tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82364074866234169612024-03-12T20:03:17.176-04:00Fine, How are You?This is where I REALLY tell you how I am one post at a time.
You pretend to care. I feel like someone is listening. It's all good.Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.comBlogger277125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-91989228051215454652012-07-14T19:05:00.000-04:002012-07-14T19:05:14.988-04:00Hello Summer = Hello Stranger<img alt="welcome to summer" height="212" src="http://media-cache-ec6.pinterest.com/upload/152840981074187745_rgnGApeP_b.jpg" width="320" /><br />
Summer is in full swing here -<br />
<br />
I<br />
We survived vacation. We had the best time enjoying my parents, his sister's family and his Mom. Isn't it nice when family moves to vacation destinations to LIVE?? So very thoughtful of them!<br />
(Hey, while going to Amish-ville Ohio may not sound overly appealing, I did my part.... kind of)<br />
<br />
<i><b>We did: </b></i>Fireworks in a rainstorm, I fell in a hole, drove 2800 miles from Ohio to the Gulf to Miami to Ohio, made a quick stop to the free part of Disney and managed to spend $70 on lunch, saw the movie Brave with the only other family dumb enough to sit in an empty theater in the seats directly behind us with a fussy baby and every kind of packaged snack imaginable, swam, played cards, laughed, discovered that our real best friends really are family.<br />
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<b><i>We saw:</i></b> Lots of Alligators, Pelicans, Dolphin, the inter-coastal up close and personal, the beach, Savannah at night, The Everglades -up close and personal, and so much more.<br />
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While we were gone, we celebrated our one year anniversary of being home-owners. I find it hard to believe that one year ago instead of being on vacation we were in moving HELL. In this past year we have managed to fill the house up with lots of things we love in our vintage-y style and yet we have also managed to not ever get around to painting the trim inside. (Sounds like a fun time for a <i>winter</i> day....)<br />
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Our next project is getting rid of the loft bed for my youngest (who just celebrated her 10th Birthday) I am so excited to not have to make that bed ever again. It made me cry and sweat on the coolest of days. She hasn't slept in it since the weather turned warm.......<br />
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The hubby is in the garage painting a Craig's List find for her new room - A desk. The loft has a desk built in so when we move in the single bed we had to replace the desk.<br />
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After that of course I have lots of other plans -<br />
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See the chimney on the side? I would like to keep it of course, but build a nice porch off the side of the house with the window on the left a door way like.....<br />
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<img alt="classic southern porch." height="400" src="http://media-cache-ec5.pinterest.com/upload/78883430942706468_EDuRw7Xz_f.jpg" width="300" />
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<br />
or this one: <img alt="homes" height="320" src="http://media-cache-ec3.pinterest.com/upload/159174168049369935_Z7v4kns5_b.jpg" width="320" /><br />
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<br />
or like this one and use the chimney:<br />
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<img alt="outdoor porch" src="http://media-cache-ec8.pinterest.com/upload/63543044712186054_nJdXPggs_f.jpg" />
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and I'd love to accentuate our little house like this:<br />
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<img alt="pretty firepit patio backyard area" src="http://media-cache-ec7.pinterest.com/upload/207306389067967142_cqDnpBHv_f.jpg" />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;">and we have to add these wood floors:</span><br />
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<img alt="love this table" height="400" src="http://media-cache-ec3.pinterest.com/upload/132082201541938100_e7GI5cWk_f.jpg" width="300" /><img alt="those floors that sign" src="http://media-cache-ec1.pinterest.com/upload/235946467947566273_sPVl9Yrd_f.jpg" />
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<br />
<br />
and remember this little room, well..............................<br />
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wouldn't it look GREAT like this:</div>
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<img alt="For our "pantry"" src="http://media-cache-ec6.pinterest.com/upload/154952043398835756_pUksMAf0_b.jpg" />
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<br />
I'm excited to enjoy the rest of summer. To <i>try to relax and enjoy </i>(which is one of the most difficult things for me to do) Before we know it, I'll be buying school supplies.....<br />
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<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-3518891627752739002012-06-17T20:39:00.000-04:002012-06-18T06:45:21.581-04:00Summer WeekendIt's funny, on the weekends when I have NO plans, We end up having the most fun.......<br />
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Sleeping in for two days past 4am is a little piece of Heaven.<br />
<br />
<img alt="." src="http://media-cache-ec5.pinterest.com/upload/11751648997868265_gqVujXzT_f.jpg" />this is my idea of improving on that Heaven one day.....<br />
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<br />
Friday night catching up on DVR'd shows, and taking mini-cat naps is a perfect end of the week.<br />
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Saturday breakfast of bacon, eggs and toast is so much better than the quick bowl of cereal eaten five days a week.<br />
<img alt="breakfast breakfast breakfast !" src="http://media-cache-ec7.pinterest.com/upload/116108496613441113_D4k7IgtJ_f.jpg" />
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An impromptu Birthday party invite for one of the kids means a quick birthday gift shopping trip in our favorite little down-town.<br />
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<img src="http://www.cyburbia.org/gallery/data/526/medium/1cleveland_chagrin_falls_24.jpg" />
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Catching two wedding parties during the shopping trip was an added bonus...<br />
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Dropping the excited kiddo off and meeting up with friends for an impromptu dinner.<br />
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A nerve-wracking back seat drive while hubby teaches son to drive and pass a dozen Amish buggies we got behind.<br />
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<img src="http://amishamerica.com/images/2008-small/03/18/indiana_amish_buggy.jpg" />
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Ice cream dessert at the cutest little place that we are so lucky to live right by.<br />
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Movies, gossiping, and enjoying the company of family.<br />
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Breakfast for the DAD of the house of bagel sandwiches and coffees, a quick walk through the farmers market, a movie and nap. <br />
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Thinking of my own Dad and how very lucky I am to have him in my life.....<br />
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A Clean house by 5pm. Dinner as a Family. Discussing summer plans for the week of more parties, more sleepovers, what we would name our future dog and Ice cream for dessert right before the week begins again.<br />
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Perfect, no-plans summer weekend.<br />
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How was your's?<br />
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-19969925348505685792012-06-12T21:05:00.001-04:002012-06-12T21:05:48.527-04:00Why I will Never Do THAT AgainI promise that I will NEVER:<br />
Drive so close to the back of your car that you can only see my head in your rear view as if I am just looming back there on a broom.<br />
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Drive close and honk my horn as if my close driving wasn't giving you a big enough hint.<br />
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Flash my lights at you while driving close and honking my car as if you might be blind and deaf, but still managing to drive.<br />
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Pass you erratically, while showing you my two longest fingers and then when I get past you, slowing down to your speed abruptly.<br />
<br />
I vow not to do these things because:<br />
<br />
FOR GOD'S SAKE PEOPLE, MY NEWLY TEMP-LICENSED KID IS DRIVING AND NO,<br />
I WILL NOT TELL HIM TO SPEED UP BECAUSE YOU ARE LATE FOR WHO-KNOWS-WHERE, IMPATIENT, OR JUST A COMPLETE IDIOT!!<br />
<br />
I seriously wanted to get out of my car, walk to the car behind us, open the door and punch the idiots in the face! (this is something my husband actually did do once to an idiot driver - then he called the police and told them what he did)<br />
<br />
Do people just not think or have patience anymore??<br />
<br />
<img alt="whaaaaat. im already a bad driver." src="http://media-cache-ec8.pinterest.com/upload/244390717249203771_fanUPKaV_f.jpg" />
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<br />
and while we are on the topic of NOT doing something ever again:<br />
Applebee's, Ruby Tuesday's, or any restaurant that can't be bothered to clean their restrooms.<br />
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Start driving with no plan or direction, while hungry, thinking we will find a place we can all agree on to eat, and being forced to stop at one of the above places.<br />
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Continue to go back to the place that gave you the bad haircut the first time!<br />
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Go to the mall out of pure boredom on a rainy Saturday in Winter in the middle of the afternoon with three kids, dragging a hubby, with no real spending money in the wallet.<br />
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Go to an amusement park in the middle of summer on the hottest day with the highest humidity at it's most crowded time with three kids and even less money in the wallet after buying the tickets and feeling obligated to stay until closing, wearing the wrong footwear.<br />
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Agreeing to an At-Home party of any kind, in MY home.<br />
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Driving past a perfectly good gas station, thinking an even better one will most certainly appear soon that has a bathroom while saying "I'm like a camel - I can hold it forever", after drinking Starbucks.<br />
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Going to the bathroom in a gas station for any reason whatsoever.<br />
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Agreeing to just go and LOOK at the puppies and kittens at the Rescue Village place with three kids, dragging a hubby with no real spending money in the wallet and forgetting that we might want to leave the house one day for more than a few days at a time.<br />
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<img alt="bad idea." src="http://media-cache-ec1.pinterest.com/upload/59954238759726002_2CIrbJr9_f.jpg" />
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How about you? What would you Never do?<br />
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<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-25171074080197766182012-06-10T17:58:00.000-04:002012-06-10T18:01:43.287-04:00I Would But....Almost everyday I have a great idea of what I would do,<b><i> but </i></b>then I think about the mess/expense/work involved and I change my mind.....<br />
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I would buy the hubby a vintage motorcycle like this one:<br />
<img alt="Triumph Bonneville Deus Venice ~ Return of the Cafe Racers" height="265" src="http://media-cache-ec8.pinterest.com/upload/112801165637239674_3fPLlcMy_f.jpg" width="400" />
<br />
<br />
BUT then I realize the expense, the potential danger and I enjoy our weekend Jeep rides instead:<br />
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I would buy a hammock:<br />
<img alt="Wouldn't mind spending some time here!" src="http://media-cache-ec0.pinterest.com/upload/133419207681263984_ZPPMfFIf_f.jpg" />
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But then I shopped for one, and decided it wasn't worth the house payment that it cost,and cleaning off the inevitable bird poop didn't sound fun either (plus I don't have that amazing view)<br />
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I would do this on my house:<br />
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<img alt="fourth of july." src="http://media-cache-ec9.pinterest.com/upload/19632948345669076_3ixTEyIU_f.jpg" />
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<br />
but I have a feeling the hubby isn't as into this idea as I am.<br />
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I would get a puppy, and if I did, it would look like this:<br />
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<img alt="-" src="http://media-cache-ec9.pinterest.com/upload/262475484503062241_DqTeMHKi_f.jpg" />
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<br />
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But then I think about adding yet another animal with hair to the house, muddy/snowy paws on the floors and finding an affordable dog sitter/vet and I am content saying "Some Day"......<br />
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I would get this:<br />
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<img alt="anchor tattoo" height="213" src="http://media-cache-ec5.pinterest.com/upload/280419514268371546_ELD03lC8_f.jpg" width="320" />
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But then I might regret it later....<br />
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I would love to do this in our attic:<br />
<img alt="Attic tent" height="400" src="http://media-cache-ec9.pinterest.com/upload/85357355407916516_b1Xo84oF_f.jpg" width="265" /> but the ceiling is not nearly that tall, the access is big enough for a three year old to enter, and those tents aren't cheap, but boy would that be cool or what?<br />
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<b><i>I would adore this:</i></b><br />
<img alt="Chicken Coop, I might just have to start raising chickens just to build this coop." height="211" src="http://media-cache-ec1.pinterest.com/upload/85990674104607380_zanTDK3j_f.jpg" width="320" /> and these guys:<br />
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<img alt="chickens" height="400" src="http://media-cache-ec5.pinterest.com/upload/77124212338838445_uNpnqD6a_f.jpg" width="254" />in my backyard....<br />
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But then again................... I would love to glance out the kitchen window to see one of these:<br />
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<img alt="Black and white cow" src="http://media-cache-ec6.pinterest.com/upload/200902833346707705_axUVozRL_f.jpg" />
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but a backyard with this:<br />
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<img alt="fountain" src="http://media-cache-ec6.pinterest.com/upload/239253798924139656_YWNpQQE3_f.jpg" /> is pretty amazing too,<br />
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I would wear a vintage suit like this:<br />
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<img alt="Oh Modcloth, why do you have to be so expensive? I do not swim enough to spend $90 on a suit. #fashion #swimming #vintage" height="320" src="http://media-cache-ec7.pinterest.com/upload/269934571385000111_ITn3bzsV_f.jpg" width="224" /> but then, I laugh when I consider what it would look like on....<br />
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<br />
I would so have this parked on my side of the garage:<br />
<br />
<img alt="vintage truck" height="400" src="http://media-cache-ec4.pinterest.com/upload/284712007663088556_tCAI9RSy_f.jpg" width="334" />But then the hubby reminds me of snow/90 degrees and gas mileage.....<br />
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I would never complain about laundry again:<br />
<img alt="Vintage inspired laundry room" src="http://media-cache-ec1.pinterest.com/upload/277675133244550500_GaV7kxCF_f.jpg" /> But then someone would dump a week's worth of clothes from under their bed and .......<br />
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What would YOU do......<br />
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BUT......Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-34509818545705053322012-06-06T20:21:00.000-04:002012-06-06T20:28:28.701-04:00Let's Get PhysicalAt the end of February, on a chilly, snowy day, the hubby and I were running errands when one of our stops landed us in a strip mall (not a big deal, there is exactly 3 in our area of shopping). For some strange reason we saw that the space next to where we were was a gym. We looked at each other, shrugged shoulders and entered. It only took 15 minutes to sign up for a two person membership. As we drove home we chatted about how we had to be really serious about using our new membership and no matter what to be consistent. We made plans and promises and got excited about our 4am week day date.<br />
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<img alt="Gym" height="224" src="http://media-cache-ec6.pinterest.com/upload/161848180328755865_O6Rd0zks_f.jpg" width="320" />
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4am the old car horn sounding alarm jolts us out of bed and we get up and go. We go to bed before it gets dark now, but hey, we are going to the gym 4-5 days a week. Every Week. <br />
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<img alt="Some people just need a pat on the back..." height="320" src="http://media-cache-ec2.pinterest.com/upload/33143747228066424_mWKsDvGb_f.jpg" width="300" />
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At 4am there are the same 4-5 people in the gym every time. We are an eclectic group. None of us have spoken one single word to the other. We all wear head phones even though there is loud overhead music playing for fear someone were to make a strange noise...... If we have to communicate for some reason, it is a slight movement of the head, a minute gesture or barely visible movement of the mouth.<br />
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This sums us up:<br />
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There is a lady/girl (couldn't guess her age for a million dollars) who is a weight lifter. She wears the same red shorts and tank top every day. I picture her closet to have at least 5 of the exact same outfits. She also drives a red car. She parks in the same spot, uses the same machine for the same amount of time, and is in the gym when we arrive and still there when we leave. When she is not lifting weights she is on the elliptical. I hate when she is on the elliptical at the same time as me. She "ellipes" circles around me. <br />
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There is an Asian man who changes his shoes when he arrives as though he is Mr. Rogers. He is quiet and neat. I only say Asian, because where I live, it is 50% Amish, and 50% non-diverse, so this is an interesting 4am fact. He spends a lot of time with weights and Big Red but she is much more buff than he is. He drives a PT Cruiser (whenever I see one of these cars I have to say -"it's a PT CREW-SUH".....) Talk Soup anyone?? I digress.....<br />
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There are two men that look very much alike and most days I think one is the other and vice versa. I would say they are retirement age, seem like nice guys in normal life. They never mess with the TV's, log exactly what they do in a file and use the scale every day like really good little gym go-ers.. I can tell they both have lost weight and gained confidence which is a nice thing to watch. Their cars are as nondescript as they are.<br />
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Then there is the hubby and I. The minute we arrive we go our separate ways. I am sure that I am known as the one with bed head who hides in the fish bowl. (There is a room separated by glass where I do body sculpting classes that play on a big screen. ) All by myself. Where I entertain those on the ellipticals. I really hate the days I wear pants that won't cover by backside.....<br />
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<img alt="#GYM" src="http://media-cache-ec4.pinterest.com/upload/177821885257096249_viUxE0jd_f.jpg" />
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The hubby and I often have bad days. From hitting snooze one too many times, to locking ourselves out of the house, someone always forgets the water and someone (cough, cough) has a hard time walking out of the house without wiping a counter or putting something away causing us to be delayed....<br />
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One day we had a really bad day:<br />
We use swipe cards to enter the gym.<br />
I jump out of the car as soon as the hubby pulls in, the car is barely in park, swipe my card and head for the fishbowl.<br />
Hubby brings up the rear, swipes and heads for the weight center to try to get whatever weights he can get away from Big Red.<br />
We do this every day with little to no issues.<br />
Probably around day 15, I swipe, head for the fishbowl.<br />
I do a 35 minute body sculpting class. It's an especially tough one and I am wiped.<br />
I have about 8 minutes left to do a mile on the ellip-to-kill-me machine.<br />
I get on and start. Big Red is on my left, two nondescripts on my right.<br />
Half a minute in I am realizing that hubby never walked by the fishbowl and is not on the treadmill which has been our normal pattern. I can see weights moving out of the corner of my eye, so I assume he is still lifting now that Big Red has left the area.<br />
2 minutes in, I realize no weights are really moving and no one else is in the building except for me, Big Red and the two nondescripts. This is discovered while I am lacklustering on the elliptical, turning my head every which way. <br />
I am starting to worry. That doesn't last too long.<br />
Then I get a little pissed -he was done, <i>so he just leaves and goes out to the car???</i><br />
I can see cars from the windows, but I cannot see inside of them due to the blackness of 4am and reflections of gym equipment.<br />
I am now making my way to the door to leave. I am pretty sure everyone else realized long before I did what happened, but since we don't communicate with each other, trick is on me.<br />
<br />
I panic. I think - OH MY GOD, HE HAD A HEART ATTACK IN THE CAR AND IS IN THE CAR DEAD OR DYING. I am now in slow motion, leaving the gym, not wanting to discover the grim reality.<br />
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I do not know why I thought this about my hubby. Maybe the time we were waiting for the Dr. to tell us the weird noise he heard when listening to his heart was just a simple heart murmur on the weekend we were moving and I didn't want him to even lift a finger for fear he would collapse, was still niggling my brain.<br />
<br />
I am walking towards the car, I can see his head. He is not moving.<br />
<br />
THEN he turns his head to <b><i>GLARE</i></b> at me.<br />
I'm back to being mad again and I am now in fast-motion. I wrench open the door and say <i>"Nice, your done working out, so you just come out here??"</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
He GLARES AT ME HARDER. He says through severely gritted teeth, <i><b>"I've been sitting here for 45 minutes. WATCHING you work out at 4am."</b></i><br />
<i><b><br /></b></i><br />
???????????<br />
<br />
Long story short - he didn't have his swipe card. He claims I moved it. I never looked back when I went into the gym and didn't notice that he never got in. (you can't knock on the door - strict rules and cameras forbid us from opening the door for anyone, otherwise we pay a fine)<br />
<br />
He saw me looking around from the elliptical. He says it took almost 40.6 minutes before I worried. He could tell by my body language.<br />
<br />
We argued the whole way home about the missing card. I was so mad by the time we pulled into the garage (mostly at myself, but taking it out on him) that I insisted we tear the car apart to prove I didn't touch his card. I screamed -<i><b>"where did you put it????"</b></i> He said right there in the side pocket -<br />
<br />
Right there in the side pocket where his card was sitting,<br />
<br />
The one he looked for, for 30 minutes before giving up and blaming me.<br />
<br />
and I thought he had a heart attack!!<br />
<br />
I felt a little odd the next day at the gym. Kind of like:<br />
"Who does she think she is, making her hubby drop her off and wait in the car???"<br />
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<img alt="funny Gym" height="320" src="http://media-cache-ec4.pinterest.com/upload/177047829071134011_QdKGpkdp_f.jpg" width="320" />
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<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-46790092892996156042012-06-04T19:38:00.000-04:002012-06-04T19:38:23.257-04:00Kitchen Nightmares<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yvAxFmKLhXdukF_b4t9wSIHtSI9thpSmRFe4WCYjZIaepMfsce77cId5rQqalcxCQ89v4CX1zwuV72ledXJ1MlGTnEC2id7NGx_3KiOiC551ilpJbXuNKnva-tqc6jyLkwTTbSuvDs0/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yvAxFmKLhXdukF_b4t9wSIHtSI9thpSmRFe4WCYjZIaepMfsce77cId5rQqalcxCQ89v4CX1zwuV72ledXJ1MlGTnEC2id7NGx_3KiOiC551ilpJbXuNKnva-tqc6jyLkwTTbSuvDs0/s320/009.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
See that Green Book on top of the bread box? Well, I had this bright idea on Sunday after laying around in my clean and peaceful house, that I should really do more in the kitchen. (aka I am completley incapable of relaxing so if and when I ever do, I start to *<i>"anx-ide"</i> about what I should be doing)<i> *a Kristen-ism.</i><div>
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<div>
What I am really saying is that I should do more involving FOOD. In the kitchen. Like COOK. Or BAKE. I have two girls - they really need a role model -That comes from behind a counter and not just a desk who happens to be a really good with a vacuum. Like the lady on that sign up there. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
So I gathered those two girls and off we went to the Antique Store. I bought a 1940's edition of The American Women's Cookbook. I told the girls, the plan is, for them to pick a recipe by Thursday. Write the shopping list. On Friday, we will shop and Friday night we will become one with the kitchen. Friday <i>night</i> because of the late hour we will for sure be up cooking at. Let's see how well this one goes.... </div>
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<b><i>Blogger Fodder comin' up!</i></b></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFyt2LoTxxwahtRzIsRR0YSicYKVhZ4D1x1ujfpplK7X0udCPEVyVqBw0TpN5-KWriMnEzTjoYyukZIkRjW4qmiNWwrdWyJAW5a74KEzLKOxMaOiaZD1SnxGiY4ew_B-YPdlT6LlaBq0/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNFyt2LoTxxwahtRzIsRR0YSicYKVhZ4D1x1ujfpplK7X0udCPEVyVqBw0TpN5-KWriMnEzTjoYyukZIkRjW4qmiNWwrdWyJAW5a74KEzLKOxMaOiaZD1SnxGiY4ew_B-YPdlT6LlaBq0/s320/008.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chef #2 is way too excited about this plan.....<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
I also scored in mint condition a metal cake decorating/frosting/pump thingy-a-ma-bob - so cute, has all the tips and everything. I'm gonna love using this handy dandy tool. (My Mom is on the floor in complete shock right now while reading this) </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/AVvXsEjv1Szkx9TWKbiJF3-xae6WHpMK5paVCLUnHl1ldBopOhy3sQ4S2J2n8vYLcwRMgUx4Cxqg6Z4RB4xsKVdA1eG0WaE6lOoNvSJ68r4Hd5hZBaZzmVEbR-S8N7v7Ur6B91xXXYd1BwDMUGI/s1600/cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv1Szkx9TWKbiJF3-xae6WHpMK5paVCLUnHl1ldBopOhy3sQ4S2J2n8vYLcwRMgUx4Cxqg6Z4RB4xsKVdA1eG0WaE6lOoNvSJ68r4Hd5hZBaZzmVEbR-S8N7v7Ur6B91xXXYd1BwDMUGI/s320/cookies.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gonna Make <i>these</i> with that "tool" - <br />You betcha!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The best part of buying that book (other than the price -$3.00, the SMELL -oh, how I love old-book-smell, and the pictures) was that the previous owner left some of her own recipes in between the pages, a newspaper clipping of movie show times, and a Christmas Eve Menu written on a little piece of paper:</div>
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<div>
Gelatin Salad</div>
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Assorted Sandwiches</div>
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Pickles</div>
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Olives</div>
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Coffee</div>
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Fruitcake</div>
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Tuna Salad on White</div>
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Buttered Nut Bread</div>
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Cream Cheese on Brown Bread</div>
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This is a woman after my own heart!! No real cooking involved, and not much of a menu plan! I am going to love using this book that once sat in her kitchen.</div>
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I had to pick up a few other things to pretty up my kitchen and get me in "the mood". Like that sweet vintage coffee pot (hard to see but it has a glass lid)</div>
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Those gingham aprons for the girls....</div>
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These ceramic picnic plates......</div>
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My apron is ready and waiting (been hanging there for a month or so from a previous vintage shopping spree) NO, THAT IS <i>NOT</i> A DECORATION...</div>
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I'm pretty sure most of our endeavors will be high in fat and calories -based on the sweet tooth of my girls and those darn pictures in that book. Petit Fours here we come!</div>
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</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-74598319513323508382012-06-02T21:06:00.000-04:002012-06-02T21:06:59.797-04:00Free Admission<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I relate so much to the scene in the movie Parenthood, when
Steve Martin describes life as a roller coaster. </div>
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I feel like I’m either going uphill
tentatively and nervously, or downhill thrilled and excited. I’m either spinning in circles, or upside
down. I’m anxious, elated, scared,
asking myself what am I doing, why I did this, or thanking God I’m so lucky.</div>
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So I figure I should share the ride with <i>someone </i>– this is what this week’s coaster felt like:</div>
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We celebrated Memorial Day at my brother’s who lives in the
country. He has the perfect country
house, pool, and yard where there is always some kind of activity going on:
dirt biking, shooting guns <i>and the breeze,</i> rhino mudding, swimming, corn hole,
pedal-boating in the lake, and so much more. Between all of that, the amazing food, and
great company, it was the perfect start to summer. It was also 90+ degrees.</div>
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My Niece graduated from high school. She is the oldest of my brothers’ and my kids. I am so proud of her and am so thankful that
the younger kids have such an amazing cousin to look up to. </div>
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My daughter graduated from 6<sup>th</sup> grade. High school here starts in 7th grade......</div>
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I held a little piece of heaven in the form of a two week
old baby. Not every two week old baby is
perfectly chubby with curly hair. This
baby was absolutely perfect in every way.
It has been so long since I held a newborn! I miss that kind of amazing moment
in life when you see how beautiful and perfect life can be.</div>
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7 point 5 hours later my own kids called my cell phone SCREAMING
that there was a <i>squirrel </i>running loose in the house and mud all over the
place. By the week’s end it was 60 and
rainy. </div>
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Turns out the “Squirrel” was a
chipmunk. But he WAS in the house for
what seems like a good portion of the day and we have NO IDEA how on earth he
got in there. </div>
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I have had no sign of
other creatures gaining entry. I am
almost wondering if our two spoiled house-bound kitties opened the door for a
little Friday fun. He was rescued by the
turtle saving hubby in perfect condition. (side note: I did see a turtle on my
home from work this week and tried to get Super-Turtle-Saverman to come to his
rescue, but he said he had to draw the line somewhere.)</div>
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In between all of that, I bought shoes and a graduation
outfit with the $29 left in the bank account before pay day, was chauffeured
(and impressed) by my temporary driver
status son, gathered stuff for a garage sale a neighbor is having next weekend
(and spent most of the day being completely annoyed by the fact that in less
than 1 year in our new house <i>we have actually accumulated stuff to put into a
garage sale)</i> was bummed when an employee told me he was leaving for a different
job, was completely pissed when a co-worker showed me the guys face that was
eaten off by another guy (he thought it was the funniest thing that although I
seem tough, I really cannot handle anything gory WHATSOEVER and it’s going to
take me MONTHS to get that image out of my brain!)</div>
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It’s funny. Every
single day we have the most mundane to miraculous things happen. Maybe it’s not always a rollercoaster, some
weeks are more like a carnival side show, and some as simple and sweet as a Pony Ride.</div>
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Enjoy your coaster and if you need a buddy - I'm glad to come along with.</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-1289685110171671542012-05-29T21:02:00.001-04:002012-05-29T21:02:28.653-04:00Endangered Object #335: The House Phone<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznK1tqe_cgmLIq4Te5XuuS33vIEfDFs2HL7BBa0k9-XT_sn5gKREY3MwB439qdLezIy0BYTAlsMlrsaU7QPY7T0_Q7iwC40tzdFYtiK0u6frjm-srRFSH2TtL6VjZpNBM9IlCWuFKAvM/s1600/phone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiznK1tqe_cgmLIq4Te5XuuS33vIEfDFs2HL7BBa0k9-XT_sn5gKREY3MwB439qdLezIy0BYTAlsMlrsaU7QPY7T0_Q7iwC40tzdFYtiK0u6frjm-srRFSH2TtL6VjZpNBM9IlCWuFKAvM/s320/phone.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I love my cell
phone. We got rid of our house phone
because each of us now has a cell phone.
No more telemarketers. No more wrong numbers. No <i>collectors</i>. (Not that I
know what those calls would be like or anything –cough, cough)</div>
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No more ringing
when I am “indisposed”. No more "accidentally" answering the call from someone I
don’t want to talk to. ( I would <b><i>NEVER!</i></b>)</div>
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As a plus, my NEW car is hands-free wired, and when my cell
phone jumped into the washer a few months ago, (outdated cell phone suicide) I had to break down and get an iPhone (You can tell I'm a novice - is it I-Phone, iphone, i-phone ???) which I must say really is the best thing since hair color in a box, because
let’s face it, sliced bread is OK, but hair color from the grocery store is <i>the
bomb</i> (for working Moms on a budget with stubborn greys who has a husband willing to apply it)</div>
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I am pretty sure there are some people who have a house
phone and one cell phone for the whole house that would be horrified by the ways in which I use
said phone:</div>
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<br /></div>
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I text my son all the time.
When he is at home. <i>In his
room. </i>Just a few rooms away from where I am sitting.</div>
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In my defense, his room is
upstairs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The only other room up <i>those</i> stairs is one other bedroom. The only
reason for me to go up<i> those</i> stairs is to have a good yell about the messes, so I
avoid that section of the house most days that I want my family to like me. In my defense, his door is always shut and
the music is louder than my voice can carry. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Plus, I am tired of going
up there and pounding on the door. Then yelling, and then pushing my way through the door which sticks and squeezing my eyes shut in case I would see something I don't want to see....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I
text him. He actually thinks this is
strange and it has the perfect effect on him. – He comes OUT of his room and
joins the family. It's kind of like my way of sending a formal invitation.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I text the hubby romantic promises I have a hard time
keeping. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can I tell you a little secret?
I think about the hubby whenever I am not with him. So I text him what I plan
to do or want to do - he responds, and then when it comes down to <i>REAL LIFE</i> – we (me and the mouse in my pocket) are too tired, too busy, too interrupted most of the time, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
so I have resorted to, yes I'm saying it - <i>Sex ting</i>. (It's pretty PG-13 stuff, I <i>HAVE</i> accidentally included the kids in my messages....)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I send the kids messages of love and encouragement. I stopped making lunches a long time
ago. On the rare occasion that I do, I
always forget to add the little note. But
most days my kids can see a message from me on their phone letting them know
I’m thinking of them. Sometimes it's -</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I love you, hope you have a good day!!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
but mostly it's: <i>"If there is a mess when I get home you are so grounded!"</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never call people just to talk…..(where do people <i>find</i>
that kind of time??) Unless I’m stuck in traffic, (*hands free) on a long
commute, or in a never ending line. THEN
I call my Mom and anyone else I haven’t had time to say Hi to lately who are willing to answer. They feel so special when they get these phone calls from me. It's like they KNOW I have nothing better to do.... ?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tease people with silly pictures - this is the cat that refuses to cuddle or associate with any of us. The other night the girls went to sleepovers and here comes Mr. Anti-Social Pants curling up with the hubby, so of course I had to send it the girls.....</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRV3bNfDThA9CmSpAH93mYSobdXauJpUxi8ExnblJ1QKZpU6Ynjax3ioC2vml6BtEmj2B3OrShCb8mb_VU65SLyg4Y4bZEinX6HVBK_bT5pXBinhnV0zRyKbozsZ5fWYMgMgfMVEUpzo/s1600/074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCRV3bNfDThA9CmSpAH93mYSobdXauJpUxi8ExnblJ1QKZpU6Ynjax3ioC2vml6BtEmj2B3OrShCb8mb_VU65SLyg4Y4bZEinX6HVBK_bT5pXBinhnV0zRyKbozsZ5fWYMgMgfMVEUpzo/s320/074.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jealous?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I make plans, then break them. I grab the phone out of my kids hands and send a text that sounds so much better than what they were going to write. I keep tabs on where my kids are - </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"You are at Joey's?"</i>,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i> "OK, then take a picture of you with his Mom."</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I program phone numbers I don't ever want to answer with their own ring tone and screen name. Sometimes I have to hide those calls from the kids.....</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I've gotten really good at faking static.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aren't cell phones just the greatest thing since </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VXMzd2ACG3EZglepST5sgHdcQt-xuWJ_z2QC0GT5C2NkoRR1J0FLY7W4Yjd_auxGfSMWzht0R6uii3x1a_obEA_0RIGYsPoyiR1r2Fx2nerC24xu_cKW1C__QctUVJ82VQHv-2eEkK4/s1600/toaster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8VXMzd2ACG3EZglepST5sgHdcQt-xuWJ_z2QC0GT5C2NkoRR1J0FLY7W4Yjd_auxGfSMWzht0R6uii3x1a_obEA_0RIGYsPoyiR1r2Fx2nerC24xu_cKW1C__QctUVJ82VQHv-2eEkK4/s1600/toaster.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A solution to my toasted sandwich issue!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><i><br /></i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b><br />
<br /></div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-75258095557288427722012-05-27T12:45:00.001-04:002012-05-27T12:45:49.238-04:00Vans, Turtles and Family Vacation PlansBREAKING NEWS!!!<br />
I am <i>no longer</i> a Mom <i>driving a van</i>. I totally forgot to tell you this exciting bit of news!<br />
As you know, I was never a fan of the <a href="http://imfineu.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-you-mean-my-honda-odyssey-is-not.html">Van driving Mom</a> <span id="goog_456229341"></span><span id="goog_456229342"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a>status.<br />
So after 10 years of driving one, I am not anymore.<br />
<br />
I will tell you that I did feel oddly guilty and sad, leaving the car lot and my Van who kept my family safe for so many years and drove us on many adventures. This is the not the first time an <a href="http://imfineu.blogspot.com/2010/10/conversations-with-inanimate-objects.html">inanimate object</a> has "spoken" to me. I had a hard time sleeping that night. It was weird.....<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, our timing is just a little bit off. We got the new car about a month ago and have decided to drive to Florida in July to see family. I'm already having anxiety about how dirty the new car is going to get (I have kept my new shiny black car IMMACULATE since the day I got it - even if that means vacuuming the interior 2x per day) Hello, my name is Kristen and yes, I DO have OCD.<br />
<br />
Our son, the oldest of three we know will be riding in the passenger seat. There is NO way he will sit THAT close to his little sisters for 24 hours amicably (on both sides.) Guess who is riding in the back seat? Yeah, <i><b>me.</b></i><br />
I am kind of already dreading this part. I am not very patient when it comes to wiggling, and any type of body noises. (Blame my father!)<br />
We had a discussion about this in the car yesterday while I was sitting in the back seat next to only<i> ONE</i> of the wiggle worms. The hubby announced he might look into renting a BIG car. This was said while I was wiping a fingerprint off the ceiling.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpsmwWqJta6JOSbItyGe8JC8MkP_7cnPPwt9EbMP0OPkb9t9r4Y3jVCUFcMCweQvQnfVlMTT6U4eoEu2CzkF_wfSvzfjCvJLlWXZHhfJ5Ih2VMNRzLndVD2JJBiB3hw4315FXPOXjBsM/s1600/rent+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitpsmwWqJta6JOSbItyGe8JC8MkP_7cnPPwt9EbMP0OPkb9t9r4Y3jVCUFcMCweQvQnfVlMTT6U4eoEu2CzkF_wfSvzfjCvJLlWXZHhfJ5Ih2VMNRzLndVD2JJBiB3hw4315FXPOXjBsM/s320/rent+car.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I think that is THE BEST IDEA I have heard in a long time! Talk about being able to relax!<br />
I have a feeling that idea is on the "Keep Dreaming" side of the list, but the thought will keep me calm until we leave, in my new shiny black car with me sandwiched in between two wiggle worms, one who thinks farting is still funny and the other who has a tiny little "whistling" noise in her nose.<br />
REMEMBER TO PACK:<br />
Headphones<br />
Blinders<br />
Personal Barricade Wall<br />
<br />
Thankfully we won't need a lot of clothes for a trip to <i>FLORIDA in JULY</i> (it's the only time we could get a vacation together - Alaska sounds so much more appealing, but our family chose to live in Florida -darn it)<br />
<br />
The only problem is that our normal "red-neck luggage" consisting of 4 laundry baskets, probably will not fit in the trunk.<br />
<br />
I'm thinking even more red-neck than ever - How about, NO Luggage at all -just fill the trunk up to the top and use that as our family dresser. I'm sure the nice neighborhood we will be visiting won't mind a bit if the hubby and kids change out on the driveway....<br />
It will be like Cousin Eddy and family coming to town! (said family does read this blog, so don't be surprised when I blog how my family vacation was <i>cancelled </i>)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyjvfLbO6Hj7WfPjFA8DMm2vJtz3i4I91Rz0USg-9Y1QbIA0ncS5fgx-TrV7dl8s8VYk-UQa3mgn6zHJz0Gq4Nm-c2cOK8eX8o6Hg0OmRLtW4slBdka5VpvEvjiNWi_IyC49RPvBgSdM/s1600/vintage+luggage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhyjvfLbO6Hj7WfPjFA8DMm2vJtz3i4I91Rz0USg-9Y1QbIA0ncS5fgx-TrV7dl8s8VYk-UQa3mgn6zHJz0Gq4Nm-c2cOK8eX8o6Hg0OmRLtW4slBdka5VpvEvjiNWi_IyC49RPvBgSdM/s320/vintage+luggage.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">of Course, it <i>would</i> be a good excuse to get more of my fave vintage peices....(so much easier to pack!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We spent some intimate time in the new car last night. Time that I have a feeling will be the first of many similar events..... Dropping a pre-teen off at the movie theater, then killing 3 hours driving around town. (where we live the closest theater is 30 minutes away, so you are kind of forced to stay in town hiding from said pre-teen and their friends.)<br />
<br />
Yesterday, unbeknownst to me must have been - Save a Snapping Turtle Day and the hubby took home the Grand Prize trophy for saving the most. 4 in one day! <br />
<br />
The last save was while we were "killing time". This one was a little bit unhappy about his inevitable suicide save, so he had to be rescued by a toe -I took a picture, but I cannot get it to download. Needless to say, the hubby ran across a 4 lane highway, carrying a snappy snapping turtle by his tail to a tall patch of grass on the other side. <br />
<br />
I hope you are enjoying your long weekend. Today is going to be a HOT one here, so I'm dragging out all the card and board games to keep us entertained with....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkACvBMFbHd02K4YMQUiL0Fp-WBJTPZj7H295SuOgNc5hZ0RFcC31uU7hgQirDrYlfqM73TNcjpJY-Y2aWNR338Q0lXACoWLXi0O3MB27RynUWQ9g-ZoX_d5GBiQafMtylSDdbXB4XJaI/s1600/sorry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkACvBMFbHd02K4YMQUiL0Fp-WBJTPZj7H295SuOgNc5hZ0RFcC31uU7hgQirDrYlfqM73TNcjpJY-Y2aWNR338Q0lXACoWLXi0O3MB27RynUWQ9g-ZoX_d5GBiQafMtylSDdbXB4XJaI/s320/sorry.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-77910499104205234062012-05-25T17:50:00.000-04:002012-05-25T17:50:47.562-04:00Hot, So HOTI'm <b><span style="color: red;">hot</span></b>, therefore I am <i>miserable. </i><br />
I hate being hot. I hate being moist. I hate that word.<br />
I hate "perspiring". Cause we all know ladies never sweat...... right?<br />
I have a low tolerance for heat. Pain? Bring it on! Heat? Not So Much.<br />
<br />
After 80 degrees, I'm done. Cooked. Burnt. Spent.<br />
<br />
I get to hear about people having the winter blues, snow depression and all the woes of cold weather.<br />
I'd take cold weather<i> ANY</i> day over 96 degrees. This is the temperature my car read on my way home from work today. Come on, it's not even JUNE yet.<br />
<br />
I'm <b><i>melting.</i></b>............................<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6UzKCpbHJuC5xxnc2652Z1CQO1vl_4QTvtsq6zSaa2SROe4E2YrYK1Yit-223-MWTzalUx264Dw2fo3MS4PkKjC-_rgKDbCI9VuabNroMtLgdDdBO11XRPwM6CO2Il3agWrcFckhsoQo/s1600/melting+ice+cream+truck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6UzKCpbHJuC5xxnc2652Z1CQO1vl_4QTvtsq6zSaa2SROe4E2YrYK1Yit-223-MWTzalUx264Dw2fo3MS4PkKjC-_rgKDbCI9VuabNroMtLgdDdBO11XRPwM6CO2Il3agWrcFckhsoQo/s320/melting+ice+cream+truck.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It's such a bummer to me to be so hot that you have to close all the windows and turn the A/C on. You can't sit in the sun and enjoy the outdoors (well, <i>YOU </i>might, but I just cannot.) Although, impressively I am currently refusing to turn the air on and have not had it on yet this year. The pending water bill is my motivation.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ijZ8e-93gNjTfAwkPF7f71S7xoInX009sDT9jgdWmTFY3gXObqv6AGItdH8fL2i1kYsYap-IQe-vLJoAr_yUUtp6WZtld9AvaXthKBDfvEgB07J8lllbQnO7I22Kk88OHKQfyy73iqk/s1600/its+too+hot+outside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ijZ8e-93gNjTfAwkPF7f71S7xoInX009sDT9jgdWmTFY3gXObqv6AGItdH8fL2i1kYsYap-IQe-vLJoAr_yUUtp6WZtld9AvaXthKBDfvEgB07J8lllbQnO7I22Kk88OHKQfyy73iqk/s320/its+too+hot+outside.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If I Could, I WOULD. (my neighbors are a little too close)<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEgQriRQRyDmsGj0YWtq2LinnIAg53d_PG-9kdhyH7xvHIWgfTiTDp6KoFCcXJ_A-mW0WqkGC6uppeliKEnesjKHS0oehRNPf5TrELxN_1udYsKlqTDTB_lQhJyAIMLHZLGGYXBNti7NCbk/s1600/refreshing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQriRQRyDmsGj0YWtq2LinnIAg53d_PG-9kdhyH7xvHIWgfTiTDp6KoFCcXJ_A-mW0WqkGC6uppeliKEnesjKHS0oehRNPf5TrELxN_1udYsKlqTDTB_lQhJyAIMLHZLGGYXBNti7NCbk/s320/refreshing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unfortunately, <a href="http://imfineu.blogspot.com/2011/08/dont-drop-kids-off-in-my-yard.html">the Pool</a> had an accident last year.....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On the up side, while at work I COULD come out to this lovely site:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgTZoGEKtzQJsc5UKtPfoDhSMq67j0poNomGwjEAH2PRfJ95SXcRvOI-dpNPgzTjDTyPPKGcqYWgpyFAG6K6OPk0aYBPfpVIt3rNoAOZ154qzVEmVB86BALj54D4T7BsJBp4UGs5bNBo/s1600/baking+cookies+in+my+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLgTZoGEKtzQJsc5UKtPfoDhSMq67j0poNomGwjEAH2PRfJ95SXcRvOI-dpNPgzTjDTyPPKGcqYWgpyFAG6K6OPk0aYBPfpVIt3rNoAOZ154qzVEmVB86BALj54D4T7BsJBp4UGs5bNBo/s320/baking+cookies+in+my+car.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A TRUE benefit of a HOT car.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I didn't have any big plans for this long weekend. <br />
And now, my plans include being a shut in. <br />
Yes, I am a wimp. But so are all of you when it is blizzarding and I'm gleefully driving around in a snow storm, and rolling around in the snow.......in NOVEMBER!<br />
<br />
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-3041515578943393112012-05-24T20:16:00.000-04:002012-05-24T20:17:49.662-04:00Pinning My Hopes and Dreams<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Mom and her friend used to go “sailing” all the
time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is what they would tell us a few days a week in the Spring and Summer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they would say this I would
picture the two of them in a little sail boat on the small lake (pond?) up the road. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They both
had really pretty luscious hair and were the kind of Moms that always looked nicely put together
so it was an odd image I pictured of the two bobbing along in the water.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4HuVJF1ATP7i_ild3veHbLu2GZ6yC-n7uvfBYbFZ6Wq9uDL4Mb_m_7rybLDXAjpjOvJNPA7vYBrJN4tD01pDnZFbKdV7CYIAQswZulLAUpxr4G7TkNZI8yH4kpV50lJFrEPSXgBxkvo/s1600/saleing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid4HuVJF1ATP7i_ild3veHbLu2GZ6yC-n7uvfBYbFZ6Wq9uDL4Mb_m_7rybLDXAjpjOvJNPA7vYBrJN4tD01pDnZFbKdV7CYIAQswZulLAUpxr4G7TkNZI8yH4kpV50lJFrEPSXgBxkvo/s320/saleing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I later discovered that “Sale-ing” was going to garage
SALES. Funny how they didn’t come home with too many treasures…. Maybe I need
to investigate this Sale-ing thing a little further??<i><b> Hmmmmmm</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been <i>“pinning”</i>. (It's a great Ostrich Avoidance Technique) My kids and the hubby have asked me several times what I am doing so
intently on the computer or when I disappear into a room with my Laptop/Kindle/Phone, and I respond – <i>“I’m pinning.”</i> (DUH……)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They know me. I’m not crafty. I’m the furthest thing from
crafty there is. But for a brief moment
I am sure they picture me with a bulletin board and a bunch of push pins and
pictures. (They would NEVER picture me
pinning the hem about to sew a leg up –<i> trust me.)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been “pinning” all my life and never knew it – When I was a younger kid I would get the JC Penney and Spiegel catalogs, and cut pictures out of all the
things I wanted. I would design houses
and closets by pasting the pictures onto paper and then I would cut the pretty
people out, dress them in the stylish clothes and place them in their paper
houses. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Later, I would glue pictures
into notebooks, inside my locker or on a bulletin board reminding me of the
things on my wish-lists.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My brother is a big “pinner” and doesn’t even know it. He has a huge board that takes up the entire
wall of his office. It is covered in
pictures of the places he has been, where he wants to go again, and what he
wants to do in his future.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dreams have become
realities because of "pinning" (back then and now) and we never knew it. I once bought two pieces of artwork that have 6
squares each of a vintage item. When I
put them on my office wall I dedicated a thought to each square, saying, this square that has the vintage typewriter
was representative of me writing. The
square with the vintage bike and basket full of books was MY vintage bike
(which I later found) and my dream of owning/running a book store one day. The square with the chair and vintagy
wallpaper was representative of my dream house (Check!) and so on…</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To my amazement there is a site just for this sort of thing
that I have been doing my whole life and I am so excited about it. <a href="http://pinterest.com/kdrburkley/"> Pinterest</a>.
I know you have heard of it and some guffaw and some embrace and I
too guffawed and now have thoroughly and time consumingly embraced!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And Guys – don’t let the women take this over, because it is
for YOU too. (haven't convinced the hubby yet... but he still hasn't seen Titanic yet either...)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been able to build dream boards and add to them. I’m not after the social aspect of it, I am
honestly just so excited to do something that feels as if I were a kid with
scissors and a catalog.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In fact, I have encouraged my daughters to do this also.
DREAM. Envision. Imagine. That is how you get
things done. Putting the positive energy
out there and watching it come back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-26112127950681390632012-05-23T21:27:00.000-04:002012-05-23T21:34:35.325-04:00Saddles Aren't That Big a Deal, Right?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>I’m<i> Back</i></b>. I wish I
could tell you I had won the lottery, went on an overseas adventure, or was
abducted by a traveling circus. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsZj7yoAVsxtSpi-spNQ-Qi8BQjkr5hfbmArSM13BOSPYk4jalp5erEBy3OcWFHabCcAONuh7O4Vt8X2kaWmOEz6w3Ep5Tp1NqYbo3T-cCLV2WogPC3zWi6p7RkdblnBwLCD_gTvRb5U/s1600/circus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRsZj7yoAVsxtSpi-spNQ-Qi8BQjkr5hfbmArSM13BOSPYk4jalp5erEBy3OcWFHabCcAONuh7O4Vt8X2kaWmOEz6w3Ep5Tp1NqYbo3T-cCLV2WogPC3zWi6p7RkdblnBwLCD_gTvRb5U/s320/circus.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am <b><i>glad</i></b>
to tell you I did not come down with a horrible disease, experience a tragedy
or lost my memory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just had a little <b><i>“me”</i></b> hiatus. I was starting to feel obligated to come with
up something witty when I didn’t feel witty. My goal of the blog was to always
be positive, and to watch what I was saying because people I know actually read
this thing, and I don’t ever want to seem ungrateful for everything I
have. So when I felt this pressure to
write, I stopped writing. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In some ways,
I would agree that I have ostrich tendencies.
When I want to, I am really good at burying my head in the sand until
whatever is making me feel uncomfortable goes away……</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZW4ofOPxyKii4WjAXNAi3O2tw6OH0LQ7YB4djMyGbNp7GiHcgqiEljch5pMakg7ZAobv52qYjPXEbqqwqCfggTw7jLOLjgdn2PX2fcERfNF6299Lx3m0mtf50gMcJI3Jw9g00IczkKMk/s1600/ostrich.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZW4ofOPxyKii4WjAXNAi3O2tw6OH0LQ7YB4djMyGbNp7GiHcgqiEljch5pMakg7ZAobv52qYjPXEbqqwqCfggTw7jLOLjgdn2PX2fcERfNF6299Lx3m0mtf50gMcJI3Jw9g00IczkKMk/s320/ostrich.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The good news is that I want to write. Some really bizarre things happen to me and
if I don’t at least put them down somewhere, those things might never have
actually happened, right? For example
since I have been gone this is what I didn’t get to talk about:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Fight With a Rubic Goldstein Machine. (Yeah, I had to
google it too before we got intimate with each other…)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My new 4am waking hour and how I get myself to actually get
out of bed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thought the hubby had a heart attack which was really
dramatic of me since he was really just locked out of the building I thought he
followed me in to. We might need therapy since I didn’t notice for 40 minutes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got to experience throwing up and a two month cold, UP
CLOSE and PERSONAL, in a mere three months and I am NEVER sick.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have discovered that I am hiding from reality in the form
of PINNING.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My daughter and I were members of a sewing club – for two
weeks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The kids got glasses, and I was scolded for not knowing my
kids needed glasses. In the middle of a
blizzard. ( I threw the Blizzard in there b.c while the snow literally POURED from the sky, I pictured making a snowman out of the Eye Dr.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My High School Alma Mater was the site of the Chardon School
shooting. This one kind of knocked us all for a loop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ate pancakes every Sunday in the month of March at a
different location in my town and strangely enough found it was a whole to new
way to re-connect with the hubby. Who knew pancakes could be so romantic??</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I deleted 5 other events for the following reasons: 1. You
would think I was a bad parent. 2. I
would embarrass my kid. 3. Too Boring
and I’m trying to remove my boring label. 4. Too good for one or two sentences –
I need a full post about THAT one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With that said, <i><b>I’m back.</b></i>
I may not be worth it, but I’m back.
For those of you who wondered and asked,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
–<i> THANK YOU</i>, it meant
a lot to know you were looking for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stay Tuned for revealing, embarrassing, hopefully funny,
positive, posts coming to a screen near you…</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-22768205448011667482012-01-30T21:13:00.000-05:002012-01-30T21:13:54.101-05:00Jelly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
It's just a little bit on the side of my mouth. A little jelly. You probably wouldn't even notice it, mostly because you do not have any and even if you did notice mine, it's not really noticeable enough to actually point it out. But I'll just say it -<br />
YES, I do have a little jelly.<br />
<br />
JEALOUS, I am of your good fortune, good luck, good news, happiness, joy and upcoming adventures.<br />
<br />
But it's fine, the jelly doesn't taste bad at all, in fact, I'm kind of happy to have it. It reminds me that my time is coming, and when I take the biggest bite out of life, there will be a little bit of jelly on the corner of your mouth and I won't even glance at it.....<br />
<br />
It's not a bad thing, a little jelly. It's actually a good reminder - keeps you grounded. Reminds you to stay in check and always make sure you aren't walking around making a fool out of yourself with that jelly all over.<br />
<br />
On that note here are some great things to be just a little "jelly" over:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPxTLcAz67sVMexUp6XdZiEjXlwdaJUE3a8le2FpfrUYWO15NBqeU6IBny-f4k9fVKgEFZkHkQ_TKCmNTgyp0JSyTNvBAUjXlD2RlgiPRQY_2YCYlV7Z-HT9rVndEku0arxQCjqaTol0U/s1600/saw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPxTLcAz67sVMexUp6XdZiEjXlwdaJUE3a8le2FpfrUYWO15NBqeU6IBny-f4k9fVKgEFZkHkQ_TKCmNTgyp0JSyTNvBAUjXlD2RlgiPRQY_2YCYlV7Z-HT9rVndEku0arxQCjqaTol0U/s320/saw.jpg" width="215" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You saw something no one would ever believe...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfOUNYovrl69obRNo4iA1SW3L0Q-ezGkpCJUGKNipIMH3Aw4htFsrb9MWzMfBeQkQc48yE4VUCPw8ZCH4OyivyzeRztsKByLePTYIf7nzZUjyehxDOXXRMcGhECvVo5KY-ADLNkttNv4/s1600/laugh.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAfOUNYovrl69obRNo4iA1SW3L0Q-ezGkpCJUGKNipIMH3Aw4htFsrb9MWzMfBeQkQc48yE4VUCPw8ZCH4OyivyzeRztsKByLePTYIf7nzZUjyehxDOXXRMcGhECvVo5KY-ADLNkttNv4/s320/laugh.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An inanimate object made you laugh today.....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxK76fAl-t3dEPsTR8SVWhl9ZRXJnWo0yFNDueEwexWFWo1MpfhmL04a6g4MrQ55dSp7DLTsjTNnoTXGbdcLpj1IzsYruqsJugXmHAwLQ8ow70DARoThE2aN_6DBZwiJFIEh0i02F4F6c/s1600/lost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxK76fAl-t3dEPsTR8SVWhl9ZRXJnWo0yFNDueEwexWFWo1MpfhmL04a6g4MrQ55dSp7DLTsjTNnoTXGbdcLpj1IzsYruqsJugXmHAwLQ8ow70DARoThE2aN_6DBZwiJFIEh0i02F4F6c/s320/lost.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You got lost, WHERE??</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEO9nbJqXnljM0i0r8Z29HlO235UXNS_J5rdZ4lVy2F2zDiAjZp_wvw6_T1XCkT9YpYoW4kem5kL1zn9emsPOixMteTtQFMrqJLMiZhPz6jVVLWU32-JQdtFQuc2lsSphYX5ysibPT88/s1600/garage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNEO9nbJqXnljM0i0r8Z29HlO235UXNS_J5rdZ4lVy2F2zDiAjZp_wvw6_T1XCkT9YpYoW4kem5kL1zn9emsPOixMteTtQFMrqJLMiZhPz6jVVLWU32-JQdtFQuc2lsSphYX5ysibPT88/s320/garage.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a CLEAN garage, all organized and amazing....<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEggJpTmWXGcwI4i87fwp5CTKhLhQYbzSAcrHdJoAPdjvuQDP2KEDkw4ui253eYUs0oCB6HwHJPLOsfQqWZdIrRcThq6FQd-htXdy1d1hpPMYnSfJYmuf8EwBF8irTQE_Q_4Mi9Sz5rpt6I/s1600/good+spot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJpTmWXGcwI4i87fwp5CTKhLhQYbzSAcrHdJoAPdjvuQDP2KEDkw4ui253eYUs0oCB6HwHJPLOsfQqWZdIrRcThq6FQd-htXdy1d1hpPMYnSfJYmuf8EwBF8irTQE_Q_4Mi9Sz5rpt6I/s320/good+spot.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Somebody found your good spot</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGRbIyWYalbKZ66wLnHWmrJWMtpDFQTwHkdEAFYJt98zIIQcbGSbBHyEnBo_SwyQz_K6qyRhZS__wNXubi4RIQ2e7C9pXQzNyLLcpiXFGGGkSyyTTLrThBOhlKcPjiSZRk0jh4vyMtmc/s1600/fun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiGRbIyWYalbKZ66wLnHWmrJWMtpDFQTwHkdEAFYJt98zIIQcbGSbBHyEnBo_SwyQz_K6qyRhZS__wNXubi4RIQ2e7C9pXQzNyLLcpiXFGGGkSyyTTLrThBOhlKcPjiSZRk0jh4vyMtmc/s320/fun.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You enjoy yourself without ever caring what anyone else thinks!<br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<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/AVvXsEg7spSz5xpZ2MkSaQEhg0vb7tSphocHYeHrXpYiWOPsZAVXjQEm-EzVJqSchPbnDXGZX_DGCamBUQCVJBWYmwgSeQ4bydiqjhMD0lT8VOX2WwY17gwpZjRCDUk8z5GZWQIlONOnciFct3I/s1600/friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7spSz5xpZ2MkSaQEhg0vb7tSphocHYeHrXpYiWOPsZAVXjQEm-EzVJqSchPbnDXGZX_DGCamBUQCVJBWYmwgSeQ4bydiqjhMD0lT8VOX2WwY17gwpZjRCDUk8z5GZWQIlONOnciFct3I/s320/friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your friends are larger than life!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-84525997255099826842012-01-26T20:24:00.002-05:002012-01-26T20:24:55.905-05:00WOWI am SO impressed. Take a look here:<br />
<a href="http://chaserowellart.blogspot.com/2012/01/watch-me-draw.html?showComment=1327625634701#c7502426762793853989">http://chaserowellart.blogspot.com/2012/01/watch-me-draw.html?showComment=1327625634701#c7502426762793853989</a>
<br />
<br />
This. Is. My. Nephew.<br />
He's 16<br />
<br />
<img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD1_OtFFYNSiKlrFjN76qFKSW_oHzB0Yayr04UdRG6E5RPQqDWFPiQLDApsn2ozuqI0_N4BHX1Q8TJ3zu3gKf4M7ZUf07rp0f-cmVcAnH0UCFU7ov40HrNotyA_rfqk3W4J3PKKw8ArLF/s400/star.png" />
<br />
<br />
We share the same taste in music. We do not share artistic talent. I have none.<br />
<br />
and a little quickie:<br />
<br />
Do you remember my Italian visitor last year at <a href="http://imfineu.blogspot.com/2011/01/beep-beep-and-italian-adventures.html">work?</a> (read all about it) Well he came back today with a friend -Massimo. (Love the name!) No one had to leave due to the flu, BUT I <i>did </i>have a very awkward Italian greeting moment. It goes like this:<br />
<br />
The bell at the front desk rings.<br />
<br />
I approach knowing it will be our Italian client.<br />
<br />
It is him and his Italian partner. Dressed in full winter parkas and scarves BECAUSE weather in Cleveland this time of year - SUCKS and it was the same last year as it is this year. (This is what I hate about living where I do. - I personally LOVE where I live. I LOVE winter, LOVE snow. But, EVERY SINGLE time someone from out of town visits, the weather puts it's worst foot forward and there is no amount of convincing people that its a beautiful place when their shoes are covered in salt.)<br />
<br />
Younger than me, nice looking Italian man 1, approaches with his hand extended. I extend mine. He leans in for....<br />
The Kiss/Kiss!<br />
<br />
1. We DID spend valuable time in the car together last year.<br />
2. I have watched this foreign greeting on many a TV show/Movie.<br />
3. I should have been calm, cool, collected and ABLE to perform the double cheek kiss!<br />
<br />
Instead, I am awkwardly tossing my hair into his face and then again when he leans to the other side, while his Italian partner is observing, telling me "now the other side" and watching my face which is making an excruciating expression because I am wishing I could sink into a hole.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, the Italian partner just shook my hand. No Kiss/Kiss. BUT even worse, I kind leaned towards him because I thought I would get it right the second time. Instead, I just looking like a loon sticking my cheek out and then pulling it back in while I ferociously shook his hand realizing he was not about to Kiss/Kiss this crazy girl. ( I felt so LAME )<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45Webp_8SIvPUvvLoIQrUf3TBNAxSpK01qp_U5hNlvfWVH5Ncm6Hby-GU-4fsoX9aZk9Zj0oj8ARg1x6QnEZVus8HoJA12BhBxffV5OakdRVAp5NhhD5srvniLq5qp30Qnpde2DBNTzU/s1600/european+kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45Webp_8SIvPUvvLoIQrUf3TBNAxSpK01qp_U5hNlvfWVH5Ncm6Hby-GU-4fsoX9aZk9Zj0oj8ARg1x6QnEZVus8HoJA12BhBxffV5OakdRVAp5NhhD5srvniLq5qp30Qnpde2DBNTzU/s320/european+kiss.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Picture a horrible awkward grimace on this girl's face - That's ME!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Where is the black hole when you need it? <i>WHERE?</i><br />
<br />
Ciao, for now my friends.....<br />
<br />
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-32238932432212867462012-01-22T17:14:00.001-05:002012-01-22T17:14:39.571-05:00Restless<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/AVvXsEj3EdW-waGZO_kGm6fZJvMYLKossX0C8j4gElPTHMR6LQKR3-KZXlQHcitouhGHYIrHPn76eeeiJ0_uQAIGKEv_UQkkIeDrU5RQi_UgtTfRCtI2vgnDXvSS7VmYUGtuqCB7fOpn3Iv6n_0/s1600/winter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3EdW-waGZO_kGm6fZJvMYLKossX0C8j4gElPTHMR6LQKR3-KZXlQHcitouhGHYIrHPn76eeeiJ0_uQAIGKEv_UQkkIeDrU5RQi_UgtTfRCtI2vgnDXvSS7VmYUGtuqCB7fOpn3Iv6n_0/s320/winter.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Why I love Winter</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
There is a period of time every season when I go through this "thing". It's not depression. It's not anxiety. It's not boredom really. Maybe it is a little bit of all of those things? <br />
The problem is that I thrive on change. Throw an obstacle my way and although I will fuss at first, deep down, I love it. So when things aren't <i>monumentally</i> changing, I am a little lost. But when I think about the things I do in a week's time, I realize things are always changing and I am always <i>doing</i>, yet I still feel RESTLESS. <br />
That's it - RESTLESS is a great way to describe how I feel.<br />
<br />
I have a hard time concentrating on one particular thing and when I do try to do something <i>in</i> particular, my mind just goes in a million directions. I can't just clean the house because then I feel like I should be playing with the kids. I can't play with the kids, because I worry about the mess in the house. <br />
<br />
Before Christmas, I got my nails done (which is a rare treat because I am hopeless at ever having nice nails unless professionally done and then they last 5 days nicely but that's it.) I spend the majority of the time fussing over my nails, examining them, picking them, looking at them, touching them etc......<br />
That is how I feel. I should be satisfied and enjoy the moment, but instead, I have to pick it apart until it changes and then I have something to complain about/fix/obsess over.....<br />
<br />
I dream of having a day with no plans or things that HAVE to be done. Saturday we had NOTHING planned. I cleaned the house. I was miserably restless.<br />
<br />
Today we were out of the house by noon despite the freezing temps. We toured an open house -a huge old Victorian that has been sitting empty on our town square for several years. It was freezing and not as exciting as I thought it would be. The kids all have friends over and I am starting to wander restlessly through the house - folding a load of laundry here, checking my email, deciding to crack open one of the many un-read books and then remembering the water ring on the table I could wipe up and picking up cat food crumbs on the floor on the way there.<br />
<br />
Is there such a thing as relax - ADHD or inability to be <i>LAZY?</i><br />
<i><br /></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0phZQbtFOrVvU7nBdqOtRUZzdpuffkTW2pC0OSzVqQ38WtfPGq6MaCmYCx3nbap-mN4JAWR2Midub1fvvDgdWQuaUdZ8Q_zR8KMt7qO9YCUJz3TqNdrAPiG7augMKFjYO3IzdJKFrEQ/s1600/winter+lazy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB0phZQbtFOrVvU7nBdqOtRUZzdpuffkTW2pC0OSzVqQ38WtfPGq6MaCmYCx3nbap-mN4JAWR2Midub1fvvDgdWQuaUdZ8Q_zR8KMt7qO9YCUJz3TqNdrAPiG7augMKFjYO3IzdJKFrEQ/s320/winter+lazy.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i><br />
<br />
I think it has a lot to do with the weather. (cold, wet, snowy) <br />
The time of year - January. What IS there to do exciting in this month for <i>ANYONE?</i><br />
(if there is something, maybe don't tell me what it is.......)<br />
<br />
The lack of funds. (We just had to buy glasses for three and a set of contacts) (Two of the three are 9 and 12 - NOT a good Mom moment - they were <i>half blind</i>....)<br />
<br />
But even if the weather was amazing and money were no object, WHAT would I be doing?<br />
<br />
When I ask myself - "What do you REALLY want to do?" the only thing I can think of is socializing. Just being with a group of people and hanging out - laughing, playing games, talking. <br />
<br />
But ideally not at my house - because then I'll worry about getting it cleaned up before, during and after.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCVYsK8q6kZ6-0O5HKODm7KYvlCtXsY1yUL9eK61VCiA10_WKCvCLwtI-mLbWMyadHcaZFPz6hyphenhyphen6obcpwjesOlQTZBl98UoDznwJEsADXMx613g0qdv9wD9_9HKm0ziMmheLe4OcP55Y/s1600/winter+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcCVYsK8q6kZ6-0O5HKODm7KYvlCtXsY1yUL9eK61VCiA10_WKCvCLwtI-mLbWMyadHcaZFPz6hyphenhyphen6obcpwjesOlQTZBl98UoDznwJEsADXMx613g0qdv9wD9_9HKm0ziMmheLe4OcP55Y/s320/winter+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks like a great place to party to me! Except, I kind of hate when the snow gets messed up in the yard.......... :O</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
I am a real pain in the ass - but hey, I bet I made you feel slightly better about yourself and if so, then I have managed to to do ONE thing today!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-61760514571125463042012-01-17T20:10:00.000-05:002012-01-17T20:10:25.357-05:00The Sewing Machine DebacleDebacle is such a fun word isn't it? It's so much better than drama, or situation. A <em>Debacle </em> - a combination of trouble, mess, problem that you can't make your way out of.<br />
<br />
I digress (<em>another good word)</em> -<br />
<br />
<br />
My amazing 12 year old daughter who has a heart of gold, and the creative spirit of Martha Stewart (jury still out that she is actually <em>MY</em> kid and was not switched at birth) asked to LEARN to SEW for her birthday gift. (<em><strong>SEE WHAT I MEAN?</strong></em> as a gift, she asked to <em>learn </em>something.) <br />
<br />
She has the unfortunate pleasure of having a Birthday immediately after Christmas when we are our poorest. Mostly because we do a generous job of playing the Clause's. For that reason she also had a hard time thinking of a gift she really wanted.<br />
<br />
So when she mentioned the sewing thing, <em><strong>I </strong></em>went in the direction of: <em>Have to buy her a Sewing Machine</em>, and she probably was going in the complete opposite direction of: <em>I really want you to pay for sewing lessons at a place where the women all know how to sew and they can actually teach me to make real tangible things.</em><br />
<br />
I did some research and found the machine, a book and a starter kit for a reasonable price. Thankfully just before I hit the BUY button my sister-in-law mentioned that she had a machine she did not use and it was a step up from the one I was going to buy. This way we could try it out and I could spend money on the fun stuff like material, patterns, supply case, and pretty much anything she would need to make me a whole new wardrobe.<br />
<br />
When I got the machine, I went on-line and printed the manual and put it in a pretty binder. I set up a little sewing machine station for her and organized the threads, scrap material, some other tools that I have no idea what they are used for and called her down to see her birthday surprise. (Author's note: I am good at ONE category of things - <strong>WORKING</strong>, so I can <em>organize</em> it all but after that, it's a hopeless DEBACLE.)<br />
<br />
We sat down and I told her I would read the instructions and she could get the machine threaded and set up.<br />
<br />
Long story short - <br />
<br />
She left about an hour in, to "finish homework", and I sat at that godforsaken table with that godforsaken machine and read that godforsaken piece of doo-doo manual for <strong>5</strong> hours!! At one point my son gave it a try because I forced him to take Home EC in 8th grade and he sewed an apron, but he left after 15 minutes mumbling about You Tube and then the hubby ventured in and said he was going to Google it and watch a You Tube video about it.<br />
WHAT THE........<br />
<strong><em>MEN.</em></strong><br />
<br />
A few days later my daughter's friend came over, sat down, threaded the needled, got the machine to run and they wandered off, while I stood there picking my jaw up off the floor.<br />
<br />
A little sewing history:<br />
I took a crochet class in grade school. For one year our school thought it would be fun to offer extra-curriculars throughout the year. I took Crochet for three days. I then moved into the Baton Twirling classes and two days later, I landed in Sign Language 101. I can now proudly sign the alphabet.<br />
<br />
My Mom was a hook rug expert. I even did some hook-rugging for a few years. I got pretty good at it. Unfortunately, I was like 8 or 9 and it was the late 70's and hook rugs kind of fell off the list of home trends.<br />
<br />
In college during one particular snowy winter my roommates and I tried needle point for 8 hours straight. Then we drank away our sorrows and forgot everything including what needle point even was.<br />
<br />
I used to take my dry cleaning to the sweetest Asian dry cleaning family. Whenever I was missing a button, they sewed a new one on for me. Sometimes they didn't match, but I wasn't about to complain. It beat having to wear my shirts in a unique way for lack of available buttons.<br />
<br />
Most recently, I have at least 2 pairs of pants that had to be hemmed. One hem is held up by Scotch Tape and the other is held up with safety pins. I couldn't even get the no-sew stuff to work right.<br />
<br />
SEW........ I mean SO, I'm thinking summer sewing classes are in store for my birthday girl. I can also make sure she has the cutest sewing center ever. But beyond that, I have been defeated by a sewing machine.<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWDamvjYqkaItAnuCmw8xdBh2tLFH9InSVHxqlIrwrcgOhYV690mQgwe5tfFRYQVG2X8TBPHskWMoTamxxNhKw1Tih_CpoLTRRcpjLz_SwUS96W5SXmKebKQv6bX_zH2C-DBVPMpPUnk/s1600/sewing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaWDamvjYqkaItAnuCmw8xdBh2tLFH9InSVHxqlIrwrcgOhYV690mQgwe5tfFRYQVG2X8TBPHskWMoTamxxNhKw1Tih_CpoLTRRcpjLz_SwUS96W5SXmKebKQv6bX_zH2C-DBVPMpPUnk/s320/sewing.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What I pictured as the kind of supplies she would need<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8yKXV9dSkMfYljtwP8d_A5C9UdPfbVFNLAGgDMCJNdnewp_YpSX-n-xX9uIYRpuuq1Zx0VhHpzZ7dIiLhWYr2AdEwT43pCB79ArDSXN0IUE0Jy_wlMvZkRls7fCnN0P5Nc7qeRxxrjM/s1600/sewing+room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU8yKXV9dSkMfYljtwP8d_A5C9UdPfbVFNLAGgDMCJNdnewp_YpSX-n-xX9uIYRpuuq1Zx0VhHpzZ7dIiLhWYr2AdEwT43pCB79ArDSXN0IUE0Jy_wlMvZkRls7fCnN0P5Nc7qeRxxrjM/s320/sewing+room.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>How I pictured her room would look by this summer.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzJjdJ_PhrAAJ6ehGuCR9VCXU6JVzoCdH7iNEf0XPtpBAozIr6bN-ysT6bROaeqvV-XCMvMhySaCKCBQqQaN19KALqhI0q4xsq6pGW6aPXFb1453jhKfjkx9-R3tVxSF1KojqQefU5rg/s1600/sew+stressed.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJzJjdJ_PhrAAJ6ehGuCR9VCXU6JVzoCdH7iNEf0XPtpBAozIr6bN-ysT6bROaeqvV-XCMvMhySaCKCBQqQaN19KALqhI0q4xsq6pGW6aPXFb1453jhKfjkx9-R3tVxSF1KojqQefU5rg/s320/sew+stressed.gif" width="264" /></a></div>REALITY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-42236511369848635882012-01-14T20:52:00.000-05:002012-01-14T20:52:54.160-05:00Meet my friends Alone and Lonely.<div class="MsoNormal">You can eat a home cooked spaghetti dinner at a red vintage table. Frank Sinatra playing in the background. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can be in a warm and cozy home with a little Christmas tree still lit up in the kitchen. Sounds of laughter in the background.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljVOI1_sUKEEmGYt1hcOaiPMacpCRupNAc4wTKO83z4um9tn1-MZGYG2B9owg_hyphenhyphen3KlE0ZjSHI9FYiAdyeOJI0OzPUzokvWTRq8JPYqaKyVIRVFfFh-fgYcwmQ4pGOau6YNh69r0Sfkw/s1600/alone+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljVOI1_sUKEEmGYt1hcOaiPMacpCRupNAc4wTKO83z4um9tn1-MZGYG2B9owg_hyphenhyphen3KlE0ZjSHI9FYiAdyeOJI0OzPUzokvWTRq8JPYqaKyVIRVFfFh-fgYcwmQ4pGOau6YNh69r0Sfkw/s320/alone+5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can be in a room surrounded with pictures of loved ones no longer living. The hum of a dishwasher and washing machine in the background.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can be in the dark in the softly falling snow with warm lights glowing from the windows. No sounds but your own breath in the crisp air.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHW0x4nu2EoUSzAyUwEHCtiYiDPXRRLOddxraD2oCD5Us20FiqYJl-Syy1Ct1zJ16rOOgXCJyRZdV_dk_clCRhxtczia0qVpttuOdGDYAIVf8ZOCBJnV9mn19et0sJ3bKoxg5i6arSZE/s1600/alone+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHW0x4nu2EoUSzAyUwEHCtiYiDPXRRLOddxraD2oCD5Us20FiqYJl-Syy1Ct1zJ16rOOgXCJyRZdV_dk_clCRhxtczia0qVpttuOdGDYAIVf8ZOCBJnV9mn19et0sJ3bKoxg5i6arSZE/s320/alone+6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You may not be alone. But you can be lonely.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can make the decision to swallow your pride. To ignore the chaos and clutter. To know that being good at working hard may not make you Mom or Wife of the year. You can swallow the criticism and complaining and decide to enjoy the moments you have knowing that someday you will be alone and lonely.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADC-jDAEGfMZv1duQiIk__MAjL84A4u1fbHw27AIYkcJNYmLT47O5Lji1WUpsq0zDoKIZXvMJSOh_qdm-PHg8pBtwEWO2ZDc6uDSMQPCidLFxdhcSGuGxj73iaKN9sG0caX7xhr86QHk/s1600/alone+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADC-jDAEGfMZv1duQiIk__MAjL84A4u1fbHw27AIYkcJNYmLT47O5Lji1WUpsq0zDoKIZXvMJSOh_qdm-PHg8pBtwEWO2ZDc6uDSMQPCidLFxdhcSGuGxj73iaKN9sG0caX7xhr86QHk/s320/alone+3.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can decide to love yourself, the person you have become despite the mistakes. The mistakes may not be big life threatening ones. You are not alone and you can decide to not feel the lonely.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGl_JKtjoDJlm1T7ZIvkgXguCnXZVBbQmKx4dKUkWBjHXA-VRoHXsH_z3bLSGqodEEUWeVXYSdiQMSmWsxFMICzw2KmLBRX-adiAb4U7O27RnbiEaLZYvO02Wa_CYc0EjuQ_Qm1T_VQmU/s1600/alone+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGl_JKtjoDJlm1T7ZIvkgXguCnXZVBbQmKx4dKUkWBjHXA-VRoHXsH_z3bLSGqodEEUWeVXYSdiQMSmWsxFMICzw2KmLBRX-adiAb4U7O27RnbiEaLZYvO02Wa_CYc0EjuQ_Qm1T_VQmU/s320/alone+7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can turn the sad off and be happy. No one will mind. They prefer the happy anyway.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">You can be a mess and be funny. You don’t always have to get it right or have it perfectly clean. Because either way you do it you can always be friends with lonely another day. Lonely will always be there for you later.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gLUYwMRnTzILcOZREkitLriOawURVLMLf-3WmmfVpbAl3sdAeJgbie6kMCn7jyaCS8DFLwEVaPh-cxzhMbIPhyphenhyphen0C6QGlCtapYrcA8mLLINFxp0YwjlCVB7h4pDSaxd7lG7DShDJh9F0/s1600/alone+8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8gLUYwMRnTzILcOZREkitLriOawURVLMLf-3WmmfVpbAl3sdAeJgbie6kMCn7jyaCS8DFLwEVaPh-cxzhMbIPhyphenhyphen0C6QGlCtapYrcA8mLLINFxp0YwjlCVB7h4pDSaxd7lG7DShDJh9F0/s320/alone+8.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Don't worry, alone has been one of my very closest friends keeping me company over the years. I have taken comfort in being alone, gotten mad at it, and embraced it. It's not a bad thing. Plus, it's good to visit it every once in awhile - it puts things into perspective, makes you see yourself better than looking into a mirror. Sometimes you choose being alone and sometimes you feel lonely, but sometimes you don't feel the loneliness at all.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-5O-LQA1WEI9eNeK9HpuQS1yRHHVNmupjGgAV0vYuChECU2Vf7uOGA6ReVSxslYGa9Z0IYRJYCTYTonXedoLdONqZPE11qXLWodsiURXz6fvMh6BG3y8rfkYXBaP7j5Zma_Joz8c_64/s1600/alone+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6-5O-LQA1WEI9eNeK9HpuQS1yRHHVNmupjGgAV0vYuChECU2Vf7uOGA6ReVSxslYGa9Z0IYRJYCTYTonXedoLdONqZPE11qXLWodsiURXz6fvMh6BG3y8rfkYXBaP7j5Zma_Joz8c_64/s320/alone+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-3839952361914439932012-01-11T20:59:00.000-05:002012-01-11T20:59:06.274-05:00RV's and Movies<div class="MsoNormal">How is that I have LESS time NOW than I did <i>before</i> the holidays?? <br />
Bad news - no time for blogging. <br />
Good news - I have a ton of sticky notes all over the place with blogger fodder. <br />
But the problem with me is that I can't just leave something unfinished. I started this post over the weekend and I don't really like it but I can't just leave it in the DRAFTs section......<br />
<br />
On Saturday night we watched three movies in a row. <i>YES</i>, I stayed awake for <b>THREE</b> movies and there were no interruptions. (only one kid -the quietest one was home at the time, but Still!)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
It could be that I was still all psyched up from my long day at the RV show. No, I don't have one -but I know people who do....<br />
Some <i>KNOW</i> people in the Mafia, I <i>KNOW</i> people who own RV's......</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i>Not nearly as boring as it may sound to some.</i> My brother and sister in law are RV connoisseurs, so it was fun to go with some experts. If you know me a vintage travel trailer is on my bucket list, but <b>WOW,</b> I really had no idea what RV’s have gotten up to in the past many years (that I wasn’t paying attention). </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnIBzAG-AMEJStkntoZ00M5wsKyhkW28AYijfb9njroyR60fCMjBomRvcIHU810FMTGYUwMdqHo5ZPSZJa49brLsH-TekkTzlOGxp7ScLLSYNbJMTSEsC2Mcw7mPZWUoNTvZlK80hGqM/s1600/lux+rv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKnIBzAG-AMEJStkntoZ00M5wsKyhkW28AYijfb9njroyR60fCMjBomRvcIHU810FMTGYUwMdqHo5ZPSZJa49brLsH-TekkTzlOGxp7ScLLSYNbJMTSEsC2Mcw7mPZWUoNTvZlK80hGqM/s1600/lux+rv.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tscl2wMwvKWweENP9I02vBgqA-Th3a8FDO1hrPF9o068MUO-CmReUN6dg1q0S-sHM0Hjqt4wlRt4nJ7wbxTJQ9c6oKubflytYWrBmb1Hw1FNnanRabMQgwZc0fHEjeWvrhoR8_fSmIo/s1600/rv.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tscl2wMwvKWweENP9I02vBgqA-Th3a8FDO1hrPF9o068MUO-CmReUN6dg1q0S-sHM0Hjqt4wlRt4nJ7wbxTJQ9c6oKubflytYWrBmb1Hw1FNnanRabMQgwZc0fHEjeWvrhoR8_fSmIo/s320/rv.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I really don’t consider myself a camper. However, every time I have visited my brother’s family “camping” (in complete RV style - Bigger Fridge than in my house, big screen TV, all the bells and whistles) it has been relaxing and fun and I can see the benefit of some real stress-free, low-key family time. <br />
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The pop-ups were seriously my favorite's. Well that and the Toy Haulers:<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGL5YmP4dtzj3pzJ1caudULm3iL10PyMSN2ZkVbz50blEf8n_9axgYbALBMjYZJqpIuCeJwhi6kf8n6icHxiK9_cCNibaoWA_Mnj2xwmDzwN0DI8e0qGajdXly0ocJvQoSxkcKX_YXfec/s1600/toy+hauler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGL5YmP4dtzj3pzJ1caudULm3iL10PyMSN2ZkVbz50blEf8n_9axgYbALBMjYZJqpIuCeJwhi6kf8n6icHxiK9_cCNibaoWA_Mnj2xwmDzwN0DI8e0qGajdXly0ocJvQoSxkcKX_YXfec/s320/toy+hauler.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">My daughter and I had so much fun climbing in an out of almost every single RV in the place and dreaming. (I had her all to myself for the day) However, RV designers REALLY need to hire a female eye...<b> pronto</b>. There are some definite decorating holes left wide open ……. (raising my hand for the job!!!)<br />
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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/AVvXsEhPz31sRBuRaqf5J5DMryBRuPhf_lPisTxRlRB-9lUzgWiWcp90aTPjNQ1_IuZwEsHfZ2-sCalmsvWJJ8acEICK0RM0FRUlTxFSUhiupiS24fOQb1rL-9C5diuanZJ1_Ldh7PgReEo0pf4/s1600/travel+trailer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPz31sRBuRaqf5J5DMryBRuPhf_lPisTxRlRB-9lUzgWiWcp90aTPjNQ1_IuZwEsHfZ2-sCalmsvWJJ8acEICK0RM0FRUlTxFSUhiupiS24fOQb1rL-9C5diuanZJ1_Ldh7PgReEo0pf4/s320/travel+trailer.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More my style...</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Back to movie talk:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>I Don’t Know How She Does It </b>(My life, except I doubt I make the money this chick does in the movie and I no longer have to travel)</div><div class="MsoNormal">Sarah Jessica Parker, is just so darn likeable. So even though I loved the premise of this movie and I HAD previously read the book, and it made me happy that finally a movie was about a PRETTY close to real working Mom, there are still some things I have to say as corrections (at least on my behalf)-<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVmuvX6A3jWAmBt0ow6vZhuofy3F7qxhg5D9zCDB_u3t7wb-Jpp0u2zVcLeryE9scCjb4T08nbAuf7qadht8GT811voapFgHVPs6n6wFMd_jDZCzi6Qlxrjxht6Z8ohJf6DkrN8w_t8I/s1600/i+dont+know+how+she+does+it.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXVmuvX6A3jWAmBt0ow6vZhuofy3F7qxhg5D9zCDB_u3t7wb-Jpp0u2zVcLeryE9scCjb4T08nbAuf7qadht8GT811voapFgHVPs6n6wFMd_jDZCzi6Qlxrjxht6Z8ohJf6DkrN8w_t8I/s320/i+dont+know+how+she+does+it.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If my house was as cute as the one in the movie, it wouldn’t look as bad messy. They kind of skipped over the whole having to clean the house on top of all the other stuff she juggles.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Evidently she and the hubby made a lot of money. Not really typical for most working Mom's.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Most Mom’s do not have SJP's body, her hair, or her clothes and their attempt in making her look unkempt just made her even cuter – I WISH that was<i> MY</i> problem!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Warrior</b> </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I cannot believe this move was not talked about more. I really never heard anything about it. The acting by what I consider (and always PREFER) unknown actors was <b>very </b>genuine and believable. Somewhat predictable but a really great story that even my 12 year old enjoyed. Don't let the Cage Fighting scare you away - SERIOUSLY!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpBA989fGN7Huo4q1tMxvbSO6af_hWzh3NrJw32SsLprq_xoFBzWhZnhHxXlp92RSNu9aN7kzmBdu-xRL9LfjxlcPZsqqYVPdKrDzjunEfxC31UXs89QXV5WnAsH-WuAYoVpUQG_N4DzM/s1600/Warrior-2011-Movie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpBA989fGN7Huo4q1tMxvbSO6af_hWzh3NrJw32SsLprq_xoFBzWhZnhHxXlp92RSNu9aN7kzmBdu-xRL9LfjxlcPZsqqYVPdKrDzjunEfxC31UXs89QXV5WnAsH-WuAYoVpUQG_N4DzM/s320/Warrior-2011-Movie.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><b>Sarah’s Key</b> </div><div class="MsoNormal">Wow! So sad but such an interesting story that although hard to watch at times, is a good reminder that not that long ago horrible things were done to people. This one had a rating of PG 13 like the other two, but I’m not sure it was rated correctly. There were some very tough issues and scenes involved and I had to ask my 12 year old to leave the room.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZHxVg0xwrCTIBCuEn0T4VYN_HTbC5YFrWoaQRrLdt1xaZ4cPNSVuHQyPWmgF7lE8P5MNKpvTfoPuiRsvzOwBFPRFpVrDYcrjP6Lm3zN4QW7uiZF6YLT-QXqEdhPOVkVSwVbGpY1M2HQ/s1600/Sarahs-Key-unlocks-a-Holocaust-horror-5183OTS-x-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZHxVg0xwrCTIBCuEn0T4VYN_HTbC5YFrWoaQRrLdt1xaZ4cPNSVuHQyPWmgF7lE8P5MNKpvTfoPuiRsvzOwBFPRFpVrDYcrjP6Lm3zN4QW7uiZF6YLT-QXqEdhPOVkVSwVbGpY1M2HQ/s320/Sarahs-Key-unlocks-a-Holocaust-horror-5183OTS-x-large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal">I wish I had watched these movies in reverse order though. I hate ending a great weekend on a sad note, but it also reminds me how very thankful I am to not have to had endured some of our history’s hardships.<br />
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Stay Tuned - So far this week I have spent intimate hours at war with a sewing machine and the sewing machine won, been sent to the dog house over condiment packets, and saw yet Another Movie...<br />
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</div>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-9404824412410581512012-01-02T10:58:00.000-05:002012-01-02T10:58:33.163-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNx7rvCa-W8/TwHO6UJ0tkI/AAAAAAAABI4/Z-ekm18OCcQ/s1600/nye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZNx7rvCa-W8/TwHO6UJ0tkI/AAAAAAAABI4/Z-ekm18OCcQ/s320/nye.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We had a fantastic time on NYE. We managed to improve on our annual tradition of getting out of the country for the day and be home by night with my brother and his family. We went to the West Side Farmers Market which was <em>extremely</em> crowded. So much so that people were arguing for parking spaces. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">While we were there I had to laugh. I remembered that when I was in college, there was always a certain type of guy that thought my looks were attractive. (I think it's the blue eyes/freckles/curly hair thing) they were typically Greek/Middle Eastern decent, so as we walked around, I was pleasantly surprised to see a few heads turn my way. (This is always a nice ego boost!) Hey, I live in the country - we all kind of look the same here, so when we venture out to a more diverse area, it's very refreshing!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We stocked up on cannolli's, french horns, tiramasu, cream puffs, fudge, fresh raspberries, strawberries and star fruit. For the 8-9pm munchies later.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LfaiObhmSE/TwHEk8iyQ6I/AAAAAAAABIg/O97Vq29kmVw/s1600/west+side+farmers+market.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2LfaiObhmSE/TwHEk8iyQ6I/AAAAAAAABIg/O97Vq29kmVw/s320/west+side+farmers+market.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">We visited a few antique shops in the area. until the kids begged us to please stop. They are not fans of OLD things/people smells.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DK3_zTmbyJc/TwHGZYgLrII/AAAAAAAABIs/Hj93EVH5UKU/s1600/cannoli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DK3_zTmbyJc/TwHGZYgLrII/AAAAAAAABIs/Hj93EVH5UKU/s320/cannoli.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
We had lunch in Little Italy at our favorite restaurant and had fun chatting up the valet attendant. (not a fancy place, just lacks in available parking spots) <br />
<br />
We stopped for coffee, hung out at our house for one movie and desserts and then moved on to my brother's house for another movie , a hand of cards and more desserts. We watched the ball drop and some guys break a world record jumping over water on their motorcycle and snowmobile (our guys were in charge of the remote) and within the hour we were all in bed.<br />
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On New Years Day we discovered a few new Antique places and I found a red chair for the head of our new vintage table! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwM-UYfQ0Bw/TwHRjIr5ALI/AAAAAAAABJE/NLR6WERdLFk/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uwM-UYfQ0Bw/TwHRjIr5ALI/AAAAAAAABJE/NLR6WERdLFk/s320/003.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We are scrubbing it clean in the basement</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
We are currently under a winter weather warning - 15-20 inches of snow in the next 36 hours are on the forecast and I could not be more excited!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iu7w7bICFKM/TwHRzbVLs4I/AAAAAAAABJQ/3m0n6fVbwxM/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iu7w7bICFKM/TwHRzbVLs4I/AAAAAAAABJQ/3m0n6fVbwxM/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Took this when I started typing</td></tr>
</tbody></table> My only plan today is to clean the house, and force myself to take down the Christmas tree (I hate removing Christmas decorations - if it were up to me I would leave them up til March)-keep in mind it doesn't stop snowing here until March.<br />
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I've decided that I WILL keep up the smaller one in the kitchen, and put all the snow related ornaments on it because it makes the long winter months more enjoyable.<br />
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If we get snowed in, I will be thrilled. Last year they cancelled school on the first day back from break due to snow and it's looking like this year will be the same. I'll still have to go to work but that's OK.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uy00VH6EFCU/TwHTJYRw9NI/AAAAAAAABJ0/tNVaKqJ5JQk/s1600/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Uy00VH6EFCU/TwHTJYRw9NI/AAAAAAAABJ0/tNVaKqJ5JQk/s320/006.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">15-20"might be under-estimating</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tIc71yn0Azk/TwHS__MpRXI/AAAAAAAABJo/KzijDaV0wI8/s1600/007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tIc71yn0Azk/TwHS__MpRXI/AAAAAAAABJo/KzijDaV0wI8/s320/007.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">10 minutes later</td></tr>
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I hope you are enjoying the first days of 2012....Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-59169661080948413532011-12-30T20:38:00.000-05:002011-12-30T20:38:48.196-05:00Goodbye 20112011 has been really good to me. 2012 has a lot to live up to but I am confident there is room for improvement. I don't make resolutions, but I do have a strong desire for certain things to happen and long wish and bucket lists just waiting for some check marks. ( less pressure when put that way.... )<br />
<br />
Here is my Top 12 for 2012<br />
<br />
Inspired by a conversation with my Mom, I would love to take a long weekend trip with the women in my life that I love and value. A Cruise or Vegas has been mentioned. (Calendar so far is barren and my vacation days start over January 1!)<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pMqi_2NQAOA/Tv5QNWfnrNI/AAAAAAAABGc/AZdMS0bZDZw/s1600/girl+trip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pMqi_2NQAOA/Tv5QNWfnrNI/AAAAAAAABGc/AZdMS0bZDZw/s320/girl+trip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I would like to find the person I once was that had the energy and desire to work out religiously and enjoy it.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rUc7FMnb12k/Tv5U3rIrnxI/AAAAAAAABGo/Br2E0vE7SsI/s1600/fit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rUc7FMnb12k/Tv5U3rIrnxI/AAAAAAAABGo/Br2E0vE7SsI/s320/fit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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I want to take my son to a few more concerts this year - this was the best bonding we did last year. Music is one thing we both love with a similarity in taste.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iDPfw8SMZNg/Tv5YO1NLdWI/AAAAAAAABG0/zRzxSrVCEiU/s1600/concert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iDPfw8SMZNg/Tv5YO1NLdWI/AAAAAAAABG0/zRzxSrVCEiU/s320/concert.jpg" width="245" /></a></div><br />
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I want to find a cause I am passionate about where I can donate my time and talent to.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4ZoxcJJF9Mc/Tv5ZJ1eYXcI/AAAAAAAABHA/RltzX1sdy_o/s1600/getinvolved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4ZoxcJJF9Mc/Tv5ZJ1eYXcI/AAAAAAAABHA/RltzX1sdy_o/s320/getinvolved.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br />
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I would like to visit relatives we rarely see for no particular reason other than I love and miss them.<br />
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I really want to start writing some chapters to my book.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kPLVifkefgQ/Tv5a3gIknQI/AAAAAAAABHY/vHw5iJaObfE/s1600/writing+book.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kPLVifkefgQ/Tv5a3gIknQI/AAAAAAAABHY/vHw5iJaObfE/s1600/writing+book.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I want to have wood floors in my house by the end of the year and maybe even start a few major remodeling projects.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oCibNlEDWiU/Tv5bnR87DAI/AAAAAAAABHk/HcF-0cxCAh0/s1600/wood+floors+and+bathroom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oCibNlEDWiU/Tv5bnR87DAI/AAAAAAAABHk/HcF-0cxCAh0/s320/wood+floors+and+bathroom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I want to continue the trend the hubby and I did a good job of keeping up this year - less arguing, more connecting.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pg07PF8aE7g/Tv5dNYVXoZI/AAAAAAAABHw/R5vj5QSKWC8/s1600/us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Pg07PF8aE7g/Tv5dNYVXoZI/AAAAAAAABHw/R5vj5QSKWC8/s320/us.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Lots more vintage decor has my name all over it.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U3mpjASRtHY/Tv5iGqBP3mI/AAAAAAAABH8/ZfCGU6oAcvE/s1600/card+catalog+vintage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U3mpjASRtHY/Tv5iGqBP3mI/AAAAAAAABH8/ZfCGU6oAcvE/s320/card+catalog+vintage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The interior of my closet needs a major overhaul - All the styles I dream of will soon be reality.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_Ms5PzHYdqo/Tv5kkevxflI/AAAAAAAABII/fPqhDptCKME/s1600/closet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_Ms5PzHYdqo/Tv5kkevxflI/AAAAAAAABII/fPqhDptCKME/s320/closet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I plan to continue a tradition I started toward the end of 2011 - making sure my kids and their cousins get together once a month for Cousins Day.<br />
<br />
Finally, I resolve to take the time for a good, long, leisurely, bath.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7gJUH-KZYU/Tv5nd0lVCHI/AAAAAAAABIU/wVKKt2hlN-4/s1600/bath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q7gJUH-KZYU/Tv5nd0lVCHI/AAAAAAAABIU/wVKKt2hlN-4/s320/bath.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Happy New Year!Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-47890795589040758952011-12-26T20:14:00.000-05:002011-12-26T20:14:39.406-05:00Christmas Miracles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Miracle 1: On Thursday we decided to close the office for Friday. Which was perfect, I could clean all day for a nice relaxing Christmas weekend.<br />
<br />
Miracle 2: On Friday morning after several days of rain and unseasonably warm temps I woke up to a light snow fall. (it didn't last, but it made for a fun start to the Christmas weekend and put me in a festive mood) <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-krb3d9XytBs/TvkXD4Vw5-I/AAAAAAAABEY/0vByCZzDNFo/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-krb3d9XytBs/TvkXD4Vw5-I/AAAAAAAABEY/0vByCZzDNFo/s320/012.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the view outside my kitchen window - The house next to us was the Church for our house back in the 1900's. It is made up of three small buildings. I want to buy it some day for family visitors - we are connected by a little path through the bushes.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Miracle 3: After setting up the kids and their friend who had slept over in our little house - (Setting up required me to haul the vacuum outside, cleaning it, turning the fireplace on to heat the place up, getting a Christmas movie, popcorn, and blankets.)<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RRaX25zyeVk/TvkXvFAhcdI/AAAAAAAABEk/6OMk5vZUXD4/s1600/087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RRaX25zyeVk/TvkXvFAhcdI/AAAAAAAABEk/6OMk5vZUXD4/s320/087.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Perfect for noisy kids!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Then with an empty house, I got started on cleaning. After several hours, I had gotten completely done, was upstairs in my daughters bedroom, and suddenly had the worst headache ever. It was a combination of too much caffeine, no food, and cleaning product fumes. Plus I was oddly feeling a little melancholy all of a sudden - like I was missing something.<br />
I was in my grubbiest pajamas, hair a mess, no makeup on and having a bit of a breakdown. I was really emotional and mad at myself for letting the little messes get to me, was bitching about- get this, <i>fingerprints </i>on my daughters' DS. When I turned around thinking that someone was about to come into the room that I could yell at and there stood -<br />
<br />
MY MOM.<br />
In a red sweater with Santa on it, and then right behind her,<br />
MY DAD<br />
<br />
<i><b>WHO LIVE IN FLORIDA.</b></i><br />
<br />
Who <i>Drove</i> <b><i>24</i></b> hours to <b><i>SURPRISE US! </i>For Christmas!</b><br />
<br />
All I could manage to say was, "WHAT ARE YOU <i>DOING</i> HERE??!" and then I started crying and we were hugging. (In the middle of a cleaning freak-down, yelling at my kids, un-showered and in my pajamas.)<br />
My parents are adorable. They had been planning this for months, and NO ONE knew. They even made reservations at the hotel across from us, and brought their own little Christmas tree for their room. <br />
<br />
When they came into the house they saw one of the girls and gave her a hug and shushed her (Then I'm sure just followed the sound of my ranting from upstairs) My daughter proceeded to go to her sisters room in disbelief to tell her that Nannie and Grandpa were there. Her sister said no way, it's probably just someone else and she said "NO, smell me, they just hugged me!" (My Mom and Dad are the best smelling people in the world - outside of my family including the cats - we smell like cinnamon - once my Dad was staying with us and got into my brother's car, and he said, "Dad, you smell like a cinnamon bun". My son has begged me to stop using or buying cinnamon scented anything because the kids kept telling him how good he smells. - apparently not a good thing to smell nice)<br />
<br />
The hubby had left a few moments before my parents arrived to grab something from the store (his 10th trip in one day) when my Mom called him (before they surprised me) - she was making sure we would be home. So when he walked into the house and saw them he was <i>so</i> shocked. It was fun to see his expression because it was exactly how I felt.<br />
<br />
Miracle 3: On Christmas Eve morning, my Mom and I went in search of food for my bare unprepared cupboards. Little did I know she had strict instructions to keep me there awhile so the hubby and my Dad could set up my 2nd Christmas Surprise. <br />
The hubby and I had seen a red vintage chrome table in a shop window a week before and I was instantly in love. I had even taken my sister in law to see it a few days later but it was gone. (She knew he had gotten it and did a GREAT job of convincing me it might be in the back of the closed store) <br />
My Mom had no idea that when I go to the grocery store, I do not mess around. She even stalled in the frozen food section by searching way too long for Brussel sprouts. When we got home everyone was in the kitchen with my new table! I was shocked. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wEu7VuXUn14/TvkYSF2JYjI/AAAAAAAABEw/JKgYws_UxYM/s1600/016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wEu7VuXUn14/TvkYSF2JYjI/AAAAAAAABEw/JKgYws_UxYM/s320/016.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Christmas Eve we had plans to go to my brother's for a large family party. I could barely contain my excitement until my parents walked in to everyone's shock and surprise. This was the best Christmas Eve party we have ever had. The food was awesome, one of the cousins had gotten engaged, we played our traditional DIRTY PICTIONARY game and had the best $15 gift exchange known to man. My Mom and Dad had Santa sacks filled with tropical ornaments and even gifts for the dogs. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eEveS5IUZW0/TvkYn2lkIGI/AAAAAAAABE8/iiv0LXLS6Fo/s1600/christmas+2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eEveS5IUZW0/TvkYn2lkIGI/AAAAAAAABE8/iiv0LXLS6Fo/s320/christmas+2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y23c3ShmiN4/TvkY2BQ3EKI/AAAAAAAABFI/flEMX3ibOjY/s1600/xmas+20112.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y23c3ShmiN4/TvkY2BQ3EKI/AAAAAAAABFI/flEMX3ibOjY/s320/xmas+20112.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gYIRqn9bE-E/TvkZCqgmWkI/AAAAAAAABFU/qltazI3-Pm8/s1600/christmas+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gYIRqn9bE-E/TvkZCqgmWkI/AAAAAAAABFU/qltazI3-Pm8/s320/christmas+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Christmas Day started at 5:30am and was spent in pajamas. We played with the kids toys, several hands of cards and watched movies.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z4tEO3tnefU/TvkZP-qMNiI/AAAAAAAABFg/b_3lituDFTg/s1600/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z4tEO3tnefU/TvkZP-qMNiI/AAAAAAAABFg/b_3lituDFTg/s320/017.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrfKoeM7bFY/TvkZc_tj7iI/AAAAAAAABFs/iqOrQ5ZcQs8/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KrfKoeM7bFY/TvkZc_tj7iI/AAAAAAAABFs/iqOrQ5ZcQs8/s320/021.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The SURPRISE Electric Guitar was a Hit!<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-maaQcYTDtBs/TvkaUJlO96I/AAAAAAAABGE/cw9ucWsDm5E/s1600/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-maaQcYTDtBs/TvkaUJlO96I/AAAAAAAABGE/cw9ucWsDm5E/s320/022.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Flamingo lover daughter LOVED her Flamingo (on display in background)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
Today we had Spaghetti dinner at my other brother's house to complete the weekend and decided that next Christmas we might all descend on my parents in Florida and they looked like the happiest parents in the world. <br />
This truly was a miraculous Christmas. With each person planning surprises for someone else and everything working out perfectly. I think we all had some very special guardian angels looking out for us and I am so Thankful!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0bbYssqchDk/Tvka0dIHK7I/AAAAAAAABGQ/8jBJgVRYAwg/s1600/024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0bbYssqchDk/Tvka0dIHK7I/AAAAAAAABGQ/8jBJgVRYAwg/s320/024.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Could my Mom be any prettier?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-7743570448098463862011-12-18T22:22:00.000-05:002011-12-18T22:22:23.900-05:00Christmas Bucket ListMy Christmas Bucket List - maybe I'll tackle some of these things next year and the year's to come:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkWb2Ls41x6hTk7R1Z-54KvZvo9CVfltIQSZflajDthwcPuzwyentyx9HceTbkNoZMQ-a7fFfow54dwM-nw_sKfH8c3GYciWpwF7qa8rFL32GuAZsC54aKBQ67ymvzCCIQwziqXndaQc/s1600/mistletoe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrkWb2Ls41x6hTk7R1Z-54KvZvo9CVfltIQSZflajDthwcPuzwyentyx9HceTbkNoZMQ-a7fFfow54dwM-nw_sKfH8c3GYciWpwF7qa8rFL32GuAZsC54aKBQ67ymvzCCIQwziqXndaQc/s320/mistletoe.jpg" width="256" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Never been Kissed Under the Mistletoe<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKLtmgfvYdIF4hptK8_gp5SjiXLsGpPAKRIJMG4_-EGHc9fYEREojaz6SjXMx4_i_hdOAGOVswuZwryQU8sKFSn4CxaZuDkbK2xUf5hn2SHe_-gonK9nU6AkOzjbcSNm34OUM4t-AVBg/s1600/presents.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpKLtmgfvYdIF4hptK8_gp5SjiXLsGpPAKRIJMG4_-EGHc9fYEREojaz6SjXMx4_i_hdOAGOVswuZwryQU8sKFSn4CxaZuDkbK2xUf5hn2SHe_-gonK9nU6AkOzjbcSNm34OUM4t-AVBg/s1600/presents.jpg" /></a></div><br />
I have never Wrapped anything well<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpmB3vVDJnjYb_XkZo2qVhYbS4MPWhI6FVAdglD3CvmfZ27Ejc2Bda3FVEAnAqpGQmSakNEoUgJ5CZZF9PNyo6AlBdGPXC8VAbSzUxoYXijig9fDMSdyzuavnMHV-IlXw0T9QLP8QxVY/s1600/baked+ornaments.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkpmB3vVDJnjYb_XkZo2qVhYbS4MPWhI6FVAdglD3CvmfZ27Ejc2Bda3FVEAnAqpGQmSakNEoUgJ5CZZF9PNyo6AlBdGPXC8VAbSzUxoYXijig9fDMSdyzuavnMHV-IlXw0T9QLP8QxVY/s320/baked+ornaments.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Baked my Decorations<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_vlaHj65WipKYjpkOUVZNX6Ue3i-W2wqkU5RvA_2xzyIXH6hoDKbv4Gg2xTi0sfLh8EImpaZlt0dodZW1T7zAFV70LlXPodsgKe6h-Oi7wK1OqdWgyQ3HPIL9PY3h0YAnN7kGJLiUec/s1600/home+made+gift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg_vlaHj65WipKYjpkOUVZNX6Ue3i-W2wqkU5RvA_2xzyIXH6hoDKbv4Gg2xTi0sfLh8EImpaZlt0dodZW1T7zAFV70LlXPodsgKe6h-Oi7wK1OqdWgyQ3HPIL9PY3h0YAnN7kGJLiUec/s1600/home+made+gift.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Hand Made a Present<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBDIEno7hDvVV4MdUTJ6FKD7hfWAakABoNMIJIo1qztcSvgbL2hpdaJ2erEvIOHLSMZdJuqOcmc2o-18Og-CYlQudYWQ43HDDJevwgN8oWjss7m86JgnXqX92dmsHXdr8x3qlHxrA9ig/s1600/crazy+christmas+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDBDIEno7hDvVV4MdUTJ6FKD7hfWAakABoNMIJIo1qztcSvgbL2hpdaJ2erEvIOHLSMZdJuqOcmc2o-18Og-CYlQudYWQ43HDDJevwgN8oWjss7m86JgnXqX92dmsHXdr8x3qlHxrA9ig/s320/crazy+christmas+tree.jpg" width="228" /></a></div><br />
Had a Crazy Christmas Tree<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oOFb_lTCXEqb6kLGHna5RN6q3zJz81spfIIBcvoBg_H1cG5rPW6cNbh8auUARNgV0_UHAvTFUvWDonRSM2CTibFfQubJqzGm8Wn1xagDEFONGFAHnMjV2cgtuVP5OZ8nW4pCXCqpWOo/s1600/warm+christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6oOFb_lTCXEqb6kLGHna5RN6q3zJz81spfIIBcvoBg_H1cG5rPW6cNbh8auUARNgV0_UHAvTFUvWDonRSM2CTibFfQubJqzGm8Wn1xagDEFONGFAHnMjV2cgtuVP5OZ8nW4pCXCqpWOo/s1600/warm+christmas.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Been somewhere WARM at Christmas<br />
<br />
How about you? What have you never....Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-17763577254796721892011-12-14T20:07:00.000-05:002011-12-14T20:07:29.655-05:00GPS DREAMS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS557XDIoCPJL5zVmvnHAEQWJXC7_yzyEHN-sVFyIw5NGilMKWNtB-_LE-HoCpe2FvbE2zMikUhQmTFHlLoWuH8AxY4828pRObUADAcVUTbn18rlmnmua3Zzx3lrmEQFFjJMrzcHdwewc/s1600/gps.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS557XDIoCPJL5zVmvnHAEQWJXC7_yzyEHN-sVFyIw5NGilMKWNtB-_LE-HoCpe2FvbE2zMikUhQmTFHlLoWuH8AxY4828pRObUADAcVUTbn18rlmnmua3Zzx3lrmEQFFjJMrzcHdwewc/s1600/gps.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I wish my GPS could interact with me. I would like it to be a GPS and a GPS<i>sie</i>. Some days I could really use a man and some days only a woman could understand. <br />
<br />
If my GPS could talk, it would say things like:<br />
<br />
"No, you are <em>not</em> stupid and yes, you WERE a teenager once too." (right after my oldest slams the door shut when I drop him off at school)<br />
<br />
"Does your son have a tic?" (right after that last comment, after watching my son swirl his head around so his hair lays exactly right on his head.)<br />
<br />
<em>I forgot to add that the GPS can see into the car when I want it to. </em>This comes in handy when my eyelids are getting heavy -<br />
"WAKE UP!!!!!!!!!!"<br />
<br />
or when I forgot to button my shirt all the way, forgot to put on mascara, or even better -<br />
"Isn't it time for a little hair color, hon?"<br />
<br />
GPS would compliment me - not in a sexy leering way, more like -<br />
"You are soooo pretty, KRISTEN" (says my name and pretty in the same sentence!!)<br />
<br />
and GPSsie would listen to me gossip without interrupting and of course would never judge me.<br />
<br />
I would like my GPS male or female version to remind me NOT to go to a place I have vowed to never go back to and offer me comparable solutions.<br />
I would like it to offer suggestions on how to maneuver out of the traffic.<br />
I would like it to warn me that a police car is in the area.<br />
<br />
My 45 minute drive to and from work would have a whole new meaning. GPSsie could calm me down and remind me that the kids need more lunch money, a form signed, and what friend was mean to them the other day, because after all, they were there when the kids were talking over each other in the car last time.<br />
<br />
GPS could use his deep voice when I am approaching the car in a dark parking lot and say -<br />
"Don't forget we need to stop at the shooting range on the way home."<br />
<br />
Oh, the possibilities of my own personal GPS. Sure, there <i>IS</i> Siri (which I do not have) but GPS and GPSsie are so much more fun!<br />
What do you want your GPS to do?Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-72711422121758419392011-12-12T21:49:00.000-05:002011-12-12T21:49:16.011-05:00What do 8 Mistakes Make?Saturday. Mistake # 1: Came across two of those Justice (if you are not familiar with this store, don't worry, you are either smarter than me, or don't have pre-teen girls) cards in my wallet. <br />
You know these kinds of cards. Spend $50, get $25 off deals. Expiration: Monday.<br />
<br />
Mistake #2: We leave the house right around dinner time. (allow me to explain: Dinner time to MY kids, is anytime between 5pm and 7:30pm. There is no such thing as skipping dinner, or eating a big breakfast, big lunch, no dinner. My kids will go to bed and whine that they never had "dinner" if they didn't eat it during that time frame or there were not three specific meals)<br />
<br />
Mistake #3: We decide to go to one of those restaurants that serves bar type food in the family section. One of those restaurants we have said - "Let's never go there again", yet, we find ourselves forced to eat there for lack of viable affordable alternative options.<br />
<br />
Mistake #4: We get Starbucks right next to the dreaded girls clothing store. We leave the drinks in the car thinking...<br />
<br />
Mistake #5: We won't be long. No more than 20 minutes long.<br />
<br />
The store is pretty crowded. Lots of guys looking like they would give ANYTHING to be somewhere else. I am betting ladies, you could ask for and receive just about anything you want if it meant getting them out of that store. <br />
<br />
We queue. Which wraps around the displays of <strike>junk</strike> trinkets and all the little girls can be heard begging and pleading their very important cases. Tolerance and strength levels are low. There are many "Go ahead, but hurry ups" heard.<br />
<br />
Long story short here - the store had 40% off everything. We thought we were making out with the cards<i> and </i>the discount. When the final tally was announced we were $50 over budget. Apparently it's one or the other. Sale price/No card, Discount Card/No sale price. I slink out to the car -you know, "to warm it up" as the discussion between the hubby and the gum popping sales girl gets heated. The hubby comes out of the store 20 minutes later with no bags/no clothes/no Christmas outfits. (which quite honestly, was the ONLY and best idea we had all night)<br />
<br />
As we were driving away, one of the girls pipes up and says "What about the necklace I have in my hand?" WHOOPS - we take that back too. The other customers were cheering the hubby on for making a stand, but didn't dare leave their place in line or follow.<br />
<br />
I still needed something for the girls to wear for Christmas so I suggest one more stop on the way home. Meanwhile, my stomach is starting to do a funky little dance. But I internally breathe through the cramping.<br />
Mistake #6<br />
<br />
We stop at the next destination. I am walking towards the store telling myself, in and out in 15, drive home in 30, I CAN MAKE IT. Breathe through it. Mistake #7<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnw5oCjgkI_oSa99FRGET8gay-UQR-xJRfNbwGd0Mc3SNfr0cRyXVd1Tl_GUlY2l8aaY12wQ-YGSGJTBcYtvk5eu8wy8K6up6K7QO6BmQ1iaYMGsLsoE6TY9B_wcVd0txaahXLm8t8cok/s1600/two+weeks+notice+movie+not+feeling+good+scene.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnw5oCjgkI_oSa99FRGET8gay-UQR-xJRfNbwGd0Mc3SNfr0cRyXVd1Tl_GUlY2l8aaY12wQ-YGSGJTBcYtvk5eu8wy8K6up6K7QO6BmQ1iaYMGsLsoE6TY9B_wcVd0txaahXLm8t8cok/s320/two+weeks+notice+movie+not+feeling+good+scene.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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By the time we get to our department I am sweating, praying, pacing, panicking. Stomach is turning and making noises. Hubby notices. Girls start asking questions loudly - "Are you sick, are you going to puke, do you have to go to the bathroom?"<br />
<br />
I decide I am stuck. I won't make it home. I have to use the bathroom right here, RIGHT NOW. I leave them to the racks, and high tail it to the restroom. <br />
<br />
IT'S CLOSED. FOR CLEANING.<br />
<br />
I pace. I am sweating. I am staring into the display of an Angel tree, praying to every single one of them that I do not poop my pants in the middle of the store.<br />
I think worriedly that all the praying and wishing didn't work so well for my<a href="http://imfineu.blogspot.com/2011/12/lets-laugh.html"> brother. </a><br />
<br />
I have a momentary pause in severe abdominal cramping and go to check on the hubby and girls. Mistake #8<br />
<br />
There is a Justin Bieber T-shirt in the cart and that is it. <br />
I am doubling over.<br />
I high-tail it back to the restroom area.<br />
STILL CLOSED.<br />
<br />
I notice that I am not the only one waiting which makes matters even worse. I realize it's going to be crowded by the time they open the restroom back up, and I am afraid that I will kill someone with what is bound to come out of me.<br />
I take a moment to practice my breathing while making a PLAN B. We ARE in a clothing store after all. WORSE case scenario, I CAN buy new pants, underwear, socks, shoes. IF NEEDED.<br />
<br />
Finally a woman with a small child who has to go as badly as I do, interrupts what is now the cleanest restroom in history and I wait until she leaves. Well, I had to explain my situation to the hubby and kids first, who are nervously wondering what it might be like to<i> KNOW</i> someone who has pooped their pants IN the store.<br />
Finally I am sitting. In the bathroom. Alone. I have flushed the toilet at least 13 times. I am getting the full bidet experience each and every time. I hear footsteps. I know I am on limited time. I have to stop dying, get my hands washed and out of the restroom before anyone knows <b><i>I</i></b> am the one responsible.<br />
Somehow I accomplish this feat. The hubby and girls are waiting. I am speed walking to the check out while my youngest is asking lots of questions. LOUDLY.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINzfM2xCqR5ss-R99d-eCiqMF6yDMddmAaT0XvRCrolUdBDOiKPz5U7IYp1dJnrD_x48-VfZRVFwrdZHBTwae6zBmfaBa3BO4de2LUDEbg4Izw9kIq5EpijxL7oLp5iAFbbm9Vpk5Ixk/s1600/bridesmaids-poop-in-street-scene-560x372.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhINzfM2xCqR5ss-R99d-eCiqMF6yDMddmAaT0XvRCrolUdBDOiKPz5U7IYp1dJnrD_x48-VfZRVFwrdZHBTwae6zBmfaBa3BO4de2LUDEbg4Izw9kIq5EpijxL7oLp5iAFbbm9Vpk5Ixk/s320/bridesmaids-poop-in-street-scene-560x372.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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It was a night I do not want to re-live ever. But know, that you are not alone when one day you too find yourself in the bathroom having to continuously flush.....Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8236407486623416961.post-49626026647212349172011-12-07T20:54:00.000-05:002011-12-07T20:54:39.491-05:00Just for Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDF8-Bt6fnNfBWkeCTYziQ21Ch5r_tWoTpnDai0FMvtwdY5Tra44ezbLyAWROlfw2L0Yfx6Wj6GualosEcGzKevDCzdGiovTWmEThTK0k8z8xaanMvzN0EvnZQvm20_sCvuvmTmrZDEws/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDF8-Bt6fnNfBWkeCTYziQ21Ch5r_tWoTpnDai0FMvtwdY5Tra44ezbLyAWROlfw2L0Yfx6Wj6GualosEcGzKevDCzdGiovTWmEThTK0k8z8xaanMvzN0EvnZQvm20_sCvuvmTmrZDEws/s320/003.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found these snowflakes on clearance the other day. Hubby wasn't a fan of hanging them. He doesn't understand Vintage......</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtDOvauOftHIH6oshfd7dLYJk1GogbSzx8d3NkAeQn2W3qJ7gBVYh8RML6JNrzILwFnNnap9qjmZYEOGhNQSGTHpGicZx2ObzMW8DMlU1NVD8FCiwmEMj-8jOMnyGf_F6Kvu7x0I1SgI/s1600/vintage+christmas+car.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghtDOvauOftHIH6oshfd7dLYJk1GogbSzx8d3NkAeQn2W3qJ7gBVYh8RML6JNrzILwFnNnap9qjmZYEOGhNQSGTHpGicZx2ObzMW8DMlU1NVD8FCiwmEMj-8jOMnyGf_F6Kvu7x0I1SgI/s320/vintage+christmas+car.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I would like to get my tree in this kind of style.......</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIECgJL47JQlURC7lTmgSYefjMPsKzKyvRn7k7hZzRWdaQm-3Q6LuJrFeYAAp-Auo0yU3bZi6edm9PTxDk_-wjgtgmfGvwf-HBz1X4EsIhQhlcFM8zjgFQKiuo21MnAMO2r9pjKFZXt54/s1600/santa+mugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIECgJL47JQlURC7lTmgSYefjMPsKzKyvRn7k7hZzRWdaQm-3Q6LuJrFeYAAp-Auo0yU3bZi6edm9PTxDk_-wjgtgmfGvwf-HBz1X4EsIhQhlcFM8zjgFQKiuo21MnAMO2r9pjKFZXt54/s320/santa+mugs.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the marble counter tops - clearly not mine. Love the Santa Mugs!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsoPGOrqJfryISYvYZiq25JjDYlshMInBLwZnlpOId7CWdDQ8witTS1hxf0FEOR8YfErP6I3Xq-jRl0Ek051qicz7v8-wOD_DZFj7TQFvcG-BV2MEcOst4bW9XnIh9alG1DOIOVPQZWII/s1600/vintage+christmas+truck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsoPGOrqJfryISYvYZiq25JjDYlshMInBLwZnlpOId7CWdDQ8witTS1hxf0FEOR8YfErP6I3Xq-jRl0Ek051qicz7v8-wOD_DZFj7TQFvcG-BV2MEcOst4bW9XnIh9alG1DOIOVPQZWII/s320/vintage+christmas+truck.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When I get my truck -this is what I will do....</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxFHIJaBLps1jm0E0HVAM3jEJKhNxPZQFzYqyBnTgrhbqtPoyuir9FfAkUT_CdZcsXYr0INt1TzHlTIEVm7nyNJnhzDeqHYYhgUDRFgwh18ahog0zrWoHDHDjbRnVAsRuUykv0YOStsU/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxFHIJaBLps1jm0E0HVAM3jEJKhNxPZQFzYqyBnTgrhbqtPoyuir9FfAkUT_CdZcsXYr0INt1TzHlTIEVm7nyNJnhzDeqHYYhgUDRFgwh18ahog0zrWoHDHDjbRnVAsRuUykv0YOStsU/s320/004.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clearance find too !</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JG8oRVtXY6pBz8WX_re5bsMcWMTha13hHdoHF3GR6bJUmVbEw9yvy0HDuCnMklorOmcSvIAB0bPHN8LmSATr4YEP7InXMfIJekVmowy1xl_ocsFxZ-eB27mUkZd8oRijngE0UyTKKxw/s1600/simple+stockings.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_JG8oRVtXY6pBz8WX_re5bsMcWMTha13hHdoHF3GR6bJUmVbEw9yvy0HDuCnMklorOmcSvIAB0bPHN8LmSATr4YEP7InXMfIJekVmowy1xl_ocsFxZ-eB27mUkZd8oRijngE0UyTKKxw/s1600/simple+stockings.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love Vintage, but then this appeals to me just as much!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xaOUDA4gnzQ5UZLbA7A7MAo-CXM3mIYWorQp9iXKejqVswydg-mWPSKRWZoXKRjZ8OJyXID0FRr1fkv8CCFd_clZD4d3qIgQlkEGa4Jx7CaVGThC7u13-0HcaB9LkMcbZx1qMCgBYJw/s1600/vintage+dishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4xaOUDA4gnzQ5UZLbA7A7MAo-CXM3mIYWorQp9iXKejqVswydg-mWPSKRWZoXKRjZ8OJyXID0FRr1fkv8CCFd_clZD4d3qIgQlkEGa4Jx7CaVGThC7u13-0HcaB9LkMcbZx1qMCgBYJw/s1600/vintage+dishes.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love the plaid and green together. <br />
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</tbody></table>This is a good way to get over the hump.....Kristenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00837072219744108076noreply@blogger.com4