tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78844805061005232392024-03-14T06:44:23.937-07:00Cheerios...angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.comBlogger369125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-19528690485568360132012-09-07T15:01:00.000-07:002019-09-07T15:01:30.249-07:00Meet Jelly: Our Dead Pet Jellyfish<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXgvJTd5PY8lfw95qg4YgMqT2AKxbhlZV9-8kL2kGOGCwPfrRC-4CSDWQRaFLat9Si6-JCjCRNqdROLtcyuyQ2mWfPGWeSqMk89faAZHhO0FHcAJ63wSC7iSDOLFy1vHqzt-QT8C5h8g/s1600/2012+Random+547.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOXgvJTd5PY8lfw95qg4YgMqT2AKxbhlZV9-8kL2kGOGCwPfrRC-4CSDWQRaFLat9Si6-JCjCRNqdROLtcyuyQ2mWfPGWeSqMk89faAZHhO0FHcAJ63wSC7iSDOLFy1vHqzt-QT8C5h8g/s640/2012+Random+547.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
This is the story of a pet jellyfish; a quite, obedient, very dead pet. <br />
<br />
Chase found jelly washed up on the shore at the Ritz. angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-215804547813764712010-12-13T09:53:00.000-08:002010-12-13T09:53:44.886-08:00iFly Birthday Adventuring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeT0kwK_UX-DbMCZbWDN_17lBnPYKIyRNyyOB15fgZ7oaqV5T8hioswMmmhwjE9YPgp3JF11NAJtlMKtO8Ori190Qp_FLkLRQXEdtsJd4eGea7P7M32SS-oKVGSaPfxTXC50sTzbCv4Sk/s1600/james+9th+birthday+092.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeT0kwK_UX-DbMCZbWDN_17lBnPYKIyRNyyOB15fgZ7oaqV5T8hioswMmmhwjE9YPgp3JF11NAJtlMKtO8Ori190Qp_FLkLRQXEdtsJd4eGea7P7M32SS-oKVGSaPfxTXC50sTzbCv4Sk/s1600/james+9th+birthday+092.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHFBJLaNJg5BqaeNdKHfHx6Z7NfVxzvHsL_9JOzy7uahbXbzpEymNGfqsHX-G93HvL9a9IupSe-9dEgYa4ZQ05-Wtp-MUfWR76-iYeCwlr5zzpHYFc1pwcqyKNze3317r8-aELHWIZFY/s1600/james+9th+birthday+079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHFBJLaNJg5BqaeNdKHfHx6Z7NfVxzvHsL_9JOzy7uahbXbzpEymNGfqsHX-G93HvL9a9IupSe-9dEgYa4ZQ05-Wtp-MUfWR76-iYeCwlr5zzpHYFc1pwcqyKNze3317r8-aELHWIZFY/s640/james+9th+birthday+079.JPG" width="424" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">James is that boy who loves roller coasters, and fast drops, and adventure. And in true form, he loved indoor skydiving. He took some friends and a brother for good measure and he leaped into the chamber never to look back! He was light enough the instructor could spin him and toss him and even use him as a propeller on top of his helmet. James huge smile had it all...there is already talk of doing the same thing again for next year. Happy 9th Birthday, Kiddo!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-61880408573602365352010-10-20T19:00:00.000-07:002010-10-20T19:00:04.572-07:00Red Cheeks<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VKUPox-8GxoJECJkAUSCfA2JKdkvLMIc1T34ZMldI1XouSuyDmevL18tGCmSgL1OS7VNXRIyhRF1lhnqriOEwnQoHO1988HfVXirwyq-2QKSPyr6y-F7dKPyOXDSomEtKDVgI6rZ9-g/s1600/2010+summer+536+A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4VKUPox-8GxoJECJkAUSCfA2JKdkvLMIc1T34ZMldI1XouSuyDmevL18tGCmSgL1OS7VNXRIyhRF1lhnqriOEwnQoHO1988HfVXirwyq-2QKSPyr6y-F7dKPyOXDSomEtKDVgI6rZ9-g/s640/2010+summer+536+A.jpg" width="516" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Do you see those wonderful red cheeks? Those are the kind of cheeks you earn on your first day of soccer - in the uniform you have worn for a week straight in anticipation of the event; the kind of cheeks that scream ninety degree weather and even a goal. Some people don't get the red when they work out. But, as for me and my house, we shall have red cheeks!</div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-54222778403658375702010-07-01T18:20:00.000-07:002010-07-01T18:20:13.663-07:00Muchness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROowNUP_4sjmUXFfRFRhXC_aekamEMM89Sd2twWMTC5-E-4SGUPtdXwDdxS_CVEE4FTAPNkJiDpPTMNBSB9EN3_BOAg9ig8sqsaxcE56PgnLlxV46Bu0g0l4kH3H5v6oJc_yOGNIGKPI/s1600/Twilight+-+Ice.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjROowNUP_4sjmUXFfRFRhXC_aekamEMM89Sd2twWMTC5-E-4SGUPtdXwDdxS_CVEE4FTAPNkJiDpPTMNBSB9EN3_BOAg9ig8sqsaxcE56PgnLlxV46Bu0g0l4kH3H5v6oJc_yOGNIGKPI/s640/Twilight+-+Ice.png" width="640" /></a></div>We dressed as fire and ice -- ice is Edward. And if you don't know who Edward is, well then, you are missing out on all kinds of silliness. Silliness that starts just before midnight and ends after a lot of whooting a couple of hours later. I know this seems crazy, but I want to be the kind of grandma with stories of late night vampire movies...and glacial blue lips and legs. angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-26061001336361206072010-05-16T20:36:00.000-07:002010-05-16T20:36:51.081-07:00Surgecenter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOpiECvTWTOr5wVzx26-JxzT2eQ1fWSBSEhNSIp1tbIGBwEYd5kOwlZL7HQJMra2wIECbsgnBUMQJng-568ElPfNnxhG1zq7-8NJhWw9MB2SLADmY9oJ_uY_1wtFsEHXRWbgG6NkQRKA/s1600/chase+surgery.htm" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidOpiECvTWTOr5wVzx26-JxzT2eQ1fWSBSEhNSIp1tbIGBwEYd5kOwlZL7HQJMra2wIECbsgnBUMQJng-568ElPfNnxhG1zq7-8NJhWw9MB2SLADmY9oJ_uY_1wtFsEHXRWbgG6NkQRKA/s640/chase+surgery.htm" width="480" /></a></div><br />
My sweet boy had his tonsils and adenoids out this week. He came out of surgery as white as a ghost, but when he was coming to he had the biggest smile on his face. He looked like he had just awoken from a two week nap and his cheeks were apple-ly and smile so wide. But then he had trouble waking all the way up. He kept tossing. He would sit up and I would tell him to lie down and he would do it, only to toss and turn and sit up again. He doesn't remember that I softly sang him awake. But he says he does remember having the nurse follow us to the car. I held him tight against me in the biggest hug, because I was so happy that everything went smoothly. <br />
<br />
He has happily eaten popsicles, sorbet, and even lactose free Breyers ice cream. And we discovered Macaroni and Cheese (with the whole cheese part, there is no point in buying it). But for some reason, I just cooked the pasta part and poured in some of his milk and he gobbled it down. It must be the boiling it for 12-14 minutes that just makes it so soft you don't even need to chew. <br />
<br />
I'm happy to have him home and safe.angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-38661498692795906122010-05-04T00:01:00.000-07:002010-05-04T00:01:57.571-07:00If I were a flower...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcIPv4DMbyifZL6xvqN0sY6m5JxUOR-NHIvJAN-rdHiZsrYVs7_96RMNPV0d8oUzgPaEmCM6YMq7Q_Agm92uI22ulf2l2c0-ztkBMSKlAPjoPYMxKyBPgzp7AGfjGQ4IdtZBmvkNx0kk/s1600/lily.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidcIPv4DMbyifZL6xvqN0sY6m5JxUOR-NHIvJAN-rdHiZsrYVs7_96RMNPV0d8oUzgPaEmCM6YMq7Q_Agm92uI22ulf2l2c0-ztkBMSKlAPjoPYMxKyBPgzp7AGfjGQ4IdtZBmvkNx0kk/s400/lily.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><br />
I have oft tried to choose a favorite flower and somehow I always fail. There are too many: the tree peony, the gardenia, the ranunculus. But this week I went to the Flower Mart in San Francisco three times, and on one of my trips I decided.<br />
<br />
Lily of the Valley. It is my favorite. It is delicate and understated and the most delightful fragrance. <br />
<br />
Normally the tiniest bunch is thirty dollars because it is imported. But this week, I heard the magic word: LOCAL. I got my sweet Lily for ten dollars and have looked at it on my desk and smiled everyday.<br />
<br />
I have to say that if I were a flower, I would want to be a Lily of the Valley. I would want to be everything she is everyday.angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-56459470864022964452010-04-26T10:34:00.000-07:002010-04-26T10:34:03.532-07:00Our World Revolves Around Weston<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGjPiwXthOuoSWxHN_5C9l7DT9olEEezTp7g8QQTBbHp7aj_e95S1uDJtqq7pgOdEBYmGWWhWpyaD9S3Noj2hqeEBYQBenwavYgqjIVhLX7dvhv9FS38QCgZdYYzynbd8Wp-OSq5iq8Y/s1600/Weston.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGjPiwXthOuoSWxHN_5C9l7DT9olEEezTp7g8QQTBbHp7aj_e95S1uDJtqq7pgOdEBYmGWWhWpyaD9S3Noj2hqeEBYQBenwavYgqjIVhLX7dvhv9FS38QCgZdYYzynbd8Wp-OSq5iq8Y/s640/Weston.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Our world revolves around Weston in the best way. My boys are excited and can't sleep the night before he comes. Then they follow him and adore him the entire time. Chase, especially. They share a blankey blue bond that can never be broken!angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-66619626419728168472010-04-07T17:58:00.000-07:002010-04-07T17:58:08.183-07:00The April FoolIt was me. I was<i> the </i>fool. The one who willingly walked around with a sign on my back. <br />
<br />
But what could I do, my boys had joined forces to "sneak" up on me and secretly plant the sign. Of course, their secret felt a lot more like a hard high five straight to the back followed by hysterical sniggering (of course, raucous laughter would have given it away, but the light laughter was undetectable). <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxCnI6g9YQ4lb31kXMivN92cbaRtFfXxWWuXzWj5IhI3VHQVcyul9FPSET7DGG9nkXfmLDAWSeUps4c6i5X6LTieLXOuR5-Qy7KSyR5MqRMp5vZ4MpLi8DXoHGk9iwSZPZwcYoo3-P2o/s1600/easter+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCxCnI6g9YQ4lb31kXMivN92cbaRtFfXxWWuXzWj5IhI3VHQVcyul9FPSET7DGG9nkXfmLDAWSeUps4c6i5X6LTieLXOuR5-Qy7KSyR5MqRMp5vZ4MpLi8DXoHGk9iwSZPZwcYoo3-P2o/s400/easter+003.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>James was the mastermind and penned the original phrase. This was no regular "kick me" - this was something for the ages. Something that had the impact word "goat" and the double take that comes with goat phrases in general. Of course the post script is choice as well. <br />
<br />
With most things, I, the willing fool wore the sign:<br />
<br />
"I kiss goats!"<br />
<br />
P.S. (I also kiss pigs!)angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-55429109661979431082010-04-04T22:37:00.000-07:002010-04-04T22:38:54.279-07:00Easter Table<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXBPxJdtzuGwn2UVpkVu8NfiN_izOR09uMlkMMjHgjewNe8pP28pHLBcCQZ5EXLTacO_ZbeR4BtoathTVGaawTRSoF6768Jy_UNTDhx0Atoe2gNZRrGTNKJWO28b1P4MdmdVGhpfqNK8/s1600/easter+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXBPxJdtzuGwn2UVpkVu8NfiN_izOR09uMlkMMjHgjewNe8pP28pHLBcCQZ5EXLTacO_ZbeR4BtoathTVGaawTRSoF6768Jy_UNTDhx0Atoe2gNZRrGTNKJWO28b1P4MdmdVGhpfqNK8/s640/easter+037.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Chase carefully set the table with all manner of Easter surprises: lemons, grass grown in styrofoam, cut flowers, a wooden bunny puzzle, cars, and his prized baby Zhu Zhu pet. What you can't see is the arrangement he made that wasn't complete until he ran out in the the rain and picked a lamb's ear. I think it is perhaps the most perfect table I have seen.angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-36645786687138300622010-04-03T17:41:00.000-07:002010-04-03T17:41:33.067-07:00Boys on Russian Ridge<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gKJsMIzUXCaVnB-JaaBm-KA_Ggsn58GTX42J5Yh93zL9fgMSZ_7i_cEJhdy33U2eQJWvuoQPIwzp3zv16Clw17idYCIZQ8ouqwdAuwZUwKQD_TjuirVXVW8kcn51_wdHlpl6wDfLtyk/s1600/122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2gKJsMIzUXCaVnB-JaaBm-KA_Ggsn58GTX42J5Yh93zL9fgMSZ_7i_cEJhdy33U2eQJWvuoQPIwzp3zv16Clw17idYCIZQ8ouqwdAuwZUwKQD_TjuirVXVW8kcn51_wdHlpl6wDfLtyk/s640/122.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
I've never hiked Russian Ridge. You can see the Bay and the ocean. You can also see muddy boys. You can see boys previously crying from wind, laughing with the magic of a sucker. You can also see that Chase is too cool for his own good - look at that stance - the CamelBak. You can see moms hiking with strollers and newborns. You can see Angie gawking at these friends in amazement. You can see a lot when you take the time to look around. I like to see, a lot.angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-74288525039969361292010-03-23T14:42:00.000-07:002010-03-23T14:42:45.159-07:00One Look at Opening Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRtH7OfIQuXPw9NtuX3h8zvEPZbcOUadUAHRbslsNdHj5NWOAmItm0AtO1f_ZlAi_PlYMKqSmebeMVKNQyyIP5iEFIeLRsZnZwbKNfoGu1Bo21EwqwaGDJA54gNfxyys8oOlyjv7S9_o/s1600-h/baseball+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIRtH7OfIQuXPw9NtuX3h8zvEPZbcOUadUAHRbslsNdHj5NWOAmItm0AtO1f_ZlAi_PlYMKqSmebeMVKNQyyIP5iEFIeLRsZnZwbKNfoGu1Bo21EwqwaGDJA54gNfxyys8oOlyjv7S9_o/s640/baseball+027.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
There really are two sides to every fence. And this picture caught something. It was another Opening Day to another season of another sport. And I really am so proud of Chase who has cheered and supported his brother for three years. He has been on the watching, the hoping side of the fence. Hoping, perhaps, to someday have his own turn. This year he got dressed in his Giants baseball hat, Giants jersey, Giants shorts, and fastest shoes he had...just to cheer. It was so darling.<br />
<br />
But, I think that, perhaps, there is something melancholy about this side of the fence. The side where you watch and don't do. But, as I looked at this picture, I realized that we spend much of our lives cheering those on around us...perhaps even most of our lives. And this is an important side. It is perhaps less flashy and definitely given less attention. But perhaps without it the other side wouldn't exist. angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-54295196172535844522010-03-14T20:27:00.000-07:002010-03-14T20:27:01.496-07:00One Down, Many to Go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gHiXgC1As_MRAO5fBnLtxCeSKVvtv81X4pBXbsrw_U7CNRN4znGMHW4DfGQm7WMAlePA8b8iv9Aw90KiyfBteKmrE8mUSV5xrgBTJrxg6B-aWZw2KNBphFcVnldMK3MI1eUcZQN33qI/s1600-h/119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4gHiXgC1As_MRAO5fBnLtxCeSKVvtv81X4pBXbsrw_U7CNRN4znGMHW4DfGQm7WMAlePA8b8iv9Aw90KiyfBteKmrE8mUSV5xrgBTJrxg6B-aWZw2KNBphFcVnldMK3MI1eUcZQN33qI/s640/119.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
Chase lost his first tooth!<br />
<br />
It was quite the surprise, to everyone.<br />
<br />
I didn't get the story until today, after the tooth fairy had come.<br />
<br />
Yesterday's story was: it was loose and he hadn't told me.<br />
<br />
Today's story was whispered and sounds more like the truth: he bumped his tooth on a cereal bowl and knocked it out.<br />
<br />
The good news is that the tooth fairy comes if you put the tooth under your pillow, no matter how it came out!<br />
<br />
He got a two dollar bill, a one dollar bill, a gold coin worth a dollar, and a quarter.<br />
<br />
And according to Chase, he now has more money than anyone in the world.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpt9OF_vi0S1MT0zUCGM-nsQty2gHULtKS2jdpPtnlYAmfkv3mc7F7Dq8Nk7LABuKppXz14DoRQW3uc7GetrT2C7FVGyeJ4wKpaiVPYBl-UZUXfR3OcMBJ7onNvCSncvxd2-1PXAlHgw/s1600-h/122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirpt9OF_vi0S1MT0zUCGM-nsQty2gHULtKS2jdpPtnlYAmfkv3mc7F7Dq8Nk7LABuKppXz14DoRQW3uc7GetrT2C7FVGyeJ4wKpaiVPYBl-UZUXfR3OcMBJ7onNvCSncvxd2-1PXAlHgw/s640/122.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekjyjNFdbQWjYpVksNQf-pNGm4shdCeUVecYW8Jq_jFxsz7EVrm2daHDy-M_B_G01_6vv5O3b3dh-GuJL5Znzzy3JG-y3FwzqXTJG2cWsggCsTmow72IE7EXca_6MPvf7oMFVHwvWDNA/s1600-h/129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhekjyjNFdbQWjYpVksNQf-pNGm4shdCeUVecYW8Jq_jFxsz7EVrm2daHDy-M_B_G01_6vv5O3b3dh-GuJL5Znzzy3JG-y3FwzqXTJG2cWsggCsTmow72IE7EXca_6MPvf7oMFVHwvWDNA/s640/129.JPG" width="426" /></a></div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-6622129414038701752010-03-13T17:20:00.000-08:002010-03-13T17:20:30.758-08:00The Irony of Protective EyewearTwo weeks ago I bought a new racquetball racket. Why? Well, I took two classes in college and just joined a gym with racquetball courts. So, naturally, I would have no idea where my old rackets were and would therefore need a new one. But as I stood in the aisle at Sports Authority, I couldn't decide what to actually get. I knew I needed a racket, but they range in price from nothing to something, so how to choose? Definitely some blue balls, but those teal balls were a better price...oops they are squash balls which wouldn't work. And then I saw it, the bag with everything: racket, sweat band, balls, and even protective eyewear.<br />
<br />
I have never owned protective eyewear, but I believe. I mean, considering I knocked out my own tooth, who knows what else I could do (my front tooth is a fake from an embarrassing shot in an unimportant racquetball game). So, I decided I should be responsible and get and actually use the protection. And I have. No matter how silly I look with my sweatband and goggles...I've worn both. <br />
<br />
And what has wearing my protective eyewear given me? A scratched cornea. Ok, I didn't scratch it on the court. I didn't even scratch it at all. Chase was handing me a menu while we were out and he poked it right into my open and unassuming left eye. The tricky part was that the corners were reinforced metal corners (a lot of restaurants have them, I've just never really noticed before). Anyhow, as I held my eye in agony, I remember thinking that he had popped it; that I would only have one eye for the rest of my life. But it is fine. It was painful, and they numbed it at the urgent care, and since then I just feel like I have something in my eye I want to rub out but can't (foreign object sensation is what the doctor called it).<br />
<br />
I still can't believe I scratched my eye the first week I have ever even considered protecting my eyes. Oh, the irony...complain, complain, complain.angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-8834626130562347292010-03-09T19:42:00.000-08:002010-03-09T19:42:34.619-08:00Rock On!Geology Rocks! James second grade class play was so darling. I sat in the audience thinking about how much he has grown. He is such a confident and astounding boy, I feel lucky just to hang out with him. We were chatting last night about the big performance (he has repeatedly reminded me of the time every) and he was running over his lines. He then confessed that he knew everyone's lines in the play and proceeded to give me the lines of the Ferns, the Sedimentary Rock, Professor Rock, the Canyons, etc. About twenty minutes in I told him he better go to sleep...but he would have kept going!! <br />
<br />
He played the most adorable igneous rock of all times. Here he is (my favorite is the one with his after performance glow with his buddies)! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOP66ZXhdKhhgSpWsvT7e-ikYM-OcaK97O97nXwXbzkQM6eyRdWnXXLxAMqtqQJCogMNjbJUNZCPOskHbWOlqjO1c_D5qXcRLTpLrEeVjS2BhGwLRL2x8E4SZgGTjgBqYTPB_wlIKGqs/s1600-h/1302.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOP66ZXhdKhhgSpWsvT7e-ikYM-OcaK97O97nXwXbzkQM6eyRdWnXXLxAMqtqQJCogMNjbJUNZCPOskHbWOlqjO1c_D5qXcRLTpLrEeVjS2BhGwLRL2x8E4SZgGTjgBqYTPB_wlIKGqs/s640/1302.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUz3_VX8depeTBxF8iHvz5nbGD0i0cD0PvqPrhA1-jqAeiKenasBTwsz_xErwbPiDXjOsZfXAt-obIXwWQJYI9ZP2d8MT-yeeD2etsXji_LYF6xF2Ity8NEoqqRIicXdKUFaw3oNcgrV4/s1600-h/1305.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUz3_VX8depeTBxF8iHvz5nbGD0i0cD0PvqPrhA1-jqAeiKenasBTwsz_xErwbPiDXjOsZfXAt-obIXwWQJYI9ZP2d8MT-yeeD2etsXji_LYF6xF2Ity8NEoqqRIicXdKUFaw3oNcgrV4/s640/1305.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljyK3lH0rytvPiiotLVAIPQw8kyC99MAUBMQG5Fk7nxX4m-9WqMk3T9x5nX18HX8OqQj1HuGBOszHRh9bqL_IAWfrww_Fo7SzJjGSWr7yBlnKhjQlPwYataLduXkRNHwYigXv_lMlRDw/s1600-h/1328.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhljyK3lH0rytvPiiotLVAIPQw8kyC99MAUBMQG5Fk7nxX4m-9WqMk3T9x5nX18HX8OqQj1HuGBOszHRh9bqL_IAWfrww_Fo7SzJjGSWr7yBlnKhjQlPwYataLduXkRNHwYigXv_lMlRDw/s640/1328.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-89321083252271753342010-03-04T14:50:00.000-08:002010-04-11T21:34:58.727-07:00The Story of a Hand-Me-DownWe have a neighbor who frequents our door with gifts of stained clothes, broken toys, and the orphaned pieces of games. I usually try to greet him with a "no thank you" or a "not this time" or a "I just wish we had more room." But if on the odd occasion my boys beat me to the door, they find treasures soon enough. And invaritably, I find myself persuading and pleading: "I don't really think we need the arm of that storm trooper," or a "wow, I love that left snow boot, but I really think you would probably need two next time we go to the snow. Please put it back and thank Neighbor." <br />
<br />
But on this particular occasion I rounded the corner, just seconds after the door bell rang, and was greeted by a smiling raccoon. He looked something like:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jhAgeTqvrhdII1GoP46gyNZEM0kcwcx72ITa_gaDON0DD6HY8UCCJUGSwrosUREIerMpOaSiGrJ-ymNZ9l_Sb-RaB4twmCtrd322-ydeTTsOFWbXS8HtJjOGyRvgdGxjKfcseTSM-6c/s1600-h/DSC_0681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jhAgeTqvrhdII1GoP46gyNZEM0kcwcx72ITa_gaDON0DD6HY8UCCJUGSwrosUREIerMpOaSiGrJ-ymNZ9l_Sb-RaB4twmCtrd322-ydeTTsOFWbXS8HtJjOGyRvgdGxjKfcseTSM-6c/s640/DSC_0681.JPG" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is hard to talk someone out of a costume when they are wearing it and loving it, and Chase is no exception to this generally accepted rule. I tried to point out how far from Halloween we are...and how we don't really have a lot of space for extra costumes. (Oh, did you notice the "s" in costumes. Well, it is because there was The Shaggy Dog in the bag as well). Anyhow, to shorten the story, Neighbor wouldn't take no for an answer. Neighbor talked me into it; rather hijacked me into it. And Neighbor even had the guts to say, "We use it all of the time..." as he slowly and victoriously walked away. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Now, here's the turning point to this story. The part where I admit, Neighbor was right. I was wrong. After a good washing, which turned the yellow fur back to white, this costume has become a treasure. More than a treasure, a treat. Because who doesn't enjoy a little boy greeting you as a raccoon?! Chase loves this costume and does indeed "use it all the time." <i>It is, hands-down, the best hand-me-down of all times.</i> So hooray for the gently used friend and a neighbor who knew the joy and just had to share!</div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-38214921899561256852010-02-28T23:10:00.000-08:002010-03-09T23:45:02.064-08:00Toot and Kahmen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxLV_cFsS-gnDNip9BVpGV9HN4azgOcifUHssKY0KFdTCAFhurTKkLJr8D9thAhzHm0AzkmQo9fEpic3c4TOoQDhM6J9p1HzR_WQAnpXUrXSLvinEHPSCWQhMlN63_JvV3y-hKTb9fTk/s1600-h/king+tut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdxLV_cFsS-gnDNip9BVpGV9HN4azgOcifUHssKY0KFdTCAFhurTKkLJr8D9thAhzHm0AzkmQo9fEpic3c4TOoQDhM6J9p1HzR_WQAnpXUrXSLvinEHPSCWQhMlN63_JvV3y-hKTb9fTk/s400/king+tut.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><br />
King Tut (Tutankhamun or Toot and Kahmen according to Chase) came to SF. I was really debating whether or not to go. It sounded cool, but I remembered how I felt in the Egyptian wing at the Met. I would usually walk right through most of it. Ok, I would stop at the Temple of Dendur, but quite possibly I just stopped to admire the high ceilings and the enormous glass windows and the looking pond (all of which have nothing to do with Egypt). But I successfully talked myself into it with cliches like "once in a lifetime"...and off we went.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEIWlPneOn5Qv043EmdGZTjaT8DMCJHHHwLZQwD1m31HumuIWF3o48NOAmEuCaEtz4faqxs_JBcAp6K84MHcYcalN3aBM-g6UOEtcZjktBXdOpdjve0v-FwaeFcrwMndAkVFk0HnfzXc/s1600-h/1235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBEIWlPneOn5Qv043EmdGZTjaT8DMCJHHHwLZQwD1m31HumuIWF3o48NOAmEuCaEtz4faqxs_JBcAp6K84MHcYcalN3aBM-g6UOEtcZjktBXdOpdjve0v-FwaeFcrwMndAkVFk0HnfzXc/s640/1235.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>We had lunch outside and the Lunchables stole the show. I was worried we that this may indeed be the highlight...but, fortunately, I was wrong. The kids loved it. Chase loved listening to his device; he would type in the number and summarize what was going on. And then I brought Model Magic for the kids to sculpt their favorite artifact.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vroZZ31ChLqmRNFtQ0DIQUK5cElekBuVFH6ommV0mxdjg2ExnfuGJV77r-oSi1FnBExo2oif4ud6S-78YDbjILY6h4koUXR2FaGJ97BEFv9IK_S8fx73nViFeCCi4iRfk5eq4VEDQps/s1600-h/1256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7vroZZ31ChLqmRNFtQ0DIQUK5cElekBuVFH6ommV0mxdjg2ExnfuGJV77r-oSi1FnBExo2oif4ud6S-78YDbjILY6h4koUXR2FaGJ97BEFv9IK_S8fx73nViFeCCi4iRfk5eq4VEDQps/s640/1256.JPG" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rUYjbwSDv_x4CZG-eJLgO1a5RHx6Twxw0HPgEPdIGTu9j3870KrXawYFYlJlp93H-VI3TliqBwdP7vjUsFnuMY3DNlEaZUHmfY10dL_QJtF4ncClypj9CIjyB-aE2tu_7thIqFSFVSE/s1600-h/1257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rUYjbwSDv_x4CZG-eJLgO1a5RHx6Twxw0HPgEPdIGTu9j3870KrXawYFYlJlp93H-VI3TliqBwdP7vjUsFnuMY3DNlEaZUHmfY10dL_QJtF4ncClypj9CIjyB-aE2tu_7thIqFSFVSE/s640/1257.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">James made an ahnk and the dagger that was found on the Boy King (on the actual mummy - and mummies and eight year olds hold quite the fascination). Chase found a polar bear, that turned out to be a lion, on top of a canopic jar that he had to create. He also wanted to make the beetle on this amazing necklace (I want one), and of course his own ahnk.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MoGL5q8Hx5Xu4dYSSquxJzbaAoka2ILEG7JOtQRWp4Sj3RAeD4vfbG7kklkZWiWNB08vxXko0_jyyEhrBaxEQ1R9ErYbN8ROfvNGxoTV0lExnKywQPDegIN1DUPB1tTmeT8Yst4tea0/s1600-h/1265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MoGL5q8Hx5Xu4dYSSquxJzbaAoka2ILEG7JOtQRWp4Sj3RAeD4vfbG7kklkZWiWNB08vxXko0_jyyEhrBaxEQ1R9ErYbN8ROfvNGxoTV0lExnKywQPDegIN1DUPB1tTmeT8Yst4tea0/s320/1265.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHf92Os3gdcEC8xD1Y4yhOZTWYyyRJsAE9ysHqlsu2qfwQNiQfRJbHZwvsIuQ-8WZoJQaq3zhPnbEZ7HxhF_6pglAkqN7JxzZf8QcIP8Akcan-0de10GAucAMTJHGiOgUYrUY8Nj70Vg/s1600-h/1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdHf92Os3gdcEC8xD1Y4yhOZTWYyyRJsAE9ysHqlsu2qfwQNiQfRJbHZwvsIuQ-8WZoJQaq3zhPnbEZ7HxhF_6pglAkqN7JxzZf8QcIP8Akcan-0de10GAucAMTJHGiOgUYrUY8Nj70Vg/s320/1262.JPG" /></a></div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-72425490300976966952010-02-05T18:06:00.000-08:002010-02-05T18:06:57.565-08:00Too Much Forehead<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuqy2eOtkLrLkXBRPoHopmjOWDh_oqlJ9ggBAi6tAJ8TClUSCPUicioGCAOOzipiRCkW-XvMb71IcmEDwT75fVSfx4afVeugHtjPg09XPka-biqh5NDRhXg29bA2OetRG0hbwDehBzh8/s1600-h/DSC_0696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBuqy2eOtkLrLkXBRPoHopmjOWDh_oqlJ9ggBAi6tAJ8TClUSCPUicioGCAOOzipiRCkW-XvMb71IcmEDwT75fVSfx4afVeugHtjPg09XPka-biqh5NDRhXg29bA2OetRG0hbwDehBzh8/s400/DSC_0696.JPG" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzWCDJflsvi9A_YsuhDsbuMaQalIYdHTTrGe3VSIC_Lso1tD58YTZbTIyFmqE2nA0fgdqWY_ct2RZGfD-8vD84KcfB-9nDz4p4Jwp6y6wLodiJx6IA2sSf4tDVF8DDdalY66KBVHvn2YY/s1600-h/DSC_0698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzWCDJflsvi9A_YsuhDsbuMaQalIYdHTTrGe3VSIC_Lso1tD58YTZbTIyFmqE2nA0fgdqWY_ct2RZGfD-8vD84KcfB-9nDz4p4Jwp6y6wLodiJx6IA2sSf4tDVF8DDdalY66KBVHvn2YY/s400/DSC_0698.JPG" width="266" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Chase has always been a problem solver. So this morning when I combed his hair and it got into his eyes, he took care of it. He took those scissor and with one snip removed quite a lot of hair. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In all honesty, I couldn't help but laugh, but effectively hid my laughter and even somehow ended up thanking him for taking care of those pesky bangs. But I did suggest that next time we should really let a "professional" help. He agreed and in his own words admitted that he was "showing too much forehead." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But when we went into Golden Shears and Woody started cutting all that pretty golden hair, I felt sad; the kind of sad that still can't hide a wide smile. I secretly hoped one of my boys would be this kind of capricious.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But he does look sooo much older.</div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-60305580543781919502010-02-04T10:43:00.000-08:002010-02-04T10:43:41.856-08:00Brides, Brides, Brides<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLhKfYPX2oMZp8_xlxaNgEx3IPLiiprWOhl3j4k1RoFp9e8aPmf848E0h5ovZkD6qemNOpp985WBtgwZI3OR3F2BFNEcsdSHhyettW2RgS5jJrr5s5V86jbOIfmiPQsLBl5GDGb1hkIE/s1600-h/Stock,+Parrot+Tulip+Bouquet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVLhKfYPX2oMZp8_xlxaNgEx3IPLiiprWOhl3j4k1RoFp9e8aPmf848E0h5ovZkD6qemNOpp985WBtgwZI3OR3F2BFNEcsdSHhyettW2RgS5jJrr5s5V86jbOIfmiPQsLBl5GDGb1hkIE/s320/Stock,+Parrot+Tulip+Bouquet.jpg" /></a></div><br />
My little flower business is blooming. And the bride I have been talking to recently sent me this little picture as inspiration...and I am feeling exactly that, inspired. I see this picture and know all the flowers; from the stock to the tulips parrots. I see the color in a new way; the nuance of the pink the fact it is a warm pink with yellow undertones. What a fun little hobbie this is turning out to be. I also have a secret flower blog -- that isn't done. But considering I have business cards that say <a href="http://springstreetfloraldesign.blogspot.com/">Spring Street Floral Design</a>, I think I am getting brave enough to share. angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-23815130649334422402010-01-29T22:13:00.000-08:002010-01-29T22:43:27.785-08:00Dancing the Night Away<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8uZKnDOB9Euwzc2MXScogsa6rKQC79g6hHXEM_TN7VGt-N9q_W0s0NW1RmYDp1f1CclY8RCHXvmDlL0eVzwsosJqo2tEkmGtQIEVKuqi4nNm9hYkiCX48vqfMF1Z0q4v_E7i2OyTOa4/s1600-h/james+and+chase+dancing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 246px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl8uZKnDOB9Euwzc2MXScogsa6rKQC79g6hHXEM_TN7VGt-N9q_W0s0NW1RmYDp1f1CclY8RCHXvmDlL0eVzwsosJqo2tEkmGtQIEVKuqi4nNm9hYkiCX48vqfMF1Z0q4v_E7i2OyTOa4/s400/james+and+chase+dancing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432419020543018018" border="0" /></a>Abbie and Danny are married!<br /><br />The reception was beautiful, and Abbie was even more radiant. We ate and laughed and danced. Even when the music stopped for a moment, everyone kept dancing and singing. "Don't Stop Believing, Hold on to that Feeling" when both James and Chase kept singing I knew that I had done my job as a mother. They know their Glee (Journey) songs and they can sing them!angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-70601368696127156812010-01-25T18:05:00.000-08:002010-03-09T18:12:14.043-08:00Snowmouse<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvFbDU8Nn1WIhkNJNSkwp0jjNjPGa2cPgj-fusi0aipBkU5eTGUdqsi0iR_7L3Ie2JNWi5m4XvzXk6bHsbtCXd_y5Zk5Fk0v1lcSS0EctajSYcKYIS5nqS4niQDWv_1gBgVfY79f0GIE/s1600-h/606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDvFbDU8Nn1WIhkNJNSkwp0jjNjPGa2cPgj-fusi0aipBkU5eTGUdqsi0iR_7L3Ie2JNWi5m4XvzXk6bHsbtCXd_y5Zk5Fk0v1lcSS0EctajSYcKYIS5nqS4niQDWv_1gBgVfY79f0GIE/s640/606.JPG" vt="true" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We rolled snow into small balls and made the cutest little snow<strike>man</strike> snowmouse. </div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-81577792846112734262010-01-21T18:13:00.000-08:002010-03-10T09:51:31.756-08:00Snowshoeing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOU6fbS3NlJITXhDoZf37NCUOx0Qsn45a6-_Cw9bbNBdDd51q5O2To0fJ-3VJ46rD4_9dxa0nvNQ4r1p0AemSnJleQ-9HgCK3LgnB7IXQMI_vXHPYW43uUwEvfV9Dx1JtefSxt_aKQL0/s1600-h/893.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQOU6fbS3NlJITXhDoZf37NCUOx0Qsn45a6-_Cw9bbNBdDd51q5O2To0fJ-3VJ46rD4_9dxa0nvNQ4r1p0AemSnJleQ-9HgCK3LgnB7IXQMI_vXHPYW43uUwEvfV9Dx1JtefSxt_aKQL0/s640/893.JPG" vt="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIB45qkivGYffcimVixI-twItMVpksbYG7pdT7GZjSHYW_yhkx7FPKWrQXEAgeUPyIbTZZ92yXBP-b2g822vDnwO3jQCHfsC5xE5n5V1-axfip3m993U3RjDbE-dO7gh-4P8cYG089sK0/s1600-h/888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIB45qkivGYffcimVixI-twItMVpksbYG7pdT7GZjSHYW_yhkx7FPKWrQXEAgeUPyIbTZZ92yXBP-b2g822vDnwO3jQCHfsC5xE5n5V1-axfip3m993U3RjDbE-dO7gh-4P8cYG089sK0/s400/888.JPG" vt="true" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__eLKooE6_nxf2Lk0LtV9Xyz_qIO9ugYzZFBv5O7cSJSDmPZK0D_hg-BHAWwyihrYSPf1tb0VV3zPhYCcv3Or4JZVb6x5BIstyWj0oYWzex_uju4t1t8VwmgqYzXUaJrKTvfYb-NOEbc/s1600-h/889+-+crop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__eLKooE6_nxf2Lk0LtV9Xyz_qIO9ugYzZFBv5O7cSJSDmPZK0D_hg-BHAWwyihrYSPf1tb0VV3zPhYCcv3Or4JZVb6x5BIstyWj0oYWzex_uju4t1t8VwmgqYzXUaJrKTvfYb-NOEbc/s400/889+-+crop.jpg" width="267" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These pictures are some of my favorite...I think they actually liked this better than skiing. They seemed to float on the snow! So cute (althought it didn't last too long). Thanks to the Christensen's for letting us invade their cabin!</div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-17668999300468854612009-12-26T17:49:00.000-08:002010-03-09T18:05:26.234-08:00"Program"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>It is all about the "program" -- growing up we had to perform at family gatherings: sometimes silly things like reciting the alaphabet backwards at Grandma Naine and Grandpa Jim's fiftieth, and other times a more reverant song like "O Holy Night" one Christmas. In our youth we would kick against the pricks and complain and whine. But now, we love it. This Christmas was no different. The boy team sang the traditional "Dashing Through the Snow" with my boys as reindeers, Weston an adorable Rudolph. But they also sang James's favorite version:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZRN4aJ-sZtuiM73tQtGwJKD7ArgX26Eeq3XIejlWSNiXH2ccAxKi0grDynlfjhTMUfxADsgpkbYesWJpyLkW_imCa5IgUOh2uoqwFlTOKFiD2cvtoZED1GU9YlBiqggMtbFrxNiybFg/s1600-h/292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKZRN4aJ-sZtuiM73tQtGwJKD7ArgX26Eeq3XIejlWSNiXH2ccAxKi0grDynlfjhTMUfxADsgpkbYesWJpyLkW_imCa5IgUOh2uoqwFlTOKFiD2cvtoZED1GU9YlBiqggMtbFrxNiybFg/s640/292.JPG" vt="true" width="640" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">Dashing through the snow </div><div style="text-align: center;">in a pair of broken skiis</div><div style="text-align: center;">Crashing into trees</div><div style="text-align: center;">The sky is turning red</div><div style="text-align: center;">I think I'm almost dead</div><div style="text-align: center;">I find myself in the hospital </div><div style="text-align: center;">with staples in my head</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGugjh_cxeT8W2vhr34aq9jRq-vE3VDDnh8xlzmegN3WFGtLG9_Q1V_4FNyrHTzajlTcW15bPhDdwzBf47uisATZ_ngWJovdwOhGZSuo-vdua4nj82aUf67VWZlXlzQ2s3s2xWDDwEH_o/s1600-h/261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGugjh_cxeT8W2vhr34aq9jRq-vE3VDDnh8xlzmegN3WFGtLG9_Q1V_4FNyrHTzajlTcW15bPhDdwzBf47uisATZ_ngWJovdwOhGZSuo-vdua4nj82aUf67VWZlXlzQ2s3s2xWDDwEH_o/s640/261.JPG" vt="true" width="425" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpsoKa-GugmONnA58Wu2lF3ups4vBaGv38l4rnAZjSN5Xzb5y0TeATr0ztim1tbDf78XIDn2eha7SuFwI3MxcF5umAw3ubKYL5QSkzvYbJR4ntUZQSHVJLKh_ROP0r1q4HmsQU-ESfvI/s1600-h/284+-+chase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIpsoKa-GugmONnA58Wu2lF3ups4vBaGv38l4rnAZjSN5Xzb5y0TeATr0ztim1tbDf78XIDn2eha7SuFwI3MxcF5umAw3ubKYL5QSkzvYbJR4ntUZQSHVJLKh_ROP0r1q4HmsQU-ESfvI/s640/284+-+chase.jpg" vt="true" width="338" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglX9ug3AEVi3ddQE5gRPTzrZGn9UzcdSFH8rQ6hwWC0WLfhGe9Zcvv0__rxSB1gIx634KCqFLCX-xk_pojbWKj_Avrc_bR8qNXu-6B1fX4DyNa_1HEHQNfiYh0OqaAfZ5jJ8Ke9DhRpT0/s1600-h/282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglX9ug3AEVi3ddQE5gRPTzrZGn9UzcdSFH8rQ6hwWC0WLfhGe9Zcvv0__rxSB1gIx634KCqFLCX-xk_pojbWKj_Avrc_bR8qNXu-6B1fX4DyNa_1HEHQNfiYh0OqaAfZ5jJ8Ke9DhRpT0/s640/282.JPG" vt="true" width="640" /></a></div>angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-121776520301939692009-12-13T17:38:00.000-08:002010-03-09T23:46:29.909-08:008<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2I7ESUG4GTNPmAOzaSywbnUXPNtAHd0bxbDbU3nGkINuHdCuBwlsi_MOm2z458_wDdGrZmEXZJ-HCP3K34pnwsVyJtFAL-kxNHECmMh8mPicQxprBGp0bbxaHrK57Ts-RYBAOuIxb14o/s1600-h/116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2I7ESUG4GTNPmAOzaSywbnUXPNtAHd0bxbDbU3nGkINuHdCuBwlsi_MOm2z458_wDdGrZmEXZJ-HCP3K34pnwsVyJtFAL-kxNHECmMh8mPicQxprBGp0bbxaHrK57Ts-RYBAOuIxb14o/s400/116.JPG" vt="true" width="266" /></a></div>James got baptized on his birthday. When he came up out of the water he had a smile, and looked to find my eyes. Afterwards I asked him how he felt and he said, "I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders."angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-61451166048497684082009-11-12T18:09:00.000-08:002009-11-12T18:26:06.826-08:00Nothing Sweet About ItWhen I watched <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SYTYCD</span> this week the Mandy Moore number really hit me. No, it wasn't because I was reminded of the other Mandy Moore (who stole my heart in A Walk to Remember--scary, I know). And no, it wasn't because I was watching one of my favorite two shows (Glee is the top favorite these days). It was the cane, the cane. <br /><br />You see, I have been hobbling around on a cane for the past two weeks. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">reinjured</span> the soccer ankle in a game AGAIN. And when I went to the doctor they said that I needed crutches. But, you see, crutches and I are deep enemies. In high school there was a long walk down Coleman Avenue on a rainy afternoon with crutches and since then, I can't bear the thought. My arms literally start protesting (and who I am kidding, I would need my arms in a fight). So, I asked her if there was anything else I could do. A cane was her only other suggestion. <br /><br />So, with thoughts of Hugh Laurie from House and Fred Astaire's dancing cane, I reconciled myself to the cane I now own. And when I saw two people dance with a cane, it hurt inside because I don't make my cane look fabulous. In fact, I have started to leave it behind, much to Chase's chagrin. <br /><br />Opposed to me, Chase loves the cane. James loves the cane. They even loved the medical supply store where we bought it. Picture Chase driving the motorized scooter around the parking lot and James in his wheelchair. When James sat down in the chair he honestly said, "I could live in this thing," and then begged me to buy him one the rest of the time. Who knew?<br /><br />Now to the point of this tangent: I hate not being able to walk. It is tragic and reminds me with every step how good I had it. I love legs and the ability to move. I love ankles that twist and a body that can run. And I am determined to be more thankful...because I really do have it good!angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7884480506100523239.post-83183234528873635512009-11-03T17:18:00.000-08:002009-11-03T17:37:49.997-08:00The Status ReportPeople ask me all the time if I am divorced. I'm not, yet. It has been the longest, stinkiest process you could imagine. It is hard to believe that it has been two years since I flew to NY and discovered the truth. But I am hoping in a few months it will be over. As over as it can be. <br /><br />People also ask me all the time if they can set me up. I can't even begin to say how scary that thought is...I feel like, I've already tried that once, why would I do it again. I honestly gave everything I could think of...and the thought of a second time is frightening.<br /><br />---<br /><br />There is an old movie called, The Gay Divorcee. Fred Astaire dances around in his lighter-than-air style and makes it seem so easy, so freeing. I am sad to say it isn't easy or freeing. It just gets more and more complicated. I think perhaps the hardest part is that the person that I knew best in this world, ultimately didn't think I was good enough. It is hard deep inside to face that type of harsh reality and convince myself that I am good enough. (And I am, I've decided).<br /><br />For some reason, at thirty two, I have to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">sometimes</span> fight the feeling of being used goods. My youth and bloom are gone (who am I kidding, they were gone at 16), but there is something new in its place. A richness of empathy and sorrow and a conviction that I can do the hardest of things. My well is deeper than me...it is the people around me, the strength I genuinely find in prayer and belief, the knowledge that I have something valuable to offer. And that is what I now fill most of my thoughts with; not with what I am lacking, but with what I can contribute. <br /><br />I sometimes, theoretically, wish that life didn't have so many road bumps. But somehow, I can't really wish away the very things that make me strongest.angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06530571790165618032noreply@blogger.com17