiZnG8pccIOrIYSGGMbX8FOW7o5_rVmD5CuWqUEdrqmZcM97-olwGPE7WSZ6WyeNbfVNIrYGYKHMZdrUUliKVlUQ/s400/DSC_0134.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
ET....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjghrFkKp-ez4zdZN-ck87R_I5vsJAZ9xfKe3XA9Y1Pe68dfPLvCkS0Lh-oguptP3-xzNxcs-K1edynnzYQKUmoS7TfHnlu5xoYHkZhwT3MSuT17WyXDc3rlJ4BMyjXe03QsAIymwIt6hg/s1600/DSC_0135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjghrFkKp-ez4zdZN-ck87R_I5vsJAZ9xfKe3XA9Y1Pe68dfPLvCkS0Lh-oguptP3-xzNxcs-K1edynnzYQKUmoS7TfHnlu5xoYHkZhwT3MSuT17WyXDc3rlJ4BMyjXe03QsAIymwIt6hg/s400/DSC_0135.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
And G-pa.<br />
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<br />
And BT....<br />
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<br />
All still going strong....<br />
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Or not....Oh ET -- you are OUT. Down for the count BUH BYE!<br />
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<br />
While MT is still holding strong...<br />
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<br />
He now must rely on water to get through. Bless his ever lovin heart. <br />
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<br />
This time G-pa relied on Nana to help him pick his berry. <br />
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Oh G-pa -- you did not choose wisely...</div>
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<br />
You are O-U-T ...Outta here. <br />
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So it is down to MT and BT....<br />
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<br />
MT just does't think he can hold out any longer....<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sorry Buddy -- you are OUT</div>
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<br />
All BT has to do is hold out for one more berry....<br />
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AND HE DOES IT LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!!!</div>
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May I introduce you to our First Time 2011 Cranberry Eating Champion...<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BABY TWERP</span></b><br />
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<br />Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-91274865386518371522012-01-01T14:44:00.002-05:002012-01-01T17:32:19.274-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Christmas "Days of Our Lives" Style:</span></b> </div>
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<i>Susan Lucci Would Be So Proud</i></div>
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Well Lord have mercy on my sweet dear soul. Another Christmas has passed and for some reason I feel like the beginning of Days of Our Lives....don't even act like you didn't watch your daytime stories. Cause we all know you cannot deny the tempting of the daytime drama. Anyhoo....The opening to that soap opera seems to feel like my life motto this year...<br />
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<i> "As sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives."</i><br />
<br />
Time seems to be slipping by and another season of the most wonderful time of the year has passed, yet again. <br />
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And soon my children will be in college, and then moved out, and then married, and they will want to go to their spouse's parents' houses. GASP!!!! (I secretly pray they marry orphans.) And I will cry. And tempt them with their favorite foods. And gifts. And then they will bring over something store bought from the meal..and I will act like it is the best thing EV ER -- and we will reminisce about the Cranberry Eating Contest. And then there will be BABIES. Oh how exciting?!?!?<br />
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And .. and I think I might be getting carried away. Anyhoo.....<br />
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This year.<br />
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This year, I savored. Like you do a good Dr. Pepper. </div>
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It was as close to perfect as you can get. The jammies. The sleepy eyes. The glees and giggles. </div>
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The belief....the giving...<br />
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The pure JOY.... <br />
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The LOVE and THANKFULNESS....<br />
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I am telling you....it made this momma's heart soar.</div>
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But this year....when it was all over, it appeared Santa had forgotten the MAIN gift that each child wanted. <br />
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Until they looked a little closer on the tree. <br />
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And saw Santa had written them letters because he could not fit everything under the tree....</div>
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And low and behold when they went outside......<br />
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The glory of the Lord had shown down upon them and hark -- the herald angels sang.....</div>
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For unto us in the Southern City a<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b> motorcycle</b></span> is born.... (insert angelic choir of heavenly hosts)</div>
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And there shall be peace and harmony in the land forever...Amen.</div>
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And MY got his first 6 speed big boy bike!<br />
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And let's not forget about ET...<br />
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Who had to got "plug on my phone" by the computer when Christmas was all over....<br />
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Only to find.....GASP --<br />
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I know....it really is more for me...than her....cause I gotta start blogging again and all. I KID. I KID. <br />
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But soon we all settled down for a long winter's nap.<br />
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With our hearts full of love....<br />
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Mostly...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjugQUPuuDNI7UlTuftrZY77EUgSZVCnKIZ0U04WYQmEkdpX-lUV22gwZ1kYZe3qQfHcDkRpor9havbCI8wgumvz-g5QiA4wIgahEBdF5AUc3TVf2zqyC5lzT3zPv-6RW9UHOMNfGyI7Yw/s1600/DSC_0083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjugQUPuuDNI7UlTuftrZY77EUgSZVCnKIZ0U04WYQmEkdpX-lUV22gwZ1kYZe3qQfHcDkRpor9havbCI8wgumvz-g5QiA4wIgahEBdF5AUc3TVf2zqyC5lzT3zPv-6RW9UHOMNfGyI7Yw/s640/DSC_0083.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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ET -- I am so grateful for a beautiful young lady who even with the challenges of the teen years...still loves the Lord and her family with her whole heart.<br />
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MT -- this child makes me smile every day -- and even with a missing front tooth is still the cutest thing since sliced bread.</div>
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And BT -- my sweet sweet angel. Who feels every one's hurts and loves you for who ya are. <br />
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And my IJ -- my rock...the best dad anyone could ever pray for......<br />
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Sigh -- as the sand through the hourglass indeed.<br />
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<br /></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-85203359117954718732011-10-23T20:51:00.002-04:002011-10-23T21:10:32.837-04:00I Need China -- Not like Mandarin...Like SouthernIt is Lord-only-knows what time at night. My children are nestled all snug in their beds, with visions of moon pies dancing in their heads....cause who doesn't love a good moon pie? If you have your hand raised, I am pretending I do not see it. Cause it would shatter me.<div><br /></div><div>Anyhoo, my spawn are asleep...IJ is out of town..so what productive thing do you think I am doing? Anyone? Anyone?</div><div><br /></div><div>Laundry you say? Uhmmm Nope.</div><div><br /></div><div>Meal planning? Ahhhh - Nah, not that either.</div><div><br /></div><div>Drinking Cupcake? I think that is neither here nor there, thank you very much.</div><div><br /></div><div>Watching Desperate Housewives of ATL? My My My. Well, now that you mention it...</div><div><br /></div><div>Actually all of those things make WAY better sense than what I am doing. But I have been obsessed all day. Hours upon hours researching, googling, looking through Southern Living magazines (from up to 2 years past - thank GAWD my neighbor keeps them -- she is a good Southern woman and all)...potenialy neglecting my children and feeding them left over sushi....</div><div><br /></div><div>Yes, I have been spending my day efficiently and effectively......</div><div><br /></div><div>Looking for a China pattern.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will stop there.</div><div><br /></div><div>Let the wave of judgement wash over you...embrace it.....own it....now please let it go. Cause judgement causes crows feet.</div><div><br /></div><div>AND... judgement is my kryptonite.</div><div><br /></div><div>So is bean soup -- but again....I digress.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I am picking out a china and silver pattern.</div><div><br /></div><div>Why? Why?!? WHY?!?!</div><div><br /></div><div>I stopped asking that question of me a long time ago. I just accept me for the unexplainable woman I am. But with good shoe sense.</div><div><br /></div><div>I need a china pattern....and while the Lenox with bold or silver bands is beautiful...and classic...and what all the bride website say you SHOULD get. I am sorry. I just can't be Columbus Circle and Apropos.</div><div><br /></div><div>I need a flair for the dramatic -- like Ridgeway Queen Anne. Or some pink farmhouse toile. Or maybe 8 different setting cause I think I will like AT LEAST eight. And Lord knows I cannot make up my mind to save my life. </div><div><br /></div><div>So -- alas -- yet again...I come humbly to your browser. And I ask for your help.</div><div><br /></div><div>Do you have any good southern china patterns that scream out "EAT FRIED CHICKEN FROM ME COUNTRY GIRL." Or maybe on sassy nights it might say "MY WHAT BIG HAIR YOU HAVE -- I LOVE IT DAW-LING"</div><div><br /></div><div>I think I could be friends with a china pattern like that.</div><div><br /></div><div>I would name her Millie or Caroline and we would drink tea together. Indeed.</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyhoo -- for you more refined readers out there....any suggestions...china patterns that emerge in your dreams as the china pattern for me? That screams -- I love potato salad with mayonnaise and pickled okra? Hypothetically speakin and all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks in advance for your support of my crazy wild hair up my (you know what) tendencies.</div><div><br /></div><div>Love,</div><div>CG</div><div>China Pattern Obsessor</div><div><br /></div><div>Amen.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-8496755453311714752011-08-24T08:53:00.016-04:002011-08-24T09:43:52.433-04:00Another Year - School 2011<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xuXZmtPngynkii0XxAiC8AfnAqSoHnmJ3UAmc0Jr-2R-GMfhdmfHy7D_pq1QdgakO9IuYCzwbw5ohsIGf_I3atmK1EuzBZStWerHfOia4iUNPEswazeprlhtuGSNPGAGiNDBE3KFVmU/s1600/DSC_8341.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644411935760228034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xuXZmtPngynkii0XxAiC8AfnAqSoHnmJ3UAmc0Jr-2R-GMfhdmfHy7D_pq1QdgakO9IuYCzwbw5ohsIGf_I3atmK1EuzBZStWerHfOia4iUNPEswazeprlhtuGSNPGAGiNDBE3KFVmU/s400/DSC_8341.jpg" border="0" /></a>Another school year has started. And I think mothers across America pause.
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<br />I know I did.
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<br />I paused because my heart really does overflow. And I think oh life! Why must you be filled with time?!?! It seems just yesterday we were taking ET to kindergarten. And when she put on her backpack she fell over from the weight.
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<br />Now she starts 8th grade and is saving for an iPad2 and wearing lip gloss. (And in a cruel twist on fate she is cool colors and I am warm - so we cannot share lip gloss. Oh curse the gods of gloss for their evil plots.)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-ImEt0vRkaMAumj0s49R9pohAqxkSPbd5EhwDcd51EHZAKknsMDIVBhqzUo6etBhyIv7Efc7pZjOtSYVQyxOCmY_udZx9uHd7kFWvdng2njmGjUbjj5-0TmLXZPDu8lj5F41eJsuXSY/s1600/DSC_8344_bw.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405213594661922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie-ImEt0vRkaMAumj0s49R9pohAqxkSPbd5EhwDcd51EHZAKknsMDIVBhqzUo6etBhyIv7Efc7pZjOtSYVQyxOCmY_udZx9uHd7kFWvdng2njmGjUbjj5-0TmLXZPDu8lj5F41eJsuXSY/s400/DSC_8344_bw.jpg" border="0" /></a>And while I am proud beyond belief - and am relieved our rocky adjustment is over - I have to push back the panic.
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<br />My days are numbered.
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<br />In four more years she will pack her bags for college. (Or I will pack them because she folds her shirts terribly which allow for deep wrinkles and unacceptable shoe allotments)
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<br />College. Did I really just type college?!?!?
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<br />I will cry. And be one of those moms that decorates her dorm room in shabby chic and bakes cupcakes for the first day and scrapbooks. Okay - maybe just blogs. I am certain she will be the envy of all her friends. (Buwhahahahaha)
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<br />And I will hide post it notes in her clothes that remind her I love her. Remind her of who she is. Remind her that who that is - is perfect. No change needed.
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<br />And that no matter what, I am proud. And lover her. And am honored she found me as a mother.
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<br />And then I will unscrew a bottle of Cupcake and bedazzle her room. And possible buy a cat. Or a motorcycle. Or a pink shimmer shine convertible that spews glitter from the exhaust. Cause that's what us super cool mom's of college students do. If I can afford it after tuition and fees. Okay, maybe a Jetta. Or a pineapple mojito. Burp.
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<br />And this one.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv18MSxmGmXCHOeJkPZqAtWUe4_W2SeirEiy4nML8CgAOBGeAlEEaC0lr1DTKLOwxdYY46CbazGctBqWGqc9ybNE7vL822dXhrXZBa8iLvJsqwiTqh54IHDD_Unnqp9uMnFL-hvQoXguM/s1600/DSC_8353.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405211962912322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv18MSxmGmXCHOeJkPZqAtWUe4_W2SeirEiy4nML8CgAOBGeAlEEaC0lr1DTKLOwxdYY46CbazGctBqWGqc9ybNE7vL822dXhrXZBa8iLvJsqwiTqh54IHDD_Unnqp9uMnFL-hvQoXguM/s400/DSC_8353.jpg" border="0" /></a> Dear sweet baby Jesus, deliver us in our time of need. This one. I wuvs him. He is me. Incarnate.
<br />And he wears me out.
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<br />But makes me smile. And pause. And be better.
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<br />The curls. The dimples. The vocabulary. The heart. Oh the heart.
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<br />He loves others.
<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405783996779218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibrl3wTAqUTAjPUZJHmRvQ_5xVg4vFQEi97v8mbd5_EOXoWGkGEQt0NcmzxuYaDx1jm4cUf6Yxf-IZsHFdu-Rtnnhi_Jfv0ONtWMnwTi_34Zkdr_mSti9UQKbJdmBV9SohQ2BD06q4wJc/s400/DSC_8355.jpg" border="0" />Except the girl who messed his hair up on the bus. So he scratched her.
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<br />And let's face it.
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<br />He comes from a long line of follicle endowment.
<br />
<br />We big hair people have no tolerance for messing with such a sacred vessel -- the hair.
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<br />Amen.
<br />
<br />On MT's first day of school he wrote in his journal about all the things he loves. He talked about dragons and legos....but most of all he loves Jesus and God...above all else. And you all should too.
<br />Sweet precious angel. With a hair complex.
<br />
<br />And my baby -- BT. He started Kindergarten.
<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405788976974098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaokuLO0TUIsF4qBLMC4aSLDiyhK7lqGZY5ZMCOnh3O_sO9MzkeJF00NtODgi9qih_65orddiXFpJH4MMLXzsVu5oiaIApbugaNUtdo7a7A2UK1yAMZifd1gAdsapYFw9Ex-t3LZ913c/s400/DSC_8364.jpg" border="0" /> And you all know he makes the cut off by 3 days, but I still decided to hold him back and have him do kindergarten again. And when we explained this to him he had only one thing to say --
<br />
<br />What you talkin about Willis?<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405777167757202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFf_6lySHFyglcAbrtMKnrYo4m9Y9F-U_ekr5Oc77SSW7qhIxsAcbXIyMLb-BDNJdxRRdNx-OZUGmltFiPRgliPt7pE86D6KdbPNcEoOUO184lTOC86muc5AWRh2oWwKrHJ8birATRiDM/s400/DSC_8352.jpg" border="0" />But then we explained the important mature reasons behind this decision.
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<br />There is no homework...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405786405396418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-GGVD2FM8CqjpSNAIE3dtamMl0lmXamm2-1XyMmqVFAv8EHcstYn6FoBRwHeAQmKphLCaw0ooLyYigFpXZWOtA0SBkaG5Rci5iXexkC7dXjPInUa9aMkZdmfZ5dbFwiS7mzFMnr9HPaM/s400/DSC_8367.jpg" border="0" /> And you get a longer recess.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644408690006240418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZN4bCeG5kBxZtpx3lltzJYiVLid1D-09xbbQe5KPvl4-9icHOQsCZPBWEzCuW3z-S7pW3JX80SUgc3JdKnnokIq504kPyp04Gux3joHkR_0mDY_CkqaHQECwwoP62WFxsSjMzzC4hv8/s400/DSC_8362_bw.jpg" border="0" />Now glitter and unicorns flow forth in Kindergarten.
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<br />So I walk on back to the house...humming Sunrise, Sunset. With a sense of pride and a longing for capturing this moment. The moment in which my babies are all under one roof. And innocence still reigns. And they love their momma. And leave dirty hand prints on the wall. And giggle in their beds at night. And still believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy (mostly). And want to please. And love without judgment. And accept without questions. And give without consideration for cost.
<br />
<br />They are the epitome of perfection.
<br />
<br />Except all the laundry they produce.
<br />
<br />Punks.
<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405197945543138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqEoc6MjInuPuPUBzvwY4ar7mNMlAy1I9wgZbx1yc-TeFHZWFxf_ddnL2_dsmavtlRf-j_8urcmgJ3e04Wd-6AESZpPDQzS9VNix60MkrB62JXsV0imf5sLOcbPjzah7oP067B7BMZ56E/s400/DSC_8331.jpg" border="0" />But I am so happy they are growing. But so aware of the window.
<br />
<br />Now it's just me a Lucy back at the ranch.
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaa3bwPX42AP4jTY3TOOS-eYySzAzT1vdh7QV4vlm6bdB3IOWQRPenWCHaVTdDXpMUZl7X3kw3M2ogPtw04N7TCYIZ-Xm_Gf97cUFnUCjlJsnsOfWLYyBe9e3flnPPwPbyw5QWdnWqCjE/s1600/DSC_8305_bw.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405198210879938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaa3bwPX42AP4jTY3TOOS-eYySzAzT1vdh7QV4vlm6bdB3IOWQRPenWCHaVTdDXpMUZl7X3kw3M2ogPtw04N7TCYIZ-Xm_Gf97cUFnUCjlJsnsOfWLYyBe9e3flnPPwPbyw5QWdnWqCjE/s400/DSC_8305_bw.jpg" border="0" /></a>She can't handle the showtunes and dance moves I do while getting ready.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644405793100256706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jFI6jkG3kEMWvIyJ3LyTIvWfxV8iIJiQ24-zSOiDC_VrB1klIj4u88JesaC49bD17jGpsvWCeb07gOAZlPmyZCRybEt4KeMJ583ImT3VUkG4tU3lNKJG4KSIHIYHTwucNGsKn7ofUZA/s400/DSC_8374.jpg" border="0" />No wonder the twerps were so excited to get back to school.
<br />Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-4144746240045820762011-04-10T07:59:00.005-04:002011-04-10T09:02:50.921-04:00ET is a STAR!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fn6fj9ygjoe9LhtdI68hRMWQbW6jAGgRWTIK9wNUkGgLQ1iizQbCmoWih_NJ012raGBocKrk4qIe8EMKWTU-fXwxrVe9v2FmtjC4_ib838bU0CiQkHb7QLOERLV7jxKnQoz5oFY4wUQ/s1600/DSC_0163.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593925275140806658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fn6fj9ygjoe9LhtdI68hRMWQbW6jAGgRWTIK9wNUkGgLQ1iizQbCmoWih_NJ012raGBocKrk4qIe8EMKWTU-fXwxrVe9v2FmtjC4_ib838bU0CiQkHb7QLOERLV7jxKnQoz5oFY4wUQ/s400/DSC_0163.JPG" border="0" /></a> ET -- oh my dear sweet angel Eldest Twerp. I remember the first time I ever saw her in her little purple star outfit bouncing down the path at the zoo. I knew. I just knew she was meant for greatness. <br /><br />But, as with life, challenges and struggles have happened. And our move from the Wild West to the Deep South was nothing less than catastrophic for her. <br /><br />There have been many nights of tears, morning of screams, and weekends of drama.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593924749372684434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquoMYlz_i2265Thp5E3Dr1PuSPFrceuFgWHKTVuXKA7edfH_yaZSvuR1OP7sq61FP3_yez4X-XobFdEj4fIXKxtsxtNSBcfuOHsvhcu2B6FR6VZrzeg5JJazk3b8mIqPKrzVgMmflPc8/s400/DSC_0166.JPG" border="0" /> But now...now...I think she is finding her niche. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUfQ4pYSPnvVWQqo8xXp1HdD3hxhV2zsUgGRyNoWRocSCDXJDqkRNu7z5sxstjUJhOxXnJoNLTwWc-sB1sF-EgZQmBq9B1nsKZk2q4-NxHTomfjoTqAk6brseG3EaTm3VqFILelGOYlE/s1600/DSC_0164.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593925272343723314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcUfQ4pYSPnvVWQqo8xXp1HdD3hxhV2zsUgGRyNoWRocSCDXJDqkRNu7z5sxstjUJhOxXnJoNLTwWc-sB1sF-EgZQmBq9B1nsKZk2q4-NxHTomfjoTqAk6brseG3EaTm3VqFILelGOYlE/s400/DSC_0164.JPG" border="0" /></a> DRAMA! It's so unlike her mother who is shy and serious and never has a flair for the dramatic. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6FjorTJrF-BOjys-kcqf6LjQ3Ah1jm4-kfMt7VRRgqetzd0FfaIse9sIEVGr9_qYV4BeKuw8vRT9vUy_JU_l_z_Jrb1JX93F8tfkgab2LPd3LdWSm1-29DjqW51TlVEjdsxIWwQp5rs/s1600/DSC_0167.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593924742157535266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG6FjorTJrF-BOjys-kcqf6LjQ3Ah1jm4-kfMt7VRRgqetzd0FfaIse9sIEVGr9_qYV4BeKuw8vRT9vUy_JU_l_z_Jrb1JX93F8tfkgab2LPd3LdWSm1-29DjqW51TlVEjdsxIWwQp5rs/s400/DSC_0167.JPG" border="0" /></a>But to each their own. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcs0_sTqARQEPrJs2shR7nViXRGK8Lm2j7TcD69MgjvcqZsKGs2uLdPMUZp3Ga6Y6sUjCYvDyDrx8G1665EDNLOmVzp5ac1VcprOreWWpaN4QnUKTbnPO6n_XippzkSov5wD2pgfRr8Nc/s1600/DSC_0168.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593924732853184402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcs0_sTqARQEPrJs2shR7nViXRGK8Lm2j7TcD69MgjvcqZsKGs2uLdPMUZp3Ga6Y6sUjCYvDyDrx8G1665EDNLOmVzp5ac1VcprOreWWpaN4QnUKTbnPO6n_XippzkSov5wD2pgfRr8Nc/s400/DSC_0168.JPG" border="0" /></a> And finally, finally -- the smile is back. The shine is there. And she is home.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezKmjoxTbzavJLfGjAuU3X8tt8QvGLKC88t3zk5_9gbRYyTedUtjo6n3yh88Rhe71Qg7ssFwC-GHOy4vR6adc0F31MXDsikBKTfJbDO1pZNUa5pqyVS-rEvflKwdDmNkGKMg5dwf_Wq0/s1600/DSC_0169.JPG"> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593924726325775602" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhezKmjoxTbzavJLfGjAuU3X8tt8QvGLKC88t3zk5_9gbRYyTedUtjo6n3yh88Rhe71Qg7ssFwC-GHOy4vR6adc0F31MXDsikBKTfJbDO1pZNUa5pqyVS-rEvflKwdDmNkGKMg5dwf_Wq0/s400/DSC_0169.JPG" border="0" /></a> Amen.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-31079830830691523032011-04-05T09:50:00.002-04:002011-04-05T09:56:54.434-04:00Dear Sweet Precious Elizabeth, forigve me for I know not what I do. And Other Ramblings About NYCSoooo -- I promised some dear sweet angel friends I would do a post on New York. Which is quite ironic -- me doin a post on New York City. Every time I say the word I always hear those rough cowboys on the Pace Picante commercial sayin "NEW YAWK SAYTY?!?" Cause I can relate to rough cowboys more than I can city slickers. Plus I think they have better forearms. And I am a sucker for forearms. Just tellin it like it is. <br /><br />But really, I feel so inept to speak on the city. <br /><br />One, I only go there on business -- never as a tourist. <br /><br />Two, I have only been going for two years and I get lost walking from the taxi to my hotel -- which drops me off at the door. <br /><br />Three, I am the only person there who says "Lord willin and the creek don't rise" <br /><br />Four, they only have cork wine and I only know how to drink Cupcake -- which has a screw top. And is made with grapes handpicked by angels and sprinkled with love glitter. I know. I went to the vineyard. <br /><br />Anyhoo -- I do know nothing about vacaing in NYC. Nor birthing babies, Miss Scarlett. <br /><br />So in my embarrassment I did not post for her like I promised. And now I wondering if I hadn't been Country Girl and you hadn't been The Blog Around the Corner, and you and I had just, well... met... I would have asked for your number, and I wouldn't have been able to wait twenty-four hours before calling you and saying, "Hey, how about... oh, how about some Cupcake or, you know, shoes or Dr Pepper Lip gloss or a pencil skirts... for as long as we both shall live?" And you and I would have never been at war. And the only thing we'd fight about would be which video to rent on a Saturday night. <br /><br />But since I promised I would post, and I forgot, I will now try to redeem my friendship with you. <br /><br />And I will tell you what I know. <br /><br />Which is nuttin. <br /><br />First, I enjoy the subway. I really do. People have such unique styles. Once on the subway a man offered to kiss me. I turned him down cause he has poor oral hygiene, but I still appreciated the fact that he was trying to spread love. Although I think he mighta spread more than love to me. So my point is -- ride the subway. You might be scared, but you will love every minute of it. <br /><br />Second, if you can stay anywhere -- stay at The Plaza. I have never stayed there. But Eloise has. And she loves it. And supposedly her ghost is there and I bet she is friendly and serves tea and cookies with sprinkles. And it is right on the end of 5th Avenue -- WHERE YOU MUST SPEND AN ENTIRE DAY! I have done that. And then I bought a shirt and tights at Banana Republic. I'm so lame like that. <br /><br />But at Louis Vuitton I tired on everything and they brought me champagne. Good thing you don't drive in NYC -- just sayin. <br /><br />And the first time I ever went to Bergdorf Goodman's. Oh my Lord have Mercy on my sweet precious soul. I. tried. on . everything. And I called everyone Daaaarling. And went from floor to floor acting like I was rich and famous. But then I tripped on my own two feet and it blew my cover. It happens all the time. It is the burden I must bear - clumsiness. IJ calls it insanity, but let's face it -- he has a limited vocabulary. I call it my signature flair. <br /><br />You MUST MUST MUST go to Serendipity's and order a frozen hot chocolate. MUST! But don't be like Katy Homes and buy children gummy penises (is that the plural? or peni?) for children. Cause I went there and none of that nonsense was going on. Just heavenly sinful joys of frozen hot chocolate. And our waiter was adorable and single. So if you go -- ask for him -- the adorable single guy who waited on CG -- I bet he will remember me. Cause my thighs sang forth in glory when I drank my hot chocolate and I am pretty sure he had never seen such a thing before, being from the city and all. <br /><br />Oh and go to the rooftop bar at the Peninsula Hotel!!!!! Classy. Wear something strapless. With four inch heels. You will fit right in. <br /><br />Then YOU MUST go to Brooklyn and go to Coco Roco which is a Peruvian. And get a sampler ceviche platter and this drink that I had which had pineapple in it and made me hiccup. Oh dear sweet baby Jesus it was ah maze ing. Burp. Go there. It's an order. If you wanna. <br /><br />Another great place overlooking Central Park is Robert. But you HAVE to make a reservation. And eat there for lunch. And say you want a table overlooking Central Park. And wear heels. If you are a girl. And tease your hair. Cause NY doesn't know it yet -- but big hair is coming back. I think God has sent me as his personal messenger to let them know. <br /><br />Also go to the Spice Market in the Meat Packing District. And get a ginger margarita. trust me. I know my food. And my Ginger. Even better than Gilligan's Island! <br /><br />Of course go to Times Square -- there is a Marriott there I stay at often. And go to see a Broadway show (I saw Memphis) and go to China Town and get lured down a back ally with cheap Louis bags....(If you are the po po reading this I AM TOTALLY KIDDING! ha ha ho ho hee hee giggle giggle snort) <br /><br />But my favorite thing about NY is just walking down the streets. And I try to talk to everyone I meet. They all have such wonderful stories. WONDERFUL! And it makes me realize I love them. And what they have gone through. And what they are experiencing...and what they give. <br /><br />That is my favorite part. <br /><br />And the shoes. <br /><br />And wine with corks.<br /><br />Amen.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-50165771558258847322011-03-24T19:07:00.003-04:002011-03-24T19:16:47.918-04:00Conversations with IJME: What exciting and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">adventurous</span> happened to you today?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">IJ</span>: Nothing much<br /><br />ME: So what do you wanna do tonight that will be exciting and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">adventurous</span>?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">IJ</span>: Whatever<br /><br />ME: You want to paint my toenails?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">IJ</span>: Not so much<br /><br />ME: You want to bake a 3 layer cake and bedazzle it with pink icing and gems? Then we can sing happy birthday to each other and blow out the candles and I can wrap up some random item in the house and give it to you as a present -- and while I am doing that you can run out to Ann Taylor and buy me a real gift -- with shoes. How about that?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">IJ</span>: We can<br /><br />ME: What is up with the fact that I can talk for hours on end and say the longest sentences known to mankind and all you give me in return are 2-word sentences?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">IJ</span>: That's all I have to say.<br /><br />ME: I know but don't you want to make things interesting? To feel the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">excitement</span> of the day? To glitter things up a little?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">IJ</span>: No<br /><br />ME: Well I love to embezzle a story<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">IJ</span>: Embellish<br /><br />ME: Huh? What? Come again?<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">IJ</span>: Embellish. You love to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">embellish</span> a story.<br /><br />ME: That's what I said.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">IJ</span>: No, you said embezzle.<br /><br />ME: Whatever. There is no <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">difference</span>. Embellish. Embezzle, Poe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">tate</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">o's</span> Poe tat <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">o's</span>. Details <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Schmetails</span>.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">IJ</span>: That's why I use fewer words.<br /><br />ME: Why?<br /><br />IJ: I sound smarter.<br /><br />ME: U hurt. Embezzler.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-48910678850364514632011-02-01T12:15:00.001-05:002011-02-01T12:16:22.120-05:00Lucy: I Think She Rescued Me<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS7-bwJZm84dVwRjhLw5UZMye1FGSwoK7JRphbeYdn1fw3ExD1SN6XVcbgmG-k0-ynRq2mr9EhhP2eOVrkr8fgktSiX_Dy5r2EgRgarw17ua0kC-EXBm3s8MsNqAbvM1r3_hG9wy26VYU/s1600/lucy+cat.JPG"></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553915549294066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg73Efl1_ISMPgif4Zs1urNjruffwIC7nIg0YioQ5TIZbKZA5KSVWWnXKTbS7H5d_tv6AlUi3lfND5ThXdwmP-GiYkFL8D8i6O96w3_nXtXDd9nGrymqhYT4BE7SKtplXs47suWQrxV89g/s400/first+lucy.JPG" border="0" />Once upon a time when my precious angel children were 3 and 4 we did a silly silly thing.<br /><br />A thing that was nonchalant and carefree. A thing that we KNEW would never come to pass. Like high school graduation and stuff like that. It just would never happen to MY kids cause they were never gonna grow up. Amen.<br /><br />So on a carefree simple day something silly happened -- we kinda maybe possibly mighta promised the spawn a puppy. Maybe.<br /><br />We mighta said that when BT is 5 and MT is 7 -- we will get a dog. It seemed sensible and at the time -- far, far away. Like a galaxy I once knew. Just call me Princess Leia. IJ does it all the time.<br /><br />It seemed that 5 and 7 would be a day in the distant future in which children were responsible and Dr Pepper lipgloss was available to the masses. It seemed this distant date would be one of no worries.<br /><br />Where all the raindrops were lemon drops and gum drops.<br /><br />And all the snowflakes were wine glasses and Cupcake.<br /><br />Oh yes -- oh what a day that would be. A day of peace and love for all.<br /><br />But suddenly - that day was upon us. MT will turn 7 in February and BT is already 5. And it is like super creepy weird how when you say something ONE time and make a little statement about "Oh sure we will get you a dog when you turn 7" it becomes seared in their tiny little minds and they bring it back up to you in some "remember -- you promised" kinda way. Like I am suppose to do everything I promise. Sheesh.<br /><br />Twerps.<br /><br />Anyhoo. The Year of the Dog was upon us. Amen.<br /><br />And I tried to convince my spawn that it was the Year of the Beta Fish<br /><br />Or the Year of the Pet Rock<br /><br />But they were not buying it.<br /><br />It's like they are Chinese or something.<br /><br />And I am Tiger Mom.<br /><br />Sorry - I digress.<br /><br />Anyhoo -- We were at a friends house one night and someone started talking about this little beagle they found abandoned and brought her home -- they were going to take her to the pound. And I was all like --<br /><br />OHHHH By George I got it!<br /><br />It is like when the light from heaven shines down upon you and you are impregnated with the best idea since sliced bread.....This was such a day.<br /><br />I said....<br /><br />Let us watch her for the weekend and my three children would see the responsibility and effort and early morning walks this creature would require. And Lord knows at the end of the weekend they would want to send her back. And we would then get a Pet Rock. IT WAS BRILLIANT!<br /><br />Mu wa ha ha ha ha ha ha<br /><br />{{Insert my devious plan and evil laughter while rubbing my hands together}}<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553451219971378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja66MFlffqwaMcXcFxcOlR2uEXNa_4SUWK92kI1kCXopa53o3K49T7Uhd3d5oMu20xs1KZjKrO8EdKpKR9IJbaGfbyzChjc6v4EeEG_C1pfoNBUG_e6DLxgPsYnXkWICSV57f2R4uZXKo/s400/BT+eating.JPG" border="0" />So they brought the silly little canine over -- and I propped my feet up with a glass of vino and some bon bons and shouted short orders to the dog whisperers...<br /><br />Lucy needs to go outside<br /><br />Lucy needs fed<br /><br />Lucy needs a bath.<br /><br />Lucy is in the sky with diamonds<br /><br />I kid. I kid. I really didn't say that.<br /><br />That would be silly.<br /><br />I sang it.<br /><br />While dancing.<br /><br />But there is no need for details.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553433280499090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhszEwLqGo0ZBR0vl7SW0XubKzZVxxAuy9Qi2-HMdxgtMhYMWv0YipyhSMBUWDTTYXXTrYG62KnzCv3IarsN1yDb5Kg12AWU83yWN7OA_0ja61NGFYkKNWwdE_Jfwa8eCNcr5LMyom39ho/s400/boys.JPG" border="0" />Anyhoo -- the strangest thing happened -- my plan began to backfire.....they were doing it! And More. Without COMPLAINING! Who are these strange children?<br /><br />And Lucy was no normal dog. She did not chew. She did not bark. She did not potty in the house. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553466670107890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYAUI1mdFdRKuDdGxn0o7D-kW64Rvkk8xM5G3ulRufj5v_LYQZYaXDdniCbJICytNfcCmzfHpiTHPbnrJ6VLOxlbeDCH4Yshyphenhyphen4q9hXhFAkrDce940lZ40WXcCCAvFoG_ippzZt-Bj-n1Y/s400/car.JPG" border="0" />And -- she loved PINK!<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUIh17w5N7_7Jay4EN-jOVXCdYcma-25QV52nJ_EEs53QaVuixDy9TMtqicSQymtCoInllpxZGIuX2vZugSLakfgMq_tyqcp2qHpkgCM-cmh5PRtdm4_PzoKhj75L7WYUVB2NfI1iVCs/s1600/hat.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553935213217618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBUIh17w5N7_7Jay4EN-jOVXCdYcma-25QV52nJ_EEs53QaVuixDy9TMtqicSQymtCoInllpxZGIuX2vZugSLakfgMq_tyqcp2qHpkgCM-cmh5PRtdm4_PzoKhj75L7WYUVB2NfI1iVCs/s400/hat.JPG" border="0" /></a>And glitter...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568769069444169362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy77vM8Kyg8Zyrqh8-cprZ5SM2cuY8V6OMZNnAunG5s8MbLgPcTSpePJ24AcccTw75yPxtBMKw3p144uZu2eEw6b_SJbi7dnTj7upiN-YKyCkCtgPu5cr27iHH6q68S45rXkaNGRQpcdc/s400/lucy+collar.JPG" border="0" /> Obviously she was trying to steal my heart. I was NOT letting it happen. </div><div></div><div>Until -- UNTIL -- I saw this.....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553456989417666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1fXks9NIyWy8Bi2eNz8LSR9cFLTu2odXzjnrt3VQdmtCfGvCJnT7W3JWAKszmSLSIzUL-Hvw2suw8XgzKgaMpBe7AH4Pd7y8ov65eabC3vgBZyKPNXIU4tJrIZg_8XKYG-DEWxbZv7KA/s400/BT+sleeping.JPG" border="0" />She loved my boys. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5566553437167378706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWmBGFeJNKf3nq93sEUdVylw6PlbWJ6k1x-etjtAR-XxUkNX_Az9_iO2XVBUkrANs3qofB_eucPQkdY8tFp-kElIh179QKQMFY9GPSIaqHqGtxzao9idkNoLmJPi0bAM9LlMe57xTNZ6s/s400/BT+close+up.JPG" border="0" />Fiercely -- and they loved her. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568769084056942402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIft0b1UUC7T6WlVPXPrl8p0pOJZQcVk1u-0bHQPvD0gkhKR-QAZS7hdZQXnvhxJ5107_0fPh6ohyphenhyphen3M2zPLagepAYNEAQgEIWnpm3ZQ-HExjTQQxF03DuVvwFEDt5vAuDcKqu_xn3MTvw/s400/lucy+mt.JPG" border="0" />And how could I not rescue her from a life of cages and loneliness -- how could I not love her?<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568769072370249090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZvGF4sycR9wjHzMhx_5QQKnu21kAJE14lByBWO-6sBRglU8OOrGqfw6V8N2uzdr6dsI3jhDn76GFCRPJaAGr95e7GKxvjAGd-TBTOxBfBS2t26KukQGaSJSCbJ03DONkuYQyxa6V_ix0/s400/lucy+boys.JPG" border="0" /></div>Cause at the end of the day -- she knew what life was all about -- OTHERS. And she rescued my heart. And now I love her.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568769076421214546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeP0NDJR-NyLkUXAA5DqczAd0FkUlFVC24RtycOQr6TfJ1j6xOMnKgeloE4LtvR61N_E4OeZM8fMwlipvPc3uU0DMEYmq87kKrHkdm9mBZHer69-q_InPtAk8SHvf0DE_6em4RqfzkJ_I/s400/lucy+ears.JPG" border="0" />Puppy Twerp!Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-26613991883118068222011-01-16T18:15:00.000-05:002011-01-16T18:21:01.478-05:00Day Five: Southern Style<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561723591873185586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9yxi51PNDw9FoOQg1H0X8aoZI62JOQ3SbBgmHP0nTtwjY7JAxv0oJSfG3ldmhw8Hx7KLW2PnFNa-o3W9dqiSQc2Aqj98hOgg5Qdh_kZ5sqnwWH_ZReIqYpRTo_ntJV78p75EttmCLbwk/s400/DSC_0185.JPG" border="0" />Day Five of the Great Southern Snow Storm. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561657391253626226" 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/AVvXsEhcpp9w2vxMCRDjdn6STGGHuz5N8Z3cUFUU2f6Hy9UC0CMePpndlcsfEsiSbtUltSil6dNwOJReCEEJxkMoYsbJeSs0t-HpURoy_OoSGd11FoKviO0DdbC1celPQ5ulhkUB-7FxqqMCDiQ/s400/CSC_0226.JPG" border="0" />And us poor sweet dear Southern Angels had no clue what to do. We were damsels in distress. Swooning and fainting all over the place. Why I do declare - all the grits and sweet tea were sold out. I'm feeling weak just relivin it. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561659825823561442" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63mRawiVw23KjW0kwy0pywy4_KP29ZON7h-JxZUfTdPzZY8ywXrEW5W9uj2PNsb4bgYfabbloluFS2eYPeKse3ykAY97Rqch_m19OI9jA79R9FniuqO3t-J6i2iYoXaI2trabRd_HnfI/s400/DSC_0176.JPG" border="0" />It was indeed a state of national emergency. A state of panic. I called my ma. I called my pa. I even called the law....way down in Arkansas. I was desperate. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561659817703795698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwOIjPoxeNONlgMYja2weOTm0b0yDSP9ibw00RPrc5-iQF0dCNjcPky5VQgUORJtWSzEszs_nXZLLKez3GaY3BPBmi2WWpt-Bq__ZFfxMRZi8KB_SUX8u2CP6JBgHROI5vHR9MNDJd89k/s400/DSC_0172.JPG" border="0" />Please understand we were doing all we could do to stay sane and not lose out ever loving minds. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561659285554639826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBNOzw7xWOCid3KFa-gur-sUEqn4Y8RwcGS0mCiBWHKFwUfaBt-93PEASibS2ZwHXemuHL2f1HnGKm-UdxmB_gt1xH7oFKGZQl3H6DN_suvK254GGpfU2-fhYamp1Iz9x3Gp-ZZbUL6W0/s400/DSC_0170.JPG" border="0" />One Day One of the Great Southern Snow Storm there were giggles and sledding. We were handling it all in grace and style. Taking photos to scrapbook and send to our Aunt Lucille's on our monogrammed stationary. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561662329231708594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9o21VuPwkwsWfSsV4aFEjPbMXF34T_-zrj3vtvoqDQz5kX2g6ZTj4evORl92LabFbBknz-xrwVUphJrSncRRoQabKCUoIy07pqMVxs-M-pK2-xJuwLhXS2r9LptBENcq9StNdVsB-5sc/s400/DSC_0200.JPG" border="0" />On Day Two there was hot chocolate and movies. Gone with the Wind. Steel Magnolias. Driving Miss Daisy. and Oklahoma! We start them young and all. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561680651053315842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhnvsxsmkdkm08x2Y9H8tzAr3ohZduLRKsWwdtMA01Ikcujq5rotKzY5HL4m_jwFl3ByGRgAPy2TKamTyF9QQbBlIYakEMsPmOOuqPXgSRZYiRMjVKU1nFCwRoId3HJVkvgFDnpJHwGJc/s400/DSC_0201.JPG" border="0" />On Day Three there were naps and early bedtime. It's good for the youngnis. Keeps their immune system up. They need their dear sweet angel rest. Amen. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561713708041347298" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4_rdU0M6Ei4st0alfWWXMiUR9jmL34Ah-zNK320HzIwUNbKaVvpk9nBc5trRFw611J-5fmNXppETPCVHlYebGmTMrLF7Uvz_ECIuDx-hOaQEmzUA-zvyuSfRipdMF_WBE4tFyLhtc7fg/s400/DSC_0202.JPG" border="0" />However on Day Four - oh dear Day Four... there was Benadryl and Xanax. And I don't think any good Yankee could possibly judge us. Amen. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561656897110974994" 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/AVvXsEiNfTNfQfJjfBhnJXyYiSchvZqCwMJT5BwNAdUuPGwgIk6S69Vdcn1jEJhT9WmX48K65iI_xYzBaIaQri1JD5F3Ge4oi7mM0aJG-HGTNTHqD1VhBqahnpHAL2IEHfgVjXpJUgjd-XhX2DU/s400/CSC_0222.JPG" border="0" />But on Day Five... <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561680652112208242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFjjAdiu1qqi85B78nXW7apzjsXFNKORJArv6kUCzQpdWr-0h8D8Qke8QwgeMmKu4uEODFrUu_EzJe9xW6IFnystyecaiK39ZvczODJoSR3zUq4EtIpRZ_6CAt6N6-tr0WQ85JykvQllg/s400/DSC_0205.JPG" border="0" />Oh on Day Five. On Day Five the heavens opened forth and dear sweet Baby Jesus decided he would have to part some sanity to us or I was gonna have to tear down the drapes and make a dress. And Lord knew that would not end well. Soooo... Momma decided to have a little fun. <br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div> </div><div>I had had about enough of the kids being pulled all around like they were little prices. I demanded to be treated like to southern princess I was. <br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561662317619021714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrNXtascFnYZTRq23RrGNOty_DjKNuCT-_4eWpFI6OBEFizAtNp9f6iJdM9ZRLR8En1jyLxi8BJcpD5yFBwYjprfO9Nmn5zX_7GdsC0BBVV0vPBM3YWvhJx83waRq5fEE0bzqizutAfx4/s400/DSC_0194.JPG" border="0" /> Amen.<br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561661437619356706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmIaeEJIbbZEgk4tDYhx3zyDIZRmhQSuPCjf3CzXbWuktpneVxIqyMHDNsbNdUof7TChlBy0TiDh5pcqxTujfOxsdK5JOmmLVafGlW9mAKBOo2YB0-wJ0SsIr0PitMYEZnEWcBr9Rldcc/s400/DSC_0191.JPG" border="0" /> And some may say this is a little uncalled for. <br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561662313131427826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmK2tgcHx7d7vIxsE2SB1zMyQA80aMGS0RGh9AGKhJWSKLJ5urdsBmpRJHOU0BUbDujRtOVRPCAtUo_JQzfkznqps61B8WMogOt7D2r_ALYEarxDkiLvHhmHWz6DdbmM4idhzwoQ9h9U8/s400/DSC_0192.JPG" border="0" /> To those I have one simple thing to say....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561660365989611186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRYRAP6172-qSRto24hH0_cqmyUgYt4BsmZWy0sW78UqZmaI6G-SLUbxepzyT2sPy15QuFg0MpAflnX5qkiXTngEaE-uEgsJ6O-hKsklOnW58Qirny4wFjB95T7sULTa5rOOkAfJvEUiI/s400/DSC_0182.JPG" border="0" />Mush! Mush! <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561657396039213666" 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/AVvXsEhpqIhKH2xw8jO9obI-JcRHUq7WGHft5IZdc-4V-ZIbKhtlDmcOK2GGkG91YoZm6yw9aez9ueMxwnuDGH_b4VuwirL4uUIFn_n2ZQJTARRppvfpE2Yf7T88n4bpaUjN0k2MSOyChNp5H0o/s400/CSC_0227.JPG" border="0" />Why are we going so slow? It must be all this extra weight from MT. Cause Lord knows my waist is the size of a brooms stick. <br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh503PYY24T57DfrL97u8GnoLZA5ZpQzsCNyFb_FLK0H1VAGavwVXZd_8ojRuRPcVXaQ8xV2LyLQpm-CGzOrt2deyyMqtGWxKznDT2oKmEbmnuMAVyNTfocruXAYoT4y9iX6_0UPmzcee8/s1600/DSC_0183.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561660375228136834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh503PYY24T57DfrL97u8GnoLZA5ZpQzsCNyFb_FLK0H1VAGavwVXZd_8ojRuRPcVXaQ8xV2LyLQpm-CGzOrt2deyyMqtGWxKznDT2oKmEbmnuMAVyNTfocruXAYoT4y9iX6_0UPmzcee8/s400/DSC_0183.JPG" border="0" /></a>Even after Five Days of Pancakes and Yoga Pants. (Hypothetically speaking, those yoga pants can be quite deceiving. Burp.)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QHJ_MqSdILwF-tH6j-TjahCcF7jc7pymAAwc4iTCdI1RJHoaVN1su5jJo-6m6eMYSSD5jsS0_njzCx4XJ6Ldw5rRlHGXhYdxubf30PtPI18DiFPWIltPwe33bvuPlrMOQ5rqXOgGEC0/s1600/DSC_0181.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561660364561329794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1QHJ_MqSdILwF-tH6j-TjahCcF7jc7pymAAwc4iTCdI1RJHoaVN1su5jJo-6m6eMYSSD5jsS0_njzCx4XJ6Ldw5rRlHGXhYdxubf30PtPI18DiFPWIltPwe33bvuPlrMOQ5rqXOgGEC0/s400/DSC_0181.JPG" border="0" /></a> Snap... Crackle.... POP. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561660343719383522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeY-U-PaMpUnTIIlWvZcOX_ssXkYuPGLVMTzpEDalGik7ZovpLXDOHeruhaweAg8uDDLjUygoOrgSfqkmHYZ6LmWru74pmVX42cRSZ5IHQE3fa4jpdcBDse1jpk4fKXRfYDcxXeout9EI/s400/DSC_0178.JPG" border="0" />Uhm, exsqueeze me... did the cord just break?<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561659836572804770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3XZ86gE-2HdOw6iTFmKQIgddGnsHYfE6IMa2EX543A3D2XKeSmnADteUIgqYlwUNsIW157-YaxjEiQN7pLHOyW4FciW7ZXg0yenoq7H3U4p17yiKp_0doWdmuj5-8Pr7S1YNaJRbif4/s400/DSC_0177.JPG" border="0" />Cheap silly cord. <br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFske_1s8HchHCcNLeQu-GTz4UBeGnnt_H0AzEMJbbJTZT27wwbrzx3SLqU2nkFgIAdwVkzLEMdYwUO30FCH1GvrN865mCv25d0wZv6Gjko_zpreQzMcAVaPiJcFDF0vkVnhhgQcLQrI/s1600/DSC_0180.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561660350647722114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFFske_1s8HchHCcNLeQu-GTz4UBeGnnt_H0AzEMJbbJTZT27wwbrzx3SLqU2nkFgIAdwVkzLEMdYwUO30FCH1GvrN865mCv25d0wZv6Gjko_zpreQzMcAVaPiJcFDF0vkVnhhgQcLQrI/s400/DSC_0180.JPG" border="0" /></a> Onward!<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561656901199896498" 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/AVvXsEh2p2SBUpUH_LTdghjOWup34mu4xNvTvVUSIRkXirFdtOU5rbYBYqWq8rZ0FpoUlWlUlVwhGh1YTlO5aL5sTRoHj1aJY3Hs6bGZWMLaTjVKfsPPOlSXXk8Mh4BL6RHGKwYSnB1OXGYE2Ek/s400/CSC_0224.JPG" border="0" />Cause I swear they just don't make things like they use to.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj04QDOh90pPwDfw2j7uc_mR-i_O6J8-Q3zRGzjV-so-HjRPyK-U0tRemv6SpEFS-NBxF00aLqVqPmItWG04L3q_5Nn58PZxHV-_krsBlweYL3vcOlV7KjqbkMAE6FbMyqmz1yOkjHKdWk/s1600/CSC_0225.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561656906858938642" 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/AVvXsEj04QDOh90pPwDfw2j7uc_mR-i_O6J8-Q3zRGzjV-so-HjRPyK-U0tRemv6SpEFS-NBxF00aLqVqPmItWG04L3q_5Nn58PZxHV-_krsBlweYL3vcOlV7KjqbkMAE6FbMyqmz1yOkjHKdWk/s400/CSC_0225.JPG" border="0" /></a>Except yoga pants. Amen.Anyhoo -- put those spawn of mine into the sled and let's go home IJ!<br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561659283996644674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqSTcQJrlILx9qFsW3t0sGM9gGtDPcOdEvNQj-UC1_xEJrc7omqHwuMsJlMcvHQJzgvcGrtr_7s21BY36nJXRxp9C8HrHEvDx4mD49kgpsVNvz6WQrSVml3HFwjad8v5Q1bPSbXVOXilM/s400/DSC_0169.JPG" border="0" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNfTNfQfJjfBhnJXyYiSchvZqCwMJT5BwNAdUuPGwgIk6S69Vdcn1jEJhT9WmX48K65iI_xYzBaIaQri1JD5F3Ge4oi7mM0aJG-HGTNTHqD1VhBqahnpHAL2IEHfgVjXpJUgjd-XhX2DU/s1600/CSC_0222.JPG"></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561680657779420706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDdjMYHz6HvVwrtrvU1BtqhecxSUJ-kWXCFOmIVCRiByku4G0fSWDIP9lU0PdCZ8WQspl67LuE0TSXSmr2rW7T2CD8LrYBSvlFR1pjDB2LjhA-eJEtZGJvYjbf0OgDnQ7-c66PE4egh_k/s400/DSC_0212.JPG" border="0" />Momma feels her Cupcake calling.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561680663826758866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVpvvRahomG1HVLjRVQIy141C9pNRVfNAvIZumgHefRcWg2brpkZ3F25ADo7W9n3Il7sNUlH0HViB4cBJOwR-brwkvf1Vxv99yXFZ-SVx-oYCfxVcClXla6XZlXTPwkqIM7TzMM3JUfmE/s400/DSC_0213.JPG" border="0" />And I think the Twerps feel a nap coming on. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJ4RsVOTVHrfF9GYC8y7dxfHqadwd-Fm5D_c31cWKwEBbNJQor6j36AshyG3kmCAEuXqEgkGZiJKpyJzpZ7y7yKPlqjbAjaBrteK9m3MMh49tr-ZZvX_7N5LtTjzSqZwbPlN1LjHOwoY/s1600/DSC_0216.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561713713596293730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaJ4RsVOTVHrfF9GYC8y7dxfHqadwd-Fm5D_c31cWKwEBbNJQor6j36AshyG3kmCAEuXqEgkGZiJKpyJzpZ7y7yKPlqjbAjaBrteK9m3MMh49tr-ZZvX_7N5LtTjzSqZwbPlN1LjHOwoY/s400/DSC_0216.JPG" border="0" /></a>And if they don't...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561713503833417874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAO542D96t64Wj-uLnvx9AOycuAC4AQGh9jD2yMpxmVKOsIuMw0o5pa9x8m-_QU3p5bOi-lLlmBoRCxWuQU04rhiTQwSiUVIVe4z4DaxANfXhlvITFcqIvmmSfnJyTDlSGQALJO9AkN8w/s400/DSC_0220.JPG" border="0" />It's nothing a little Benadryl and Whiskey can't solve. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561713373054886322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl6mTMbbx6QWCU5HUCebtXK1oojAIls82Xt1E0tg4P8zcoQsXyUVzJtW7N12CQNTkAmomrrJtaP_MVJHs-UNJUCH7ZA4NTakpaTNwSvLacReBfhC4DSa_7c7rn-KpTbWphbfOSvteskGc/s400/DSC_0218.JPG" border="0" />I kid! I kid! (If you were judgin and all).Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-46384724267573976612011-01-11T14:21:00.002-05:002011-01-11T14:27:55.877-05:00Just Eat It.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCuPUL2lgqcUM_l4ehyphenhyphenF6erP9Mj152UOVIS4utmuzaea7eTfx1t2czXR2e1b35k1KEdvboJhv6PqaaOl7GlbNRA1fkqbycVl5iXIZ09HpdUm5X2G2AdAf3in-7Pp7L3riGXAPA8ru0mg/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560651995194138210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLCuPUL2lgqcUM_l4ehyphenhyphenF6erP9Mj152UOVIS4utmuzaea7eTfx1t2czXR2e1b35k1KEdvboJhv6PqaaOl7GlbNRA1fkqbycVl5iXIZ09HpdUm5X2G2AdAf3in-7Pp7L3riGXAPA8ru0mg/s400/DSC_0090.JPG" border="0" /></a> This strange white <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">manna</span> began falling from the sky in the deep south on Sunday and behold us Southerners were joyous and perplexed as school was canceled and play was on!<br /><br />We all have different reactions to this rare seasonal <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">occurrence</span>.....<br /><br />Some are joyous and elated...This experience brings awe and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">wonderment</span>.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560651980283305474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbhgkaJenIo25T1SQad34Z9bhjMk1rYShRs0f5PGwinIdXJIHNWNSV7oZggE33Te7fhit-efY6IHqbwjpXbCEx0P7u8GERVz5oPvzGhIY2MU-Z53WufogPDr6xnYmaohBlfC9ggBTXV9I/s400/DSC_0060.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div>Some fall down in disbelief and recreate angelic expressions in thankfulness to the heavens.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637548541622370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNJ89iJLOb7eoGhfAFCqKo-Xg7O9cQyZnTfntlWmQhQfZs71jrm3S0RM8yrEcKvHjGbT5jDWPLPKVh8uGsaJjmXe1KsxJOBwRO-5sBJS30FqV83kvWA27FNKlVE0dh8PQBZK9GcE8vBqE/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" />Others have curiosity -- WHAT IS THIS?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-0Ncg7gZyIP0d0dcusYCZTsKAa4RbOqwonioE1eeRdhkdzpcnxLs9TcxUHxA7OMPHm93C50tGQRwmqtp8OIkC52u82a1oiJPPHAfUGK7hDOgV9X7VN3FXlTZUhMerkbt5Y_NRNRn7DQ/s1600/DSC_0069.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560651986065447794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-0Ncg7gZyIP0d0dcusYCZTsKAa4RbOqwonioE1eeRdhkdzpcnxLs9TcxUHxA7OMPHm93C50tGQRwmqtp8OIkC52u82a1oiJPPHAfUGK7hDOgV9X7VN3FXlTZUhMerkbt5Y_NRNRn7DQ/s400/DSC_0069.JPG" border="0" /></a> And we ALL know if you don't know what it is there is only way to solve the mystery -- EAT IT!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560651990994423042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Ao_aBbtfos8HvOZ3VW6srivA7nV20OqrMlhUzNV_2WripqLMwQNVPTttVRSnaAMnyxHLN7KvWrT3SttjLA18oa_R40Riehvnh5Y7iuC3lMV3rRLgDv0W2xMkAK-nwsny1ZYQnnRN50c/s400/DSC_0070.JPG" border="0" /> and 20 minutes later if you are still unsure -- EAT IT AGAIN..<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqd-XJHGK-yKiGU2IxD3yc_69RqbBM83t1ixeN_3cK6WHZSLo-5E0yDQl9C_LW9TPLE32oeQD32JnJcWa5SEbc12SOABhltoJa4EwnhalOhSze4aJrLWEjZMPogigCldcwXl9VOuI77Y/s1600/DSC_0068.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560651982888967586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyqd-XJHGK-yKiGU2IxD3yc_69RqbBM83t1ixeN_3cK6WHZSLo-5E0yDQl9C_LW9TPLE32oeQD32JnJcWa5SEbc12SOABhltoJa4EwnhalOhSze4aJrLWEjZMPogigCldcwXl9VOuI77Y/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" border="0" /></a> To each their own. Amen. </div><div></div><div><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"><br />Anyhoo</span> - my little dare-devil wasted no time at all... he was slipping and sliding and racing all the way home.<br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMylJWm2kCjKqzjiUdSbJQaGvHwJ_GkVEcFoQAy0MqmqOMQL0NsYiwE54RWWHYhKCZwM_DjuiHULegNcVitV0bnSaCJqRF3rVjGX6WnBF5w3r3gaF3lwIr95rPeJrOFY3aPm2WSPGaBg/s1600/DSC_0058.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560638969294124578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimMylJWm2kCjKqzjiUdSbJQaGvHwJ_GkVEcFoQAy0MqmqOMQL0NsYiwE54RWWHYhKCZwM_DjuiHULegNcVitV0bnSaCJqRF3rVjGX6WnBF5w3r3gaF3lwIr95rPeJrOFY3aPm2WSPGaBg/s400/DSC_0058.JPG" border="0" /></a> And soon he lured his little brother to do the same...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637542552274930" 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/AVvXsEjP0H4EHRAL-Yeh5PQgLquX8fWB4W1mF-VZF3R8ofHbDetGwyvW6L5RqV2lH6VW1zVPuoggScIQdNHhtbJ2MXAYJlUxXIZkkiH_Z1y39sixbGT3ugfDTqVfLZMl-CmdR514mlB88NDn8KM/s400/CSC_0152.JPG" border="0" />Trust me...it will be fun.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560638953264743170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zquqS3wF4F4xqA7E737GnuWIOKaXJgcNL6hBqcwuq9HI_5ylR3zAZO38iqBGpr7jIrPfn79PvEsfI-2xtevCb7Ag5SxuHdYKkKV_GoMKRGoSuBnTiCf52pJbIGWDlx64tXrWCxsnLFg/s400/DSC_0042.JPG" border="0" />You will be safe.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560638957653004274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWmfB9SxjkUdYWtoF1bvdKIKuMPKmleBthlaM3nhpss6d_N6pD0lwHcoS39ZkyHqBwJjn_PxyFbdT3Ly19w8_lBaqMg656fsHYjK3O-J70vBXM6DdzDWwtVzJrjllnP91rRFFiCMMYaRE/s400/DSC_0045.JPG" border="0" />Nothing can go wrong.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637536708215410" 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/AVvXsEg1JaO9ZGwk1FuL_C_OG-QwgJLFPcqb7uSeg6BBVhn2xT5Dtu_Ss7ruH4oy-TlsEwwNAB3ayusUWB-FnYib7m8e8Aja6bwrSKjHarYMtFm4QURCeHKp-FbQb1NcJ03BxIMXkmkv4yTNdLc/s400/CSC_0150.JPG" border="0" />Probably.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637141705719746" 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/AVvXsEhTkrCkzHODvX8g454sx2HG9Mnb87qt9KXJjOKBaqw5UgOhn5_tYgn6fM_It7hBo6YaiKK4ZHWOAhNu6Zli-TwlkUwgz9vc3Ed2USTRz69rj7H_DYF_46RJSiyC6Izjyx4XFdJ5ZEQNzTE/s400/CSC_0116.JPG" border="0" /> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Ooops</span>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aJs4aaFlMk2JXkSRgDccs6SB0ELguW2h-1KHRXk1MOUGjWW4mgZIKXOz_nIh_ttN05-ebrOaXlMtI205tVOTc8nUOFykgmELXi8rCv0HrzbY64KtR9BDuS63JyH5FZSI_Vvj1lfRzfc/s1600/DSC_0047.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560638964306561042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aJs4aaFlMk2JXkSRgDccs6SB0ELguW2h-1KHRXk1MOUGjWW4mgZIKXOz_nIh_ttN05-ebrOaXlMtI205tVOTc8nUOFykgmELXi8rCv0HrzbY64KtR9BDuS63JyH5FZSI_Vvj1lfRzfc/s400/DSC_0047.JPG" border="0" /></a>Well, that did not go as planned, let's try it again.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637142912697170" 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/AVvXsEgLuRXDq8SPqzRfmXtMg9FhOy7qFgVRyHrohnN3zKQBYebzHopkdpPa2yDaAyvg8iqFrD_RJzZUFDF6ogieVpBHNx5xi1dGW7BVPgRofDIiV3scFB3JZ8SNt9lxeJXSiu3FY09PnDMBtOc/s400/CSC_0146.JPG" border="0" /> Let me go down with you this time. I will keep you safe and sound...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637156537493234" 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/AVvXsEja7S1ISLRfFl4idDkzkIYs2m0MqB9Vs0SYflN5WHkV5hcB7KWOi5kXyDWjWMYuG4vMbRUjFNr0bLqeeMYkILn0QuQoaU3XoHnFX0VckwZrv-l63hbGNXIhhHE2kAS4u5szRGbzcAq8FZY/s400/CSC_0148.JPG" border="0" />And spray some snow in your face so at least you can eat some more while you are down there.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637139320210386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTYtHV_LI_DdGt_EMA2Sd9G4j7Cc_fvGLVUYRO9GklxxSje4KFZksh_GTABksplxdnSQkSGleGqAkWWvsLQuw0C0F3HG6uMGFplHVo8Qt26mOe45rQzgzno8yoLdR6ISsjP8EZ1zXxBmw/s400/CSC_0117.JPG" border="0" />Heaven help us.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2JQ-cvwhM54afwZdb6V4xwvMQ6VwTpcdy_3Lnk6DQ4JwzK_jEC5WLpuy8dRYPtuP6uYHn2UUpDw302uW2iJp1qWQL5-bu_mwkGZNsROMJHr7diMSM5CjW5iwQaLnacocIj-rkNCyZgmg/s1600/CSC_0151.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637539866041410" 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/AVvXsEg2JQ-cvwhM54afwZdb6V4xwvMQ6VwTpcdy_3Lnk6DQ4JwzK_jEC5WLpuy8dRYPtuP6uYHn2UUpDw302uW2iJp1qWQL5-bu_mwkGZNsROMJHr7diMSM5CjW5iwQaLnacocIj-rkNCyZgmg/s400/CSC_0151.JPG" border="0" /></a> But all in all we are having all too much fun.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637146991838450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE37uZZBzxpJL4C9FY_8OYwPzDh36qn6ZJalZLNVdI303r5D57coQPzQWbM7SZtb9i7zNpp2CGt7UyG0n1372-F4DSA_dNhHYx1t_bAbGP36cxut99S6Wsnmp5qYBJemvmZ_SApUThGQU/s400/CSC_0147.JPG" border="0" /> From this <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">manna</span> from heaven.<br /><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560637531939298482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilormFZPT-0mFF1M9FDLCWMSv8JCodIqHisofN8p1fo9-IL69L-a2JTm1b89OEo4HqpCTt9u5Owtu9L7oh_J9BxKwgoW1P22Za7fseyrCFdQzQA3CmsjXHlZt1KI0q0x236P5vMHAqXxg/s400/CSC_0149.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Burp.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-44788369629130546352011-01-09T21:00:00.010-05:002011-01-09T21:47:51.783-05:00Mya Husband Isa Italian Pizza Maker<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373551615433202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWH7JIzujoJmGN6Gu6NWRS_Q1HwshyxS_wZFaoI702DDb3mtaoaWNyLA4ShgZ9M62IjsZQ1nEdUzM61jaPFNsdc6XoKvyyL-sBFStxupOlmHpAQN-M3okdnkTeNHfmmvZvIdXaKm_K7Go/s400/DSC_0029.JPG" border="0" />One thing my spawn love to do with us is cook. Mainly due to the fact this secures the question of whether they will eat or not. Because if judgement is being withheld and all - Hypothetically, I might have kinda maybe been known to possibly forget to make supper before. Maybe. If you ain't judgin and all. Apparently, what I have learned is man cannot live on Dr Pepper Lipgloss alone. I know, I know - surprised the heck outta me too.<br /><br />Anyhoo, BT LOVES to cook with us. And since IJ spent his burly strapping high school years working in a pizzeria - he thought he would pass on his skillz and legacy tonight. I just love it when IJ passes on his skills. Especailly when the side affect is supper. <br /><br />Since I have already passed on my bad sillz to BT, I just sat back and took pics...what skills you may I ask? Uhm DUH, nunchuck, bow hunting, and computer hacking skills, of course. Kids only want moms with great skills.<br /><br />Anyhoo - IJ passed on his pizza skills today. And he turns into an Italina New York man. It's a alla in the flicka of the wrista, Bee-a Tee-a...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyy4GVbIzWEdswwyHy3w2FC2RrWZr0yIofGshyjY0hP6VZpGbvtVpHsPYmVNICjLoFtUlCElnRYsg7zHQy1L-vrgJy_L6qQlyUcebXb0NP9TabF-lw3N0ENnzQlAPHMynBywDc6JcUNA/s1600/DSC_0002.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560371856930604690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyy4GVbIzWEdswwyHy3w2FC2RrWZr0yIofGshyjY0hP6VZpGbvtVpHsPYmVNICjLoFtUlCElnRYsg7zHQy1L-vrgJy_L6qQlyUcebXb0NP9TabF-lw3N0ENnzQlAPHMynBywDc6JcUNA/s400/DSC_0002.JPG" border="0" /></a> Famalia -- come gather round so you can see your papa at work - be proud. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372184349933826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBxWiZX8KoECNZ91dDVqNpTEX2qHlLRYU1Ypx4Pc1776PutCMnE8Q4oFS2I91U_gX9ZmsQJYDTFLouyIlyqFh92VFJ0rEPV1Mz-jYmTJO8OoMY5rOO4C6LHxuFXnhL0ohJeZ4eeg3SfE/s400/DSC_0007.JPG" border="0" />be in awe....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372177736239170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizr7rCYeg4Wz5EtaXnVvX80_ZcTFc1BeT5CJkkHPiDaYxDlyqYG5hk47a7uZlJMxj_BoD-g3CXKNWZhXaZCT4BrSxQUefCqzFgUGP5PoPqVhVdA6Q2g0SiDkHLFaZlK1yc_CCqqpJlxkQ/s400/DSC_0006.JPG" border="0" />be amazed...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560371864568237650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPje0mDtu8HYnhNI1idvV7apUQlNY-Pb6zrDkcLqL-zSk6fa13DPyYeU-COsdCSIsQUBNm3T6mI3ZgA41XMpq_H_36mn_Dgl1J_WrDmIOhGf8z00VxhErH5RyPYkJUW8l6uTIb5WzFRXc/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" />Be amazed... this spwan, this is how it is done. Aren't we a bonding??<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560371876033258482" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieMDDjlT3LrSvu8IN8bDRQ4jN_t3NqU1DIxMY6R6np3RbBdiGZVieVDD7E7BdAKLMlukE5jbhYDpLVkgkILjXRxUW-vEC3dEl_fwGKvwwcf29c40YCmsp8jy_kEz8dWO3vJFT9USK0TCw/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" />Uhm, exsqeeze me...MT? MT!?! Are you playing your Nintendo DS?!?!?<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372185965469986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmyjQ4bZBslLQ1BoYwfLF_rhJ2TECzIvSda31mQ2RVrci03E8YxW7XsYDOL9hkXz2Gu-2g-_QOZ1xCd8uxzbucEx_EgHzssrsGDjT_txBnYtfioa8yTVY2nyHqZzep84k6T2Mr0moDs0/s400/DSC_0009.JPG" border="0" />Fine then. We will stick with the child who shows a glimmer of hope for the pizza industry. It's a like this BT....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372946989339346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIwcABMAwIY2MFrZL7uLtrZFPwZae7pbiVidS2-0gYQjIRisTqHCw4VwFLQ-K0bTcY3zjuo3xUtpnUjjEbok2pAUOsL4T0L9aYmPrjYj_IFb_L-C6gTGOXiuM55Ek4kBmVrq8_NzoDiBc/s400/DSC_0018.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372952399422450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbPaunNEBC3lWXg5mpan9G1pl9U0oSrsOWSuyjbiRgcVS7JpnAWP0OMeV6B50ZEt9kdMVWs-VP9OM5Opu5tLrINosOWGdrvQN8XlSyORGirNaiGtHORldc79tjG6zbg6Dav2OIsSRxNPY/s400/DSC_0019.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYTuHilFBYsQhqwxyFqzS6cn9Co_2fBSBdCMejmjqbcfIjF6d84FYRMUh8tSdob_aoWgnGJR78fgYSNmcox9AEznYr0J4cwCJhqP_ZS31jaOIVkJxhJ6SMkZ_2n_hQEAR4ARNAuGKprE/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372958501350738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPYTuHilFBYsQhqwxyFqzS6cn9Co_2fBSBdCMejmjqbcfIjF6d84FYRMUh8tSdob_aoWgnGJR78fgYSNmcox9AEznYr0J4cwCJhqP_ZS31jaOIVkJxhJ6SMkZ_2n_hQEAR4ARNAuGKprE/s400/DSC_0020.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372631909045650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTfyyv_STwlTVyBuTtA1dgSmReXpe1zdMUClWqdVGUK3CGwkiJ9NuVgG2cSX72Lf8RwwWNpjpULOiwBoZsoW8aqQLPyOoiacaXjqfSM3gD7vPw0YEndpX3q8lbP9vkvmTMRhDc4JP-AfY/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" /> Now it's your turn -- up and twist. Up and twist. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372627274301202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgnwdY-ot7_RTPz3mCQb1Ivm_mSQqZBriLQevti0bQ6NNe9wwxmaQ3P7V3laVKJuETMyaUG3co1cED0L7WKWGSAf-K0w8MRg6LS5z5Kow4kDYPwWxu0o9oStTW8ukZwFops-Gc0eV4mX0/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" />Here we go...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372636342575426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTc9NddrnNEc-EJio1l3gnxOVt9IfmO6YVGmphYkkR8Suh8tVCteRmHWGePQubbiejrCtthwVGQpFaneVsH86nXarkZRXl0TynMmMOnpIThIEKMKek2L5GjN0GxsfKtb7q1HpbkPbCxG0/s400/DSC_0015.JPG" border="0" /> Up---<br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFcrTHoJL6PvyNvGoLFOBMZKKz1P5P3kGkcfGCvxdTUKbyZNF5FUHDqSyNk6_3D-KrGUgUOQ4GlTZEcSbn-4e35WM7_57m-cKWt0OvGwEZAINdXw6uGygwQenM_nS8pFHohajNrn_Gq4/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373246524424706" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFcrTHoJL6PvyNvGoLFOBMZKKz1P5P3kGkcfGCvxdTUKbyZNF5FUHDqSyNk6_3D-KrGUgUOQ4GlTZEcSbn-4e35WM7_57m-cKWt0OvGwEZAINdXw6uGygwQenM_nS8pFHohajNrn_Gq4/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" /></a> And......<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXoL86th0RTcg7eFYUlMK-mgYWr49jnHqvu8VSgFzWJD0MhNbRDH1gbutB2cHtoSpYxsU8cISN8wmbuqrLtyvaKY-MbddOp0DIqnZ2UjonuZieppOhEgF54lV1OakCzqfbmqxQmbd5j8/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373238996218114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcXoL86th0RTcg7eFYUlMK-mgYWr49jnHqvu8VSgFzWJD0MhNbRDH1gbutB2cHtoSpYxsU8cISN8wmbuqrLtyvaKY-MbddOp0DIqnZ2UjonuZieppOhEgF54lV1OakCzqfbmqxQmbd5j8/s400/DSC_0021.JPG" border="0" /></a> Ahhhh ahhhhh AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372945865883538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihR6NMxq9vp1mfIsG0ud_TP7aEoJBcbm1XxGnF0QhZY1fI9fR5GHjT2NNIL287e_q3f6WlGwgHGY8FdX1tpS_Fdgdexi4NpnL9xhfD6vl1a87ih36dvIkPwDC7S3HgprU7xYUi0J5ikHQ/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" />CATCH!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372620262865090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KyM9gPIW1Y968onU1GhOz4uSaKQX_cDnMi6z_wsOf4BlSG8RMi8qaWSQ4eGD6-Zpsf7XL-2DjDme63ch50kZ8Jv21EPM-1CZ87SpXW-WRsVrB8XFHVmqZ59E_w4vSELaLp-8nRymNeY/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" border="0" />YEAH!!!!<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560372934806275698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH0jFv2cz4YG4xyXol0m9tmF2A4T5qCwVvkEL2WPoBwsMzFbGECI9jyMqoX16tkyzfBpOq7sQmn_ca1OvMuEPUeeL9mbJrpYmFcT32ertSoPLK_jjxXkIO1eot25BJ-oHgOVIddn9VfL8/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Now for the pepperonis.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBYY32Ao6iiYtIU4qxI_jZdhd4QEye_Db9gs1ANHE18yfpdNY29HNhiFqpJDRqTzNQrI-5l-AAiI2G4a-pCBbrGq29CtuIcJkIzJ4x1hZLEA-IUDDTHnYLYgVzyYFZNsXdyh16LkhmLE/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373539156376290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoBYY32Ao6iiYtIU4qxI_jZdhd4QEye_Db9gs1ANHE18yfpdNY29HNhiFqpJDRqTzNQrI-5l-AAiI2G4a-pCBbrGq29CtuIcJkIzJ4x1hZLEA-IUDDTHnYLYgVzyYFZNsXdyh16LkhmLE/s400/DSC_0027.JPG" border="0" /></a> Uhm, BT quit eating the pizza toppings. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373257878878242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAusR6f3CHZEEXfRr9PL_4JXnKI-h8eiGlsNUD7JPeQEfAPG-AD_HIKgF7qkXaOSjoa4_q9779u8_NzXaSrg9-wKmj1IRKAeErTvVnqeyCS420PLa_Qp4Z-YOYwGshvYD_uL23DBAqwSI/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" border="0" />BT! Quit. Eating. The. Pepperonis. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373255354246082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTAXbWFj6eYYd7kYAqgc1oZFTxeI8E6ua8I8gvVnJQ3Um1NP_JqoXPe0H83GyhgH3X78oq1ZCYob-SJrb41P-BpQf0yYJFgZC0a7g3OkEeImOPAFMbENGEWJJiNz-4X0yrrpC0R4SJhY/s400/DSC_0023.JPG" border="0" /> BT!!! Lord have mercy child. What is that in your hands that you are eating?!?!?!?<br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxJq9CVcHQD6yRyqjhPhPZMhcW-gMlLTpgBE1-gd-TNjyy30iPAcp1yGf8pWlfdobJid0uSgygNeydGvCdz5bYolywATeosGcomsGAPOJvL6BbEn747P3VbSaexIgDEhoL89V2WS3QkY/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373260042762114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYxJq9CVcHQD6yRyqjhPhPZMhcW-gMlLTpgBE1-gd-TNjyy30iPAcp1yGf8pWlfdobJid0uSgygNeydGvCdz5bYolywATeosGcomsGAPOJvL6BbEn747P3VbSaexIgDEhoL89V2WS3QkY/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" border="0" /></a> But when it is all said and done....he is Oh So Proud. And his daddy thinks he might be the next Papa BT.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373545391290050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNuhsV_5sLK6AOTxZUs_D9H7YXqCv-ELZwU86Qvm-Nh3uNt3vwxkduCBdTXQkohinWToC5bbH7ZAXn0SDEpghwlhqnR5oP6oYsz61wsp4ipen5PwXq1HLeEhGFqbqVcxRgb6s5Da0W2k/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" border="0" />Burp.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560373555650527490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHdqtOtiYLzkOdx3ovw71KVWipX37jmZ6u7MkNC_ZGHu8gzrOfn5rhfWoIVNulN7eZDxHbOWlTzATCAnWyl6cfGGAaBYcwrJNTMn0i1kfgDgOW3Gjd99e6AdMvppTVUcvvNIIoPkLR18/s400/DSC_0030.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-52767189518527074302011-01-05T15:03:00.004-05:002011-01-05T15:25:15.156-05:00Here a Wattle. There a Wattle. Every Where a Wattle Wattle.<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JBz5DqLU-CUiYjxQFDZLW7KKsvLvmg0Ka6V3KcP9Z13PTW_tfgNRCtZfU-4FLREVJjYaRGq69QQIv27hyphenhyphenLuUP-WxJK2jLkFZmHpjWDr3WcndQKEfWKSIZnirbaNCXh2u3kR-PgI7qBc/s1600/DSC_0453.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558796211728896594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8JBz5DqLU-CUiYjxQFDZLW7KKsvLvmg0Ka6V3KcP9Z13PTW_tfgNRCtZfU-4FLREVJjYaRGq69QQIv27hyphenhyphenLuUP-WxJK2jLkFZmHpjWDr3WcndQKEfWKSIZnirbaNCXh2u3kR-PgI7qBc/s400/DSC_0453.JPG" border="0" /></a> Yes, these are pics of my children with a chicken. I know I began a series on my new house - but I think we were all painfully aware I would not finish what I started. I like to shake it up a bit - but not too much - cause things shake and jiggle on me that didn't 20 years ago -- so before I go shaking things up now-a-days, I gotta put on my Spanx first. It's the law. In 13 states. <br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7JtE1LRaB_ogqmy1IJIWNRnf4tz67Itpz5nnh93w3DECVEcvRejthYXG48ExeU8OO7IwEGStvLhUuCOZ7lddLHqG4yNRECZfsGC5oUFLELNEYhawIQtR0EQzEKwGYHHOzsFgXMsJ02Y/s1600/DSC_0452.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558796202946755314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm7JtE1LRaB_ogqmy1IJIWNRnf4tz67Itpz5nnh93w3DECVEcvRejthYXG48ExeU8OO7IwEGStvLhUuCOZ7lddLHqG4yNRECZfsGC5oUFLELNEYhawIQtR0EQzEKwGYHHOzsFgXMsJ02Y/s400/DSC_0452.JPG" border="0" /></a> Anyhoo - when you open this post you may be all like Uhm -- exsqueegie me CG. I baking powder? uhm -- Really? A chicken? Puh leez tell me, "Why is BT holding a chicken?"<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLXHCQxWSMMapU9SrHrHTAYhmskV7cUCI4lWNt9kAAJKchFu8rIDb_oM2SjQPfFqF33EuE533eN2sFQtfxVKNrhv0dnkZE6QFu18bzL7sTUVxDVS2LFwGCprnk5guaOPbB8mhSpAFyikg/s1600/DSC_0451.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558796198749992402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLXHCQxWSMMapU9SrHrHTAYhmskV7cUCI4lWNt9kAAJKchFu8rIDb_oM2SjQPfFqF33EuE533eN2sFQtfxVKNrhv0dnkZE6QFu18bzL7sTUVxDVS2LFwGCprnk5guaOPbB8mhSpAFyikg/s400/DSC_0451.JPG" border="0" /></a> Or better yet, "For all that is good and holy in this world, WHERE in tarnation did that chicken come from?!?" I know. I know. You just never quite know about me.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeccESQ09LHynrlZ-BBkFvuNYv2yr3p0BimYn1AHpdqZZ1cFVu1yugeRmaxiMK3-Wz70wYe8aO8ajDKx_ZDpOT_7o6ujaI654NKDMnGd4n485TtgyT3ecQRjumZ4jNctRxZqcShZUvks/s1600/DSC_0450.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558796187265609138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGeccESQ09LHynrlZ-BBkFvuNYv2yr3p0BimYn1AHpdqZZ1cFVu1yugeRmaxiMK3-Wz70wYe8aO8ajDKx_ZDpOT_7o6ujaI654NKDMnGd4n485TtgyT3ecQRjumZ4jNctRxZqcShZUvks/s400/DSC_0450.JPG" border="0" /></a> Or possibly you are saying. "My, my, my Miss Chicken, what big Wattles you have!" IJ says that to me sometimes too. I KID! I KID! Kinda. </div><br /><div>Well, if you say that - it is kind of silly cause we all know she would say, "The better to wattle you with my dear!" It's what I say to IJ too. I think we all know what that means, he just rolls his eyes and walks away. It's the only way he can resist this Spanx wearing jiggler. (Contain the jealousy.)</div><br /><div>But that's okay - I am not judging you for your silly Wattle questions. It happens to us all honey child. We all ask silly questions every once-in-a-while.</div><br /><div>Like when IJ says, "Honey, don't you think that is ENOUGH lip gloss?"</div><br /><div>Silly silly boy. </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iTJfgh3fcfOulsWwrlEQuue976gaO8K1PBRcDzpk26rzGZw6sQ2L3Z0PphwcQIg1Lr_JL_PCAQpkaouGzXfwGoGhbO51pJF4DIgQpwiD544QxEfUgRbcVSlt4CGShxPwWHMqFRftpHE/s1600/DSC_0449.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558796186616519906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6iTJfgh3fcfOulsWwrlEQuue976gaO8K1PBRcDzpk26rzGZw6sQ2L3Z0PphwcQIg1Lr_JL_PCAQpkaouGzXfwGoGhbO51pJF4DIgQpwiD544QxEfUgRbcVSlt4CGShxPwWHMqFRftpHE/s400/DSC_0449.JPG" border="0" /></a> Anyhoo, these chicken pics lead to many, many questions. Like why a chicken? And are your boys wearing the SAME SHIRT? And where is ET? And will Josh ever marry Reva Shane for good and move back to Tulsa?</div><div> </div><div>Sorry. All these questions. None of which I have answers for. Except the wattle one, but let's not digress yet again.</div><br /><div>The only thing I can say is our chicken obsession runs in the family. It is a curse from many generations past. </div><br /><div>This is a pic of my Great Great Uncle. I. kid. you. not. For shizzle. </div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5558798425854135634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 260px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhylZc1XNzzFa524EFKR059Tcz54AWbhVurx1cPm0cnZFFvNkyJghTJezyn89xqGH7-T_zZ-7HLCAWIqZRYSfgFZdqZHXt-HOkVUDJg41BoA_VWlYRYUZ-14_q42fRXfw5h6DtGOs-ibsg/s400/uncle+rooster" border="0" /></div><div>I think that says it all. It's all in the Wattles. Amen. </div></div></div></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-17569084581578663672011-01-03T08:57:00.013-05:002011-01-03T10:31:26.496-05:00The New House Version 1.0: I know the fact that this is a series excites you all. Right? Hello? Anyone? Mom?<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557964074162407618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8LFxDF07p9prHxLSg0WPGZ248h0t4oxmM9seuoyfS9sIBp2abHobIdS_K_0dJNnuxUEQPNihCH6aQcmEvglQDgcib4ZYqVqCuv4kzdNA9wOu18E4XKpCYldC7s-CubaL2t3u4cofaLB0/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" border="0" />Good morning my lovelies. I thought I would give you a little mini tour of a portion of my house. I only cleaned this part so you will only see a couple rooms. I clean in stages so maybe I can shove some stuff under some beds for later this week.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Anyhoo</span>, we have the main level mainly done. Mostly. Kinda. And I just big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love our contractors. And while they do not understand my language ( they understand English, just not the version I speak) I think they have come to love and appreciate me. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">IJ</span> would roll his eyes at that statement and disagree...but he should get his own blog cause this is my rainbow and kitten world. Amen. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhys-5QDrf9NeOs8ODxl2b3MIkqVxs5wsu4FlIre-leR_NiHQrLIUNIZG19NxuC4_ddNFwe9fa91bGCMf8O2e37TRderzF2NV9PNuVl9TrAhvEdQFNhJ09mQguc3E4uX3a7YKTQ9-n7XvE/s1600/remodel6.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557971026287905186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhys-5QDrf9NeOs8ODxl2b3MIkqVxs5wsu4FlIre-leR_NiHQrLIUNIZG19NxuC4_ddNFwe9fa91bGCMf8O2e37TRderzF2NV9PNuVl9TrAhvEdQFNhJ09mQguc3E4uX3a7YKTQ9-n7XvE/s400/remodel6.JPG" border="0" /></a>So as you know, we moved just a few houses down in our neighborhood. So I can keep my same friends that love me for the Cupcake drinker that I am.<br /><br />Now for a few before and after picks. I took these the day after the former owner (who is as sweet as molasses) moved out....<br /><br />Before #1 ...<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959249893832578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0wGH6RVGHJMGzZvcWUjRqmHl4qacku8bVa9-vy-QrHLjC37pqGl0BzlRi_eb3ekWGyS-vsy4R1f45qqyAkePwqLGt8RXZychfjCe2poYtVB-H2AnipbqjOZj21Tr1y0yCH4LE6XebKbM/s400/DSC_0439.JPG" border="0" />After #1 (and yes, I know I need shades on my chandelier. I ordered some burlap ones from Pottery Barn but they are on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">backorder</span> until Jan 31. Obviously, they don't read my blog or they would have rushed them Surprising)...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557970640772196466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9F0u7VB-uO-OyLZugdoFX5Pa-fdd15uGBxJ4Esd8hRn-42Nuf0BAbtXbEALZDB1MV66hI0pJGDASpBk88XTArlXUNtVbFlLBgkbzdbQw6_vuAv9slKeTo6XUX04-H5H-U_mwA-LSqCDA/s400/remodel1.JPG" border="0" />Before #2 ...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959252011817570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizcPMw69LViFxxrd24PcuFYIEcYDhcK524tvzKbwqMwKCpbfLLR6uYWvx9APyAa0vG0DJAkXqKyiR2bEqa-SJ31ewlquUGD2giPUDuEIpreY5r0Eb18kDwsn13N_eR51uuv3OB0P0p7Cs/s400/DSC_0438.JPG" border="0" />After #2 ..</div><div>(you can kind of see the beams we added into the living room -- I big pink fuzzy hear with glitter LOVE these. Amen.)<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557970652263626274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMr3Wqp8sHmKqLPIA-pobiOD2oN7s3cZbwwVOOLXxb612GHt7VdRWR_5C7yDrzQxkG-hvM_bjy8XscNEdSQhGXaDljy752cHzkfq5oFsu0glNDuDz8OubZCnxIuKsWVw-huiGFp7PaDQQ/s400/remodel3.JPG" border="0" />Before #3 ...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557958772654394818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFLgRnAsG44fm6hEuDqbiHWqHpEM8oL5jNnRPWbPnjR-9gbcmJmLKz-wE6ev-zV3B_zM7IT9ROoj39N_QgCNarBYdPlg99RG-wxDdXTvJvbVP3qmWx_7JjH1VFSEBRGwoM1asEueel_c/s400/DSC_0437.JPG" border="0" />After #3 ...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557970654874465826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh60m6Tsi8IM3VmwPnMRnYmMnaY3zYfwD4EQU2fhM3Y_feuvjokOLemb_3jHGNlXiPGHPK8eQRk4m0LqhJ0mJ0o-kqrIRAvZl8CwSl0rArzolWUZOfkOKGB1RaJN6VaWvrf-ow25BlQZvg/s400/remodel4.JPG" border="0" />Here is a little better pic of the beams. Let's call them Big Pink Fuzzy Heart with Glitter Beams. I'm going to make the contractors say it....and record it. I'm certain they will do it cause they love me. Right? Right? Hello? Anyone....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557964078667505026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGWwAV4ewVvmwr00LCKKQgu15NsBmZgsYcMV-BESCowYmd3Q7s67wkVD94kWkssQ2dpjATPT_Ouv3qkvf-WJY0o6F5dJQ2zZYmtF7GVdTcYONuWR0q0ejwYgAxUYZBKBKP5pJn0czC17g/s400/DSC_0029.JPG" border="0" />I'm not a big fan of these bar stools and I am going to be super generous and give them to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">IJ</span> once his basement is complete. He just doesn't know it yet. But I will put a bow on them and mistletoe. Then he will be all like WHY I DO DECLARE CG! I JUST LOVE THEM TO PIECES YOU SWEET ANGEL. Cause he talks like that to me all the time. It's just how he rolls.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBqqZKEpmrE4-ccNVZ2zsvsacwuHzD8gad2CG2ZcPme2Q4RdnsfeHTB73ND8FoPrGlqc6q-9pzd_WV7uDYZPDBoxeRpvL-9bW4I9n6mwnXphlKjttXkIl1AgRnPh6ql0kO4Vc7BOvLzI/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557964530166262642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnBqqZKEpmrE4-ccNVZ2zsvsacwuHzD8gad2CG2ZcPme2Q4RdnsfeHTB73ND8FoPrGlqc6q-9pzd_WV7uDYZPDBoxeRpvL-9bW4I9n6mwnXphlKjttXkIl1AgRnPh6ql0kO4Vc7BOvLzI/s400/DSC_0032.JPG" border="0" /></a> This is a little bit of a closer up for the desk area....<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959799720585586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyD9KuNQIJ2n01XkNHNY5i-VUzIRTes4VyIou40W7az4TNFNuiLZTGwXX0VQ5PMgiZXrRGuNddS7r6TVw4Nu94-G8RUZBsXYkffOcqOsi6qfhcndoO8F7PNAm4QezP-4ZeeQjFbLtKJW0/s400/DSC_0027.JPG" border="0" />You can't really see it here, but these are distressed. And the granite is SUPPOSE to look like grained wood. I did what Dana told me to do and went with a lighter granite on darker cabinets. And I squinted my eyes (like she said) and it did not all blend into one color. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959796412801234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvgZJNqYV0XbFaq2fsGww7CV00vYhiGcTQTT8Yhhy02pzDLHptS5mYWexIPA5vF2aO7PBbsGmsoKKLI2tyGSTT1i8ySRspPTHGSyuurFr0s4sFErkD44PVofPlSrO7dcQr8RpRzfXjMuE/s400/DSC_0026.JPG" border="0" />Right off the breakfast nook is a little deck<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959776346908162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN8TcqcMVXTGNnrBWsNVPxmN9FWssdU453yWwZFp4SMif2s39MbcKgN3cyT9NytoccEVPuDN_k8W0xP8LpUL0Vc6q8bWDS0_KU_We7-13ZtNvGLjOzFS4ZQ87cQre6y3ln1VwrqsJ0O08/s400/DSC_0023.JPG" border="0" /> (that needs to be refinished? Is that what you call it? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Restained</span>? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Restripped</span>? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Reglittered</span>? Yes, I will ask the contractors to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">reglitter</span> it. I'm certain they will know exactly what to do.)</div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx5MEwCJ2x3GVZVrQ8c5iCRQCvdIqg-e2tjWeITzDrwwqyAy5NMp8r4KjHtakaPA_Hk4VvJaKM8ERtIxKxBfIAbF6iYDKRBaIrCw66gR2L9tmFNlZXkHta8ZNnrnPDyp3jot6mLdY1_i0/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557965832717260786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx5MEwCJ2x3GVZVrQ8c5iCRQCvdIqg-e2tjWeITzDrwwqyAy5NMp8r4KjHtakaPA_Hk4VvJaKM8ERtIxKxBfIAbF6iYDKRBaIrCw66gR2L9tmFNlZXkHta8ZNnrnPDyp3jot6mLdY1_i0/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Anyhoo</span> - it overlooks our backyard...<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557964531365941826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfwdxLUeyGHsbdbchWINza1EbDRXJa37pOx_x1W1oF-MYfF_AcPvxJD436oWNu5jAsRLcMpI0y9PAVBRLmJubYWqNH04tdZAn8l7SLTYh7coC0tDxxlcVg2gUFsv-FlX3Js_IW7m9FpSk/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" border="0" />Which has a creek that runs through the middle of it -- if you can see it. Squint your eyes and make whooshing sounds with your mouth then you can see it. It works every time.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557964537576569970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRFlgj7c7c0fnvG_Z09BxuQ3TnL2AruvHkWX_1O0FMYxNFCcpjL-MwMT9zWFuijqgLXUZUnxmfmpMHSLizwweNVDQe1RSzVR-47tnmLUX0tOwAC-NoQpPka7sqHbIn_S3l69pUmWzQTSE/s400/DSC_0034.JPG" border="0" />See? You can see it now can't ya? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">IJ</span> also built a fire pit. And he beats his chest and roars when it ignites. And bellows <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">FIIIIRRREEE</span>. Like in Cast Away, but without the beard. And the beach. And the stranded on a deserted island thing. But other than that, exactly the same.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFJpX3lTO52nf8EOvjzbnZGJId7zkBJzlDF7r5ZVnOR5GQKiaVU3SDwz3JPi_dsYZPRS3iihX2sOY_IyiAs5kj4vdeAuX0wxAme-CiFkyvFDO2_Jpy95EcftlwOoNH7lEoPG7yokT3_Y/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557964541382168962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFJpX3lTO52nf8EOvjzbnZGJId7zkBJzlDF7r5ZVnOR5GQKiaVU3SDwz3JPi_dsYZPRS3iihX2sOY_IyiAs5kj4vdeAuX0wxAme-CiFkyvFDO2_Jpy95EcftlwOoNH7lEoPG7yokT3_Y/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Anyhoo</span> -- this is what happens in the creek ...<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557958782678255506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI1Eq3gI-h_6uYbtKY5PUwwA6s63u074LkQrNwMA-D11x-Bgt3OQv8ocYhKexl8EegbVD4eAx7f4TGEuyjHw2M5bH1WL2bwXlWW8KHUIa8EQf5T-Hi78U-rnDN95ZW3HPGRq99eZi-BCw/s400/DSC_0539.JPG" border="0" />This leads to the basement. I want to find an old barn door and put it on tracks here that slide. When I tell <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">IJ</span> that he rolls his eyes at me. I have come to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">understand</span> that means he thinks it is the BEST idea in the whole wide world and thinks I should get started on it right away. No matter the cost.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557970661644872242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNx5gZ9RQRuJBU0y0mtBDSMrUqGTqaIKyM_I-wQ0P_5akAYCA1xkviROY7h_mWXTY42F1PlodTDgBnilsewkN3iSm_Tj_NLLNg2xDp0biL1giAynzsspq9ygk9XppxeRUHb79lb91lAE/s400/remodel5.JPG" border="0" />One of my favorite things about my house is the farm house sink. It reminds me of my great grandma and Auntie. And I love them and miss them. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959780362054226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmBIvn7Wuel2jrOazSu8Ys3dMUHRiM4GpQ3KKEJDRcFyZDQrPFQlAmMJk_06P-3iaU5EMile7mUwhpzcSmGTBOAPvGjnCcqzsCSacgQEEim-OHLhwXyaYfUEtWAbkNBrazZK3z6Nt4A48/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" border="0" />And I pretend I can just like them. And use labels that say <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Smuckers</span>. But other than that, exactly the same.<br /></div></div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZeVAnNqngSiriDYMZ-MmlgEs-ryLIJAh8pVJLDN9RPjP-JnfKHyycTD3G9c_9uqftW9Mi7tBioz6pcfwEeqKDgO7jNDcYwoYr2nbMztd6fhFGrDWpCW9qKngTGUxTpYsc0qG3HjPk3OE/s1600/DSC_0025.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557959792028378834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZeVAnNqngSiriDYMZ-MmlgEs-ryLIJAh8pVJLDN9RPjP-JnfKHyycTD3G9c_9uqftW9Mi7tBioz6pcfwEeqKDgO7jNDcYwoYr2nbMztd6fhFGrDWpCW9qKngTGUxTpYsc0qG3HjPk3OE/s400/DSC_0025.JPG" border="0" /></a> Here are a few other quick little views of the downstairs.... Guest Bathroom... </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgUpyKPvBGr-X4QGwvhXmNr3Bh8c2nzH7p4pChX2d4klyItbsn04-Mk3n1e6xaPSbb_etJpbwmQ4-YpDyih9SplIn61zDO2-kggRlFqtM0byc5b7T43efzUzukqN7IMz-Axcr1J87zO0/s1600/DSC_0042.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557966119136102498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYgUpyKPvBGr-X4QGwvhXmNr3Bh8c2nzH7p4pChX2d4klyItbsn04-Mk3n1e6xaPSbb_etJpbwmQ4-YpDyih9SplIn61zDO2-kggRlFqtM0byc5b7T43efzUzukqN7IMz-Axcr1J87zO0/s400/DSC_0042.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_zXK5MVaTEd8ajZrnQhGscRTkZKWL0QoXjkcylpeNvZzZVs26a9naHX1dCk-HCAOZtuDqr6h63knTacPFcFQDNCnPXjDIBlx88GA2ejJzVNO6_FGvXU5qHqt0a2eqoyekj0-APgSEzQ/s1600/DSC_0041.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557966116709583858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx_zXK5MVaTEd8ajZrnQhGscRTkZKWL0QoXjkcylpeNvZzZVs26a9naHX1dCk-HCAOZtuDqr6h63knTacPFcFQDNCnPXjDIBlx88GA2ejJzVNO6_FGvXU5qHqt0a2eqoyekj0-APgSEzQ/s400/DSC_0041.JPG" border="0" /></a> Playroom --<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aKtMRmrsO6KqQzpRWWe5Lnn2OfF5I1uDXeU1g-Jxe4RRK_ZgLrWrNdg3pK6_MfzWngtkAeHJ67oekUDp9iFh70fcmetLQq-JUp6YVNDX3OO2SRJMoTd8nJ0wnZ4OKd923y2dj8Oqkzs/s1600/DSC_0040.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557965850320591490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2aKtMRmrsO6KqQzpRWWe5Lnn2OfF5I1uDXeU1g-Jxe4RRK_ZgLrWrNdg3pK6_MfzWngtkAeHJ67oekUDp9iFh70fcmetLQq-JUp6YVNDX3OO2SRJMoTd8nJ0wnZ4OKd923y2dj8Oqkzs/s400/DSC_0040.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div>I may or may not have been playing with the castle this morning.... Maybe.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYx8bjtogbIZjTnFrDWK5GI07lraHigrrOin00NKgwcYd2iyxuQvim4ULt1UN6dgJvD4Lc6UxIIPsoLe8KVLpdXGi-xxnvCk8GxmY8N8W2l4ATYB3ucy_mU2fP_IBCXB0HqHieu-iBgw/s1600/DSC_0039.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557965845852119202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTYx8bjtogbIZjTnFrDWK5GI07lraHigrrOin00NKgwcYd2iyxuQvim4ULt1UN6dgJvD4Lc6UxIIPsoLe8KVLpdXGi-xxnvCk8GxmY8N8W2l4ATYB3ucy_mU2fP_IBCXB0HqHieu-iBgw/s400/DSC_0039.JPG" border="0" /></a> Entry .. <div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557965837613642962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihEAyHcqQsoV0ui8fdeyyBdSe4vTTmut9bQ3naaDegRy3TCc5YEB99hWI7rEWchftIFEQeQjc_0Y9ucEnqo2C-2pEQZrLSmh0ZwrdhrqyKw1UGeaXPznV_YB9vPe6EOTYGpriIsoywJZY/s400/DSC_0037.JPG" border="0" /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">IJ</span> says if I bring one more old rusty thing into this house he is going to yank a knot in my tail. I only giggle. Cause I think I might like that. :) (BTW -- that old phone was my great grandma's)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjLUZaRB4_Uu468qXFKv5Rp9pvMNhGYpjC5jk8hGPyppT0vb9ZjejWCtOeJKPHrrv-XBjwnybXabPvnKHCLnbyZS5D9sJmrN7qAFAWFwYyzMZIjdr7HEInsUSRJ9885Km8oZS6OI9g74/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5557965843199704354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJjLUZaRB4_Uu468qXFKv5Rp9pvMNhGYpjC5jk8hGPyppT0vb9ZjejWCtOeJKPHrrv-XBjwnybXabPvnKHCLnbyZS5D9sJmrN7qAFAWFwYyzMZIjdr7HEInsUSRJ9885Km8oZS6OI9g74/s400/DSC_0038.JPG" border="0" /></a> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Anyhoo</span> -- we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">wuvs</span> it. And more to come....but now I need you all to come VISIT. We have the room and we want you. So who will come first? Anyone? Anyone? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Bueller</span>?</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-66341669782968962482010-12-31T04:28:00.009-05:002010-12-31T04:57:05.519-05:00Smile And The Whole World Smiles with You<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUnlPxGsW3adetKT69CuFm-OLkYloOwZm5026SLtbmKMgQdJG3aYV5YzuN6CTX3BAimC2sEb09HfQSrBal5jocFCdib4aGLl9Cp4IzPGDY_0CB9PoOw4muBuHMnkFISIK2NosZ4TdLqao/s1600/DSC_0586.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556777012222677522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUnlPxGsW3adetKT69CuFm-OLkYloOwZm5026SLtbmKMgQdJG3aYV5YzuN6CTX3BAimC2sEb09HfQSrBal5jocFCdib4aGLl9Cp4IzPGDY_0CB9PoOw4muBuHMnkFISIK2NosZ4TdLqao/s400/DSC_0586.JPG" border="0" /></a>I know. I know. We are all expected post of Christmas morning in jammies and sweet smiles and sleepy eyes. But when have I ever been predictable? <div><div><div><div><br /><div>I have been gone. And probably to no ones tragic dismay - but nonetheless, I have missed you. Terribly.</div><div></div><br /><div>I have been in a state of chaos that only I have put myself into - pushing myself too hard a work, trying to solve all my family problems, and looking for the perfect lipgloss shade. All impossible missions.</div><br /><div>Anyhoo, I did the unthinkable. the unbelievable. the so un-CG -- I took 2 weeks vaca and stayed HOME! My new home -- that we just remodeled (almost done) -- that took 3 months. (Here is the old -- wait until you see the "new" home tour video.....arg, I gotta make my bed first.)<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556778248170123762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hNQsfbRpfutINiLg7MWBwSx6cWov8zCgdAcObJaFEH3SweGLxRAsPw8SIbEZHdduLDMP6-K0QdlWk5kX1j1x6E9t1RxcJUt7crfPup52W1DEO84zlNWw4zh7f0Q61riqnoA5MqR0NOU/s400/DSC_0437.JPG" border="0" />And let me just tell you like it is honey child. I love and embrace all but my contract workers are as slow as molasses. IJ thinks they were in no hurry cause I made them cookies and muffins. But when they left their earplugs in AFTER the heavy machinery was gone and it was only me talking....I got the hint. Just sayin.</div><br /><div></div><div>Anyhoo -- I have missed you but I have gotten a big healthy dose of PERSPECTIVE in my life. And learned to SLOW down. At least for a month or so - cause that is about how long my lessons last.<br /></div><div></div><div>But I thought I would share some of my lessons with you. How I am cutting back, letting loose, being easy and breezy, going free.....</div><div></div><div><br />1. I still have not sent my Christmas Cards out....but I am going to -- in January. And I will sign each one </div><div>~ Happy Holidays. I know they are over. I celebrate all year. Go forth and glitter.</div><div>Please don't judge me... CG</div><div></div><div><br />2. I learned to turn my frown<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556777003109474674" 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/AVvXsEiNSZ6NnSLMHPna_muZWf4heywo6kvkovaBxESA2P4prFlBFPRhD6M_QuKSrv6uje_2xqc2pm_hf1eCwzWXI616NVVHKiDltS4VrutrGG8rGBxA1GjuqlReVp5ZIu7szOpqRxFtmqPwzLY/s400/CSC_0614.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div><p>Upside down....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556777000543463970" 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/AVvXsEjAszVvLg_bLC1svKLiOdEhaDIwhch6XrPLKErQogjb3sY6DzJ6ElNkjr8h3EArdfInkBj0MpFfOh6h5bE-55luB2WineEC5rgyA2Li0dCHsaJBAtWYQ4QMzaemn5a51P0yGBi0fkEcMrc/s400/CSC_0670.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>3. I learned that even if it is winter - if you have a beautiful day you should strip down to your underwear and go to the creek with a friend. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556777011950712098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgUILW3BoHr51nI9wM3_QCQTaQ7QlbtkNKLUCmV4D83hMidXn18jN3Gv2Z1SlPMXacCJYp2z1DQEL3WyFImueTss0XSFDgZKVz72lwkcGMOLhAKISi8kM-E29T3Q3zy95x2AejyoH7cpM/s400/CSC_0567.JPG" border="0" />IJ thinks I missed the lesson here. I think he is just jealous cause my underwear is cuter than his. Then he rolls his eyes at me, stokes my hair and says something like, "You're so Pretty" <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556778266868103682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT0SM6w4WG5W8cRSfDEkmGw-xxCNgnoOoPzdbt3Qi0AZbwXD_0IOci2YrHtEP6YodA7Dzz0Mbx4W7aIat-dmsk6ChVxTdmUlfRklI8jF4o5Kmym2k5WU1At717Ch88a1CP3__AUV_v8u8/s400/DSC_0561.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Deep down he loves me. </p><p>Anyhoo - spontaneously spending time with friends. And not caring what we are wearing or if we have showered (Ok, I shared too much, I have that nasty habit) but just laughing and kickin it up.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556778256078252290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ_6XEeApHr5pSc62jP7R0DdbLH1B5l1qHqciFNGN-8CXfawDgwEzbi5dtRCJOZwG7kgUn1givYrIBpbqaY_uhza5jPZFIvEg0rS6HupwVDnUYs8bbpkjWbyAH7lL3G4998LbKsWU1Ufs/s400/DSC_0562.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>4. I learned that sometimes, a trip home is just what the doctor ordered.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556778253706796242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQfq9fi2Ze-zCOY_nSTDkKau0iqFYncPSyfErL9FeTZiXezOsOOLH00gAI2eZnZE7oEEiCdwyx2EtEflhNQMo91O5Uvs6CaoPP5JtNt-naq8VwNWJlIyf5q_f_7r-mu6CmshKbAyJ0sJA/s400/DSC_0666.JPG" border="0" />for me and for my spawn....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556778247937740434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJIC6iFLVJ2ylJ6J6rTFXJos_bREYNT4vBBzljsxca-OWdMg_C_dorCbNkSNlVRjppQLiWkHxUjCKIzSAecwWmo1NrSIkspISw0TadkMISjBHL044bzvndTGdT1jNMQOqKm4zT3XiMlCo/s400/DSC_0663.JPG" border="0" />5. I learned that when I'm smiling - and I keep on smiling -- all my spawn smile withe me.</p><p>And when I'm laughing - belly laughing - the sun comes shinin through.</p><p>But when I'm crying - I bring the rain - so I gotta cheer up and keep on smiling</p><p>Cause my whole world will smile and laugh and big pink fuzzy heart with glitter LOVE too.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5556777008253373010" 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/AVvXsEjNlM-t0usfSE2dG9PhNQDMHMZs_IRhTPCNh4Ck-dJ-6DZDxp4H30O0mE9QyZg_C7DkBwfu3p1w9f0jNRIIsymkR0mxRPox6Y7IUxx8Q_QooqjD11-3BN5y5Q2YTd4a2najOgCxOGmKq2A/s400/CSC_0662.JPG" border="0" /></p><p>Anyhoo - I have missed you all -- AND I AM BACK. (but not it black....in shimmery shiny pink sequins with taffeta puffy sleeves. Cause I truly believe the 80's are coming back. they were Jesus' favorite era and all. I know cause he told me. Amen)</p>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-43492002663805023612010-12-15T16:52:00.000-05:002010-12-15T16:53:23.664-05:00I Wish I Had A RiverDo you know that Joni Mitchell song? “I wish I had a river I could skate away on”. Such a sad song! And not really about Christmas at all, but I was thinking about it tonight as I was decorating my Christmas tree, unwrapping funky ornaments made of Popsicle sticks, and missing my mother so much I almost couldn’t breathe. I always miss my mother at Christmas, but…somehow it is worse this year since I need some advice from her. I need her to make me some cocoa and tell me that everything that’s going badly in my life will sort itself out.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-3379199555299346772010-11-23T07:44:00.003-05:002010-11-23T07:53:16.080-05:00Happy Thanksgiving iPhone<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">BT</span> is the Cook in his Thanksgiving Play this year. Not be outdone by his older brother who played the stellar part of Lead Indian last year. And not to mention dear sweet ET who was a star in her musical last week.
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<br />It's amazing the depth of talent we have in the family. Who would have ever thought 3 children who have my blood coursing through their veins would ever have a flair for the dramatic -- so surprising and shocking I gasp as well.
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<br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Anyhoo</span> -- <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">BT</span> is the cook in his school play today -- and in his words, "It doesn't end well <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">fow</span> the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Twukey</span>"
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<br />I just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">wuvs</span> him.
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<br />Below you will be able to see for your viewing pleasure {ah hem, ah hem} his backstage (aka master bathroom) practice.
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<br />In which is vocal cords still needed a little warming up....he is his toughest critic.
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<br />The end salutation from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">BT</span> also shows how much the poor sweet baby has an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">iphone</span> stuck in his face. Bless his heart.
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<br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/x5HxjGKkcDQ?fs=" width="480" height="385" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" hl="en_US"></embed>
<br />Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-61123369355266819102010-11-07T03:47:00.004-05:002010-11-07T05:04:47.012-05:00Wove Aways Wins<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-P8gYOePMQwTwqycAfdbj_lZxKLHyRm17Ou_nLsIhIo-Je5IsbJOjkwBwGXSwYA66JQcF5XZLo-oIZfe4lOFpnZ2qitwub_NzIUakSwADRZaCTQBsJLxvtBAQC39u26NmBp0Xum7WspY/s1600/CSC_0526.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5536745704969520802" 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/AVvXsEg-P8gYOePMQwTwqycAfdbj_lZxKLHyRm17Ou_nLsIhIo-Je5IsbJOjkwBwGXSwYA66JQcF5XZLo-oIZfe4lOFpnZ2qitwub_NzIUakSwADRZaCTQBsJLxvtBAQC39u26NmBp0Xum7WspY/s400/CSC_0526.JPG" border="0" /></a>As a mother, most of my days are spent doubting that one single lesson I have tried to instill in my spawn has taken hold. The mere fact that my soon to be 13-year-old daughter has to not only be reminded DAILY to shower, but that I also must defend this medieval torture and explain the reasons every.single.time! confirms that the lessons are lost.<br /><div></div><br /><div>I truly believe that when they lay their sweet angel heads on their pillows at night, ever manner and sweetness I have taught them leaks out their ears. You just thought that was drool. It's not. It's "please and thank you and showers and hand washing." Amen</div><br /><div>Anyhoo, but sometimes - just sometimes- God himself shines down in his glory and love and gives me hope that maybe, possible, there could be a slight chance that I am not failing at this freakishly hard thang called "motherhood"</div><br /><div>My two boy spawn (Middle Twerp and Baby Twerp) were playing Connect Four in the playroom after we had spent the morning picking out granite and cabinet hardware. This only lead to me giving THE LOOK forty eleven times and inevitably making them call me Aunt Country Girl so it could not longer be assumed they were genetically tied to my womb.</div><br /><div></div><div>Anyhoo -- it was not the best of days.</div><br /><div></div><div>And I locked them in the playroom and said only come get me if there is blood. And it needs to be a lot of blood. A whole lot.</div><br /><div>And soon I heard, "Nunt uh. Is not. You're cheating. I'm telling!!!"</div><br /><div>And then... silence.</div><br /><div>Silence.</div><br /><div>Which all mother's know is worse than blood.</div><br /><div></div>Much worse.<br /><br /><div>So I peeked in. Expecting to see someone decapitated. Or worse, covered in Sharpie marker while eating glue.</div><br /><div>But what I saw was a sweet game of Connect Four starting.</div><br /><div>And two angelic faces looking back at me.</div><br /><div>ME: "What's going on?"</div><br /><div>BT: "Nuffin. We's just pwaying." (says BT in his daring speech impediment voice)</div><br /><div>ME: "Oh. Silly me. I thought you were fighting over who won."</div><br /><div></div><div>BT: "Nope."</div><br /><div></div><div>ME; "Oh who one the last game?"</div><br /><div></div><div>BT: "No one. Just wove"</div><br /><div>ME: "LOVE won?!?!?"</div><br /><div></div><div>BT: "Yea, Wove always wins."</div><br /><div></div><div>And at that moment, I melted. If he learns nothing else in this life, he knows that <em><strong>wove always wins.</strong></em></div><br /><div></div><div>Although I dearly pray he also learns his "L sound".</div><br /><div></div><div>Amen.</div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-46445572689836206882010-11-06T04:44:00.003-04:002010-11-06T05:27:54.802-04:00I Am Moving to BostonI've always been a tad bit "unique" let's say. I've come to grips with it in my life. Kinda.<br /><br />Oh there are so many other words to describe it....but I believe I will stick with unique. Cause it's kinder. And I can spell it. And I feel the "q" is under-used in our language and I don't want to give her a complex and all.<br /><br />But alas, through all my "unique" situations throughout my life, nothing quite confirmed my odd tendencies quite like my dinner party obsession last week.<br /><br />And may I interrupt this regularly scheduled story to clarify a detail -- I don't think you can really classify it as a dinner "party" due to the fact there was no Casey and the Sunshine Band playing nor was there glitter. Therefore, technically - it was just a gathering. I dinner gathering.<br /><br />Now I feel better. Honesty is always the best policy.<br /><br />Anyhoo -- I am fighting (in a lover kinda way) a horrible cold. So toward the end of the dinner gathering I called my sweet little server over (Vladimir was his name, which coincidentally I called him Glad-a-mirror all night until my friend corrected me. In the Deep South, that is just how we speak Russian.)<br /><br />Sorry, I digress.<br /><br />So I call Vladimir over and said, "Vladimir?" (okay, actually I said Glad-a-mirror) "Can I please have a hot tea?"<br /><br />"Most certainly, Ma'am"<br /><br />"But I don't want iced tea, I want HOT tea."<br /><br />"Why of course, Ma'am"<br /><br />And he acted all like NO DUH -- in which instantly clued me in to the fact he was not from the Deep South. Cause if he was, he would have known there is only one kind of tea. And it has forty eleven pounds of sugar. And a lemon wedge. And is most likely to be serve in a Mason Jar. And he would have brought me cheese grits to boot.<br /><br />The fact that he used a "V" for all his "S" and was from Russia secondarily clued me in he was not from the Deep South. I channel my inner Nancy Drew often. Contain the jealousy.<br /><br />Anyhoo.... Glad-a-mirror soon brought me out a nice wooden box. And at first I thought he might propose. Cause that is the size of box I think I deserve. But much to my disappointment, when he opened it, a sea of tea bags was before me.<br /><br />And I instantly knew I was in trouble.<br /><br />Cause I can't make a decision to save my life.<br /><br />Bless my heart.<br /><br />So I grabbed the purple bag named Passion Tea. Cause it was purple and had the word passion in it and let's face it - it seduced me.<br /><br />Then I put it back.<br /><br />Cause there were about 6 of them.<br /><br />But there was only one green bag, named Zen.<br /><br />And I felt sorry for Zen. All by himself. No one wanting him. So I grabbed him.<br /><br />But wait! Maybe there is only one Zen left because it is the most popular. Everyone likes Zen.<br /><br />Yes - that must be it. Zen was the super cool tea that had a mom that bought him a convertible.<br /><br />Zen did not need me.<br /><br />I put him back.<br /><br />At this time Glad-a-mirror was perplexed. I explained to him this is how us Southern Women pick our tea. We have to feel the package.<br /><br />He accepted my lie.<br /><br />So OBVIOUSLY I must pick Passion. My original choice. Which had the MOST bags in the box.<br /><br />I had to pick it cause -- well -- no one wanted her.<br /><br />She was an outcast. Like the last kid to get picked in gym. I HAD TO LOVE AND ACCEPT HER.<br /><br />So I look her back. And Glad-a-mirror closed the box.<br /><br />Then I thought of all 5 other Passion bags that may never get chosen.<br /><br /><p>So I stopped Glad-a-mirror, reopened the box.</p><p>And took the remaining 5 Passion tea bags. Cause I could not stand for Passion to be rejected yet again and spend another dark night in the box of shame. Being tortured by the heckling from Zen. </p>And Glad-a-mirror looked at me and sweetly said "All Vix?"<br /><br />And I said "Are you judging me?"<br /><br />And that settled that.<br /><br />After the dinner gathering, I just could not leave well enough alone.<br /><br />With five Passion tea bags in my pocket, I went back to my hotel room and googled to see the most popular flavor.<br /><br />And to my startling surprise.<br /><br />It was Passion.<br /><br />{GASP}<br /><br />I had been deceived.<br /><br />Obviously Glad-a-mirror was KGB and this was all part of his communist plan!<br /><br />So I ordered a case of Zen from amazon.com<br /><br />And when it will arrive (or the Discover bill comes), Indiana Jones will see it. And I will have to explain.<br /><br />That I mail ordered another man cause my Russian server made me.<br /><br />I am certain this will lead to a divorce.<br /><br />Drats you Glad-a-mirror! I'm moving to Boston.<br /><br />Amen.Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-84210839291718018842010-10-17T08:35:00.007-04:002010-10-17T09:18:33.815-04:00I Beseech You Dear Brothern<div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRYRsNVy3is8IL7yPeAmy8SkEYzwki96Ihi0l2zfJLo0DvVw-SCd0eiLEfSxvNiYkhhQUfJBTmmmnnWbHNmF8bE6g2PpSvUcOtoocnbBv3XqRLPks7IJKoQOn1wMb6LyC3wcDbyfVehO4/s1600/Dunn+Home.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528994071731639874" 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/AVvXsEjRYRsNVy3is8IL7yPeAmy8SkEYzwki96Ihi0l2zfJLo0DvVw-SCd0eiLEfSxvNiYkhhQUfJBTmmmnnWbHNmF8bE6g2PpSvUcOtoocnbBv3XqRLPks7IJKoQOn1wMb6LyC3wcDbyfVehO4/s400/Dunn+Home.jpg" border="0" /></a>Soooo -- we bought a new house. And as you may recall the drawings from my AM<a href="http://dreamscountrygirl.blogspot.com/2010/07/i-am-portuguese-architect-i-my-spare.html"></a>AZING Portuguese architect But if not, let me recap, cause I think we have all drank Cupcake since then...and we all know the affects of my beloved Cupcake.<br /><div>Anyhoo, IJ's orders for the Deep South were only for 2 years. And those 2 years were up. And in those two years, we had found a neighborhood we loved (the ladies have wine exchanges here, enough said) and the spawn had a school they loved, and my job? I big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love my job. And the most important thing of all -- there is an Ann Taylor and Cole Haan less than 10 minutes away. I am a good Christan woman and I have my priorities right. Amen.</div><div></div><div> </div><div>So when we found out that we would more than likely probably be moving to a new house in a new town in a new city in a new state in a new time zone -- I did what any mature, executive woman would do-- except I am from the south-- I locked myself in my room with 8421 boxes of Krispie Kreme and several bottles of Cupcake and refused to believe reality. </div><br /><div></div><div>And I cried. </div><br /><div></div><div>And IJ fixed it all -- as he always does.</div><br /><div></div><div>He sacrificed his career and made a career change for the mental heath of his dear sweet precious wife. He's a keeper.</div><br /><div></div><div>And as luck would have it -- God's grace and mercy shown down upon us and the house at the end of the cul-de-sac went on the market. And we got a great deal with everything we want.</div><br /><div></div><div>The twerps will not have to change schools. I still get to keep my neighborhood friends and my job....and ....</div><br /><div>We have to remodel.</div><br /><div></div><div>So, I need your help.</div><br /><div></div><div>Cause we are all painfully aware that I cannot make a decision to save my dear sweet precious soul.</div><br /><div></div><div>Let's start easy --</div><br /><div>The kitchen.</div><div></div><br /><div>Here she is.....<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528993113598673794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBuuceCnqJp7KhzyNG72HWkR9GsZGSwpZKsXwDczdwzJmmh1hZqJLGduX3r7LOSioznyELelly24HdFCokiLqeaZ6emHPhXH8DFRim4i0JnYegicM5q1biMjwwoGMptSIIm2NEwIFAMJA/s400/DSC_0438.JPG" border="0" />As you can see the kitchen/living/and breakfast nook are all one shot. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wQrcM6zp2TvCpsiaLWPlGrR6b8_Drfc2gwexHWQwK3u74Zm0f-uZ1W35JG_doRXrYlpCZ6_VU_jZy3ZLF1COIPs1qYQ5_nu4d001sX_AYPDxAJw-_AFtO8cg0xAHc12nPzY_dW2PHrc/s1600/DSC_0439.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528994067135304178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9wQrcM6zp2TvCpsiaLWPlGrR6b8_Drfc2gwexHWQwK3u74Zm0f-uZ1W35JG_doRXrYlpCZ6_VU_jZy3ZLF1COIPs1qYQ5_nu4d001sX_AYPDxAJw-_AFtO8cg0xAHc12nPzY_dW2PHrc/s400/DSC_0439.JPG" border="0" /></a> I need your help with the cabinets, counter tops, sink, appliances and back splash. When IJ asked me I said YES. He then just stroked my hair and put me to bed. It is a usual occurrence at our home.</div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qOKFPMvGLkvf9M2sbLXvrq20-6hrAsMmB_7eTgDCMq3Q2J1x1UI-QSWJ0AuTZWrX77yb8RE7AjzOG76xtiFdzbMveK1qUvokf_RjcSHuMACZ2kSTXoMbOLBm5lN4inscyo2dkdD_WZo/s1600/DSC_0437.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528993108415934450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qOKFPMvGLkvf9M2sbLXvrq20-6hrAsMmB_7eTgDCMq3Q2J1x1UI-QSWJ0AuTZWrX77yb8RE7AjzOG76xtiFdzbMveK1qUvokf_RjcSHuMACZ2kSTXoMbOLBm5lN4inscyo2dkdD_WZo/s400/DSC_0437.JPG" border="0" /></a> So first things first -- the cabinets?<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOoRQd5GQ_04jGxNk6PB9iDYGANQGeGCC9TyXzYpwZR0I4g8kcS4VQ22OiP5YgtwD6EIr893Pg4Fcc9Zv_DLZP9hO5yfNVt-xgu8d9yTlFwbzwaK-26Vm8PiryGiSaMw_rNjcg7NsFFZE/s1600/DSC_0436.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528993102040853282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOoRQd5GQ_04jGxNk6PB9iDYGANQGeGCC9TyXzYpwZR0I4g8kcS4VQ22OiP5YgtwD6EIr893Pg4Fcc9Zv_DLZP9hO5yfNVt-xgu8d9yTlFwbzwaK-26Vm8PiryGiSaMw_rNjcg7NsFFZE/s400/DSC_0436.JPG" border="0" /></a> I either want to do Bisque Glazed Cabinets -- (note these are not my cabinets, but just a sample pic I pulled off)<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528998027606891474" 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/AVvXsEiXvQhR3Xi1TgbTxYbm-tJftCAtimE1nEKFgW8i0F4gQZ0e85Fx0FIhwDy60KcluHZf8vJf7L8Bc_99iUGwUsEP7CJc9KqgdE2cXpxfIqJZewbke7vM7dIXUzjK_abmHbHJ__86fPky8zw/s400/bisque+glazed.jpg" border="0" />Or a distressed wood rustic looky thing... (note the below pics are samples from our cabinet guy, Juan. I love him with all my soul.)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYDWzjHzUxNx6VLRpE-yttB-wOG8x0cIcvwq88_PJoVPKhhSNLKSN7vf3MwOgZU4kEcUevcCADjg7AvjMsMTvlMWsW42TXkzjn1dIERnmESpYNBYk14VgJ46Yi1m9kEPO7Y8pBNW8jyo/s1600/rustic+glaze.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529000550712765010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 299px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvYDWzjHzUxNx6VLRpE-yttB-wOG8x0cIcvwq88_PJoVPKhhSNLKSN7vf3MwOgZU4kEcUevcCADjg7AvjMsMTvlMWsW42TXkzjn1dIERnmESpYNBYk14VgJ46Yi1m9kEPO7Y8pBNW8jyo/s400/rustic+glaze.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihV3seXV0TYeXbPh5S3_QsjV7jjwtkJy8wWm1GwS6QUo-6h4qI_0OT1Tikb-Py4S1a5p__qFAle_9Jb4PsoGycQyBDVNVjrMNL_8CrC9KwDVVOCH13tiuYoVbfke6X5qjzW6m7NwSQ8d0/s1600/rustic+glaze2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529000545609703842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 299px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihV3seXV0TYeXbPh5S3_QsjV7jjwtkJy8wWm1GwS6QUo-6h4qI_0OT1Tikb-Py4S1a5p__qFAle_9Jb4PsoGycQyBDVNVjrMNL_8CrC9KwDVVOCH13tiuYoVbfke6X5qjzW6m7NwSQ8d0/s400/rustic+glaze2.JPG" border="0" /></a> I have gotten stainless steel appliances and a farm house apron sink....<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529001345376710162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 241px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrRt3imf_ow2x8p9B_wpRS_xG2LxxLlw53Lb8vKgtuLrOMd_nwdvb6-iRwH6WBsHNJLfefGidfboTPWz7wPs6flChY-9b0A5mKuHt89rHPqqjOs2yD9AZ9UbDNFNMgsqGPkqQOeDMYTk8/s400/farm+sink.jpg" border="0" />I had decided to go with the white glaze but IJ felt like there was no going back with that. And let me be real honest -- IJ is a real trailblazer -- he loves bright bold colors, like mocha. I'm telling you -- something like RED would just make him go nine kinds of crazy and we would have to sedate him with whiskey and women -- hmmm, maybe I should paint it red and buy him a spittoon and get a flapper dress -- just sayin...</div><div> </div><div>Sorry -- I digress.</div><div> </div><div>So -- I need your help..</div><div> </div><div>White bisque glazed -- or....</div><div>Distressed Glazed Oak</div><div> </div><div>Until you decide I will be dancing the flapper dance in my backyard....</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69yKQMmzrHX_YFymUac1tX5d8J6mHmL9rxVXX2lkcOc5_uy7nN1xOc746eUOlmg2T2pyCF_ffjzxZBDHGsAfK43NmQY3wkvf7bg9YGawRR-lR6dT4JwzYNNjkwdYQU36hGBIz0jobJXM/s1600/DSC_0435.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528993095397884210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69yKQMmzrHX_YFymUac1tX5d8J6mHmL9rxVXX2lkcOc5_uy7nN1xOc746eUOlmg2T2pyCF_ffjzxZBDHGsAfK43NmQY3wkvf7bg9YGawRR-lR6dT4JwzYNNjkwdYQU36hGBIz0jobJXM/s400/DSC_0435.JPG" border="0" /></a> with some Cupcake.....<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zGx4SFzNpigxtwjh19B1_q9HpD6OsRVl0qRlihs5SrsWB3rohd8hRTR8hyphenhypheneINPUegR_FROu9P6XGmKJT2vN2V2TlQjhxkWyK9aJ8erBYFezJknKUd7DtPZKRSZaEFWjId7AULNdsozU/s1600/DSC_0434.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5528993094132208178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2zGx4SFzNpigxtwjh19B1_q9HpD6OsRVl0qRlihs5SrsWB3rohd8hRTR8hyphenhypheneINPUegR_FROu9P6XGmKJT2vN2V2TlQjhxkWyK9aJ8erBYFezJknKUd7DtPZKRSZaEFWjId7AULNdsozU/s400/DSC_0434.JPG" border="0" /></a> Amen...</div><div> </div><div>Go forth and choose......</div><div> </div><div>Save me from myself.</div><div> </div><div>Love,</div><div>Flapper Dancin Country Girl in Need Of Cabinets</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-75277856912398624482010-09-04T14:49:00.002-04:002010-09-04T15:20:09.879-04:00Three Songs For Your DayThere is just something about music that ignites my soul. It sets my mood, speaks my language, puts a little boogie in my step, and showers glitter upon my life. I have made no secret about it here on this silly little ol' blog -- that I big pink fuzzy heart with glitter love music. With Dr. Pepper on top.<br /><br />Music speaks for me when I just can't find the words. <br /><br />I came across this song last week that makes my cheeks do the cadence -- left, left, left right, left. It makes me get barefoot, alone, and twirl. And by alone, I mean for every one's sake I hope they leave before I get my groove on. Cause I feel carefree and -- well-- happy. And like I could qualify for Dancing with the Stars. I'm just keepin it real. <br /><br />I must warn you about this song, for your own good. You will have no control. You WILL dance. You WILL be happier. You WILL let loose and act like a fool. And if lettin loose and acting like a fool is wrong, I don't know if I wanna be right.<br /><br />So go <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCvgXmg0m1g">here </a>to be showered with youthfulness and feel carefree. Do it. Pronto. Right now. If you wanna. <br /><br />There are also times when I am as frustrated as the day is long. When people push me to my limit and I put on my OH YES I AM SERIOUS face. In moments like these...I sing out <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xhHLJU1-ywA">this song.</a> And I say go on -- hit me with your best shot. I just dare ya. Nanner nanner.<br /><br />And once I hammer that one out and get it all out -- I feel at one with the universe. I have been cleansed. Ahh uhmmmmmm. But soon I realize you cannot play that song without considering another. You just can't.<br /><br />The, I turn on <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlFCfkyuQM0">this song</a>. To remember that there is no one I wouldn't love if only I knew their stow. I forget that at the core of all ugliness and hatefulness is simply a person -- that has been places I will never understand and have endured things I will never know -- and is valuable. Sometimes -- too often -- I forget that. So I turn that on and listen to it over and over and over -- and sometimes over again. Until, I remember -- I remember to quit judging myself by my intentions and others by their actions. To quit believing the worst and start expecting the best. To remember that only I hold the cards to turn things around. And there is only one person in this world I can control. I remember that if I catch any of us on our worst day, it wouldn't be pretty. Especially if I don't have my hair curled or my Dr Pepper lip gloss applied. Again, I'm just tellin it like it is.<br /><br /> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlFCfkyuQM0">This song </a>reminds me that at the end of the day, life is about others. No about my ambitions, my feelings, my desires, but about making sure if I am succeeding and learning and doing good, that I am bringing others along with me. To make sure that the path in life is WIDE not narrow. It is wide because so many people walked it WITH me...BESIDE me...and I should even carry some with me. I never want it to be narrow and lonely. I never want to elbow and push everyone out of the way...I have an abundance mentality and there is more than enough room for all. <br /><br />That's what music does for me. These three songs bring joy, release and healing. So go forth and let them make your skirt fly up too.<br /><br />I love each and every one of you. Go make a difference in the life of others today!<br /><br />CGDreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6945440151150745418.post-82142823305024255682010-09-01T07:56:00.000-04:002010-09-01T07:56:30.734-04:00BT's B-Day<div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511652196001278274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja9Hd-nFduOB6zLSTx0ayWcOpI_As_jA30tO0m1vRE1d_287kTjLpGaZjtZtAkvJa5JYMDdklc1u_aGLOAXcr55t3PEuNVK6uQt07D67ylAA2kMkhOrJ8QhHJtCrFCY-9CjTBQGd5A7CI/s400/DSC_0380.JPG" border="0" /> Ah -- the infamous five-year-old birthday party. I think we are painfully aware of THE major topic at a five-year-old birthday party. The focal point. The center piece. </div><div></div><br /><div>Some may say it is the birthday boy -- in all his glory. That is where all eyes are. The birthday boy is the center of the five-year-old birthday party. The celebration of procreating this precious life and bringing him forth into the world -- that is what it is all about. A time to remember and give thanks that this precious soul is not in our midst. Making our lives better and bringing forth joy into the hearts of many.</div><br /><div></div><div>To you, my dear friend, I would say "Good guess -- but -- No no no you silly, silly boy."<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511652162451156850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjUUAb698czZYx4DXrUsTEJwCYYbYszXZjioUDZ9f4AmJaN-rR4YM5AQ0gpyQNJHNXirIj_nOuV_7w17LOuzhyphenhyphenodL7NTBmsvZmei2iDwuqemA57Rgx82eg0tFnusju4tBb2bhYllSATrU/s400/DSC_0374.JPG" border="0" />Some may say it's the gifts. To a five-year-old the gifts his friends com baring is exciting and appreciated. The <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">anticipation</span> of hot wheels and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">nerf</span> guns and Star Wars ships -- well, it is almost more than his little soul can take. </div><div></div><br /><div>But again, I admire your persistence, but Nope <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Diddley</span> Ope. It is not the birthday boy nor is it the presents. Ah -- to be so naive still is sweet. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511655168095907538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrTgbjRWBJ6v-qCNUPcKeIeV_pqPkJaksEN1ImRoPYU6wW2thXUTpHKQMmzSN0iDwT2R1-MiLgfvLDP6YZCBXjBt7sILGpv6JtCaiubwC9Zkjc7PtG2G8Qd_i4hmDx4r1Oji4jnSgMXwg/s400/DSC_0407.JPG" border="0" />Some may say it is the ice cream.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511654776269064162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMokxakb6_Ov5UJPeekZMJR0qke99ztH5cS-v7hfi6tLtNLXlZOgKgwvJG3W77qjGWgNz3fB0HqLdAYWuIdai2wRVyAWayMNMbE2_MP08rMixQmmKwotKbzaLHMV-w65iOdG5ocOZhZmA/s400/DSC_0402.JPG" border="0" /> The rich creamy cool refreshment. To you -- I would say -- You are getting warmer. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511654780254242514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmKErvvtD9d-8CX8ZeXJiO-jtTfD-cr2370htOKZ1F4wusmjHZmJi-KqFymtBh0pbiYyjG7H7TYkQoHyhnwZ2FFuGsqkhGf_YvdNyX7QKZKATw42lgD9xgWwCKN7KABDjaOw1lakWvLKI/s400/DSC_0403.JPG" border="0" /> But the true focus is on {insert drum roll please} </div><br /><div></div><div>THE CAKE<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511652140228247426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-I3ihj8fjjlhMjwjUcVJPXdyArKo8heEzNHsbvzikaw323_6twEJfhLv2ov92-UyHD-0XLRHRxeut7YsZTx5bonhFC6cOFLSc0QGV8Ow-NUeMb0PhKxe74p3pl8gl7SGSS16qapnoI8/s400/DSC_0368.JPG" border="0" />This my dear sweet angels is where all attention is turned. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZN07lTN0V7_8P3qBjZ30HueyLT7RXcRwYNv0PfJqSZf0zTtMtJSWUfSmyxGDIkoMhdau7W7p8EjiqohgijeUq5F6uNy0x1I5UoRP6FaHAjb_sSxmqdg5b4L2S2U2m27ZT1Hn3Dhijoo/s1600/DSC_0391.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511653218552212370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvZN07lTN0V7_8P3qBjZ30HueyLT7RXcRwYNv0PfJqSZf0zTtMtJSWUfSmyxGDIkoMhdau7W7p8EjiqohgijeUq5F6uNy0x1I5UoRP6FaHAjb_sSxmqdg5b4L2S2U2m27ZT1Hn3Dhijoo/s400/DSC_0391.JPG" border="0" /></a> THE CAKE is the Godfather of birthdays. the cake is the I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Ching</span>. The Cake is the sum of all wisdom. the answer to all questions. THE CAKE.<br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6xpVRFQvgvYu-V50ya_QgzSbY91ldDE2Sj6dkfhEtmVmnZrepS1K0NYU2su4abksWNaS47KYH7fF2mQaadCv3p8LNmZkZHjEKyN133Pe98lstdyLC4D0kK_WSNZ-NCgVD8D8f9Ou9RA/s1600/DSC_0373.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511652149783523394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6xpVRFQvgvYu-V50ya_QgzSbY91ldDE2Sj6dkfhEtmVmnZrepS1K0NYU2su4abksWNaS47KYH7fF2mQaadCv3p8LNmZkZHjEKyN133Pe98lstdyLC4D0kK_WSNZ-NCgVD8D8f9Ou9RA/s400/DSC_0373.JPG" border="0" /></a> And the MAIN question all the cake attendee mothers have is the following. It sends shivers down my spine. It raises the hair on my back (not that I have hair on my back, and not that I judge woman who do -- just <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">sayin</span>. I love and embrace all)<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcn6ywR6oQIkyWUiF-OUEi6qg-ZDFURVFHX0t9rDP0nCVWLsa1PyuO9bsGf940tZoON-KvdJXkGScSAT0VbJR0ooOGVuNqZx3XbVQNjrhD66cUBpicx8Os4c0nPqhSzBkyMyE8Er3Hms/s1600/DSC_0397.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511656396025460466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxcn6ywR6oQIkyWUiF-OUEi6qg-ZDFURVFHX0t9rDP0nCVWLsa1PyuO9bsGf940tZoON-KvdJXkGScSAT0VbJR0ooOGVuNqZx3XbVQNjrhD66cUBpicx8Os4c0nPqhSzBkyMyE8Er3Hms/s400/DSC_0397.JPG" border="0" /></a> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>And it is stated in the ever so I m<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">ight</span> be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">judgin</span> you tone, "Did YOU make that cake?!?!?"<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XcVDDFW84S1wgBRtcraQbIM2jxKP6ef9jEnPL_umkz9x0FE7i5pgM4f3Zdi229WePfq9xQ_a0lWbroHi-kz9tWGr-AN80oDHiY6gbSHYwUGItYBB7irumZGIrRG0s8rn5O8yQj-m8og/s1600/DSC_0396.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511656387929949170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9XcVDDFW84S1wgBRtcraQbIM2jxKP6ef9jEnPL_umkz9x0FE7i5pgM4f3Zdi229WePfq9xQ_a0lWbroHi-kz9tWGr-AN80oDHiY6gbSHYwUGItYBB7irumZGIrRG0s8rn5O8yQj-m8og/s400/DSC_0396.JPG" border="0" /></a> But this year I prepared with one simple answer....<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511654762496661234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCyCmmmFMvdnQz_DKBzHkiQ8YZY5aBRCoo7JnhdANsYaA0-fxgjVS27WyDxpkbZaMh4oNERc55e80WPkyrS1H8dkBTdXWiCYGJ94dTkHrKJbV8W8NteNX0b840OYerdqfj0wtvTUFeLH4/s400/DSC_0399.JPG" border="0" />Burp.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511655183685608418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 268px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ4l83WwnbP4sBQdrp50fXPN2QYBsfkKdIjV9GldAyTxQHUxjkr83ZRGwKdVbzh62gtTGZFd__m3e-R41gyG69mJcJsE3tOabjNl3mwrBMOu8qrx2qjWD8UCsat9iCVK5WRpmntW5tWFM/s400/DSC_0413.JPG" border="0" /> </div>I think that said it all. Amen.</div><div> </div><div>HAPPY BIRTHDAY <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">BT</span>! AT LAST, MY LOVE HAS COME ALONG. </div>Dreams of a Country Girlhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17983657240398205766noreply@blogger.com0