tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49158215116722856282024-03-09T18:46:07.779-08:00Bright Eyes in the MorningJackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.comBlogger347125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-63146120065520860252023-07-12T23:37:00.000-07:002023-07-12T23:37:49.522-07:00Dear Mom<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMzGtIuNvhgTCI7Y8X9qJIy3kL8OK664zJZ0aAB0x4i1LzUQdTL9EoV5zFElFX78SAO1Om8M6qWZywXApTHa7Jh06vU6XjDXs5OuVSeoCHRzgiqo0VSIvm_5k_QfttqC4Xx4OuALqya7i7XNqGe8T5HsYtuop4MhIWSDrjzsc6VkTzm9WMPur4Exvo398/s1588/20230117_123441.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1588" data-original-width="1502" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMzGtIuNvhgTCI7Y8X9qJIy3kL8OK664zJZ0aAB0x4i1LzUQdTL9EoV5zFElFX78SAO1Om8M6qWZywXApTHa7Jh06vU6XjDXs5OuVSeoCHRzgiqo0VSIvm_5k_QfttqC4Xx4OuALqya7i7XNqGe8T5HsYtuop4MhIWSDrjzsc6VkTzm9WMPur4Exvo398/s320/20230117_123441.jpg" width="303" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Dear Mom,<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve written and re-written this letter in my mind so many
times.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Its true the old saying - You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til
its gone - because I now know that you were one of my very best friends on this
earth.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Ironically, I have a terrible memory. My memories of childhood are patchy and very
specific. Most of my memories with you are when I was very young, once when I
was in an especially intense bit of trouble, and moving to Alaska is a strong
memory as well. I think however, most of our friendship was formed as I was an
adult. Gosh we had fun. You always were fun. You enjoyed being with people and you seemed
to sincerely enjoy being with us. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You didn’t necessarily always give advice, but you definitely
always listened. Not everyone does
that. You were wise and you were kind,
which meant I trusted you. And you knew
me better than anyone else. And now you’re
gone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember the first time we spoke about your illness. It was a moment of brutal honesty from
me. We were sitting in my car alone on
the airstrip in front of the house for some reason. “You’re changing, Mom. You need to do something about it.” I know now that you tried to do something
about it. You tried.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember calling the Alzheimer Association out there for advice
when I first realized this was likely going to be part of our story. But at that point it was still just
words. Just abstract phrases. They didn’t hold any meaning for me. Not yet. I didn’t know how much of you it would steal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fast forward thru some uncontrollably busy years and there it
unmistakable was. We were losing
you. We knew it. But still we didn’t know what it would look
like.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry
we weren’t more involved. I’m sorry we
weren’t closer to know the questions to ask.
I’m so sorry we didn’t know. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Mom, I remember you running at me in the airport. It was during Covid and we both had masks on
and I was so thankful you knew me. “There
she is!” you yelled as you ran to me. I
knew you couldn’t think of my name, but you knew WHO I was. We had a hard trip that time. You loved being around your grandkids but
many times you didn’t know who everyone was.
And most activities were too confusing.
And the world was confusing and you would get so very upset. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And then the trip came that you did not recognize me. It was in the fall and I was coming home for
you and Dad’s 50<sup>th</sup> anniversary.
Oh, Mama. We celebrated you but I
don’t think you knew it was for you. But
you loved watching Esa. We would go for
walks and push her on the swing. You
were still the perfect Omi for her. You
would eat breakfast right next to her, and sometimes eat hers too but she didn’t
mind. You would read with her and
snuggle her. You would tell her you
loved her. When I left I knew that I was
now just another confusing person in an ever-increasingly confusing world to
you. You needed help with everything,
but did not want it. I was just another
person telling you what to do and helping you in ways you didn’t understand you
needed help in. I’m so sorry, Mama. I thought we could be enough if we all worked
as a team.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember when I got the call I fell to my knees. I prayed. I don’t know what for. Comfort for
you? A miracle? Guidance?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When Stacey and I got to Omaha and saw you, my heart broke. How did we get here? You didn’t respond until Dad came into your
room. As soon as he walked through that
curtain you opened your eyes. I couldn’t
believe it. I’d been sitting there with you
for hours. They told us you were
paralyzed and likely blind. Over the
next 48 hours I was sure you could see and you did begin to move your
legs. You were so strong Mama. But you hated that you weren’t strong
enough. You hated the help. You hated people touching you without your
consent or control. I remember it
bringing out a primal protectiveness in you.
It broke my heart again to have to watch you endure this.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Oh Mama. I hope we all made
the right decision. I won’t know for
certain this side of heaven…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You tried to talk while we were in that ICU room. You talked as well as you could on the phone
to your sons-in-law and your grandkids.
You told us you loved us. We held
hands. How did we get here?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I rode with you in the ambulance to Tecumseh. They didn’t want me to, but I talked them into
it with Dad’s support. I held your hand
the entire ride. You laughed at a joke I made.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It was Thursday when we brought you home. Your bed was in the living room. We took turns sitting with you and holding
your hand. We learned how to nurse and
care for you. I sang to you and we
played music for you. You smiled and
tried your best to talk back to us. You
told us you loved us. We used the small
sponge to give you tastes of both coffee and wine. We pulled the couch up right next to you so
Dad could sleep right by your side. I’ve never seen a love like I saw that
week. It was like we had a peek back in time
to your first years in love. Dad had so
many dreams – dreams about you, about heaven, about Vietnam, about your babies
when they were babies. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Family and friends came. A constant steady stream of them. They told you how much they loved you. And many times you told them back as best as
you could. Your home was the perfect
space to so many that came to visit you.
A woman from the hospice program came and played the harp for you. It was beautiful. The sun was shining in through your sheer
curtains and it was so glorious. The
priest came. Many times. We were losing you and knew you wouldn’t be
long with us. We talked a lot about you
and about God and about life. I remember
him performing the Last Rites for you and just thinking – “How is this
real? How am I here and you are laying
there?” I didn’t want it to be
real. I remember praying The Rosary over
you. I remember holding your hand. That’s what I remember the most, holding your
hand. I remember the last hug I gave
you. You were gone but I needed one
more.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember the night you were leaving us. It was terrible. They said it might be peaceful, but it was not. I hated it and I still do. Maybe that is blasphemous to say. I’m happy for you Mom. I do believe you’re in a better part of
existence. The part without sin and pain
and death, but gosh do I miss you. I
wanted more. I want you to be friends
with my kids. I want to be able to call
you. I want your advice. I want to hear
your voice. I want you and Esa to know
each other. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The priest said we have two “birth” days – the day we’re born
into this world and the day we’re born into heaven. It was Tuesday when you had
your second birth day. And just like the
first it was painful, dark, scary, confusing.
But I hope and trust that the result was a beautiful thing that we just
can’t understand on this side of it all…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I remember they came and took you away. And I remember looking at that room and
thinking, “What the hell just happened in here?
Surely that wasn’t all real.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But it was.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Your service was more beautiful than anything I could have
imagined. It was beautiful. But not as beautiful as the living, breathing
you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t know how to grieve you Mom. No one teaches you how. We have to move on quickly and start making
decisions and choices and planning. I
shamefully do not remember you grieving your own Mom. I was in my own childish, self-important
world that my own kids are in now. I
still cannot talk about you without crying.
Songs often will suckerpunch me into tears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I honestly hate looking back at the photos from the week we lost
you. I hate them. Except for a small few that will always remind me what a gift
it was to be able to touch you and talk to you and feel your living love once
more before you left us. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Courier New"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I miss you. And I always,
always will. <o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wOPGZrPSxUPwpZLe1aV1xT4yRgfGdtXwA0vwhZJgFiKW21Gagb0w11_73cy2NDIb8ZJpVnskYZIJ2Wy7hZUJ78xm7ipy2HNV0lK5ROa-lZqbVK7ery-a-1N8pj5u0cvoJXEe5AnR3suC6-aHEUq1WfyChyKmdEy6PH9qIkGaVkpWZQPZZB2smQddpHs/s4032/20230110_182319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="1908" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1wOPGZrPSxUPwpZLe1aV1xT4yRgfGdtXwA0vwhZJgFiKW21Gagb0w11_73cy2NDIb8ZJpVnskYZIJ2Wy7hZUJ78xm7ipy2HNV0lK5ROa-lZqbVK7ery-a-1N8pj5u0cvoJXEe5AnR3suC6-aHEUq1WfyChyKmdEy6PH9qIkGaVkpWZQPZZB2smQddpHs/s320/20230110_182319.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-84080074957776566572015-08-31T10:35:00.000-07:002015-08-31T10:35:03.387-07:00Week 2<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAt0i-K_-4cFjXMehMHBchf1V4jRvnv2acGLaL7xVivgd8Qk0ooWVaSHtNR5U99ctIZu3y5ER2OhK3VQPPAqJfMxJKf1LrjBgsRmC1Q2db4CeVBUdSD-mMe5DdWr6lbOTVS0sPmYfbyc/s1600/IMG_6823.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNAt0i-K_-4cFjXMehMHBchf1V4jRvnv2acGLaL7xVivgd8Qk0ooWVaSHtNR5U99ctIZu3y5ER2OhK3VQPPAqJfMxJKf1LrjBgsRmC1Q2db4CeVBUdSD-mMe5DdWr6lbOTVS0sPmYfbyc/s640/IMG_6823.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOZuqf0ROY80NySdiCWkw6dB91xsMUHm_59LLZsJN62S5FJ1wu-NaWiXpPpWXas26s4BOyil29X7g8QxaobCHK6-ql9A3OozxHonLx0b5EMLxPdWkhEijcfZJi7CVvGF7f9TLeoM8ZSw/s1600/IMG_6830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIOZuqf0ROY80NySdiCWkw6dB91xsMUHm_59LLZsJN62S5FJ1wu-NaWiXpPpWXas26s4BOyil29X7g8QxaobCHK6-ql9A3OozxHonLx0b5EMLxPdWkhEijcfZJi7CVvGF7f9TLeoM8ZSw/s640/IMG_6830.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Well, we made it through the first week of school. As I've learned life to be, it was a blur and time passed as it always does.<br />
<br />
Ever is liking school, not quite enamored as she was with Kindergarten, but she likes it. I never cease to be amazed at how fast children grow and change. Like sand slipping through our fingers....<br />
<br />
At home we're entering into a new season as well. We just purchased a new house and property and hope to spend the winter finishing the home and getting it ready to live in. It's an exciting and anxious time. New conversations that we have little experience with. <br />
<br />
Right now I have a lot of heart work to tend to. That seems to go in seasons as well, just like everything else. And for me, that kind of business jumps to the front of the line pretty quickly. All else suffers when our hearts aren't right. <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/AVvXsEgYdQRh496j-fI6jrJxahMxP21spze21zHAlRetbPpDGHCfctOofzSAcJxINGf3e3uV_GevQ1iELf1W9yf6ODHcZBLnOwjWd0PnDDPFgKS2NrTlYlao981XUGsQ9Quog2_5MpXV5OP8nF8/s1600/IMG_6850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYdQRh496j-fI6jrJxahMxP21spze21zHAlRetbPpDGHCfctOofzSAcJxINGf3e3uV_GevQ1iELf1W9yf6ODHcZBLnOwjWd0PnDDPFgKS2NrTlYlao981XUGsQ9Quog2_5MpXV5OP8nF8/s640/IMG_6850.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: First Day of School Giant Smile ::</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/AVvXsEjNtwgyKvcfWIPM5uDxC-ge4Z06r37reXo-94AxzbmmPe6lIeOznwvLUtofMN6lO5BZGVusjIvKsSLui5T0ClM4NP_0g2MGUD2K0qzzXFXW3JE2rMx9tABjsXGKIyv4krI24RklD6Tubwk/s1600/IMG_6825.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtwgyKvcfWIPM5uDxC-ge4Z06r37reXo-94AxzbmmPe6lIeOznwvLUtofMN6lO5BZGVusjIvKsSLui5T0ClM4NP_0g2MGUD2K0qzzXFXW3JE2rMx9tABjsXGKIyv4krI24RklD6Tubwk/s640/IMG_6825.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Early morning mushroom hike, since we were still on Nebraska time and up at 3 hours too early ::</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-89210389873942930392015-05-30T14:32:00.004-07:002015-05-30T14:32:52.740-07:00Resurrecting the Blog.Well, it's been a healthy six months since I've posted anything. <br />
<br />
And I've probably lined out about fifteen blogposts in the meantime, mentally, that never were realized. <br />
<br />
I've realized a couple things. I've realized that Instagram has taken over the original purpose of this space, as now every one of my siblings and my parents are on Instagram and we can share each others lives there instantly and easily. The second thing I realized though, is that I need this space for a different purpose. I don't share everything on Instagram, it's just too much. This is my journal. This is my memory. And another thing I've realized, is how very much I cherish these years and how very likely I am to forget the special moments that are gleamed from them. Between the noise, and the busy-ness, and the tiredness, I'm working just to try and stay in the moment, let alone remember it tomorrow....<br />
<br />
I finally got my big camera up and running again and taking clear pictures, so I'm excited to start collecting my favorites on here again.<br />
<br />
This was a big week for us. We had a new baby nephew arrive, Lucan Charles. Tell turned 4, which flat blows my mind. Seems like yesterday I was posting a picture of him with Bryan when he was only hours old.... And Ever had her LAST day of Kindergarten. <br />
<br />
Ever was devastated that school was over. She loves school and wanted it to keep going as it was forever and ever. I know the feeling. That dread of a chapter coming to a close and a new one beginning. No matter how hard we cling, change awaits. She had a good long cry over it, which I'm sure is not the last, and sometimes that's just what we need to do.<br />
<br />
Tell cracked us all up with his dinnertime prayer a couple nights ago: "Dear Lord. Thank you for --- what's Aunt Jo's baby's name again? ... Thank you for baby Lucan Charlie. And his poop's yellow, and that's silly. And thank you for Baby Leo. And thank you for ..."<br />
<br />
So sweet.<br />
<br />
So very sweet.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">::Sweet Little Leo:: </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">::Grampa Chuck with Baby Lucan Charles::</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Ever First Day of Kindergarten::</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">::Last Day of Kindergarten:: </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWeFIuxYtQEjbElBAD7Ex9Z69xAhtu8or1E0zhFV_q0jsdZ56uNojhDG8BFQxCeUvWXNChhquBLNp4tUwuSUabO5-SVf91B6YPLspTPkfhbrzR-Li0uRcKT4B8E3Au_XVSPO_Ihyo3sOY/s1600/IMG_5224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWeFIuxYtQEjbElBAD7Ex9Z69xAhtu8or1E0zhFV_q0jsdZ56uNojhDG8BFQxCeUvWXNChhquBLNp4tUwuSUabO5-SVf91B6YPLspTPkfhbrzR-Li0uRcKT4B8E3Au_XVSPO_Ihyo3sOY/s640/IMG_5224.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">::With her teachers::</td></tr>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-71513545207848720482014-12-25T03:17:00.003-08:002014-12-25T03:17:52.065-08:00Waiting.Early morning waiting for cinnamon roll dough to rise ....<br />
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For a baby to wake with her morning yearning for mama ....<br />
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For kids to come squealing with delight that their cookie plate is empty and their stockings are full ...<br />
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Waiting for a savior to return.<br />
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Feeling so blessed this Christmas season. Wishing joy and peace for all, whether their Christmas is filled with blessings or with trials, as I'm sure so many are. May God give you peace today and the promise of eternal joy in Him.<br />
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<i>xoxo</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-31959164618128977942014-12-05T10:46:00.004-08:002014-12-05T11:19:42.599-08:00Christmas.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bmVs2phqHPcj0zyjT8R9kiqjWUknlj13SIm5u2CnIsNY0MmgsdMFHhGQGUiZKOQmXFr6aFbjdLKdz4pG3NrYu4DpHGAnU_Ixapbjwfej6GkhSagnpcDEY-MlDjkkccEMeFhtwa1rBbg/s1600/IMG_2542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bmVs2phqHPcj0zyjT8R9kiqjWUknlj13SIm5u2CnIsNY0MmgsdMFHhGQGUiZKOQmXFr6aFbjdLKdz4pG3NrYu4DpHGAnU_Ixapbjwfej6GkhSagnpcDEY-MlDjkkccEMeFhtwa1rBbg/s1600/IMG_2542.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
It's December 5th. <br />
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For most people, Christmas is already front and center on their minds. Either with advent preparations, or gift buying and making, Christmas parties, decorating, the list goes on .... Even away from home, Christmas is front and center here too. We have our stockings hung and the kids love doing their advent calendar on the computer. We love the chocolate advent calendars and that is the first thing they do every morning -- What can I say, I'm a softie :) Soon we'll start crafting some ornaments and gifts.<br />
We've also been doing some Jesus-based advent lessons and reading our favorite Christmas story books. <br />
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For me, it has never been too terribly hard to blend the Christmas traditions. Jesus is always "the reason for the season" and I try to be very deliberate about reminding the kids of that. But Santa can easily represent a lot of the things Jesus brought to us -- love, generosity, magic. <br />
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During one of my own adult advent lessons, I listened to a podcast of a collection of Christian women talking about advent. And boy was it <i>depressing</i>. One began by saying, "I hate Christmas." How can one be Christian and hate the celebration of Christ's birth? She referred to it as a "man-made holiday". Really? They said the lead up to Christmas is so exhausting, they don't even enjoy the holiday any more. So sad, and yet probably very true for a lot of people.<br />
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I realize that many Christian holidays line up with equinox and solstice days, I'm not clueless. But I also believe whole-heartedly in the truth of the bible. The women went on to talk about how hard it is for them to explain to their children how Jesus fits into modern-day Christmas and all its commercialization, and some said they don't even try. They keep them completely separate. I'll admit, consumerism is a tough battle to fight, but it's not impossible. Why should we choose our TV habits and our stores over the heart of our families -- faith? If you're like me and crave a simpler Christmas, full of memories instead of exhaustion, turn the TV off and miss all those commercials and Hollywood versions of what Christmas is. Stay home and out of the crazy stores. I promise your heart will feel calmer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoBhOvm_KRmNaay6Ewcr933F3SZj8Mz_02yUd90NbajVPjT9qbAr0rJ-n-LOFaVA7yb3Crs-h-gpHANqQcEPxsdbg-t61k-zZnQr_r1BrIoavsldq6vzvjv0zTi4mM87nZzZF7H9yWgE/s1600/IMG_2548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtoBhOvm_KRmNaay6Ewcr933F3SZj8Mz_02yUd90NbajVPjT9qbAr0rJ-n-LOFaVA7yb3Crs-h-gpHANqQcEPxsdbg-t61k-zZnQr_r1BrIoavsldq6vzvjv0zTi4mM87nZzZF7H9yWgE/s1600/IMG_2548.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a>It is a little easier here, as we're a bit off the grid. But not completely. I love giving gifts, but I'm not going to let it consume me and give me anxiety like I did last year during Black Friday. If I don't find that all-perfect gift for someone, they'll understand. And, more often than not, they won't even notice. The next day I read a different (and better!) advent lesson on giving and receiving. The author posed this question: "When did we start expecting instead of receiving, and buying instead of giving?"<br />
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She offered this suggestion:<br />
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<i>So whatever it is we're giving, let us offer in love. And whatever it is we're receiving, let us welcome with humility.</i><br />
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<i>Generosity isn't about what we give. It's about how we give. And receiving isn't about what we're getting. It's about how we welcome.</i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3Rx49vQw6T5xJXLMku-uFht_S0r3kJvdUpDs943xusUI4pSPokm4BsMUYWFVdR3qjR4IENNcfSOdaczwmdqSCa4giMpo8S0IfkhiAuyq55BjD3sjMsbxFDJfxRAijca3JtnKEGVtfuc/s1600/IMG_2562.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg3Rx49vQw6T5xJXLMku-uFht_S0r3kJvdUpDs943xusUI4pSPokm4BsMUYWFVdR3qjR4IENNcfSOdaczwmdqSCa4giMpo8S0IfkhiAuyq55BjD3sjMsbxFDJfxRAijca3JtnKEGVtfuc/s1600/IMG_2562.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><br />
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Last night I let Ever stay up late to watch the <i>Peter Pan Live</i> special on TV. It was alright, but what I noticed most were the commercials that, of course, made Christmas out to be all about the "stuff" we could get and give. They are advertisements after all. I tried to point this out to Ever and I hope some small fraction of it took anchor. <br />
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Don't let the world make you hate Christmas because you can't buy enough stuff, or afford the best decorations or gifts or food. It's not about that. It's about faith and love and family and friends. My personal goal is to keep the magic in Christmas always and to never give up keeping Jesus at the front and center of this season. Merry Christmas.<br />
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-16875711896002868062014-11-20T10:01:00.003-08:002014-11-20T10:04:13.535-08:00Thoughts on a chilly morning....:: Wishing my cup of coffee would never end ....<br />
:: Thankful for a fire that's still burning in the morning....<br />
:: Going to pull a Miracle on 34th Street this year and ask Santa for my dream house ;) Wish me luck.<br />
:: Excited Brad Paisley is playing in Alaska! Utterly disappointed that the cheapest tickets are $300 a piece!! Seriously, that's just crazy.<br />
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:: Really feeling this guy, Jonsi, from Iceland and his band that I first heard on the How to Train<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Your Dragon 2 soundtrack. Isla bird is feeling it too :)</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Y5VgLOs0LwQ" width="640"></iframe>
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:: May have found myself a new vacation knitting project. Isn't it beautiful? Spectra from Stephen West.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSOxTsXpc6onF9wbY-wFR3iwsCUWBsGj-h4FF_86kinJyj9RR0sEPjmFt2u18H45Xv8JR7w59pn-gNgrRboWZaTCRQwmle1nK_aDf1OwJD6kTQSsOKlnSSbXcEkFoJeP6AKSiPXiaD9o/s1600/image_medium2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSOxTsXpc6onF9wbY-wFR3iwsCUWBsGj-h4FF_86kinJyj9RR0sEPjmFt2u18H45Xv8JR7w59pn-gNgrRboWZaTCRQwmle1nK_aDf1OwJD6kTQSsOKlnSSbXcEkFoJeP6AKSiPXiaD9o/s1600/image_medium2.jpg" height="312" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">: <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/spectra/people?page=9" target="_blank">source</a> :</td></tr>
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:: And if I could, I would knit this for ALL of my family & friends :)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkTUxoBB0AjmKsnCLjOX1eT2P0ZFBIkhWw1AQc8VUEAZFyMmcpVJ1yXxP6prKJ5QUJQ3BD9xhcs7HHIfERKdFkpl3jAgHx1D8KFeIXb8AV5x8IFylO19voKL8xT4hB2G0bscPRrZwdQ0/s1600/xTreme-311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEkTUxoBB0AjmKsnCLjOX1eT2P0ZFBIkhWw1AQc8VUEAZFyMmcpVJ1yXxP6prKJ5QUJQ3BD9xhcs7HHIfERKdFkpl3jAgHx1D8KFeIXb8AV5x8IFylO19voKL8xT4hB2G0bscPRrZwdQ0/s1600/xTreme-311.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">: <a href="http://intheloop.fr/tendances/lextreme-knitting/" target="_blank">source</a> :</td></tr>
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Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-60019007055884031872014-11-11T10:46:00.004-08:002023-07-13T09:21:02.302-07:00I needed to read this, maybe you do too....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This morning I read this post from the blog, <i>letters from the nest.</i></div>
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Wow. I mean -- WOW. I needed that perspective refresher for sure.</div>
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Please read it. </div>
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I promise it will change the way you view things today. <i>xoxo</i></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/AVvXsEjflp_mKoSAVfES2hC0x1eYaaLYJGbE9gwKTIxJ5Qdrz4Fyd7D-SFRQt6sBQlraeb4L7VagE3iIOqLvUXhzHSMxvuwoMoYI6ofxE318_3V4OXSDzpCYlN_oMTB5T8hCSpF7FAIgBXIU2NE/s1600/IMG_2176.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjflp_mKoSAVfES2hC0x1eYaaLYJGbE9gwKTIxJ5Qdrz4Fyd7D-SFRQt6sBQlraeb4L7VagE3iIOqLvUXhzHSMxvuwoMoYI6ofxE318_3V4OXSDzpCYlN_oMTB5T8hCSpF7FAIgBXIU2NE/s640/IMG_2176.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Oldie, but goodie. Ever on her first day of Kindergarten. ::</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>And special thoughts, prayers, and love to ALL our veterans today. Where would we be without you?</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgWrUFkuSdZkEtsIxmfLNNlnqg1RgdSN2kSCEiTau4wqU7T4Ouw_Jkng129OVhHDnqqyQICpvO7Y5SgInctcbiikO9MnNtPOXOl3e8XtjgGPvhrqfSwzvf9LVEfVTuxBvnmOIFLMbm3pM/s1600/get-attachment-2.aspx.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgWrUFkuSdZkEtsIxmfLNNlnqg1RgdSN2kSCEiTau4wqU7T4Ouw_Jkng129OVhHDnqqyQICpvO7Y5SgInctcbiikO9MnNtPOXOl3e8XtjgGPvhrqfSwzvf9LVEfVTuxBvnmOIFLMbm3pM/s640/get-attachment-2.aspx.jpeg" width="480" /></a></div>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-61967516391775407522014-11-06T14:30:00.000-08:002014-11-06T18:39:22.295-08:00Book Report.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Amazon, man. It's trouble. It has everything you need and a million things you don't need ... that is until you see them. </div>
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I have a lucky tendency to not know I need a book until it falls in my lap. I recently ordered the book <i>Treasuring Christ When Your Hands Are Full </i>by Gloria Furman. It's short and sweet, with little pearls of encouragement. I really love a directed bible study, which this is not at all. But without time for a long study right now, this is limping me along until the next one. </div>
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A couple favorite lines:</div>
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<i>"Your worst days are never so bad that you are beyond the reach of God's grace. And your best days are never so good that you are beyond the need of God's grace."</i></div>
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<i>"Glorify God by enjoying Him -- he is a truer and better award than the adulations of our children, of other women, and even of our self-approval."</i></div>
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I constantly need the reminder to place my trust and strength and joy in Him.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToXGg2lcMM2KB4B6_Xcf2FfNXKfq8hB9MMuOPSRaxbhZrsKmCRpqkHmpGhQeN855tjc_a4Wcy69UyAkpifsx2hM6H_jgpamOnm9QiWt9LUxAw863gbIerDc9MBpPTmsi8WcvneEgz1-4/s1600/41lHM+hG+YL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToXGg2lcMM2KB4B6_Xcf2FfNXKfq8hB9MMuOPSRaxbhZrsKmCRpqkHmpGhQeN855tjc_a4Wcy69UyAkpifsx2hM6H_jgpamOnm9QiWt9LUxAw863gbIerDc9MBpPTmsi8WcvneEgz1-4/s1600/41lHM+hG+YL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="320" width="229" /></a></div>
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I've seen a lot of people celebrate November with 30 days of gratitude. I think this year I will attempt it. Although there are a million ways to do it -- one being simply to write a list on a piece of paper or in a journal -- I think we'll try to do something along the lines of <a href="http://jonesdesigncompany.com/holiday/start-today-thankful-tree-printable-tags/" target="_blank">this</a> with the kids.</div>
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And though I'm not usually one to attribute inherent wisdom to celebrities, I am a Kate Hudson fan and agree with her <a href="http://instagram.com/p/vBc66LJcm5/?modal=true" target="_blank">here</a>:</div>
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<span style="background-color: #fefefe; color: #222222; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><i>Research shows practicing GRATITUDE is strongly and consistently associated with greater happiness. Gratitude helps people feel more positive emotions, relish good experiences, improve their health, deal with adversity, and build strong relationships. </i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fefefe; color: #222222; font-family: proxima-nova, 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 20px;">So start yourself a list and have a Happy November! </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: #fefefe; line-height: 20px;">xoxo</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xkNtrhLtKSTn52CUfOfRG61H6WK5UBiNCDXhmkqRlcZV9Lle7rOwcRy2PAD14-m_ptCjlnUOr5HepIndtdmH0tLpyLBnnaffjKv4qrDnRUjOBtBK98DrjECcS85r6mdFjNZcCkFlVW8/s1600/IMG_2134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xkNtrhLtKSTn52CUfOfRG61H6WK5UBiNCDXhmkqRlcZV9Lle7rOwcRy2PAD14-m_ptCjlnUOr5HepIndtdmH0tLpyLBnnaffjKv4qrDnRUjOBtBK98DrjECcS85r6mdFjNZcCkFlVW8/s1600/IMG_2134.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-32808112607665338162014-11-03T13:18:00.000-08:002014-11-03T13:18:03.645-08:00Seasons.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOM7FC1HAZWd0jcZ1OmSgh5prE6819fKH0ctceO24HX9LTat_akR-YRphbnBXlReY__3YwE96SYScO7qBO3dpeC5hPSPiy1Fr1iDebUwNPaJUPu6KeDSUali1REnj-u0TphgdwBhbsc4/s1600/IMG_2432.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpOM7FC1HAZWd0jcZ1OmSgh5prE6819fKH0ctceO24HX9LTat_akR-YRphbnBXlReY__3YwE96SYScO7qBO3dpeC5hPSPiy1Fr1iDebUwNPaJUPu6KeDSUali1REnj-u0TphgdwBhbsc4/s1600/IMG_2432.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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All of our lives have seasons. Seasons of busy and seasons of quiet. Seasons of sharing and those of self-reflection. Seasons of feeling present and those that flow through our fingers like water where we're simply trying to keep from running out.<br />
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When I started this blog 5 years ago our lives were different. One child. No smart phones. One camera. No school. Our life was made up of "less" in a sense. But I was able to focus <i>more </i>on the <i>less</i>, if that makes any sense. I now find it a daily challenge to be present, to be intentional. I have some catching up to do when it comes to figuring this life-as-an-adult stuff out. <br />
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Instagram has, in a way, taken the place of my photo sharing on here. But I do miss this space and hope to carve out a few moments each week to come back and add to my journal, and to our story. <br />
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<i>"We love because he first loved us." 1 John 4:19</i></div>
Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-50281020551013639372014-08-17T17:54:00.002-07:002014-08-17T17:57:29.684-07:00Check it out.<div style="text-align: center;">
As a fan of photography, black and white imagery, vacations spent in the sun and - incidentally - freckles, I just had to share this one:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/o9BqrSAHbTc" width="640"></iframe><br />
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If it's legit, it's amazing.</div>
Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-19909036485868366592014-06-08T17:04:00.003-07:002014-06-08T17:04:26.895-07:00My Boy.<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/AVvXsEhRJx7zWd2OQHO7HHaT36y4wTmQgWs5-FRlpXGzNS3crWe5uhd5fuvwcQcM4_DNnZ_11dfBMHpjczxsUFlEntAt6Ta1BU0DFY89WMn0G3AJEdMHVfnTUmBHLNXzVSdby0-ME7ZZk438kos/s1600/IMG_8992.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJx7zWd2OQHO7HHaT36y4wTmQgWs5-FRlpXGzNS3crWe5uhd5fuvwcQcM4_DNnZ_11dfBMHpjczxsUFlEntAt6Ta1BU0DFY89WMn0G3AJEdMHVfnTUmBHLNXzVSdby0-ME7ZZk438kos/s1600/IMG_8992.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Love at first sight. ::</td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEhCEAm9ew9wMj43gYHdzr3Cf9QO6tcZxuKWhciQiKZ0ty6LKfaMa3g6QdGP-u54EvLVDVJdjp7sYm7WOzH_-Gl6yPH2rmlIG20Z5pBGe5X8Nlg9kJOCYQgQftq3oG3Zupm6-xLEMRB7KEM/s1600/IMG_3141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCEAm9ew9wMj43gYHdzr3Cf9QO6tcZxuKWhciQiKZ0ty6LKfaMa3g6QdGP-u54EvLVDVJdjp7sYm7WOzH_-Gl6yPH2rmlIG20Z5pBGe5X8Nlg9kJOCYQgQftq3oG3Zupm6-xLEMRB7KEM/s1600/IMG_3141.JPG" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: ONE :: </td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEj8x-Nk8CzOGHRo6O1CfCfhNs9HNWBMT-8tqvFQtgL7se9XwgSp9O5wUFxUMid_Ved7pkJbnLq5nUrIZZh3cgpPSHJ3FZPstrxX1k814MQNtGPDxPIN1pOCZSSpdVKyTm2bwaWeJvybflQ/s1600/IMG_5479.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8x-Nk8CzOGHRo6O1CfCfhNs9HNWBMT-8tqvFQtgL7se9XwgSp9O5wUFxUMid_Ved7pkJbnLq5nUrIZZh3cgpPSHJ3FZPstrxX1k814MQNtGPDxPIN1pOCZSSpdVKyTm2bwaWeJvybflQ/s1600/IMG_5479.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: TWO ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1_FbakuTH7eIVxNomHfz4HqTeTJyrGWpIIs6XdK7T5evLfEODDSArqjzsOqfs60Wd7L06cKu3nLxnYg3Vba4xSaUgF2RzQIZ7uKA6VnPLGf1Cp3Fi0nIUngRcocGhlfVATLV-9LoTps/s1600/10416787_10152910787840620_842940432_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1_FbakuTH7eIVxNomHfz4HqTeTJyrGWpIIs6XdK7T5evLfEODDSArqjzsOqfs60Wd7L06cKu3nLxnYg3Vba4xSaUgF2RzQIZ7uKA6VnPLGf1Cp3Fi0nIUngRcocGhlfVATLV-9LoTps/s1600/10416787_10152910787840620_842940432_n.jpg" height="640" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: THREE!! ::<br />photo taken by my friend Adriane Honerlaw </td></tr>
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"I'm three! I'm three!!" Thus began Tell's third birthday. He sat up in bed and proclaimed to the world, that he is in fact a whole year older, overnight. </div>
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This boy. Has me on my knees -- thanking God for his sweet little life intertwined with mine, praying for the energy to keep up with him, asking for wisdom to raise him right and protect him.</div>
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He loves his sisters. </div>
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He adores his Papa. </div>
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Everything has an engine for him. He is constantly making an engine sound, sometimes he's not even playing with anything. He just is an engine. </div>
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He fixes things. </div>
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Loves stories and lights up at the promise of a new book.</div>
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He attempts to drive anything with wheels.</div>
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Not at all a surprise, he is infatuated with airplanes. </div>
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Loves his bike.</div>
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He's my eater. Gets serious about food. An empty plate has brought him to tears before. That last bite can be a stinger, I feel your pain little one. ;)</div>
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Here's to you Tell, my little light-filled ginger -- I love you, I love you, I love you and wish you 100 more birthdays!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfww89VXYmQFRaSvTKcXQ1Qk1L9i-jIMvBUmXzZ8U8uVQfoBoBTzzX1ZpIjMfSIKX9SJuHV0Xqt8thbY608ylhj3Gv-v6vedgCYrWUUWWGDMmwBIuYDa0FhXwFSuhCZYJTTUKsjlO635c/s1600/IMG_0756.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfww89VXYmQFRaSvTKcXQ1Qk1L9i-jIMvBUmXzZ8U8uVQfoBoBTzzX1ZpIjMfSIKX9SJuHV0Xqt8thbY608ylhj3Gv-v6vedgCYrWUUWWGDMmwBIuYDa0FhXwFSuhCZYJTTUKsjlO635c/s1600/IMG_0756.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-24892321106167917882014-06-01T08:32:00.001-07:002014-06-01T08:32:07.572-07:00A Conversation with Ever.Tenderheart. That is my girl. Tender, gentle (mostly), and a bit of an old soul...<br />
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Last night she wanted to look at some of my jewelry hanging above the cupboard. She loves the sparkle. We went through it and I told her about each of the things hanging there. I told her she could have anything of mine she wanted, except for my wedding ring. She talks about me "donating" my things to her. Been around for a few closet cleanings, I guess ;) Anyway, I said of course I would donate my things to her. <br />
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Then she says, "Can I have your wedding ring when you live inside my heart?"<br />
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Huh? Goodness. "Well, of course you can. You or Isla or Tell." <br />
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Within an instant she goes from the joy of "yes" to the sobbing, wailing tears of losing her Mama someday. I mean she cried - <i>hard</i> - for half an hour. And let's not kid ourselves, I cried a little too. This tenderness did not show up out of nowhere. And while we're at it, her Papa is no hard-hearted figure either.<br />
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Anyway, we were a sight to see. Bry was so confused. And then he wasn't when I told him the conversation. He knows his little girl. <br />
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That girl carries my heart around in her pocket. I told her I hope she will always love me this much. And she answered, "Of course I will." <br />
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Crossing my fingers and praying every day...</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/AVvXsEi007GZnLKDQ273AwWRYyJky2lUyHdgluPGBS-JSBR9kOXLPt-KxnxPpr3n37Oxw-tAsvcl1FHJ0fNVgR6nJqnk0wj1mdHfmzvQjnZVGvoh_KDU4FhiYXfp7oVzxIy1Az0WfsSgKuT45y0/s1600/get-attachment.aspx.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi007GZnLKDQ273AwWRYyJky2lUyHdgluPGBS-JSBR9kOXLPt-KxnxPpr3n37Oxw-tAsvcl1FHJ0fNVgR6nJqnk0wj1mdHfmzvQjnZVGvoh_KDU4FhiYXfp7oVzxIy1Az0WfsSgKuT45y0/s1600/get-attachment.aspx.jpeg" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Ever and "Tell" the (hopefully) hen, so named by Tell the boy :) ::</td></tr>
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Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-65543486938285080132014-05-17T18:59:00.001-07:002014-05-17T19:00:03.960-07:00Summer Book Review: The Nesting Place<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aE-0TBO3b-YcVdbQocdtbKlk3n-JUvpk-OYrnP1zwVTgASgxsfL0dPD7PdSIUvRa8Nsa8x0AlWKkYyxUQOAv1jdVU9zG4THcQKz91b3JH7AXeirvBFGLC0v27wPWryzmT6oSnfp1GfY/s1600/519dIBQX6QL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9aE-0TBO3b-YcVdbQocdtbKlk3n-JUvpk-OYrnP1zwVTgASgxsfL0dPD7PdSIUvRa8Nsa8x0AlWKkYyxUQOAv1jdVU9zG4THcQKz91b3JH7AXeirvBFGLC0v27wPWryzmT6oSnfp1GfY/s1600/519dIBQX6QL._SY344_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
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"It doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful." Just what I needed to hear right now. A little while ago I went on an Amazon binge and bought a few books for summer reading. I wanted to share a couple trinkets from this last quick read -- <a href="http://www.zulily.com/p/white-weldon-twin-full-bunk-bed-84890-10470018.html?pos=related&ref=related&from=10405981&ns=ns_000169352|1400350270405" target="_blank">The Nesting Place by Myquillin Smith</a> -- that found a place in my heart right now....</div>
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<i>"I don't open my home because it's finally done and presentable. I share it for the same reason I wear a bikini to the pool. It's not because I think I look great in it. It's because I'm finally okay that I don't. It's the same with our home. I don't share because it's perfect; I share it because I'm finally okay that it's not."</i></div>
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<i>-Myquillin Smith</i></div>
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<i>"Everyone gets to decide how happy they want to be, because everyone gets to decide how grateful they are willing to be." </i></div>
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<i>- Ann Voskamp</i></div>
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and finally:</div>
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<i>The Imperfectionist Manifesto</i></div>
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<i>We believe that home should be the safest place on earth.</i></div>
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<i>We believe that home has a greater purpose than looking pretty.</i></div>
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<i>We believe that authenticity trumps perfection.</i></div>
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<i>We believe in mismatched sheets and unmade beds.</i></div>
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<i>We believe that the things in our house are there to serve us, not the other way around. </i></div>
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<i>We believe that toys and homework and smelly shoes and spilled milk are signs of life.</i></div>
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<i>We believe in using the good stuff now, not waiting for some future better purpose.</i></div>
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<i>We believe in handmade.</i></div>
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<i>We believe that contentment results not from stuff but from gratitude.</i></div>
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<i>We believe that decorating done good enough is better than decorating postponed.</i></div>
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<i>We believe we are all creative because we are all made in the image of a creative God.</i></div>
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<i>We believe that it doesn't have to be perfect to be beautiful.</i></div>
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Our family is in somewhat of a housing holding pattern. In our current habits, we are starting to outgrow this space. But this is our home and I love it. My kids love it. There is plenty of potential here and I was needing some moral support. I found not only lots of inspiration, but also solace and peace of mind from <i>The Nesting Place</i>. Another reminder to enjoy the present moment and be grateful for our blessings. </div>
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Now on to <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Clutterfree-Kids-thinking-Discover-habits/dp/0991438604/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1400378273&sr=1-1&keywords=clutter+free+with+kids" target="_blank">Clutterfree With Kids</a></i> -- ha! :)</div>
<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-67750335449789170202014-05-04T15:08:00.003-07:002014-05-04T16:03:56.332-07:00New York, New York.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Stacey, Isla, and I spent about 40 hours in New York City a couple weeks ago. It was wonderful, and exhausting, and expensive, and chilly. And a bit of a blur.</div>
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The highlights? Having a photographer I found on Instagram - <a href="http://miminguyen.com/" target="_blank">Mimi Nguyen</a> - take photos of Isla in Central Park...</div>
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The skyline. Amazing. Simply looking up -- incredible. </div>
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Grand Central Station. Everything about it. The Whispering Wall :) The macaroons! Fully living up to their glorious reputation.</div>
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The outrageous amount people can charge for a simple meal. Although it was <i>really </i>good. "I don't know what's in this, but it's even better than butter. Whatever that would be..."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAIr8bkHDE5L41VYfWhUUVsTZcjLP2zqCG44UcI4K0_uON1XlhAnoYjp2ZKA-wAUNWUeYUJaVXp1u8GjtoJo2U57VePe3aLRbWbs5iG3N1c73J6-cXL4wfV5KMBSnEid290KkVJ8QM-g/s1600/IMG_0101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAIr8bkHDE5L41VYfWhUUVsTZcjLP2zqCG44UcI4K0_uON1XlhAnoYjp2ZKA-wAUNWUeYUJaVXp1u8GjtoJo2U57VePe3aLRbWbs5iG3N1c73J6-cXL4wfV5KMBSnEid290KkVJ8QM-g/s1600/IMG_0101.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7td-plucCT4PX8u4kJ3noRtS5REdM-3Td4m219rexHZVP5E21p70cmXB4Zc9zm-fBI6ZfBzL4_woXjZDyj6j7dPmu6EUUcZw2HbGpzW4bc9Z9qJBbcijjAiM6lmpMtqpP2lMlSaqcds/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7td-plucCT4PX8u4kJ3noRtS5REdM-3Td4m219rexHZVP5E21p70cmXB4Zc9zm-fBI6ZfBzL4_woXjZDyj6j7dPmu6EUUcZw2HbGpzW4bc9Z9qJBbcijjAiM6lmpMtqpP2lMlSaqcds/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia7td-plucCT4PX8u4kJ3noRtS5REdM-3Td4m219rexHZVP5E21p70cmXB4Zc9zm-fBI6ZfBzL4_woXjZDyj6j7dPmu6EUUcZw2HbGpzW4bc9Z9qJBbcijjAiM6lmpMtqpP2lMlSaqcds/s1600/IMG_0086.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a>The Museum of Modern Art. Truly a cultural experience for me. A little tainted by the "video art" at the entrance elevators, but I recovered with Monet, Picasso, Pollock, Gauguin, Degas, etc, etc, etc.... Amazing! And whoever painted this, it may have been my favorite:</div>
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I'm so thankful we got to see a glimpse of the city. I was really wishing we had a couple more days. And about $5,000. And a baby sitter so we could go see a broadway show. Well, we'll plan better next time :) Thanks Aunt Stace for taking this detour with us... we love you.<br />
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P.S. Happy Birthday to my Daddy-O -- I miss you and love you. More with ever year that passes :)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxCAcChIH8njCqZHPVp0SQuSPzZYcgU5wuO2duCcXE4um-h5HDdkjTVoh0uGp-OQfAw7XUvigMLUy9NUko-YXR32V4elhREm-J8RxETlg_IREeTW4ZwbinmP4OmxvuG_nNsDuDvmWgss/s1600/IMG_7105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUxCAcChIH8njCqZHPVp0SQuSPzZYcgU5wuO2duCcXE4um-h5HDdkjTVoh0uGp-OQfAw7XUvigMLUy9NUko-YXR32V4elhREm-J8RxETlg_IREeTW4ZwbinmP4OmxvuG_nNsDuDvmWgss/s1600/IMG_7105.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-65306850337717229112014-04-29T14:40:00.000-07:002014-04-29T14:40:02.336-07:00Spring.<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/AVvXsEiPnlRh6g_fMnpDS7rDVEqr9zvQg0B84_EYZNyvxB-nTd8agyqCMD2eq9avWSorIPO08Zs8ORmtFBmuGh4llrBAAIlUIeH9sIWU2eEJbHXK5RRhQxLvcR1EhRwDt6C1xjOiGzQ6AG3rX9Y/s1600/140417JM_26.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPnlRh6g_fMnpDS7rDVEqr9zvQg0B84_EYZNyvxB-nTd8agyqCMD2eq9avWSorIPO08Zs8ORmtFBmuGh4llrBAAIlUIeH9sIWU2eEJbHXK5RRhQxLvcR1EhRwDt6C1xjOiGzQ6AG3rX9Y/s1600/140417JM_26.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Mimi Nguyen Photography ::</td></tr>
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Well, it seems that Spring may actually be here. The rhubarb is peeking it's little red face from the dirt, tulips are poking up, Bry took the skis off the plane and has put on wheels. </div>
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Yesterday we planted a dozen dahlias in pots to start sprouting. Today I'm hoping we get a few seeds started as well.</div>
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I have some new plans for the garden and water system that I'm getting excited for. And we also have a new lawn-mowing technique:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjKC4AT5YdkVxk2hQeUnJA9YLvyZdLcLKt71LDcPlhImogJek2BZRP6DmsXcEWCx5YFR2IszTIX_jsgfWKK1q1944O87pe6UUe1Mzcz-nuy7k6i5SRW9v_9yIXT1Z-S8-f8_2kKVmXZo/s1600/IMG_0446.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpjKC4AT5YdkVxk2hQeUnJA9YLvyZdLcLKt71LDcPlhImogJek2BZRP6DmsXcEWCx5YFR2IszTIX_jsgfWKK1q1944O87pe6UUe1Mzcz-nuy7k6i5SRW9v_9yIXT1Z-S8-f8_2kKVmXZo/s1600/IMG_0446.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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This guy was working at it off-and-on all day yesterday :)</div>
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More pictures from our recent NYC and Florida trip tomorrow ....</div>
<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-1296299901289357282014-04-14T16:49:00.001-07:002014-04-14T16:58:01.869-07:00Lately 1.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So, I broke my phone last month. Luckily I had insurance and just last week I got my phone back from being fixed. Somehow, in the clearing and re-booting and syncing and linking, my phone linked up with my blog and all the photos I had ever posted on here are now on my cell phone. It's crazy. Bry thinks it's a little creepy -- all the syncing and linking that occurs without us really knowing it's happening.</div>
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Anyhow, it was such a great trip looking back at all those photos! I love it and am so grateful for the peek back at the last four years. I've gone in spurts of posting my very favorite pictures, sometimes frequently, sometimes not. It really re-energized me to keep it up. </div>
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Sometimes this blog is an outlet, other times I'm looking for advice, sometimes just sharing something I think is great, but most of the time it's simply a good <strike>old </strike>new-fashioned journal. It helps me remember these "long days, but short years" and the fleeting stages these kids (and us, as parents) just storm through. So without further ado -- here are more pictures ;)</div>
<table 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/AVvXsEgxcMe4vvsRCH6OIgGazWXTS87p-MfW_VYvArZvHhr1Ll1-zU05H9Ug4ORpXuPJFLvmOdbDyFuODtZTIpMs4oJRo6b6Pp5Qybdhnzhhww2VzfOEs0GQxhF3__qm9ug4wxNhvGSFEZDiZ-c/s1600/IMG_9911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxcMe4vvsRCH6OIgGazWXTS87p-MfW_VYvArZvHhr1Ll1-zU05H9Ug4ORpXuPJFLvmOdbDyFuODtZTIpMs4oJRo6b6Pp5Qybdhnzhhww2VzfOEs0GQxhF3__qm9ug4wxNhvGSFEZDiZ-c/s1600/IMG_9911.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: My little Frida Kahlo ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX16qxRG7l97V027uUOFFicH8CflZKZAAOvrxIgza66AOWCzRTu-gUA1JOYBUTVtYo2ABDnE4_tZ7M0ig_ZVinp2MZo8Zt5Rqs_jzNsCvXDK1eZQ0oCjFhSuxJSKHSqCJYxCyR2zuZxpY/s1600/IMG_9912.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX16qxRG7l97V027uUOFFicH8CflZKZAAOvrxIgza66AOWCzRTu-gUA1JOYBUTVtYo2ABDnE4_tZ7M0ig_ZVinp2MZo8Zt5Rqs_jzNsCvXDK1eZQ0oCjFhSuxJSKHSqCJYxCyR2zuZxpY/s1600/IMG_9912.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: And here we are as Coolio and mini-me Coolio ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEgmNTCIu8TqDKtHzQB5CYmbNXd56xpwm5mSyIvsipMYYTgcXk58le5qvelEl3b0M3XTR6Mn6LyjIfTUTZYL85Vjl0XazIQM_lcgVrd3K5k6yr_KEQ9Hqbu1qAguCcLnQO3cUvKpK-BODDM/s1600/IMG_9918.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmNTCIu8TqDKtHzQB5CYmbNXd56xpwm5mSyIvsipMYYTgcXk58le5qvelEl3b0M3XTR6Mn6LyjIfTUTZYL85Vjl0XazIQM_lcgVrd3K5k6yr_KEQ9Hqbu1qAguCcLnQO3cUvKpK-BODDM/s1600/IMG_9918.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Barefoot races on the ice. Love their in-sync stride here .... ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEh3hSPo_E8IBXFFlISfenLjkZP-d_bzi1Xt4Rj3lwydqJYWfROnfS1N8xysEZtEELgN2dfXoIpL_hgCB9oCDNwa7gUU5ADCLVzN91z772C0tmZuRyfLxP9LP_RVgM5Zjw2KxSHuYRR8uaI/s1600/IMG_9919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3hSPo_E8IBXFFlISfenLjkZP-d_bzi1Xt4Rj3lwydqJYWfROnfS1N8xysEZtEELgN2dfXoIpL_hgCB9oCDNwa7gUU5ADCLVzN91z772C0tmZuRyfLxP9LP_RVgM5Zjw2KxSHuYRR8uaI/s1600/IMG_9919.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Special trip to NE with Ollie, Stace, & Isla ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwP2bKLqW8Lmm3w-fVZTTMbmMxaVsVJ58A6bsNnA_nodNiiMfFrYAIudxD0yCcR-w4jj3R2tZKr0NyxQuyXt6HGjjMjUQE3r25XS-qCmuONB6DqdX7J8BrqXpwJ5onseaUst6Z0l3Xys0/s1600/IMG_9930.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwP2bKLqW8Lmm3w-fVZTTMbmMxaVsVJ58A6bsNnA_nodNiiMfFrYAIudxD0yCcR-w4jj3R2tZKr0NyxQuyXt6HGjjMjUQE3r25XS-qCmuONB6DqdX7J8BrqXpwJ5onseaUst6Z0l3Xys0/s1600/IMG_9930.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Ready to eat! ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEi2jnNVjLQldcPByftO7cI_FIuf3zgWnWvTzDJMWE8Hw4LAiVF8IMYhCWysAHt8FP7BrPT_LTH3qwx7jBkJxNZeNPo-fV9Sl4rN3Eqd-n1F9adP6v_oZqPuTYttfj7MQuSOOF4_pXHaX3M/s1600/IMG_9932.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2jnNVjLQldcPByftO7cI_FIuf3zgWnWvTzDJMWE8Hw4LAiVF8IMYhCWysAHt8FP7BrPT_LTH3qwx7jBkJxNZeNPo-fV9Sl4rN3Eqd-n1F9adP6v_oZqPuTYttfj7MQuSOOF4_pXHaX3M/s1600/IMG_9932.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Feed me! ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEhepa5ZulA1Xav4vf8N171IrM6CEgl3y7StYgJi7BS_QHUlJ0HLCfj_YTNdoPyuwUjTz9tuEvDhpJKQBELE22pcIR0jLQ-lFwaAq0QnCGlkqJgYnwfcfbcW27KAoG5HWzAK_k8XsCltsXg/s1600/IMG_9936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepa5ZulA1Xav4vf8N171IrM6CEgl3y7StYgJi7BS_QHUlJ0HLCfj_YTNdoPyuwUjTz9tuEvDhpJKQBELE22pcIR0jLQ-lFwaAq0QnCGlkqJgYnwfcfbcW27KAoG5HWzAK_k8XsCltsXg/s1600/IMG_9936.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Still ready -- sense a theme? ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEjpEb2IDu2wBbw5FuWb0oGreN41WBtStmBSqF9FWuXQfMcbsrSwHK8xgK7zIZ89qsFKLEOKayk5FY3y4Yg8QL6xExFiz7cqJwTvlbFLP5vB0xR-POlgsYsM_K5O8gzldAriYZa2QalrFgM/s1600/IMG_9938.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpEb2IDu2wBbw5FuWb0oGreN41WBtStmBSqF9FWuXQfMcbsrSwHK8xgK7zIZ89qsFKLEOKayk5FY3y4Yg8QL6xExFiz7cqJwTvlbFLP5vB0xR-POlgsYsM_K5O8gzldAriYZa2QalrFgM/s1600/IMG_9938.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Isla and Sunnie at Omi & Opa's. ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEgNtUA4w4EoWZ8kXxM1NG8LgAhCOgSZJ8QSEZQrFhzkkGXaBCXl3cGPRnQRxcIMx7f8T05Fh05Chy7Wk505LHyEu2n-8PnPTFPKRwpjTlIKmcJ9nFcEBG8iPhkzMG4sbAa8bQ0bBBfHvPg/s1600/IMG_9939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNtUA4w4EoWZ8kXxM1NG8LgAhCOgSZJ8QSEZQrFhzkkGXaBCXl3cGPRnQRxcIMx7f8T05Fh05Chy7Wk505LHyEu2n-8PnPTFPKRwpjTlIKmcJ9nFcEBG8iPhkzMG4sbAa8bQ0bBBfHvPg/s1600/IMG_9939.JPG" height="306" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Miss these turkeys every day. ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEgDqaeQNvewXM7oUjxYuL_D9wtwli1GAXpqIjjVyMEy7ZE8k9AQIF0YFjL3quPSJtQnrnYyuG6xUij02l8QW7hE5KHrLqV16Jw1SXUmOg62kSA8-WcnZt-5Pcs11oT_765REuga3o56AZQ/s1600/IMG_9816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDqaeQNvewXM7oUjxYuL_D9wtwli1GAXpqIjjVyMEy7ZE8k9AQIF0YFjL3quPSJtQnrnYyuG6xUij02l8QW7hE5KHrLqV16Jw1SXUmOg62kSA8-WcnZt-5Pcs11oT_765REuga3o56AZQ/s1600/IMG_9816.JPG" height="508" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFOxvCghNu5O7b0TSJzHO_2ET-DZBNzYeeMsIKFagFENkBIfkE1GRUS3NAKk8kT3dJYetZycgND7dScKxfMmk1gtacN9AQnkgUWGzctqn8WOtWfzBfbLLBAH5eoitgVxsvrohkuttVAs/s1600/IMG_9834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFOxvCghNu5O7b0TSJzHO_2ET-DZBNzYeeMsIKFagFENkBIfkE1GRUS3NAKk8kT3dJYetZycgND7dScKxfMmk1gtacN9AQnkgUWGzctqn8WOtWfzBfbLLBAH5eoitgVxsvrohkuttVAs/s1600/IMG_9834.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Sawyer loved looking at herself in the DSLR screen. ::</td></tr>
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<table 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/AVvXsEj2OA9eqE0EGowH1UwtSxXIDpKCfSdRsjoRsQ9PHsoIIKLuI3IyE31Rkl6ok9Z99eaZO4GUqe_oswcpQObE16PeMT5_LwkFe5huFh9iOcu8060G3nwzMMMPBAEzIYIB20BSr4ernaWcS4A/s1600/IMG_9944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2OA9eqE0EGowH1UwtSxXIDpKCfSdRsjoRsQ9PHsoIIKLuI3IyE31Rkl6ok9Z99eaZO4GUqe_oswcpQObE16PeMT5_LwkFe5huFh9iOcu8060G3nwzMMMPBAEzIYIB20BSr4ernaWcS4A/s1600/IMG_9944.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: cuties. ::</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
I didn't take as many pictures as I normally do in Nebraska (Maggie, I didn't catch you once!). But it was a short trip and I think I was just enjoying having a little more hands-free time since it was just Isla and I. Looking forward to the kids getting to visit this summer, they were feeling so left out as you can see:</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqARCwqacVmJ9r7Al4clSJjB41evZrTqsjmvFUVB3PTccllf4jpfpCxW7uHQrnDffPiFkZ9dggN0HdrTVonUjUqVe9RDTl5v038aye9AMMR09msRQp65Zr_AgSkVH7jUx0Bh0ewGVWBY/s1600/IMG_9925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDqARCwqacVmJ9r7Al4clSJjB41evZrTqsjmvFUVB3PTccllf4jpfpCxW7uHQrnDffPiFkZ9dggN0HdrTVonUjUqVe9RDTl5v038aye9AMMR09msRQp65Zr_AgSkVH7jUx0Bh0ewGVWBY/s1600/IMG_9925.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: "Let me see all the kids." ::<br />
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Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-13036900816112847742014-04-13T15:09:00.001-07:002014-04-13T15:23:28.844-07:00Spot On.<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/AVvXsEh2e5cegoslyzHwkpAdoIt8tOvLfZTbaheVKOMZvswS0bkJwv5u4sov5KPyLMK5NLf0E8cSYEw1YFwW9sH8Aw4zfQyGaXdTA0xWwJU77WvYtmqPtV9P8VheqgIThOzWAryYtCL_-GO7HYw/s1600/7dcde728a0c9fe39757816ebeeddd0e2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2e5cegoslyzHwkpAdoIt8tOvLfZTbaheVKOMZvswS0bkJwv5u4sov5KPyLMK5NLf0E8cSYEw1YFwW9sH8Aw4zfQyGaXdTA0xWwJU77WvYtmqPtV9P8VheqgIThOzWAryYtCL_-GO7HYw/s1600/7dcde728a0c9fe39757816ebeeddd0e2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">::image from Pinterest::</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A bible verse in church today really reaffirmed for me how timeless God's word is and how sinful people have always been:</span></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Their destiny</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4915821511672285628" name="1" style="line-height: 20px;"></a><span style="line-height: 20px;"> is destruction, their god is their stomach,</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4915821511672285628" name="2" style="line-height: 20px;"></a><span style="line-height: 20px;"> and their glory is in their shame.</span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4915821511672285628" name="3" style="line-height: 20px;"></a><span style="line-height: 20px;"> Their mind is on earthly things. </span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 20px;">Philippians 3:19.</span></i></div>
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<span style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Is that not a perfect description of modern culture?!? Of society's celebrities, idols, and so-called "successful" people? Amazes me every time. Every time those puzzle pieces fit right into what I'm struggling with at the moment.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 20px;">Another humbling lesson at church: looking across the aisle at a 90-something, recently widowed women sitting there intently listening to the sermon, with her bible open and taking notes. Such a lesson for me. She appeared as a true 'child of God' if I've ever seen one. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">We will never</span><i style="line-height: 20px;"> </i><span style="line-height: 20px;">know it all. The Lord is </span><i style="line-height: 20px;"><b>always</b></i><span style="line-height: 20px;"> willing to teach us, if we will only take the time to listen and look for Him. If we can take our mind off our own earthly things, He can show us what truly matters and brings lasting joy, purpose, and contentment. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #444444; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 20px;">I want to be His student for always.</span></div>
Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-87011186259945271082014-04-10T14:04:00.001-07:002014-04-10T14:04:10.138-07:00Musings.Not exactly sure why, all of a sudden, I feel the urge to write something on here more often. Getting thoughts down I guess. And, if you could see my house, you'd see the computer is a much safer place than paper at this moment....<br />
<br />
Musing about:<br />
<br />
:: House decor and craving blank space.<br />
<br />
:: Allergies. Troubleshooting what is causing Isla some serious rashes on her face. Dairy is a possibility, among others. Can my nursing baby seriously wear the evidence of my<i> </i>ice cream cake binge for <b>days</b>?!? Motherhood.<br />
<br />
:: Camo skinnies. I needed them <i>yesterday</i>.<br />
<br />
:: Book Clubs. There are so many online. Considering <a href="http://www.notimeforflashcards.com/book-reviews/parenting-book-club" target="_blank"><span style="color: magenta;">this</span></a>, <a href="http://www.abowlfulloflemons.net/category/book-club" target="_blank">this</a>, and of course Oprah has <a href="http://www.oprah.com/app/books.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: #6aa84f;">one</span></a>. And pondering how fun it would be to host one out here. Hmm....<br />
<br />
:: Gardens. The thought of hauling water this year completely wears me out. Planning to plan the smallest garden in the world that still puts out some produce. Any tips out there?<br />
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:: Marriage. It's hard. Period.<br />
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:: Exercise. Looking forward to incorporating the kids into some workouts. Because it's fun .... and, at this stage in the game, it's simply reality.<br />
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:: Getting things done. I think my self-granted maternity leave is drawing to an end here.<br />
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<i>Thanks for listening! xoxo</i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">P.S. Wouldn't this look great above the kids on the deck?!?</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSjUOxWPAd4DOLrz8AdkJ_veleYYIczOp8lqUpbJQjAmSObS2tkqVAAyvFbdYfhYa02LIiHkld3W6-OJsH6pDLL5P7E0pg1yG2xZsMuT2CcwN1A4QPybmJPzctI68p2HtIE6FnhF6cGs/s1600/15ddf78633247f2df90e19147c977cbe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoSjUOxWPAd4DOLrz8AdkJ_veleYYIczOp8lqUpbJQjAmSObS2tkqVAAyvFbdYfhYa02LIiHkld3W6-OJsH6pDLL5P7E0pg1yG2xZsMuT2CcwN1A4QPybmJPzctI68p2HtIE6FnhF6cGs/s1600/15ddf78633247f2df90e19147c977cbe.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/83183185/blue-whale-38-chainsaw-wood-carving?ref=sr_gallery_30&ga_search_query=outdoor+art+whale&ga_order=most_relevant&ga_ship_to=US&ga_min=0&ga_max=100&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery" target="_blank">source</a> ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkY4LvISI_UkT_3CcToSvEOKjGOk-4AWhD70TzO2ISOuSoJDVrA8fS188o3MeMhr-3qqWzi7YABGwjjLIRXoZZ3OWmpjG3654EXl3rsqPkEK_ajGcgsEWyxC8TwCZVjLs1cfwTsjcHnng/s1600/IMG_9900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkY4LvISI_UkT_3CcToSvEOKjGOk-4AWhD70TzO2ISOuSoJDVrA8fS188o3MeMhr-3qqWzi7YABGwjjLIRXoZZ3OWmpjG3654EXl3rsqPkEK_ajGcgsEWyxC8TwCZVjLs1cfwTsjcHnng/s1600/IMG_9900.JPG" height="294" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Hamming it up with Ollie when he came out to visit his "country mice" cousins. ::</td></tr>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-51398285015739539892014-04-09T14:45:00.001-07:002014-04-09T14:45:26.651-07:00The Fun Police.Okay, so I just finished off the strawberry rhubarb pie from last night and came down to check e-mail and Facebook during nap time. <br />
<br />
Read <a href="http://www.everydayhealth.com/columns/my-health-story/year-of-no-sugar-one-family-grand-adventure/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">this</span></a> timely article.<br />
<br />
Man, another one of modern culture's "bad guys" -- Sugar.<br />
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Another one of those polar topics where people are either, "Aww, come on." Or, "No, really, that stuff is evil."<br />
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Trying to figure out where I fall in this debate. But two things I do know: <br />
1.) I am tired. All. The. Time. <br />
and<br />
2.) My kids eat way too much sugar, evil or not.<br />
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Appears as if a test run is in order, for myself first of course. <br />
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Dang it. First TV, now sugar?!? I really feel like the fun police are making regular rounds in my conscience...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELRyKcJtyWTcnUX2dlW2JurHqRjl9FqKq-BxUNqudmqlMAhM7KmrtE8_oMUKdFpzQM5ugB8qV-ORaj7nv4jy-GClN3vGhQMTfbCLYQTokZWZwk4-3HrXt_cgM-d6Fw9JCSrgx3uo_aZs/s1600/10b1a2e90f97fe7bc3df5af5946d7697.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiELRyKcJtyWTcnUX2dlW2JurHqRjl9FqKq-BxUNqudmqlMAhM7KmrtE8_oMUKdFpzQM5ugB8qV-ORaj7nv4jy-GClN3vGhQMTfbCLYQTokZWZwk4-3HrXt_cgM-d6Fw9JCSrgx3uo_aZs/s1600/10b1a2e90f97fe7bc3df5af5946d7697.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-71870415372812432952014-04-07T16:26:00.000-07:002014-04-07T16:44:12.148-07:00These precious days.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2cULS7A5KAhNZZxlSDY9rBJh0Z_BvKiurKQBfHns8I8eSMEYCdaYds8jlPBWV1Ghy2S8T8AgKXVFdmI2ZdRkwFRjlmlmk4g3LAAXEaIgUjIFL6gx_enbslh2TezudQRXZwK5uTdTgxw/s1600/IMG_20140407_151229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2cULS7A5KAhNZZxlSDY9rBJh0Z_BvKiurKQBfHns8I8eSMEYCdaYds8jlPBWV1Ghy2S8T8AgKXVFdmI2ZdRkwFRjlmlmk4g3LAAXEaIgUjIFL6gx_enbslh2TezudQRXZwK5uTdTgxw/s1600/IMG_20140407_151229.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0v_fxUBQO7JCKoSglffwz5NPzL60Q4SjCYIUTq5HT54tpEizZc00-jIMuR37_nXTq9aJMkAKOxe5ke1QAT1pYVWRW9HSf29doP7hVhIML6PEG0Y7aJmhGOj-d2u0EN-TL_-us0GV_3hY/s1600/IMG_20140407_143836.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0v_fxUBQO7JCKoSglffwz5NPzL60Q4SjCYIUTq5HT54tpEizZc00-jIMuR37_nXTq9aJMkAKOxe5ke1QAT1pYVWRW9HSf29doP7hVhIML6PEG0Y7aJmhGOj-d2u0EN-TL_-us0GV_3hY/s1600/IMG_20140407_143836.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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A couple random pictures and a random thought put on digital paper. </div>
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Read this today: <a href="http://www.jodimockabee.com/2013/11/tech-free-and-natural-toys.html" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Totally resonates with me. Really inspires me. Could we ditch our television entirely? I know that might sound crazy to some of you for exactly opposite reasons. Ditch the TV? Easy! Ditch the TV? Crazy!</div>
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I mentioned getting rid of the computer a while back and was met with a resounding, "N-O."</div>
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But really, what would we be missing without the TV? It has become such a nightly crutch for my relaxation that I'm starting to wonder, what am I missing WITH the TV. What would I be filling my time with if it weren't there? Could I finally learn the guitar or uke? Would I be knitting? Would I be getting things done that instead sit undone, on a list, just the thought of them sucking my energy every day? Would I take the time to become closer to Him?</div>
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I'm tempted, I really am. Maybe the trick would be a trial run during the summer, while said opposer is away ;) Although it would have to come completely off the wall. Otherwise I'd be giving in within hours I'm sure...</div>
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Anyway, something to think about it. Simply because:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYAbdmDoAEzAcsExCekqo2BvTrhYZOAI1lOSpLEW8KIUBJOvzjetYWjXgXfvKCm6HnUniBBroPaMCPMF_Tk3U4XYBNtN4hk9zTSL32KVD67uX590nFFDlNba3Sef_wn8HIY4QMJs0B1VU/s1600/2136d394a1674e2591433217d6af8fd4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYAbdmDoAEzAcsExCekqo2BvTrhYZOAI1lOSpLEW8KIUBJOvzjetYWjXgXfvKCm6HnUniBBroPaMCPMF_Tk3U4XYBNtN4hk9zTSL32KVD67uX590nFFDlNba3Sef_wn8HIY4QMJs0B1VU/s1600/2136d394a1674e2591433217d6af8fd4.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-65471630554357319412014-03-09T22:13:00.001-07:002014-03-09T22:16:12.504-07:00I'm still here.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlfrFdPcK3ZaQyI8osU7Fog4zg7SXzCpSQEtspIuUYZjY_-RdqXxfjxnXHpYjk2Mt0VaATY5KbGglqAWUiWLnObUbN3S6UaJer4jfXInv1OtEgR080KUsqgRugqNrljePa4-2iaxJIDc/s1600/IMG_9650.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYlfrFdPcK3ZaQyI8osU7Fog4zg7SXzCpSQEtspIuUYZjY_-RdqXxfjxnXHpYjk2Mt0VaATY5KbGglqAWUiWLnObUbN3S6UaJer4jfXInv1OtEgR080KUsqgRugqNrljePa4-2iaxJIDc/s1600/IMG_9650.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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My goodness, I missed the whole month of February!???! Amazing.<br />
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I've been dreaming about a catch-up post for a while now, but life has just been busy and sleep has been fleeting. So.... what has been happening:<br />
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1.) Isla went for her very first flight in the Cub! I thought she had went on one before, but Bry says this was definitely her first. We 'chased the sunset' as Ever and I call it when we go flying right at dusk. So beautiful. So lucky.</div>
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2.) We've played at home. A lot :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-BAuaiqTHJVrF9euR2_scbVUhHWudcAHT8Br-sRQN7uIsnUT9qhyphenhyphennWzU5upXnN1I1ujOqpFkm04GBvKnxGHCnJfqWuLzokIvJCM6qEQ4-T-IJZYf_NcUd6U8GuT4m9jdPLi6hMv-fRQ/s1600/IMG_9306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB-BAuaiqTHJVrF9euR2_scbVUhHWudcAHT8Br-sRQN7uIsnUT9qhyphenhyphennWzU5upXnN1I1ujOqpFkm04GBvKnxGHCnJfqWuLzokIvJCM6qEQ4-T-IJZYf_NcUd6U8GuT4m9jdPLi6hMv-fRQ/s1600/IMG_9306.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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3.) We've been learning about letters and sounds and reading.</div>
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4.) Obviously, it's not quite spring up here yet ...</div>
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5.) In January, we got to watch a dogsled race from our driveway. So cool. And cold. The kids wimped out after about 10 teams.</div>
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6.) This year our house has been Moose Central. Lots of moose-watching out the windows and off of the deck.</div>
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7.) We took a quick flight to Chelle Lake, another first for the Isla bird.</div>
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8.) We took an impromptu trip to a yak farm in Kenny Lake with Grama, Aunt Jo, Rowan, & Asher. So cool! And we got to bottle feed this little out-of-season baby. Tell was worried it wanted to eat him :)</div>
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9.) We had a party with friends and assembled birth kits and care kits that will be sent to mothers in Haiti. Such a special time.</div>
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Let's see ... other happenings around here? Tell has been asking for "fried on the egg" in the mornings. We usually get lots of laughs from that kid daily. Isla has learned a new "shriek" and has not learned yet how to sleep for very long. Ever has become an incredible helper. I hope this attitude, although unpredictable, sticks around. She loves to help with anything I will let her. We did get rid of our ducks and, although we miss them, it's incredible how much cleaner the coop is. The hens are laying regular and, after two years or so of arguing, Bry says I can keep the chickens. Ha. Sigh.<br />
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Well that's our latest. Here's to March ... xoxo<br />
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Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-79288652851557180932014-01-22T14:58:00.003-08:002014-01-22T14:58:29.797-08:00A Starling Murmuration.<div style="text-align: right;">
A friend of mine posted this on Facebook, and I wanted to share this for my non-Facebook friends. This video of a massive starling flock or 'murmuration' in Ireland is simply fascinating. Can you imagine witnessing this in person?!? It will blow you away ....</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" height="375" mozallowfullscreen="" src="//player.vimeo.com/video/31158841" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="500"></iframe>Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-54410319662455309832014-01-16T22:48:00.002-08:002014-01-16T22:48:33.846-08:005.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
About my girl.</div>
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Well, she is 5 now.</div>
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She loves animals.</div>
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She loves dressing her stuffed animals in dresses.</div>
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This perplexes her Papa when he finds a fox in a vintage polka dot dress.</div>
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She loves cake. Birthday cake to be exact. She already has her and Tell's cakes picked out for the upcoming year.</div>
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She is an awesome big sister. Loves her sibs to "the moon and back six times!".... "To when the dinosaurs lived and back! That's a lot!"</div>
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She is so beautiful. Inside and out.</div>
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Sometimes I worry about her and then in the next minute she'll say something that reminds me of the grace in her heart that she is blessed with.</div>
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She *still* loves to eat snow :)</div>
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She adores her Papa.</div>
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She wants to be just like him.</div>
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She will do anything to go to Grama's.</div>
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I love when she talks about me being a little girl in Nebraska.</div>
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She plays with my own doll from when I was small.</div>
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She already has her and Isla's future shared bedroom all planned out.</div>
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She also has Tell's "cool boy" room all planned out too.</div>
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(Can you tell she's the oldest child?!?)</div>
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She draws incredible pictures.</div>
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She calls <i>me </i>Mama and I am so thankful for her ....</div>
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We celebrated her 5th year with some sledding, a pinata, and, of course, cake :)</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: A few days after Ever's party, Asher celebrated his 2nd birthday with a hangar party::</td></tr>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-56585640542090615962014-01-10T23:34:00.001-08:002014-01-10T23:34:39.427-08:00Gems.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A couple photos that I hoped would turn into a Valentine/Holiday card. However, this new little bundle of love has a smile that will melt your heart and I <i>am </i>going to capture it, print it, and mail it to you :)</div>
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Bry says Isla has been given more kisses in her three months than he has received his entire life... I hope these kiddos always have this much love for one another. Speaking of siblings:</div>
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Ever imparted some wisdom at supper that she had gained from <i>The Magic School Bus</i>, let me see if I can get it right:</div>
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Take Chances.</div>
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Get Messy.</div>
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Make Mistakes.</div>
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Good advice there Ms. Frizzle.</div>
<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4915821511672285628.post-41486757874284451242013-12-31T08:23:00.001-08:002013-12-31T09:05:32.000-08:00Christmas 2013.<div style="text-align: center;">
Wow, are we blessed. </div>
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We had such a wonderful, mellow, cold, white Christmas this year. Just the right amount of family, friends, and cozy time together at home. A really good blend of Jesus and Santa ;) Far too many presents for one family. We simply got spoiled rotten with some of the most thoughtful, wonderful gifts. We even got to see lots of family on Skype, which is always just incredible that it is even possible and made my day even more special.</div>
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And on top of that we got visits from three different sets of friends that we don't see very often. And honestly, living out here in the sticks, a visitor is one of the best gifts of all. </div>
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Other little snippet highlights:</div>
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:: Ever opening presents. Beyond rewarding this year. Drama in a new direction than usual :)</div>
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:: Tell and all the grandkids in their cowboy hats and handkerchiefs</div>
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:: Ever pointing out "Jesus' star!!" to everyone when she spotted the brightest one out the window</div>
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:: Church. Whiny, restless kids and all :) The church full of candles and everyone singing Silent Night always feels sacred.</div>
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:: "Mama you better get to bed because Santa will be here soon and he won't stop if you aren't asleep!!!"</div>
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:: Seeing Ever, literally, dart across the kitchen to get to her stocking at 5:30 a.m.<br />
:: Christmas Day Yahtzee with Grama & Grampa. Bry had never even heard of Yahtzee before and somehow has rolled a yahtzee everytime we've plaid. Seriously?</div>
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:: Family. Near, far, here, and gone... </div>
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It's easy to get wrapped up in the "what's" of Christmas. <i>What</i> we're giving, <i>what</i> we're getting, <i>what</i> we're eating, <i>what</i> we're decorating with. Our society is all about the what's and it never stops. Somebody always has something better or prettier or bigger. And they always will. </div>
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But I do know this, if it all disappeared, if all we got for Christmas was a day with these incredible little people we get to call our children? Next to salvation, we would have the greatest gift on Earth. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivE5Ahw__yV9y35G-6hzVmjlqcN5tqtk7hj-sJ4C4d_jNQhMtViZvQp0qtYqsK4lusGXiF5sofBu1HzdZxjyDcKFcVW8z-uS48AHs_Xd9Nz7mv3lceS5MyxljrLL8eWP-599WsyArJAyE/s1600/IMG_8627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivE5Ahw__yV9y35G-6hzVmjlqcN5tqtk7hj-sJ4C4d_jNQhMtViZvQp0qtYqsK4lusGXiF5sofBu1HzdZxjyDcKFcVW8z-uS48AHs_Xd9Nz7mv3lceS5MyxljrLL8eWP-599WsyArJAyE/s640/IMG_8627.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Cozy little bundle back from some ~cold~ fresh air ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ah_vpg29av8EnsAXeJowAVQzkhahA8-c5L-D3sbHbQ7F2lWwlIzd4LqCCYcR5XJPDmjvRR2A1sTjhYxmiY7Zzaw3m5muHrMT2C05QvHs7X5zEoTKSXuOWgTdeWcOwKMuDq-Ir9Lt098/s1600/IMG_8609.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ah_vpg29av8EnsAXeJowAVQzkhahA8-c5L-D3sbHbQ7F2lWwlIzd4LqCCYcR5XJPDmjvRR2A1sTjhYxmiY7Zzaw3m5muHrMT2C05QvHs7X5zEoTKSXuOWgTdeWcOwKMuDq-Ir9Lt098/s640/IMG_8609.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Grama keeping a close eye on Isla. Isla keeping a close eye on Hayden & Rowan's monster trucks::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQhdmfF1HfCAi-hV1-tDzy8Zxh1DqvQ1f-DQhyphenhyphenhxlA0NonYcvJ_OGO3lLTersNVArcGwL66wF2jJn2LdC-tacJIt92txuUWeBDN6FeuYM_zRZZnZrw1X1AILKxeANm7Hipm9iNdDhz_k/s1600/IMG_0256.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQhdmfF1HfCAi-hV1-tDzy8Zxh1DqvQ1f-DQhyphenhyphenhxlA0NonYcvJ_OGO3lLTersNVArcGwL66wF2jJn2LdC-tacJIt92txuUWeBDN6FeuYM_zRZZnZrw1X1AILKxeANm7Hipm9iNdDhz_k/s640/IMG_0256.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Merry Christmas Bmen -- he had fun checking his traps with Chuck & Randy on Christmas Eve ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3Vo6MJ-FyWb3ocT9rKgb8JTr1keqaBWNLp7QdcTI2WvzWwYmcKrJ1XaGVxH1NYWY2k9TWvcrA_HVUjgsN3_NiorYa9pgSXxlNVQfUIuT8XtiTq68g1Rsir4izek3KJjnl4G7aOQFQIU/s1600/IMG_8641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO3Vo6MJ-FyWb3ocT9rKgb8JTr1keqaBWNLp7QdcTI2WvzWwYmcKrJ1XaGVxH1NYWY2k9TWvcrA_HVUjgsN3_NiorYa9pgSXxlNVQfUIuT8XtiTq68g1Rsir4izek3KJjnl4G7aOQFQIU/s640/IMG_8641.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: My snow girl. She loves it. ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2CJo0quKakYHih9urzrVGZDWojJS6Fv0b25hPcVJtyPl8Jkkn3MESopD8eXFJkeJHahZ_kr1OXDhm8fgBUw3XGZCwduQmEKmXkVncdVduy8zkVB_T8dc_gYd023sJS3ubLO77flFclo/s1600/IMG_8672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI2CJo0quKakYHih9urzrVGZDWojJS6Fv0b25hPcVJtyPl8Jkkn3MESopD8eXFJkeJHahZ_kr1OXDhm8fgBUw3XGZCwduQmEKmXkVncdVduy8zkVB_T8dc_gYd023sJS3ubLO77flFclo/s640/IMG_8672.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Piper & Isla all dolled up for Jesus' birthday party ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXsLA4Q6TsJjmXpZ8JyMRss9q-Z_PzteNYmfaIIFjA9khWXon4SiluuAm7LKnrT8zoGyuoQnaodyq-f5bVpCKRlSzGz63regSYaSsC1166VjBPSU4g6TIfgiP7Xk0GLVcOczgZEP8I6Y/s1600/IMG_8676.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfXsLA4Q6TsJjmXpZ8JyMRss9q-Z_PzteNYmfaIIFjA9khWXon4SiluuAm7LKnrT8zoGyuoQnaodyq-f5bVpCKRlSzGz63regSYaSsC1166VjBPSU4g6TIfgiP7Xk0GLVcOczgZEP8I6Y/s640/IMG_8676.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Ever couldn't wait to open her gold present under Grama & Grampa's tree - a nutcracker snowglobe ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSQwoL264NnGzEakyN5agr8BRmL5n2yPKE8KqL778U6N4elPdu4VEumG0FPbh23flCNqe7NrWvpn2SedyGm1b7rQj762ZPyMimu8XRv0Aay5GHdFQFe6z-Zc4eJZbZgVM50uqDgj8TY8/s1600/IMG_8688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggSQwoL264NnGzEakyN5agr8BRmL5n2yPKE8KqL778U6N4elPdu4VEumG0FPbh23flCNqe7NrWvpn2SedyGm1b7rQj762ZPyMimu8XRv0Aay5GHdFQFe6z-Zc4eJZbZgVM50uqDgj8TY8/s640/IMG_8688.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Isla with her outlaw Papa & his new-to-him .22 ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEird9aZWPJO0lg5LR1SZLJIeiCWvZEulSRBdHXarhqo6IyWu1jigYqHMNeFnltM3ufodAZlOTZudpb5cFx7ks-tY0odmAXB4ZmMF759rSGEaGRF5_9U-QWairqE6i6A3j0XJkodXSvtD2Y/s1600/IMG_8703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEird9aZWPJO0lg5LR1SZLJIeiCWvZEulSRBdHXarhqo6IyWu1jigYqHMNeFnltM3ufodAZlOTZudpb5cFx7ks-tY0odmAXB4ZmMF759rSGEaGRF5_9U-QWairqE6i6A3j0XJkodXSvtD2Y/s640/IMG_8703.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: It was a cowboy Christmas in Gakona this year -- guns, horses, and cowboy hats. ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtjdHyh1VB2aq9_qgPZEoWLCiXuEIlFVT_DYXFd9F7R-b_Rh8YFv7O_2Ab4JDS0p3Te6YGvfk2ZSZXFj8Wuw9PGAlMkABQFipfWv5ZUM_oSyfSNfpFAkdnDro5dG4KONXKDP7OL0NOi0/s1600/IMG_8731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwtjdHyh1VB2aq9_qgPZEoWLCiXuEIlFVT_DYXFd9F7R-b_Rh8YFv7O_2Ab4JDS0p3Te6YGvfk2ZSZXFj8Wuw9PGAlMkABQFipfWv5ZUM_oSyfSNfpFAkdnDro5dG4KONXKDP7OL0NOi0/s640/IMG_8731.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Big brother looking a little mischievous. ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUt-V5bS7Oys6Op8I-87oTCBk2WeztonhtE77_sL7n2HtJHisZQoJnVEj9cAir0RTeLGajwQ3VCz0ygE0MaZOAb3rrtDBFlzKJ8SNdX__dOaPWQNxdAFQ4GBSqcDroIPmsglV341YrltU/s1600/IMG_8740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUt-V5bS7Oys6Op8I-87oTCBk2WeztonhtE77_sL7n2HtJHisZQoJnVEj9cAir0RTeLGajwQ3VCz0ygE0MaZOAb3rrtDBFlzKJ8SNdX__dOaPWQNxdAFQ4GBSqcDroIPmsglV341YrltU/s320/IMG_8740.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: dollface ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnRndbmIHjqZio6hWrK3wohJzIES6pzQdffMepwGYH07MkQePa-KUSJK83H_XSfrTmXxX3pyiV3g5S8arjwwKnP6NAvFMZCroV-KmXZ79NZMOXHNcghpKU8KLmLDFc9viAmndD7ixPc0/s1600/IMG_8758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnRndbmIHjqZio6hWrK3wohJzIES6pzQdffMepwGYH07MkQePa-KUSJK83H_XSfrTmXxX3pyiV3g5S8arjwwKnP6NAvFMZCroV-KmXZ79NZMOXHNcghpKU8KLmLDFc9viAmndD7ixPc0/s640/IMG_8758.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Tell's new favorite toy. Everything is getting "chainsaw-ed" .... watch out. ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Sw7vsf8h3kPAweAwmpQSP8EVJa9ncLHPlV5Ysx7r0HpsBV6b8jE-hZ2ycwF7wkVsTsHxA7rXNkQ084I0_VCfI9q0V9p1HpQhwzh6yE6qap7WU0zr6a6TC1qP_H-F5qeGDtWVUureVw8/s1600/IMG_8768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Sw7vsf8h3kPAweAwmpQSP8EVJa9ncLHPlV5Ysx7r0HpsBV6b8jE-hZ2ycwF7wkVsTsHxA7rXNkQ084I0_VCfI9q0V9p1HpQhwzh6yE6qap7WU0zr6a6TC1qP_H-F5qeGDtWVUureVw8/s640/IMG_8768.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Happy boy with his new planes from his Rother Aunts & Uncles ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOOtRekGxRn08HzZUBukQHOV6B7olccxOYVIT3_cCzieCf4TSlpZP9KaE7fNCuK0c_cSRd6qiAuUQonTPKcmEnsneyJMZhl7cQtazpweR2UtpJ71PFJBiatp4DryFE92oXiM9kXHfoUQ/s1600/IMG_8774.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcOOtRekGxRn08HzZUBukQHOV6B7olccxOYVIT3_cCzieCf4TSlpZP9KaE7fNCuK0c_cSRd6qiAuUQonTPKcmEnsneyJMZhl7cQtazpweR2UtpJ71PFJBiatp4DryFE92oXiM9kXHfoUQ/s640/IMG_8774.jpg" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: "I think Uncle Josh is Santa because he knew <i>exactly</i> what I wanted!" ::</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyXwpAV-_G4R1ZNZNUJe_nKPF2jlPeQ-h2K0Rn6vdIIspiYU3rjAFIePd2sg5xrJUT43CzDmdUN-KE2a21gpXGMpW3BPpAUdng2ytFpkmTdyxhdNSnW_sugKkUR86RNCaBaC3e3tHs0c/s1600/photo+2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIyXwpAV-_G4R1ZNZNUJe_nKPF2jlPeQ-h2K0Rn6vdIIspiYU3rjAFIePd2sg5xrJUT43CzDmdUN-KE2a21gpXGMpW3BPpAUdng2ytFpkmTdyxhdNSnW_sugKkUR86RNCaBaC3e3tHs0c/s400/photo+2-1.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">:: Grampa snapped this pic of me and Isla bird on Christmas ... I am one lucky girl. ::</td></tr>
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<br />Jackhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00534577304285795819noreply@blogger.com0