tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54130419063388496762024-02-07T03:04:10.981-08:00TagoozeTimmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.comBlogger19125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-90613339212330179522014-07-13T05:01:00.000-07:002014-07-13T05:01:08.750-07:00This is a test. Sort of. I just want to see if this will work. Also I will post my itinerary for the trip in case anyone is interested. <br />
<br />
I wanted to chronicle the trip without boring everyone, so if you want to know you can look but you won't be forced to look at boring pictures every day. <br />
<br />
I'm still trying to figure out how to actually get pictures from my camera/phone etc. onto here, here being my tablet, but maybe it will come to me. <br />
<br />
So here is my itinerary<br />
<br />
<u>Sunday, July13, </u>Fly to Philadelphia, then fly to London arrive Monday morning 10am, British time which is 6 hours ahead of Missouri time.<br />
<u>Monday, July 14</u> London on our own. We hope to see Kensington Castle, Hyde Park and the Victoria and Albert museum<br />
<u>Tuesday, July 15</u>, Take a tour on a coach to Stonehenge, Bath and Stratford upon Avon (home of Shakespeare)<br />
<u>Wednesday, July 16</u>, London still. We hope to take a river cruise up to the Tower of London and tour that.<br />
<u>Thursday, July 17</u>, Still in London. We hope to visit Buckingham palace (though no one is home and no changing of the guard. :( But also we will see the Horse Guards (Where there is changing of the guard.) and some other things around the palace.<br />
<u>Friday, July 18</u>, we get on a plane at the crack of dawn (literally) and head to Glasgow where we start a coach tour and meet up with our other friends who are skipping the London part.<br />
Saturday, July 19 (Happy 50th Birthday to me and Mary Kay!!!) We visit Loch Lomond then head to Inverness. On the way we have a short cruise on Loch Ness. (Nessie please show your slimy self!)<br />
<u>Sunday, July 20</u>, We go to Edinburgh (pronounced Eh-din-burrow for some silly reason) and see the crown jewels and do the town tour.<br />
<u>Monday, July 21</u>, Edinburgh again. Tonight we have a free evening to <strike>paint the town red.</strike> Sleep.<br />
<u>Tuesday, July 22</u>, Leaving Edinburgh and heading to Belfast to see the Titanic Museum then Dublin where we also <strike>are not served dinner</strike> have a free evening.<br />
<u>Wednesday, July 23</u>, Walking tour of Dublin, see the Book of Kells at Trinity college and go to the Guiness factory (have you ever tasted Guiness? Ewww.) In the evening we go for a river dinner cruise on an old refurbished (hopefully) Guiness barge. (?)<br />
<u>Thursday, July 24</u> Leave Dublin and head to Killarney. Stop at the Rock of Cashal on the way. Evening in Killarney.<br />
<u>Friday, July 25</u>, Day in Killarney. <br />
<u>Saturday, July 26</u> Leave Killarney head to Bunratty. Evening is a medievil feast at a castle! Sounds fun.<br />
<u>Sunday, July 27</u> Head to Shannon airport and fly to Philly again. Then layover for 4 hours then fly home to arrive in St. Louis around 8:30. Oh heavens. That makes me tired. Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-43558043647729871242010-10-08T08:37:00.001-07:002010-10-08T08:46:56.519-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYF2SmGBUPSc76q3sxtp2YmOpTSuHEjgMBjMZ0pWaHdX37fpq6S5sOL3-20za9y04tm3appF0PNNe9ZjRQEy8xftZ1Drf5NPFLqA4jiyHiGneqa-WtdlM-7PRjx7imlp7nQg2QMdItJM8O/s1600/California+09+179.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYF2SmGBUPSc76q3sxtp2YmOpTSuHEjgMBjMZ0pWaHdX37fpq6S5sOL3-20za9y04tm3appF0PNNe9ZjRQEy8xftZ1Drf5NPFLqA4jiyHiGneqa-WtdlM-7PRjx7imlp7nQg2QMdItJM8O/s320/California+09+179.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525702088137588498" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We shall be circled over at length<br />by a remoter sky,<br />and flung into a starrier space<br />more deep, more high.<br /><br />Some day the little mind of man<br />will crack and spin<br />to let the chattering years fly out,<br />forever in.<br /><br />The sea will be more brief to us<br />than jewel of rain;<br />and what now stuns us with its might,<br />beauty or pain,<br /><br />will be as faint as cheep of mouse<br />or swing of flower<br />under the gusty wing of heaven;<br />and what seems power<br /><br />will drop away and pale to dust<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdQYPkwI8HIsxpkURXCMDUm72hBMprU9dtJfbfBYM1xjSV_y1RJBXQdvpY4r_ZAPU2smzYx0iuWDfkdqz4n7UURaiYqIue8jVgkB0shLETQOJNBiclzU4PEBTF2QoHR9THfbbLyVjjwIL/s1600/022.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 334px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdQYPkwI8HIsxpkURXCMDUm72hBMprU9dtJfbfBYM1xjSV_y1RJBXQdvpY4r_ZAPU2smzYx0iuWDfkdqz4n7UURaiYqIue8jVgkB0shLETQOJNBiclzU4PEBTF2QoHR9THfbbLyVjjwIL/s320/022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525701159119507650" border="0" /></a><br />held in the palm;<br />and what seems passion now will sink<br />to leveled calm.<br /><br />Therefore be quiet with your breath,<br />all little men,<br />and hold some wonder, in the Now<br />for the great Then.<br /><br />Jane Tyson Clement.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-49937581949379184302010-03-06T19:26:00.000-08:002010-03-06T19:27:56.472-08:00ash street upholsteryHey see my frien Barb's website. <br /><br />It's <a href="http://www.ashstreetupholstery.com/">www.ashstreetupholstery.com</a><br /><br /><br />It's located in Springfield, ILTimmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-76165830857747022472009-08-19T08:44:00.000-07:002009-08-19T09:29:10.917-07:00Semi-bountiful harvest<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8S7_rLfBdRgE3yDbYuwhMa6WwLfSK8nogXCHFOX-EvMlIH2rKSNKUUsjJv_131mHDsFxTfrAiBYamPGyI3BMEuxCqfseqcw3qlC0ICMB7BwvJ_HLCrM7KYD1Lggol8_WHfmGP_SYIqWj6/s1600-h/potatoes+from+garden+004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8S7_rLfBdRgE3yDbYuwhMa6WwLfSK8nogXCHFOX-EvMlIH2rKSNKUUsjJv_131mHDsFxTfrAiBYamPGyI3BMEuxCqfseqcw3qlC0ICMB7BwvJ_HLCrM7KYD1Lggol8_WHfmGP_SYIqWj6/s320/potatoes+from+garden+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371705118784906706" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I want a farm (said in whiney voice). Today, I really want a farm. I have been looking at property on the internet. (start whiney voice again) I don't want to live in the suburbs. I don't like traffic. I hate Mother's Club (good thing my readership is non-existent). I don't want my children to grow up being materialistic, mall-walking, clothes horse, cell phone toting, ......CONSUMERS! Yesterday at the bus stop one of the mom's had on high heels. And she wasn't on her way to work. She always wears better clothes to the bus stop than I own. I was wearing stretched out shorts, a t-shirt with a black spot over the left boob from holding a dutch oven at camp and had really hairy legs. I don't fit in here. I don't want to fit in here. It's the ultimate paradox...am I rebelling against the suburban machine or just lazy. Hmmmmmm. While I ponder that, I will tell you about my semi-bountiful harvest.<br /><br />Pretend, dear readers, er reader, that this is a homesteading blog. I am blogging about my marvelous journeys into sustainability and self-suffieciency.<br /><br />Yesterday, we decided to harvest the potatoes. First let me tell you how we got to be potato farmers. It all started when we had a potato that was, shall I say, lacking a certain youth. It was sproutin' out in the pantry. So beings that it was spring and plantin' time, we cut it up and chucked it in the ground. (Evidently, I believe homesteaders talk with an accent.) We unfortunately didn't read up on plantin' taters so didn't know about hilling them and using seed taters and all. After researching and finding out how it was <span style="font-style: italic;">supposed</span> to be done, we decided what the heck, it would be an experiement. So this is what we got.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FGJzu3XsALiaNlC4qBEAzoS6cxemnokhQaba3AmmR_sRKhTQ4iMsu1x7fwlKfH89fUB6x9GcMqhizeu-mh9wcnY_7XHvul9kGnm7HnUyBS02NXihFc4c4E8mdr_LgnNQ2RpP7l6gEEZn/s1600-h/potatoes+from+garden+003.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FGJzu3XsALiaNlC4qBEAzoS6cxemnokhQaba3AmmR_sRKhTQ4iMsu1x7fwlKfH89fUB6x9GcMqhizeu-mh9wcnY_7XHvul9kGnm7HnUyBS02NXihFc4c4E8mdr_LgnNQ2RpP7l6gEEZn/s320/potatoes+from+garden+003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371704837940580290" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8S7_rLfBdRgE3yDbYuwhMa6WwLfSK8nogXCHFOX-EvMlIH2rKSNKUUsjJv_131mHDsFxTfrAiBYamPGyI3BMEuxCqfseqcw3qlC0ICMB7BwvJ_HLCrM7KYD1Lggol8_WHfmGP_SYIqWj6/s1600-h/potatoes+from+garden+004.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8S7_rLfBdRgE3yDbYuwhMa6WwLfSK8nogXCHFOX-EvMlIH2rKSNKUUsjJv_131mHDsFxTfrAiBYamPGyI3BMEuxCqfseqcw3qlC0ICMB7BwvJ_HLCrM7KYD1Lggol8_WHfmGP_SYIqWj6/s320/potatoes+from+garden+004.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371705118784906706" border="0" /></a>The tomato is to show you size. Well, good thing we weren't planning on feeding the youngn's with these. However we did cook them (boiled) and served them up with some delicious butter and salt and pepper. That along with Thomas's famous chicken legs, a homegrown mater', green beans and fresh baked blueberry cake. Here's what it looked like. Note: Please don't notice that the chicken leg already has a bite out of it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z1k2_IvaRTq2RC1SgNf10gpzc-nL074syTtutMsJ5HukfyFBx_dILSC1UFeLAciEjUd75p_dTw1uXGHCPr7_c3XEkxduqd0tIO_GkANLGun9A0TEMLVmqUTjPt7LyBBHLoVQ_8WYNekD/s1600-h/potatoes+from+garden+009.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4z1k2_IvaRTq2RC1SgNf10gpzc-nL074syTtutMsJ5HukfyFBx_dILSC1UFeLAciEjUd75p_dTw1uXGHCPr7_c3XEkxduqd0tIO_GkANLGun9A0TEMLVmqUTjPt7LyBBHLoVQ_8WYNekD/s320/potatoes+from+garden+009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371706082317545426" border="0" /></a>Here is a picture of the fresh baked blueberry cake. Actually it is a quick bread.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51U9rc_V4UNe1WoSfxiqbguYSm4_erBEct0GdblT-v3rj9C4efaA5YmFPUoRDjMm8rHcZ3eGFsPsJyzO6z4TGdjw6IP3NPwjBOO6741Acwi0a-xVjsu_DKKQNV5-Otb2-a0tX36G5NzKP/s1600-h/potatoes+from+garden+007.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi51U9rc_V4UNe1WoSfxiqbguYSm4_erBEct0GdblT-v3rj9C4efaA5YmFPUoRDjMm8rHcZ3eGFsPsJyzO6z4TGdjw6IP3NPwjBOO6741Acwi0a-xVjsu_DKKQNV5-Otb2-a0tX36G5NzKP/s320/potatoes+from+garden+007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371706464792566898" border="0" /></a>And in true homestead blog fashion here is the recipe: It came from allrecipes.com. Originally it was doubled and made two loaf pans, but I didn't have enough flour so I halved it. This is the halved recipe:<br /><br />Blueberry Quick Bread<br /><br />Ingredients<br /><br />2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour<br />3/4 cups sugar<br />1 T baking powder<br />1/2 t salt<br />6 T cold butter<br />3/4 cups chopped walnuts<br />2 eggs<br />1 cup cold milk<br />1 t vanilla extract<br />1 1/2 cup fresh or frozen blueberries<br /><br />Directions<br /><br />In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Cut in butter until mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Stir in walnuts. In a small bowl, beat eggs, milk and vanilla; stir into dry ingredients just until moistened. Gently fold in blueberries. Pour into 9-in. X 5 in. X 3 in. loaf pan. Bake at 350 degrees F for 65-75 minutes or until bread tests done. Cool in pan 10 minutes before removing to a wire rack.<br /><br />Comments:<br /><br />I didn't have enough flour, so I replaced about 1/4 cup with wheat flour. I liked it. I didn't have any walnuts, so I used chopped almonds. Again, I liked it. I mixed the (fresh) blueberries in with the dry ingredients because I read on the internet that it would keep them all from sinking, and it did. I covered the top with powdered sugar after it was done because it sounded good. It was really good while it was still warm. And it was really good heated up in the microwave. And I bed it would be really good warm and with a little butter. Away temptation!!!<br /><br />Today I will be canning all the rest of the tomatoes, making spaghetti and tomato sauce and putting up some blackberry jelly if the light doesn't run out. I will be attaching some flowers to the front of the dress Faith made and then we're going to finish appliqueing the quilt we are making for Nana.<br /><br />ROGL!!! NOT!!! What I really am doing today is reading my e-mail, going to have lunch with Cuban and packing my kid up to go back to college. The part about the dress Faith made is true though. More about that later.<br /><br />hugs to all.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-82647126826233234032009-08-16T12:10:00.000-07:002009-08-16T12:13:45.517-07:00Tommy Tomcat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0Ea3exEvHM0ycIBGleeg8muYvupbLEAMsnEa0I2zIJjZLbwElZF4JC_DSoGr2n3ScrdXQSV12bFxyJwIDWspkngNRP9yQdtHC-A43zhDPe6626RiGknvE2M24-ex06nzzV1fXra3Wswb/s1600-h/david's+apartment,+tomcat%27s+last+days+014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl0Ea3exEvHM0ycIBGleeg8muYvupbLEAMsnEa0I2zIJjZLbwElZF4JC_DSoGr2n3ScrdXQSV12bFxyJwIDWspkngNRP9yQdtHC-A43zhDPe6626RiGknvE2M24-ex06nzzV1fXra3Wswb/s320/david's+apartment,+tomcat%27s+last+days+014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370641805933130946" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Tommy Tomcat<br /><br />1996-2009<br /><br />RIP</span><br /><br /><br /></div>Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-76312411779700991882009-04-17T06:38:00.000-07:002009-04-17T17:12:32.936-07:00I am making a new resolution. Write on my blog every day.<br /><br />I have been singing the blues lately.<br />And it ain't a pretty sound. I can't seem to get comfortable in my own body. Personally, I tend to blame it on my friends. Or my old friends, I should say. You know them-Estrogen and Progesterone. They used to hang around a lot but lately, they've left me high and dry. No pun intended. Coming to terms with the new me hasn't been easy. The new grayer hair, the bigger butt, the longer um, boobs, and the urges to hurt people. Oh, and the knowledge that this is only the beginning.<br /><br />Well, I could set the glass on the bar, change the name of my blog to Short, Bitter, Drunk and fill that glass up with pity. Get a divorce, hang out in bars, join a biker gang, and embarrass my loved ones more than I already do. Or...I could try to find a way to get through this with grace. That sounds better. And I do still have some of my old friends. Hopefully, I won't alienate them all before this is over.<br /><br />Here is something I am doing to try to find me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjZIzj22oMTAT8MIro4eEfMfUI1kOllDlFSq2bnSLOYXkVQd25WELHvidyp26IFERoabK9_jjzAA311BzPiVnVcb2l3a0kz6Cwc8k5Ne78rhvij_YDaUrs-Bc3pJHOEZo7Dw_EfoSFy9n/s1600-h/021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjZIzj22oMTAT8MIro4eEfMfUI1kOllDlFSq2bnSLOYXkVQd25WELHvidyp26IFERoabK9_jjzAA311BzPiVnVcb2l3a0kz6Cwc8k5Ne78rhvij_YDaUrs-Bc3pJHOEZo7Dw_EfoSFy9n/s320/021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5325749063141104626" border="0" /></a>This is a mandala. The word "mandala" is a sanskrit word loosely meaning "circle". The shape is supposed to be a model for the organizational structure of life. A reflection on our relation to the infinite. <span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:78%;"><strong><span style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;color:#336699;"><b></b></span></strong></span>If you look around in nature you will see this shape often and it represents unity or wholeness or the circle of life, whatever you want to call it. Drawing a mandala is supposed to bring us into touch with ourselves and how we relate to nature, the divine and the universe. Cool, huh? <br /><br />Some of this information came from this <a href="http://www.mandalaproject.org/What/Index.html">website</a>. I have made a couple of mandala's including this one. I really enjoy focusing on this kind of thing and thinking at the same time. My teacher is a friend of mine who is a nun. She took a class on this type of drawing. The woman who taught the class is named Judith Cornell. You can look at her website <a href="http://www.mandala-universe.com/">here</a>. It is all about light and shading. Please go to her website as I am really not very good at it. The pencils are very special and are available locally at <a href="http://www.artmartstl.com/">Artmart</a>. They are called Prismacolor. <br /><br />You can download mandala coloring pages from the internet <a href="http://www.coloringcastle.com/mandala_coloring_pages.html">here</a>. <br /><br />Have fun and good luck finding balance in your life.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-53893144253677382462009-02-19T08:37:00.000-08:002009-02-19T10:05:04.384-08:00Amanda's Baking FinalThis post is LONG overdue. It's all the butt to the chair thing. Click on the photos to see them enlarged. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEWmkO_R3Wvy-Z4tV5fbryO2thEpiQSS65vy7gwJ0dG2jRqy5e6mhq-aUMbmX1h5_eHMHz5S80ZJZ_ozcqoplaoGM6KmfG8xoRkEZf5HqcIV8zMC5BrQDSiIeakf2ASj2tjXjth5cqQff/s1600-h/P8160317.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTEWmkO_R3Wvy-Z4tV5fbryO2thEpiQSS65vy7gwJ0dG2jRqy5e6mhq-aUMbmX1h5_eHMHz5S80ZJZ_ozcqoplaoGM6KmfG8xoRkEZf5HqcIV8zMC5BrQDSiIeakf2ASj2tjXjth5cqQff/s320/P8160317.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304568889706707522" border="0" /></a>My wonderful daughter will soon be 20 years old. Who can believe it? Little Panda Bear 20 years old! On the day she was born, Nana said "This child will be the joy of our life." And she has been. She was the perfect baby. I mean it. Perfect! She rarely cried and was always content.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghu9aM6SgnqQK8JOi_hi9reLFkUaAikFPZH_9EGIe541L735YBnMZYVss_JQJRGvGJ_3ulQoSvQNuTK9ySRP3nE9Px4OT9enH1fM-TjO2XuSFjTyQeqN3dhUFdNeeOlZfIRkJ3SvRR9scu/s1600-h/graduation+018.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghu9aM6SgnqQK8JOi_hi9reLFkUaAikFPZH_9EGIe541L735YBnMZYVss_JQJRGvGJ_3ulQoSvQNuTK9ySRP3nE9Px4OT9enH1fM-TjO2XuSFjTyQeqN3dhUFdNeeOlZfIRkJ3SvRR9scu/s320/graduation+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304565239823083634" border="0" /></a>And now she has grown into a lovely young woman. She has an awesome spirit and a compassionate caring soul. She "feels" things and that guides her choices in life. She is concerned about animal abuses and the environment. She has spent many years volunteering for causes she believes in including Girl Scouts. She works as a unit secretary in the intensive care unit of the same hospital I work for.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Now she is studying to be a pastry chef. She is attending the very prestigious culinary school at Forest Park which is a community college but is very prestigious nonetheless. She studies under Chef Casey Shiller in baking and pastry arts. This is like a dream come true for me. My own child a baker, a purveyor of all things pastry. My own personal pastry chef (I'm not sure she agrees with this title). Oh happy day.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4awpzze-3tXjW3vwAJ5eYDyONBonF7fwUTYgpzrSCF1LAhEMDK19OWCSFTycoQWTH6aGDU3DWaiJpcIkdm264UP0Yl_D7xsAX_gVfEPQGhjcfNl6TE2G0d6wBq6FK_ujBSVvDCavmx_Oy/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+014.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4awpzze-3tXjW3vwAJ5eYDyONBonF7fwUTYgpzrSCF1LAhEMDK19OWCSFTycoQWTH6aGDU3DWaiJpcIkdm264UP0Yl_D7xsAX_gVfEPQGhjcfNl6TE2G0d6wBq6FK_ujBSVvDCavmx_Oy/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+014.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304566169789339730" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Recently they had their baking final. Well it was a while ago but I am just now getting around to posting. I am sorry darling pastry chef daughter.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I believe it was an awesome experience for her. Their final was to design, bake, transport, display and serve a wedding cake. How cool. They held a small tea type gathering for the public for the display, serving portion of the event. To make it even more exciting, a local t.v. station picked up the story and turned it into a human interest segment. The segment had to do with how difficult it was to transport the cakes and they sent Tim Ezell, a funny local reporter to observe whether all the cakes made it safely. Transporting was part of their grade and if the cake fell, they failed! Horrors!!! But luckily all the cakes made it safe and sound. The cake tea service thingie was wonderful. All the cakes were delicious. Amanda's was, of course, the most beautiful of all and tasted the best.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2AH_YvQ9Vim7gAj6nR5R0kiuL0PU8NURoYou22lRFsiKZqgOz_SUkhQH5wkTpB0zV1IXrZpK57EBJuQM5q9cAKErWfK7AksaL_oIrCYHg215UeRNkpivgrtUFP_qx6DKVAIk_toboGYe/s1600-h/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+020.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2AH_YvQ9Vim7gAj6nR5R0kiuL0PU8NURoYou22lRFsiKZqgOz_SUkhQH5wkTpB0zV1IXrZpK57EBJuQM5q9cAKErWfK7AksaL_oIrCYHg215UeRNkpivgrtUFP_qx6DKVAIk_toboGYe/s320/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+020.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304569538734163170" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2qg6tgxOeQz2n82YU4AYC2RNFqWWa4p6s9GT0tt1OLlM9Sf_sC_6xU_jET5yV9XRA7xol-BHR8t4WqCnAfcDcy-Pry3YpU81BISQzJymQzj19H89FBe3_twnFMwmvo5aFRm-yYsUUlx_/s1600-h/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2qg6tgxOeQz2n82YU4AYC2RNFqWWa4p6s9GT0tt1OLlM9Sf_sC_6xU_jET5yV9XRA7xol-BHR8t4WqCnAfcDcy-Pry3YpU81BISQzJymQzj19H89FBe3_twnFMwmvo5aFRm-yYsUUlx_/s320/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304567166940387106" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPk-rHb5w3FH2byuF26mXjInsTpy29bJTSIfXAEGJmGlsJ02QNssx-dnxqePJ46G1xOzjD_u1LkOe4-dhRVQSagT0HGpbY3vUoxWWq9ZjP2_g3e-dpk8tt0GRpUW6smd5mlyTJp8FrDWh/s1600-h/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPk-rHb5w3FH2byuF26mXjInsTpy29bJTSIfXAEGJmGlsJ02QNssx-dnxqePJ46G1xOzjD_u1LkOe4-dhRVQSagT0HGpbY3vUoxWWq9ZjP2_g3e-dpk8tt0GRpUW6smd5mlyTJp8FrDWh/s320/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304569353134839538" border="0" /></a><br /><br />They have now moved on to ice cream and ice cream cakes. They will be holding another event to showcase their latest yummy delights next Wednesday. I can't wait.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-92151919374944420892009-01-28T09:45:00.000-08:002009-01-28T10:25:30.102-08:00California here we come.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVeK88nWPe5Fuzsr1orF7juTFMJf3cN4IAdsOSs9fNxrc4YYx3WTEf03ouSdp99HZ8ZOmRZ-y4K0TY5KTjQHvCs89titQAmsmwci0_yHhythPQqHvcadImhtiVCXhvSsLX2P5BjTc3sLJ/s1600-h/mittens,+snow+2009+010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkVeK88nWPe5Fuzsr1orF7juTFMJf3cN4IAdsOSs9fNxrc4YYx3WTEf03ouSdp99HZ8ZOmRZ-y4K0TY5KTjQHvCs89titQAmsmwci0_yHhythPQqHvcadImhtiVCXhvSsLX2P5BjTc3sLJ/s320/mittens,+snow+2009+010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296402728580058626" border="0" /></a><br />Tomorrow I am leaving for California. Yeaaaahhhhh! This is what it looks like at my house.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We went out in the snow and played and had lots of fun.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGsfmyrmroeA-_6V-8O5CQEPmOL_Lz39Sr4wQ8CXWtXc521RrMPEPE6I0693qsXBFP9Lrwu9sRoKgwXBOlhO9SkW8eK-NCWupJXk8BPl3Q5vih8Uw_SROL_ZqiMjkt1ZQSR6zkH64lN9z/s1600-h/mittens,+snow+2009+017.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeGsfmyrmroeA-_6V-8O5CQEPmOL_Lz39Sr4wQ8CXWtXc521RrMPEPE6I0693qsXBFP9Lrwu9sRoKgwXBOlhO9SkW8eK-NCWupJXk8BPl3Q5vih8Uw_SROL_ZqiMjkt1ZQSR6zkH64lN9z/s320/mittens,+snow+2009+017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296404466147668370" border="0" /></a><br />snow angels<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2zlRguxfXHzr0CuoUkZ_32G8FKXnHSElmaAmNU6lavHvrdb-2yMbXjc_0JwvDEzgZ5bUve3jGM3Y2t8i6vwvLfv0N8OzQip2Klz2xWKnF7PDHZcSB-pTVbkliqiCtW_BSbDhWQshNwy2/s1600-h/mittens,+snow+2009+028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2zlRguxfXHzr0CuoUkZ_32G8FKXnHSElmaAmNU6lavHvrdb-2yMbXjc_0JwvDEzgZ5bUve3jGM3Y2t8i6vwvLfv0N8OzQip2Klz2xWKnF7PDHZcSB-pTVbkliqiCtW_BSbDhWQshNwy2/s320/mittens,+snow+2009+028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296405317606441106" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />As beautiful as the snow is, I am looking forward to some warm sunny California weather!Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-59534763459290744542008-12-11T19:37:00.000-08:002008-12-11T20:47:34.776-08:00The worst week of my lifeWe went to Branson last weekend.<br /><br />We really like Branson. We have some wonderful, kind friends that have a place there and invite us to come down often. We like it so much, we bought season passes to Silver Dollar City. We love having fun with our friends and doing fun stuff.<br /><br />We like Branson so much we wanted to see how beautiful it was during the Christmas Season. The TV commercial says it is one of the top winter destinations. Boy, they weren't kidding. (spell check is telling me to spell weren't like this- wern't. I don't believe it. Am I wrong?)<br /><br />So we went to Silver Dollar City, SDC for those of us on the inside, on Saturday. It was cold, about 45-50 during the day and colder at night, but we dressed warm. We got to the turn-off for the park and a nice man in an orange vest holding a SDC parking sign waved us on. On towards West Branson or Branson West, whatever. On toward Arkansas. We sailed past several more parking lots and nice men in orange vests directing us ever onward until at last we reached Arkansas. No really it was close to Arkansas. We were directed into a newly mowed field at the side of the highway next to a bank.<br /><br />We should have known something was up then. Or maybe when we got out of our cars and had to wait in a line of about 150 people to get on a bus. But no, we just laughed and said "Boy, it must be really crowded." Ha Ha Ha.<br /><br />Finally we were ushered onto a bus and as it was getting dark were deposited in front of the SDC gates. "Ha,Ha,Ha. Isn't this fun?" We said. Like fools. The next thing we know we see this sea of people trying to get in the park. We're not fools though, we quickly cut through a bakery and take a short cut. Unfortunately the short cut brings us out in the middle of another sea. This time it is the sea of people trying to get out of the park. It is a really, really big sea. And we are in the middle of it and we are going the wrong way. I am thinking we are going to end up like the guy at Walmart who got trampled. We have a small child with us. I am truly scared. When suddenly a very loud mouthed, I mean well meaning, SDC employee sees us trying to go the wrong way and starts hollering at us until we are pushed by a gang of unhappy outgoers into the side that is going in. Remember we have a small child with us. We are now pretty much separated from each other except for my lovely friend Tanya, who did manage to hold onto the small child. We finally get through the front gate and then inside to see a really, really, really big sea of people trying to get out of the park. Did I ever mention that I am claustraphobic? I am nearly in a panic by this time. We finally manage to group up again and someone has the presence of mind to lead us down a path to a spot where there aren't so many people. When we finally get to a spot where the people aren't arm to arm, I am shaking like a leaf, broke out in a sweat and ready to go home. Except now we are trapped in this park.<br /><br />Well it got better after that. I truly had never seen anything like that in my whole life. Everywhere we went the lines were long but mostly well behaved. We visited lots of shops, rode the train, and watched a parade.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Z1cKe3tIQjs5hCpkeIh9Hk1r67qZ_9pqTw6KPH7T3TQIdEyjHx9NnovdYoeUdPgYOe62CanF7YWLLpTGhTOb_LC6a_MeH81ma8bmmaQnItcsM0rgi4prqVTolfbewQQb6Q6xq_5QLMAA/s1600-h/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Z1cKe3tIQjs5hCpkeIh9Hk1r67qZ_9pqTw6KPH7T3TQIdEyjHx9NnovdYoeUdPgYOe62CanF7YWLLpTGhTOb_LC6a_MeH81ma8bmmaQnItcsM0rgi4prqVTolfbewQQb6Q6xq_5QLMAA/s320/Branson,+Amanda%27s+baking+final+010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5278759648256715954" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />When we got hungry we ate a blooming onion and a philly cheesesteak sandwhich. We had a fairly good time until it was time to go home and then we had to wait in line for an hour and a half to catch a bus back to our field. At that time it was REALLY COLD.<br /><br />But we made it home. Safe and sound. We were cold, tired and I had developed a nervous tic. We put on our jammies and I slammed two rum and cokes to settle my jangled nerves.<br /><br />Finally everything settled down and we went to bed. Now here's the best part of the story and hasn't it been good so far?<br /><br />At five A.M. I awoke with a battle of gigantic proportions going on in my stomach. It seems the 2 rum and cokes, the blooming onion, the philly cheesesteak and some chili I ate the day before were all having a knock-down drag out fight. There could only be one loser in this fight.<br /><br />Welcome gastroenteritis, otherwise known as the stomach flu. It won't kill you, just make you want to die.<br /><br />I will spare you the gory details, suffice it to say that when we reached home that evening, everyone was glad to get out of the car. Oh, and there was a lot of laundry.<br /><br />So that was the beginning of the worst week of my life. On Monday I stayed in bed and bowed down to the plastic trash can. On Tuesday I felt a little better but weak. Then I noticed I was starting to get a head cold. On Wednesday, I relapsed and back to bed, head in the trashcan. Now I had the stomach flu and a cold. Lucky me.<br /><br />Today is Thursday. I am out of bed and even had a shower. Went to the grocery store even. Actually, I went to a very special ceremony this morning that I will blog about later and that was the ONLY thing that got my sorry ass out of bed.<br /><br />I am five pounds lighter and still can eat nothing but gatorade. I did get some baby food bananas and ate them and I think they really helped my GI tract because I am feeling much better. Tomorrow it's strained bananas and yogurt with probiotics. I am a BIG fan of probiotics. And Omega 3 and 6 fatty acids. They are SO good for what ails you. Take them, take them, everyone.<br /><br />Now I haven't written anything for almost 2 months. I wonder why I chose this to write about? I'm not sure but I was compelled to share it with you. I needed to talk about it. I needed to <span style="font-style: italic;">purge</span> these feelings. Get it? <span style="font-style: italic;">PURGE.</span> I crack myself up. Nancy, I wish you read this blog.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-46178345363986727622008-10-14T08:42:00.000-07:002008-10-14T10:17:28.741-07:00Home from CollegeMy college son came home this weekend to visit. It was a nice visit. He brought his new girlfriend, who was very nice, pretty and well-mannered. I had to work and didn't get to spend enough time with them, but other than that it was a very nice visit.<br /><br />While my son was home I asked him to get a hair cut.<br /><br />I know, how lame, every mom wants their son to get a hair cut.<br /><br />Leave them alone for gosh sake, let them be who they are.<br /><br />Well, I thought maybe something needed to be done. Before he was sitting on his hair. Before movie producers were trying to hire him to be the next Cousin It.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.addamsfamily.com/addams/itt-02.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.addamsfamily.com/addams/itt-02.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />No, I jest.<br /><br />It's not that bad.<br /><br />But seriously, it is L-O-N-G.<br /><br />This is who he really looks like.<br /><br />Conan the Barbarian.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://blog.bittorrent.com/editorial/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/arnold-schwarzenegger-conan-the-barbarian-c10102058-copy.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://blog.bittorrent.com/editorial/wp-content/uploads/2007/08/arnold-schwarzenegger-conan-the-barbarian-c10102058-copy.jpeg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Oops! Upon further study, I hate to say it but he's not quite so buff. (Are you seeing a pattern here on this blog? Is my subconcious trying to tell me something?)<br /><br /><br />Maybe he looks more like Daniel Day Lewis in Last of the Mohicans.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.art.com/images/-/Daniel-Day-Lewis---Last-of-the-Mohicans--C10103887.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://images.art.com/images/-/Daniel-Day-Lewis---Last-of-the-Mohicans--C10103887.jpeg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Or Maybe he just looks like my son.<br /><br />The little boy who changed my life, made me a mom, taught me about responsibility and so much more.<br /><br />Taught me that my heart could be so full of love that it consumed my whole life.<br /><br />My first born.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4RKUhf0PPxh25HZnkqbRzJuj9EVKguchVn9Fa0YSPSExuooOVdHHsAbXIRa5fw_q3PZqeO9OITxdvKxE7SuMpOLQ_w1TJViWolBkbC1hQaTdXbWVSbRWarXKsaQZsJeNZBUH5fKgngr-/s1600-h/david+and+kaisey+005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4RKUhf0PPxh25HZnkqbRzJuj9EVKguchVn9Fa0YSPSExuooOVdHHsAbXIRa5fw_q3PZqeO9OITxdvKxE7SuMpOLQ_w1TJViWolBkbC1hQaTdXbWVSbRWarXKsaQZsJeNZBUH5fKgngr-/s320/david+and+kaisey+005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257040836361776498" border="0" /></a>Ain't he handsome?<br /><br /><br /><br />Well, that long flowing hair is no more.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkGvhSHyoA8xxksXjKYPfveGWBpsAIsik75JWgaRCfPMfb8O2WVS4IavnC02plrK4HY6jTcm4l7Ok2BXzyKcW6kZCt1Y9Ui_bBiZ3uRejh5kAoh2ElYY-yj0J5AqoaJn0RMcTyU2K15RN/s1600-h/david+and+kaisey+016.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgkGvhSHyoA8xxksXjKYPfveGWBpsAIsik75JWgaRCfPMfb8O2WVS4IavnC02plrK4HY6jTcm4l7Ok2BXzyKcW6kZCt1Y9Ui_bBiZ3uRejh5kAoh2ElYY-yj0J5AqoaJn0RMcTyU2K15RN/s320/david+and+kaisey+016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257043063979602978" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://chatterbox.typepad.com/portlandarchitecture/images/2007/11/09/bobby_brady.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://chatterbox.typepad.com/portlandarchitecture/images/2007/11/09/bobby_brady.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Remind you of anyone?Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-89152636129245555452008-09-26T11:23:00.001-07:002008-09-26T11:23:49.210-07:00Please save us<script type="text/javascript" src="http://widgets.nbc.com/o/4727a250e66f9723/48dd28b3abdd1923/4727a2501a2a0f59/6d1f91dc/widget.js"></script>Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-31787903918821367142008-09-17T21:07:00.000-07:002008-09-17T21:30:17.533-07:00Tribute to LOTRAmanda and I went to the symphony tonight. They were playing music from The Lord of The Rings. It was awesome. The music was directly from the movie and written by Howard Shore. It was actually a dress rehearsal so there were a few times they stopped and made technical changes.<br /><br />Amanda bought me the ticket and it is to be my Christmas present.<br /><br />As the symphony played the music, they showed drawings of scenes from the story on a screen above the musicians. The drawings were very good.<br /><br />Watching it all made me want to go home and watch the movie. Then I started thinking about all the hot men in LOTR. There are really some fabulous looking men in that movie.<br /><br />Who can forget Orlando Bloom as Legolas with that silky blond hair?<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbcyf5lFviimnCkn4LSSJK_sVVQt2FtbGnEDq21h9eYS5rCKTZgvNCX6wN7pKC9VbGxfUTkmhiNpYtnatk_FX91WlzLE2ZMx4t_klP5JinnlnbaaPxVWn1qnnEkVNg9cDICuypgpDkXel/s1600-h/legolas_logo.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYbcyf5lFviimnCkn4LSSJK_sVVQt2FtbGnEDq21h9eYS5rCKTZgvNCX6wN7pKC9VbGxfUTkmhiNpYtnatk_FX91WlzLE2ZMx4t_klP5JinnlnbaaPxVWn1qnnEkVNg9cDICuypgpDkXel/s320/legolas_logo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247211186977236482" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Or Viggo Mortenson as Aragorn. I'd do him (just kidding, Mom).<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLIUA4gKTeQjTnl75b_5RAxaiHye42e_BdueKlzpwBaDaU9E1PiTdjxPAoai2jKEF0prWZC5f3Ro5-opUhxXP0w-jXMzS3K1lu4ieumXkPvdOyaKytOlKZsz5A1b_IHJZpe1-U_jBM2Kb/s1600-h/Aragorn1.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwLIUA4gKTeQjTnl75b_5RAxaiHye42e_BdueKlzpwBaDaU9E1PiTdjxPAoai2jKEF0prWZC5f3Ro5-opUhxXP0w-jXMzS3K1lu4ieumXkPvdOyaKytOlKZsz5A1b_IHJZpe1-U_jBM2Kb/s320/Aragorn1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247211576908234674" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My favorite though is Faramir. He is so fine.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHw3KJqPXKzMJL_cW9bq1_MmqkOVoSWGiL5bABpvMsWnyWahFlp0NaKEGQWK5KJrhAf1ZP1uLX1U7l7BsaSLpxtNzWA_ySPY0O93GXg5oHqur3k6sV4q65jS9QaJeVofZzgX4rsubXbPB/s1600-h/characters_faramir3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTHw3KJqPXKzMJL_cW9bq1_MmqkOVoSWGiL5bABpvMsWnyWahFlp0NaKEGQWK5KJrhAf1ZP1uLX1U7l7BsaSLpxtNzWA_ySPY0O93GXg5oHqur3k6sV4q65jS9QaJeVofZzgX4rsubXbPB/s320/characters_faramir3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247211924729972450" border="0" /></a>oh yeah!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjQ_JONmLYpWL2iqQTtGy3iDP6Ml26sK97-haaNOYaDmcg9DBnEnZhX9C8QZTGNvYFlVWCee0yJ7uldpSVl-mluzENoqQ9q7-lBe9KSOyWj_RLNm3oWRWujIVOjNeVNtpeFflwHl4jNG7/s1600-h/David-Wenham-as-Faramir-725715.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGjQ_JONmLYpWL2iqQTtGy3iDP6Ml26sK97-haaNOYaDmcg9DBnEnZhX9C8QZTGNvYFlVWCee0yJ7uldpSVl-mluzENoqQ9q7-lBe9KSOyWj_RLNm3oWRWujIVOjNeVNtpeFflwHl4jNG7/s320/David-Wenham-as-Faramir-725715.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247212106210325570" border="0" /></a><br /><br />David Wenhem is cute in or out of character.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkY0xvJA13Qin4zdMmo64RHzVMcE1XcesS54vbHIP4Ba8178DSZnO2bw54VeMDA_Gz5ZDWM5_i-WwYuwfgj7ed-NHgfZ2-v9hPFBg2YWNfqf2yLGNojb5GNOJryGxUBpn5dlBrZxwzC9o/s1600-h/David-Wenham-as-Mychael-753480.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXkY0xvJA13Qin4zdMmo64RHzVMcE1XcesS54vbHIP4Ba8178DSZnO2bw54VeMDA_Gz5ZDWM5_i-WwYuwfgj7ed-NHgfZ2-v9hPFBg2YWNfqf2yLGNojb5GNOJryGxUBpn5dlBrZxwzC9o/s320/David-Wenham-as-Mychael-753480.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5247212338565895090" border="0" /></a>I've always been a sucker for a redhead.<br /><br />So there's a little eye candy to make your day.<br /><br />Now I'm going to go upstairs and climb under the covers with my own hottie.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-24856966050191619602008-08-26T21:11:00.001-07:002008-08-26T21:46:14.027-07:00Doggie update<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheworlyWNPs_C_dlXni_1D9CCC4xJwNa9yNCe06ml5qtp0A91PlbwkaV_XB7wSu9VfT2v6GKNb9Rq_S5w_siV8pEsgVQMqQJSoBnw0JQopFLJU3PSiiM_AHtj_BI0Fm-6jSNthB0f0wbu7/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+025.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheworlyWNPs_C_dlXni_1D9CCC4xJwNa9yNCe06ml5qtp0A91PlbwkaV_XB7wSu9VfT2v6GKNb9Rq_S5w_siV8pEsgVQMqQJSoBnw0JQopFLJU3PSiiM_AHtj_BI0Fm-6jSNthB0f0wbu7/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239054053561471922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This is a doggie update.<br /><br />Her name is now Ella. She likes her new name.<br /><br />Ella is a rescue dog. I wish someone would rescue me. <br /><br />The fact is we were told some untruths. I don't want to call anyone a liar, but the rescue lady is, well... a liar. When we got Ella, the rescue lady, God bless her, said that Ella was very quiet and docile. The truth is that Ella makes Taz look like he's taking Valium. The rescue lady said she was house trained. The truth is that she is somewhat house trained. As long as you take her out every 2 hours. The lady said she was 2 years old. The truth is we don't have her birth certificate but she acts much younger. The lady said she wouldn't chew on anything. The truth is she won't chew on anything that is higher than 6 feet off the ground. She has a vertical leap higher than Shaq (relatively speaking, that is.) The nice lady said she was in perfect health. The truth is, she's in perfect health except for the fleas and the little cough that she is going to the vet tomorrow for. (She has had her vaccinations, or at least they made a copy of some dogs vaccination schedule and gave it to us.)<br /><br />The small daughter is thrilled with her. Couldn't be happier. I tried to talk her into taking Ella back to the nice lady and getting a dog that actually listened and didn't pee on the floor, but she is in LOVE and looked at me as if I was suggesting she forsake her family.<br /><br />Here is Ella getting a flea bath.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTs-ibKlAc11WnaHqBFD2ftBgoX8nCKruSGVxbVa1d4k698NA26k9n4QVarjvJb089zrTizWoWTYHZyBpkwOukHIDFEPusgP4dICxVCoHuuIcrzH-SZdFXOxxUCvHtGSAHvGEGDy27bZl/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+002.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDTs-ibKlAc11WnaHqBFD2ftBgoX8nCKruSGVxbVa1d4k698NA26k9n4QVarjvJb089zrTizWoWTYHZyBpkwOukHIDFEPusgP4dICxVCoHuuIcrzH-SZdFXOxxUCvHtGSAHvGEGDy27bZl/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239049436454752018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here are the girls and Ella making her a new I.D. tag.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvO6pobYug7B2r_Dgdq-x02Cv9ocII9wxCcb53Jnq4C_e7GIgn0-uiiIq8BgO8Xj-gqasJI4RPj0RVKtiGp9jim6oA20HgSicdKJIpaxFoALp6y9PwYP2X4RH5kguNALINhRspyrYY1ky4/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+005.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvO6pobYug7B2r_Dgdq-x02Cv9ocII9wxCcb53Jnq4C_e7GIgn0-uiiIq8BgO8Xj-gqasJI4RPj0RVKtiGp9jim6oA20HgSicdKJIpaxFoALp6y9PwYP2X4RH5kguNALINhRspyrYY1ky4/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239049753307730194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Note the cool pink harness. We decided that would be a good idea after she backed out of her collar three or four times.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8QM4f0VrVLg75CxLmTWj1DoeToKWxm7IS_rYaLFWjgaJ_fI-mE7KAHV4XXdrDY9ZzsnT5VVrOLej0lfTYzK0yej61SJEyV2IYiSc3SChmz55TSBWRwoHErlyv4e7l2ONJd6dREhbgEaw/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+007.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8QM4f0VrVLg75CxLmTWj1DoeToKWxm7IS_rYaLFWjgaJ_fI-mE7KAHV4XXdrDY9ZzsnT5VVrOLej0lfTYzK0yej61SJEyV2IYiSc3SChmz55TSBWRwoHErlyv4e7l2ONJd6dREhbgEaw/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+007.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239050233368381346" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />This, see this, this is the reason Ella won't be going back to the nice lady with the lying tendencies.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnuKdt-gMBPHKHxgBeJcSUaE-itXflsjuy-2zTIxIuGgPojBR-MSlgCeMcw91f1UpYUlIgb8xwx3XkGB19aQ_54VcvSqf0YxqkiFeLaMLnIpJE8qC-jcpPH7NG2gSl8iCF4p4BPEWKlae/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+021.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNnuKdt-gMBPHKHxgBeJcSUaE-itXflsjuy-2zTIxIuGgPojBR-MSlgCeMcw91f1UpYUlIgb8xwx3XkGB19aQ_54VcvSqf0YxqkiFeLaMLnIpJE8qC-jcpPH7NG2gSl8iCF4p4BPEWKlae/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239050630032387282" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Or maybe it's this. This quite possibly is the reason I have flea bites on my legs.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu47iOKbgSSF-N6YBRR4OubpK7xzc3R-l2ltaVLNdheFy83fC7IDAm-iRQmpx49dRYymxRQxxrjmGD0w436DSdgjKHrdp6C24yKo2thMFnr-l4ACsZNOklilFYJ5YPZt9R5AtOGHTVw4c/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+023.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGu47iOKbgSSF-N6YBRR4OubpK7xzc3R-l2ltaVLNdheFy83fC7IDAm-iRQmpx49dRYymxRQxxrjmGD0w436DSdgjKHrdp6C24yKo2thMFnr-l4ACsZNOklilFYJ5YPZt9R5AtOGHTVw4c/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239051296945403154" border="0" /></a><br /><br />or perhaps this<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX6t45htqy4wvOXzfjJIxef1jgPjcn6lHjr-6VqDdnwIZRd2kqgvNjPKlRVG7zoXjjL-afF8NHuXogg2lv6OX4IIXdCurjbcPBGSNAEesJBTe94ZnkM-JahVjmKU_9_cFptmLW09DEL5e/s1600-h/Ella+and+house+pictures+022.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzX6t45htqy4wvOXzfjJIxef1jgPjcn6lHjr-6VqDdnwIZRd2kqgvNjPKlRVG7zoXjjL-afF8NHuXogg2lv6OX4IIXdCurjbcPBGSNAEesJBTe94ZnkM-JahVjmKU_9_cFptmLW09DEL5e/s320/Ella+and+house+pictures+022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239051766590179986" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Thank God for this<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkUE0L7YVg48EQDT6eXeNcpAKszGOfgmyzr1JyNdWpf-slV_AeJiO2L9N7PMkSNcGeqATB2tYdLop4PAV9WP6NNrmJMlhSqK25vWq9AskVcWzvbSxO5FxoB97MSjboVREnPqc3iXAxJIF/s1600-h/carpet+cleaner+002.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfkUE0L7YVg48EQDT6eXeNcpAKszGOfgmyzr1JyNdWpf-slV_AeJiO2L9N7PMkSNcGeqATB2tYdLop4PAV9WP6NNrmJMlhSqK25vWq9AskVcWzvbSxO5FxoB97MSjboVREnPqc3iXAxJIF/s320/carpet+cleaner+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5239053101601028930" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Gotta run, 2 hours are up.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-52115364065996147392008-08-18T08:25:00.001-07:002008-08-18T09:05:54.435-07:00And True Love is BornIt was an unconventional place, for a love affair to begin. A strip mall, with people going in and out of doors, shoes and beauty supplies being bought and sold, and yet, love was in the air that cool Sunday morning. We certainly didn't expect to find love, we'd gone to the strip mall to buy hamster food. We were in a hurry as usual, rushing in and rushing out. I was with my six year old daughter.<br /><br />Is six too young to find true love? She doesn't think so. Should I have stopped her? Maybe. Some would say yes, her father is one of them, but I say, "Who am I to stand in the way of love?"<br /><br />Love is a funny thing. It only takes a second, two sets of eyes meet and in that instant, universes are born, bonds are fused, and ultimately, lives are changed. This is what happened to my smallest daughter. In that instant, when their big brown eyes met, she gave her heart. I can't say if it is right or wrong, only that it was meant to be.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4RTne5aSaxjsUalpMUB5Jqv3e96eJrH19PqKMbyacgxFMH_qjFIWvkbBCVNMaQ_wLDlej4cwK1w6_FkqFcMnG2-_KLqR6p_ZBs1yg8GwcvlmLIG7LiT2cAYu0CP-wyp_xiBtcymHa_C_/s1600-h/new+dog+duma+002.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF4RTne5aSaxjsUalpMUB5Jqv3e96eJrH19PqKMbyacgxFMH_qjFIWvkbBCVNMaQ_wLDlej4cwK1w6_FkqFcMnG2-_KLqR6p_ZBs1yg8GwcvlmLIG7LiT2cAYu0CP-wyp_xiBtcymHa_C_/s320/new+dog+duma+002.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235885566201437890" border="0" /></a>This is her and her new love. Her name is Dooma. Dooma? What does that mean? We're going to change her name. The small girl wants Emily or Brittany, I picked Jasmine, her dad suggested Girl. Her older sister had a good one, but I told her only hoosiers name their dogs Stupid. She was only kidding.<br /><br />What does the reigning dog say about this?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZvKZecPwJOIeH4lxL69LNAPqtRgsw6LbwhOxuOxvjfR4LvSDwnBFXyZi3AcIXDkCycWKUoyGqHh0sM_YFHnezDgVVYssusHaShz30gTIz3o94w-_KIx6MFu9MhaqoMIH2d-JR3h0doRC/s1600-h/new+dog+duma+001.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijZvKZecPwJOIeH4lxL69LNAPqtRgsw6LbwhOxuOxvjfR4LvSDwnBFXyZi3AcIXDkCycWKUoyGqHh0sM_YFHnezDgVVYssusHaShz30gTIz3o94w-_KIx6MFu9MhaqoMIH2d-JR3h0doRC/s320/new+dog+duma+001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235887754194451154" border="0" /></a><br />"What? Who? Where am I?" Poor old Buster-man.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8766zonKNlTdaVDzGSvU9dsMBK-fAJWu33ZJDu5w9Xkkj3eMbHmcs8-pR4xUS-16LFz_zargIGBly4EG4ilvxpvVJ0ksmEOQbz0HHnBWGzAYxD8HYEM0LrtH-hw6cqEA4UbKS3Oaozyf/s1600-h/new+dog+duma+006.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8766zonKNlTdaVDzGSvU9dsMBK-fAJWu33ZJDu5w9Xkkj3eMbHmcs8-pR4xUS-16LFz_zargIGBly4EG4ilvxpvVJ0ksmEOQbz0HHnBWGzAYxD8HYEM0LrtH-hw6cqEA4UbKS3Oaozyf/s320/new+dog+duma+006.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5235888514562464178" border="0" /></a><br />Who could resist this little cutie?<br /><br />We'll keep you posted.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-35508144369687810132008-08-13T10:04:00.000-07:002008-08-13T10:40:39.998-07:00back to school<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8rV-1P5LjL-mZkDsBRu0QpL8279vKETwJj0iuMIQjxVJMoEVtYrdhDwWNoHlbxJc9sw-5HfnVi80KWWJJY8JGAcqY_3cE_TspqqpEOnRlcB3L4r5XwkeRslQRAxScjHL_36ahRY_w0YW/s1600-h/005.JPG">The Little Sweetie Pie is not the only one going back to school.</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8rV-1P5LjL-mZkDsBRu0QpL8279vKETwJj0iuMIQjxVJMoEVtYrdhDwWNoHlbxJc9sw-5HfnVi80KWWJJY8JGAcqY_3cE_TspqqpEOnRlcB3L4r5XwkeRslQRAxScjHL_36ahRY_w0YW/s1600-h/005.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8rV-1P5LjL-mZkDsBRu0QpL8279vKETwJj0iuMIQjxVJMoEVtYrdhDwWNoHlbxJc9sw-5HfnVi80KWWJJY8JGAcqY_3cE_TspqqpEOnRlcB3L4r5XwkeRslQRAxScjHL_36ahRY_w0YW/s320/005.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5234053015690423298" border="0" /></a><br />This is David. He is 20. He is going to be a junior in college, majoring in music. He attends a university several hours from our house. This child/man was unable to find gainful employment the entire summer. He did however play over 300 hours of World of Warcraft on the computer. He's the cow. He has spoken less than 50 words to me in three months and most of them were "Can I have some money?" and "What is for dinner?" He usually rises and shines bright and early around 3:oo...PM so what he really means is "What is for breakfast?" When my husband goes to work at 6:00...AM, they sometimes pass in the hall. Actually, he is a really good kid. He is very smart and knows how to fix things on my computer. <br /><br />There is something so not right about a mother/child relationship in which a mother will actually cry when a child like this leaves her home to go live in a dorm. I <span style="font-weight: bold;">DO</span> need chocolate chip pecan cookie dough. On Saturday, I will drive him to college and leave him. For at least 9 months, I won't have to look at clothes on his floor or hear a disembodied voice from the basement computer say <span style="font-style: italic;">"Make your move, man." </span>And yet, I feel totally and completely bereft at the thought of him leaving. I want to curl up in the fetal position and suck my thumb. Is this that survival of the species thingie? That instinct that keeps mothers from killing their young no matter how bad their rooms smell, and how many times they have to pack and unpack the youngs dorm room, in the rain, while the kid goes to an audition or plays drums at a graduation ceremony. Even when they forget their vaccination form and they won't let them move in until they sign a waiver saying if they get a communicable disease the university won't be responsible and to sign that waiver the mother has to walk about 12 blocks in the rain to get the form.<br /><br /><br />Thank God for that survival of the species thingie.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-14556337553396532332008-08-12T20:24:00.000-07:002008-08-12T20:47:29.949-07:00First Grade, Already?Note to self: The number one way to see words appear on your blog is to make sure your seat is in the chair and your fingers are on the keyboard. The rest is just karma.<br /><br />Today was the last day before my last child goes to all day school (with tears welling up). Oh suck it up you big baby, you say. Well, bite me, I say to you. Who will I lay in bed and watch cartoons with? Who will I use as an excuse as to why I cannot get a thing done around the house? Who will do the grocery shopping with me, for God's sake? I mean for Gosh sake. I think I might go make some mashed potatoes and milk gravy. Or maybe sneak out to get some Ben and Jerry's. Or maybe my all time very bestest pity party food-raw chocolate chip cookie dough, wrapped in plastic wrap, hidden in the back of the freezer and sawed off with a knife when no one is around. Please let me have some pecans in the pantry.<br /><br />Today was the last day for our baby-sitter who has been coming for 6 years, since the little first grader was 9 months old. We won't need her any more since the little one will be in all day school. We found her on a whim, and she was an absolute treasure to us. She taught my sweet daughter so many wonderful things. How to sew, her letters, helped her learn to read, how to be crafty and how to walk around the neighborhood exploring. In an age where no one hardly even knows their neighbors, half the people in our subdivision say hi to my daughter when we are walking. Everyone knows the little girl who walks around the subdivision, with her babysitter, stopping whenever there is anything interesting even if it is up in people's front yards or on their porch. They know no boundaries. They have become very good friends with the lady down the street because they stopped and sat on a bench in her front yard everyday. Now she plays games with them and offers them green tea in bottles. Good-bye to our wonderful friend. Hopefully she will remain in our life.<br /><br />On a less dramatic note, I signed up to be in the mother's club at the elementary school. Please be aware that this is at great personal sacrifice for me. I am not a joiner. I hate crowds. I look like a grandma compared to the other moms. I am trying to turn over a new leaf for little sweetie pie's sake. She said "Mama can't you come work in the library like so and so's mom?"<br />Let's hope it works out. <br /><br />Coming soon..... I am going to try and post a picture. ( I am comforted by the fact that no one reads this)Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-79267186524210407742008-06-28T23:07:00.000-07:002008-06-28T23:13:48.498-07:00The long dark teatime of the soulThis blog business is going to be harder than I thought. Sorry, it's kind of like cleaning my bathrooms or paying the bills, I put it off until I can devote all my attention to it. Well that will just never happen so either I will post short little disjointed snippets (good word, that snippets) or my posts will be few and far between. Fortunately, I will get the hang of it soon and brilliant, funny, articulate and timely posts will be forthcoming. Unfortunately, I am now entering the long dark teatime of the soul (thanks Douglas Adams), which means it is my weekend to work, and I will be away for a bit.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-50932297494478157192008-06-23T20:43:00.000-07:002008-06-23T20:59:49.879-07:00Day 3456 of my captivity: Hi, welcome to my blog. I thought that would be a catchy way to start. I am so excited to have a blog. I have been thinking about starting a blog. I have been talking endlessly about having a blog and finally....I have a blog. Ok, that is way to much pressure. Now that I have a blog, I have stage fright. Well, I guess I can take comfort in the fact that no one will actually read this blog unless I send it to my friends and family. That makes it a little easier.<br /><br />Well, here goes. Hi friends and family. Saturday was our anniversary (11 years) and we went out to dinner to Shogun (a Japanese steakhouse) and had steak and shrimp. Yummy, it was great. The only bad thing was the table we were at was with two other couples who both had babies in high chairs who were being fed from baby food jars throughout the entire dinner. It was kind of a boring table. Having been there before at a bachelorette party, I knew the waiter would offer to squirt Saki, a rice alcohol thingie into peoples mouths from a large squirt bottle, but our table was boring and when the waiter offered Saki to the males they all said "No thanks". I was like, hey I want Saki, but then thought I would look like a cheap girl so I kept quiet and did not get to enjoy the excitement of guzzling Saki from a squirt bottle. In retrospect it is probably for the best. We then went to see Get Smart at the cinema, which was very funny and quite entertaining. I used to watch the original series when I was young and enjoyed it a lot. <br /><br />I hope my friends who were having girls weekend in Ste. Gen were having lots of fun. They were probably drinking Saki from a squirt bottle or at least wine from a paper bag.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5413041906338849676.post-67350254310377159912008-06-20T21:39:00.000-07:002008-06-20T21:45:03.928-07:00This is Girls NightIt was on June 17th 26 years ago that the seeds of the "Girls" were sewn. Tonight, we had "Girls" night at Maggie's House in St. Genevieve Missouri. Maggies Sister and her husband came over and it was revealed that the first time Barb and Terry met Mary Kay was at Maggie's Sisters Husband's Bachelor Party on June 17th, 1982. It was then and is still a small world. Mary Kay spent the night on Barb and Terry's couch that night and have been friends every since. This blog belongs to Timmie who was friends with Mary Kay then and shares the same birthday. <br /><br />This first post is being written by Terry who probably has had too much to drink right now and probably isn't making much sense. I'm also not a very good writer. I will turn this over to Timmie who is a much better writer, and who will hopefully (or not) write her blog when she is sober.Timmiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12566296602267399654noreply@blogger.com1