tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63940195879555521392024-03-19T00:40:52.372-05:00Sissy and SassyUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-19064984663761548952011-06-15T11:43:00.000-05:002011-06-15T11:43:22.497-05:00Summer = Baking and Eating<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2DJrKY4BmwLWyir0tAuFnFMCwljoQutcD_XJeHgKEkVWcgRagHLHe8LXRVJetvihyphenhyphenQIY0KFGag5k2EY2JemGff8cV2J_23fSXm9EnTlx2RMztBGOrSCOkBmIBCntcAn7OfxR5XFZiHlQ/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2DJrKY4BmwLWyir0tAuFnFMCwljoQutcD_XJeHgKEkVWcgRagHLHe8LXRVJetvihyphenhyphenQIY0KFGag5k2EY2JemGff8cV2J_23fSXm9EnTlx2RMztBGOrSCOkBmIBCntcAn7OfxR5XFZiHlQ/s320/001.JPG" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div>So, on today's episode of "I'm bored. I know...let's <em>bake</em> something", We made homemade donuts. I found the cutest little donut pan at Goodwill a year or so ago, so we experimented with doughnuts that were baked rather than deep fried. The result...meh. They pretty much had the taste/consistency of a muffin. But, you don't usually add sprinkles to muffins, so that was a bit of a bonus. <br />
<br />
Verdict? If your kids are easy to fool (mine are not) you might be able to convince them these are real donuts (I could not). But, they're fun anyway!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-62150075297019622032011-06-08T08:57:00.000-05:002011-06-08T08:57:02.937-05:00Wowzers--I actually made it!I'm really inspired by <a href="http://megduerksen.typepad.com/">Meg's</a> blog. She has this amazing sense of style, color, and she's real. Sometimes she's thrilled with her kids, sometimes she wants to wring their necks, and she is honest about it. I love that. I feel sometimes that blogs are so carefully crafted to show only one side of life--the perfectly decorated, color-coordinated, crafty, delicious, happy side of life. I love to be inspired by those things, but if you spend too much time blog-hopping, you might develop a bit of inferiority complex. Which is what I was afraid of when I attempted Meg's <a href="http://megduerksen.typepad.com/whatever/2009/05/happiness-is.html">rainbow cake</a>. I was ready for abject failure, I have to admit...but, I did it!!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Fzgfu0995We71FaHJYtanYeRlq72tAVBbKaZceoo2vk852ETBRSlr_ycqM1WQ3pKW_vSBA-TvneTmvcy7rk8D1ZwDpulNt8MP6k6tDSdhd7W1LhSyhvrZMupOqhjsywtXBoK7i783V4/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Fzgfu0995We71FaHJYtanYeRlq72tAVBbKaZceoo2vk852ETBRSlr_ycqM1WQ3pKW_vSBA-TvneTmvcy7rk8D1ZwDpulNt8MP6k6tDSdhd7W1LhSyhvrZMupOqhjsywtXBoK7i783V4/s320/002.JPG" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZIudT9zkZNWb8OAuX5qv3MxEnaFuxfch7pwZaUK-9WAAIkjvGYUaEKq4XAD6b2LTJ6wON1JG2DJXIwxG7A3Uh5DXfbkJ7wy8E3-j4boxGBNhVBB0A10dK0_FVQN_ieWXWL92cOZxUC0/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzZIudT9zkZNWb8OAuX5qv3MxEnaFuxfch7pwZaUK-9WAAIkjvGYUaEKq4XAD6b2LTJ6wON1JG2DJXIwxG7A3Uh5DXfbkJ7wy8E3-j4boxGBNhVBB0A10dK0_FVQN_ieWXWL92cOZxUC0/s320/001.JPG" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv7q5iYPXJRmPaLPrMeyycJYe58OBnjQ7WNkRVNGhaUG0zpc_f7R4O59g6t2Iwe42Nx-ol57_IuxHDm9g647vc0PqDe8dkPTRJhKSERBitVsu7F5ovUbw9WpmtNM1HfQ1ak1u_ICDxPQ/s1600/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGv7q5iYPXJRmPaLPrMeyycJYe58OBnjQ7WNkRVNGhaUG0zpc_f7R4O59g6t2Iwe42Nx-ol57_IuxHDm9g647vc0PqDe8dkPTRJhKSERBitVsu7F5ovUbw9WpmtNM1HfQ1ak1u_ICDxPQ/s320/004.JPG" t8="true" width="240px" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40JdVfIkz0IsGAnI_FuG6_hNS0u4ynGvDuAl9JpexLTaaUUAHBtvlpU1wG8u0O8XGQIXT1_-EZWLh0MUzzFv9pt-rx8-ThaeKYvass6f5i367VMdhKX5u5Li4qXBDJTMq9dGjEo0pKpM/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj40JdVfIkz0IsGAnI_FuG6_hNS0u4ynGvDuAl9JpexLTaaUUAHBtvlpU1wG8u0O8XGQIXT1_-EZWLh0MUzzFv9pt-rx8-ThaeKYvass6f5i367VMdhKX5u5Li4qXBDJTMq9dGjEo0pKpM/s320/005.JPG" t8="true" width="240px" /></a></div>I truly cannot believe it turned out so well. Such a happy little cake!!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-56629517398965574192011-06-06T08:24:00.000-05:002011-06-06T08:24:32.880-05:00No Explanations, No RegretsSadly, I haven't been here in almost a year. I'm a teacher--if you look closely, you'll realize I only post between the months of June and August--go figure. I'm hoping, once again, to be here more often. A quick update on the two crazy people for whom this little corner of cyberspace is named:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HvxMPb3MnMT-xibjgslz9X5akNUcQrJ5nIucNzfYlx__jEA4KdCwjJrxbsNIIGSdo7FhP27y5z17Btqy5Et71LglmZ-HMONdTdeyM6xrEU3kXOVLwJ6OelbHMwhVR-QaLMq7zWJt6tA/s1600/May+14%252C+2011+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1HvxMPb3MnMT-xibjgslz9X5akNUcQrJ5nIucNzfYlx__jEA4KdCwjJrxbsNIIGSdo7FhP27y5z17Btqy5Et71LglmZ-HMONdTdeyM6xrEU3kXOVLwJ6OelbHMwhVR-QaLMq7zWJt6tA/s320/May+14%252C+2011+023.JPG" t8="true" width="240px" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sissy turned nine this past April, and we had a luau/pool party/shrieking girl extravaganza. I had one or two moments of creativity, but cheated and bought almost everything from Dollar Tree. Sissy is as sweet, nutty, and moody as ever. She's looking forward to swimming all summer long.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnn4cm6SDTeyiRono9Hp8ia2PuLwKf_ldJZGcsCwZrxCuBxxcFjK4dbnLtRZg7Yn9p-sP60fIA9uod5LN6Bpxhvaup1bHf3Av0DFY3YJbi9A45MrwU7wi3T9LtP6u3PDIZJLXHsJCeq1c/s1600/April+2011+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnn4cm6SDTeyiRono9Hp8ia2PuLwKf_ldJZGcsCwZrxCuBxxcFjK4dbnLtRZg7Yn9p-sP60fIA9uod5LN6Bpxhvaup1bHf3Av0DFY3YJbi9A45MrwU7wi3T9LtP6u3PDIZJLXHsJCeq1c/s320/April+2011+002.JPG" t8="true" width="320px" /></a></div>Oh, Sassy. She's a toot. Really. Can you tell? She's not a baby anymore, which is the reason for my total despair. She will be *gulp* FOUR at the end of this month. I've responded by spoiling her and ruining her for life. I can't help it, and now I know why everybody rolls their eyes at mothers who do this. I used to, but now I am totally sympathetic. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div> Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-50626557936361493242010-08-28T07:15:00.001-05:002010-08-28T07:16:42.792-05:00You are the best thing that's ever been mineSissy is in the midst of a love affair with this person:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobhwDUpOStJgE4fOu0rV0BlqqHPrGsxHHN15UQh7JLyWL5mUyd2iHF_LwZpKcoWZLYdvSqK36D5Y0yf_spM3mZ9KIZJqRoAzJPHxXlnSU0hIQrk5689NFnK1YWUpcyWtaKwG9EbRDGXw/s1600/taylor_swift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobhwDUpOStJgE4fOu0rV0BlqqHPrGsxHHN15UQh7JLyWL5mUyd2iHF_LwZpKcoWZLYdvSqK36D5Y0yf_spM3mZ9KIZJqRoAzJPHxXlnSU0hIQrk5689NFnK1YWUpcyWtaKwG9EbRDGXw/s320/taylor_swift.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I mean, an obsession is in the offing here. Not that I mind, I dig T-Swift, but I can't help but wonder if the subject matter of her songs is a <em>little </em>advanced for an eight year-old with a penchant for drama. Last year, she was convinced she was in love with a little boy in another 2nd grade class, and fixated on the whole notion of "boyfriends and girlfriends" for about 5 months. I did a lot of handwringing and imagining what she'll be like at 14 during that 5 months.<br />
<br />
Anyway, she's also still a little girl at heart:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBDFToiwrUagoVgHoQqHAVi5-hypRwXLZEYc2TseTOQP9U46fXZE8_qRE2_-NdQ-3ZBDS_QM44j4PWUpPTHa32HzVqRtorbFICoEJQ29rNDq9wRSu_8pkn6aQucPcl_K0CktxetzlAoE/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJBDFToiwrUagoVgHoQqHAVi5-hypRwXLZEYc2TseTOQP9U46fXZE8_qRE2_-NdQ-3ZBDS_QM44j4PWUpPTHa32HzVqRtorbFICoEJQ29rNDq9wRSu_8pkn6aQucPcl_K0CktxetzlAoE/s320/002.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZxFU06lURLnGjtSDSnYm-ASjg6a98YDSs14zkxNcbstHOb-mRV03H09qaAXpw-dBfE8wpnmm9XU-M2BPg294E956pNmEk1q4P4o35gjVEY8jTZpelZEMMyZ9HOgt_VbprXn1SFN3gkM/s1600/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZxFU06lURLnGjtSDSnYm-ASjg6a98YDSs14zkxNcbstHOb-mRV03H09qaAXpw-dBfE8wpnmm9XU-M2BPg294E956pNmEk1q4P4o35gjVEY8jTZpelZEMMyZ9HOgt_VbprXn1SFN3gkM/s320/003.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66YEa-QwgYOTyKtDPjrL7M9WJzkl312OX_pAthezV5G9xU_1ggaEmsw_2g4mxkvcdq7hlXOOelz7ZXIFwfzJqv6jIUZe4PxvHDAw4dM9XM5ZFJM43sncPk65kKiJlgHizmZis3HAjYT0/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66YEa-QwgYOTyKtDPjrL7M9WJzkl312OX_pAthezV5G9xU_1ggaEmsw_2g4mxkvcdq7hlXOOelz7ZXIFwfzJqv6jIUZe4PxvHDAw4dM9XM5ZFJM43sncPk65kKiJlgHizmZis3HAjYT0/s320/005.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLDYxuYhrYmtu16yDAfv-5oy1ePKuTpajCdWYNd5BrL_s27GhZ7hVMrxjldDWOXimG17p5nr1Ih8OLhem2UATOSLXCV5e_gvtutNvVLF6zjl1MZYWuKHRUBd9eDlQ5zR6B7HAQ_-zGFI/s1600/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVLDYxuYhrYmtu16yDAfv-5oy1ePKuTpajCdWYNd5BrL_s27GhZ7hVMrxjldDWOXimG17p5nr1Ih8OLhem2UATOSLXCV5e_gvtutNvVLF6zjl1MZYWuKHRUBd9eDlQ5zR6B7HAQ_-zGFI/s320/009.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpSSilJCJO4qPGAaV1YgWcxoJBLGu71XmeS3B2mPvzDbf0cIwnN7l0AV-Epvg45zxKi6Y388du-Pl0Iigciira3YdLo-FGhxev8O_zogRj4dp7uoUK0_Qm0l7y_i573NnXeQ5ZeEm9nk/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmpSSilJCJO4qPGAaV1YgWcxoJBLGu71XmeS3B2mPvzDbf0cIwnN7l0AV-Epvg45zxKi6Y388du-Pl0Iigciira3YdLo-FGhxev8O_zogRj4dp7uoUK0_Qm0l7y_i573NnXeQ5ZeEm9nk/s320/012.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">From what I can tell, eight's gonna be all over the place.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-21933623614944581602010-08-24T21:03:00.000-05:002010-08-24T21:03:46.845-05:00I want this.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGYTL5HUXIxz4lsfuLsom_1UxbUpI83t1o41pFWhMNYUwF15dL6_8vvIVxq2rmv9nBmhgVwzn51ZteiDCZ04AFPCAeE_CVOcD2rcP2yUuh3UjahCDuv_timNX6poy-2Db8Aw2LYcFp_k/s1600/royaltenenbaums_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRGYTL5HUXIxz4lsfuLsom_1UxbUpI83t1o41pFWhMNYUwF15dL6_8vvIVxq2rmv9nBmhgVwzn51ZteiDCZ04AFPCAeE_CVOcD2rcP2yUuh3UjahCDuv_timNX6poy-2Db8Aw2LYcFp_k/s320/royaltenenbaums_1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I want a game closet in my house like this. I love the whole retro vibe of this movie, and love the idea of kids playing board games and abandoning video games altogether. I'm just having a fit of 70's nostalgia, I guess...all I know is that if you haven't seen <em>The Royal Tenenbaums</em>, you should. You really should. If only for Alec Baldwin's narration.<em> </em></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-66666836172294151922010-08-23T20:00:00.000-05:002010-08-23T20:00:05.513-05:00I'm Not THAT Kind of MotherToday was the first day of school for us. I teach at the school Sassy attends, so we got to face the day toge ther--which was nice. She's in <em>third grade</em> which completely boggles my mind, but there it is:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94lLq8T9m6W2Onq-1ulRxkTCNv3A2BPWl3HIplpyfn5wWG_FC2VW4KpNCUI8GzCJ5tPapWMfOrYhSoCGVJRUtMxm-bCl4q_wb4JWDL1GT3EVT14HDA_ac2SpY_9KUh8hNvdzSFryCHRM/s1600/001+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj94lLq8T9m6W2Onq-1ulRxkTCNv3A2BPWl3HIplpyfn5wWG_FC2VW4KpNCUI8GzCJ5tPapWMfOrYhSoCGVJRUtMxm-bCl4q_wb4JWDL1GT3EVT14HDA_ac2SpY_9KUh8hNvdzSFryCHRM/s320/001+(2).JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sassy doesn't start pre-school until next week, so she is staying with family until her year starts. I've always taught at my girls' school, so I'm spoiled in terms of having access to them whenever I want/need them for something. Sassy's new pre-school is close by, but I won't be the one to drop her off at school, or pick her up, either, and I'm really struggling with that. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a teacher, I shamefully confess to judging the parents (really, the mothers--'cause that's what we women do) of my students who can't come to parties, ceremonies, etc. because of work or other issues. I also pass judgment on the quality of my students' lunches, their hair, and their parents' ability to make sure forms, permission slips, and the like get to school in a timely manner. In my total lack of humility and love for my fellow man I pat myself on the back for dotting all those i's, crossing all those t's, and looking to the world like a responsible, on-top-of-it mother.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This afternoon after school, my husband was mowing the backyard, and I was getting dinner together. Sissy was in her room, and last I'd checked, three year-old Sassy was in the living room watching TV. The doorbell rang, and I went to the front door, irritated and convinced it must be someone selling something. There stood my neighbor from down the street, holding Sassy's hand. She had gone out the open garage door (my husband left it open when he took out the lawn equipment) and wandered, barefoot and stringy-haired, 6 or 8 houses down to the cul-de-sac at the end of our street. My neighbor just <em>happened</em> to be outside with her kids and recognized Sassy. Since she has some speech issues, nobody would have been able to understand her if they'd asked her name, and I'm not altogether sure she could pick her house out of all the houses on our street.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">If she'd wandered the other direction, she would most likely have been hit by a car, as we live just off the very busy main street into our neighborhood. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My neighbor was very kind, and didn't seem to judge me as harshly as I judge others' parenting skills. In her position, I'm sure I would have dropped off the errant child and thought to myself "Hmph...she should really keep a better eye on her kids." What a fool I am to think that my children are somehow immune to accidents or worse, simply because I manage to <em>look</em> like a "good" parent. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">One of my favorite pastors once remarked "Being able to discern others' shortcomings is not a spiritual gift," but we often act like it is. Or I do, anyway. Maybe today has taught me to be a little more compassionate, a little more humble, and surely more thankful for the two precious girls with which God has entrusted me. In the meantime, this:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oLB7SQJQj2uj7hxvweDrFoMUiPwnkS9dhN8i2U1xyAKgkAs0gC6L6C-0qafOc-e3hgMcnwCX6FfSX9yovclRMkHC-_OCZztrASaJxLKoDiBXNDb2edPJP1vBFB2zoOLocGIG84i9jcQ/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0oLB7SQJQj2uj7hxvweDrFoMUiPwnkS9dhN8i2U1xyAKgkAs0gC6L6C-0qafOc-e3hgMcnwCX6FfSX9yovclRMkHC-_OCZztrASaJxLKoDiBXNDb2edPJP1vBFB2zoOLocGIG84i9jcQ/s320/013.JPG" /></a></div>is starting to look more and more like a viable option every day. Lord help me with this child.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-13535779483630876762010-08-20T19:04:00.001-05:002010-08-20T22:26:47.280-05:00Back to School<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYleGvdJvPlHrwAOTJeNI9Y2ruUaXSJzGm0ETcmmM66GoV4_1Q67rFvFMPfbHLc4aezYHcOyQqWtlqzdLYQ_HZkva638tTnAemDbBjZL0kf2VGQXO3v9aucV437iMsBt3B4LHSXVrI7g/s1600/Back%2520To%2520School.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwYleGvdJvPlHrwAOTJeNI9Y2ruUaXSJzGm0ETcmmM66GoV4_1Q67rFvFMPfbHLc4aezYHcOyQqWtlqzdLYQ_HZkva638tTnAemDbBjZL0kf2VGQXO3v9aucV437iMsBt3B4LHSXVrI7g/s320/Back%2520To%2520School.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love "back to school" time. My life as a child was pretty unpredictable, but school provided a stability and structure that made me so happy and secure. The school library was my special sanctuary, where I pored over <em>Old Yeller,</em> all the Ramona books, and several Judy Blume books I'd have a stroke if my third-grade daughter read today.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As a teacher, I still love this time of year. While I might fuss about meeting after meeting, neverending inservices, and massive amounts of prep work, the truth is, I love starting over every year. I love the promise of new experiences, the hopeful feeling that comes with investigating and trying out new teaching techniques. I love that each year is a chance to do better, to *be* better at this wonderful profession in which God has placed me. But, most of all, I love those rows of sweet, expectant faces waiting to be loved, understood, and taught.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I love that God made me a teacher. </div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-19508211394394939732010-08-19T16:58:00.001-05:002010-08-19T17:02:33.159-05:00Creative discipline? Abuse? You decide.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdm_qjgmvFG3LdmkSgGHUywodbsGrMemi7dGTXc7WqpNN40kncaPu1HXuZN2UXary0Vlvu0Idw9WjdeCt9NTUqORVQdaVKrnAUB8gCOztyzrjD6Al9wD7pp_q-nM7iInS3DL9qjkdPN_8/s1600/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdm_qjgmvFG3LdmkSgGHUywodbsGrMemi7dGTXc7WqpNN40kncaPu1HXuZN2UXary0Vlvu0Idw9WjdeCt9NTUqORVQdaVKrnAUB8gCOztyzrjD6Al9wD7pp_q-nM7iInS3DL9qjkdPN_8/s320/013.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytqE4NxybKbPUsZF7DhDI4LdXZQ89BSuS9J9qzubtW7ofwYi2_gph5gUM4rJ15j3HOjICv8TIXoaVgqoRhBMtjlmzZBrtp7Nw6WD0vR3zpJMAv6J-C0otNbshKs-_MdMJFg1_mWgRFIc/s1600/014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiytqE4NxybKbPUsZF7DhDI4LdXZQ89BSuS9J9qzubtW7ofwYi2_gph5gUM4rJ15j3HOjICv8TIXoaVgqoRhBMtjlmzZBrtp7Nw6WD0vR3zpJMAv6J-C0otNbshKs-_MdMJFg1_mWgRFIc/s320/014.JPG" /></a></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-42024843206364435142010-06-26T11:26:00.000-05:002010-06-26T11:26:54.135-05:00BBQ, Buzz, and Woody<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtf2y07SU7Oxnx2nAO9QodXHQCLrC0s4cNXCOZxsgE3Q-_VC44eZR6DI6-D4Lc5Dwx6Kl8hWDDeO4YrLMxzZc1UFB0pVOfmGHLhthuSUj0RZu1UL_L0BDgJ5UmCP1XBER-HpkH4yfmMKU/s1600/toy-story-3-20080409024802743_640w.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtf2y07SU7Oxnx2nAO9QodXHQCLrC0s4cNXCOZxsgE3Q-_VC44eZR6DI6-D4Lc5Dwx6Kl8hWDDeO4YrLMxzZc1UFB0pVOfmGHLhthuSUj0RZu1UL_L0BDgJ5UmCP1XBER-HpkH4yfmMKU/s320/toy-story-3-20080409024802743_640w.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Sassy turns 3 on Sunday, and it has been non-stop Toy Story for the last month at our house. I'm going to attempt a Buzz Lightyear cake, so check back for pictures if you want a good laugh. Maybe it will be good (or bad) enough to wind up <a href="http://www.cakewrecks.com/">here</a>. <br />
<br />
Martha has a great from-scratch <a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/recipe/favorite-barbecue-sauce">BBQ sauce</a> I'm dying to try. If you make it with the new HFCS-free ketchup, it's perfect!<br />
<br />
There you have my weekend rambles. We're in the middle of a small kitchen remodel, so I'm pretty strung out between that and the impending party. And I have PMS.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-61996393347717032722010-06-15T11:55:00.000-05:002010-06-15T11:55:08.346-05:00Let's Try This AgainWell, it's only taken me four months to come back to blogging. I started teaching again, which tends to cut down on free time (read: eliminate it completely), and life has been a bit of a whirlwind. Also, we started streaming netflix throught our Wii, which has sucked me into marathon <em>Lost</em> watching with my husband. I still am not sure my brain has switched to summer mode yet, but Sissy and Sassy are fully in the swing of summer:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_V0erwsT04iWETXx2B0rvzmEicannyyR5HRvCnpGahpkeVKvEeBaucbgM9QNgZLmsmjO5D0W4bXTTv9PN4boCjh1-11nCqrF5YJ1qtHUazI5d22rDDySMUtonPHHv_7SxQUENK_sdGrU/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_V0erwsT04iWETXx2B0rvzmEicannyyR5HRvCnpGahpkeVKvEeBaucbgM9QNgZLmsmjO5D0W4bXTTv9PN4boCjh1-11nCqrF5YJ1qtHUazI5d22rDDySMUtonPHHv_7SxQUENK_sdGrU/s320/012.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQKXMew0Um-3VdxxAPgqO9-exgsR2HdtzrG1CCYW9vqfAwdH5YqyXGAQ2dU2__pbkwvWeHLAm-kq5McPp2_KsjLG-ryet081eTckZLdajvQqD9UlIz5ydLv4dVXbDZeJuMSYjIx_tTa3M/s1600/021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQKXMew0Um-3VdxxAPgqO9-exgsR2HdtzrG1CCYW9vqfAwdH5YqyXGAQ2dU2__pbkwvWeHLAm-kq5McPp2_KsjLG-ryet081eTckZLdajvQqD9UlIz5ydLv4dVXbDZeJuMSYjIx_tTa3M/s320/021.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Life is good. I'm hoping to do some sewing, crafting, cooking this summer that I can share. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div> <em> </em>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-61832749231432820992010-02-03T12:31:00.000-06:002010-02-03T12:31:26.197-06:00This blogging break is being brought to you by a corneal abrasion. Please stand by.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mv6DQzkhSUtmEgsq7dGEQs8xMc9y-wzwF5XeZr8co0kIZnfc6rW4zRaj36JU8Y1tV9SR2jglUH_GtIyXy6WzBV1JmdB5EVOHOAtNiGdiZmhU20NcX42qhdaaklXwfcJFW_kEyHqkwL0/s1600-h/killbill__1230908899_9922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2mv6DQzkhSUtmEgsq7dGEQs8xMc9y-wzwF5XeZr8co0kIZnfc6rW4zRaj36JU8Y1tV9SR2jglUH_GtIyXy6WzBV1JmdB5EVOHOAtNiGdiZmhU20NcX42qhdaaklXwfcJFW_kEyHqkwL0/s320/killbill__1230908899_9922.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">In case you were wondering, I look nowhere near this cool.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-80217548640295683452010-01-29T16:21:00.001-06:002010-01-29T16:28:04.584-06:00Free dog = Good reasonI am one of those annoying people who like little, yappy dogs. Before you decide to hate me, I promise I never loaded one into a purse and carried it around the mall, or anything. I like tiny and cute. I'm a girl, for Pete's sake, and the idea of one of my stuffed animals coming to life was long one of my most fervent fantasies when I was little. As soon as I was old enough for pet ownership, I gravitated toward Chihuahuas. Tiny and cute, right? <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1t_9mEScinfjL1BrSYYWxcGdGZAnGxa5MuIyqfcfAbJmGw6kl9tjY-0Qe9pBB7szErEDojT-O6aVETluwNsGs8GMdDaLLvglLUllljTQy-qeThMI227yhH38ZOYElZwacv5kEsC3EST0/s1600-h/PJ+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1t_9mEScinfjL1BrSYYWxcGdGZAnGxa5MuIyqfcfAbJmGw6kl9tjY-0Qe9pBB7szErEDojT-O6aVETluwNsGs8GMdDaLLvglLUllljTQy-qeThMI227yhH38ZOYElZwacv5kEsC3EST0/s320/PJ+1.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This is PJ, my first chihuahua. Actually, she was a Chihuahua-Pomeranian mix. She was a Chihuahuaranian. Or a Pomehuahua, take your pick.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHgmi0_TvegFMZ5MAe9w193LRAqn9ovEZ24oqO1DRmrBMcqEuWzHvzN7Sgqx5e3WVzAKy_AOY4821S-tcDxgGZjFiyGSBOM4cNDWZKcEYRw5-kFASqSHMujgGRxVpaMylUtxqcKd0KLA/s1600-h/PJ+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjHgmi0_TvegFMZ5MAe9w193LRAqn9ovEZ24oqO1DRmrBMcqEuWzHvzN7Sgqx5e3WVzAKy_AOY4821S-tcDxgGZjFiyGSBOM4cNDWZKcEYRw5-kFASqSHMujgGRxVpaMylUtxqcKd0KLA/s320/PJ+2.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">She was sooo fat and funny-looking. Her hair was super fuzzy, and her body was roughly the size and shape of a small barrel. Unfortunately, her head was about the size of an orange. Strangers would laugh at her when we took her for a walk. She had tracheal malaisia (sp?), which made her hack and gag and cough and spit like a cat with a hairball. She was a mess, but she was even-tempered and sweet. Never 100% house-broken, though.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oReM-1GZx9Gi3TiXYZonqbE1J7a-oLIpk-LRKUD2kgUMsYA4zPCC3oV2Zna88pMn0yzjf8hOdp-lddTiJJb7piGyA0V0bUig0ckeuIW-SpAJZG-H8LRqB3Fo4Qf-BlqbTJvHVp9PaHc/s1600-h/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8oReM-1GZx9Gi3TiXYZonqbE1J7a-oLIpk-LRKUD2kgUMsYA4zPCC3oV2Zna88pMn0yzjf8hOdp-lddTiJJb7piGyA0V0bUig0ckeuIW-SpAJZG-H8LRqB3Fo4Qf-BlqbTJvHVp9PaHc/s320/017.JPG" /></a></div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;">Chihuahua #2--Mya. Isn't she cute? Good thing, because she is about 5 pounds of pure, unadulterated stupid.</div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Mya was free. We traded a rabbit for her (don't ask). PJ had gone to that great dog park in the sky, and I was on the prowl for tiny and cute again. Mya is a full-blooded Chihuahua, which I thought would make her smarter and more well-adjusted than a mixed breed. Little did I know that Chihuahua blood is rife with crazy, so a full-blooded Chihuahua can be fully twice as insane as any mutt known to man. She barks, and barks, and BARKS UNTIL YOU WANT TO POKE A STICK UP YOUR NOSE AND SCRAMBLE YOUR BRAIN LIKE AN ANCIENT EGYPTIAN SO THAT IT WILL PLEASE, PLEASE STOP. We got her when she was 7 months old, and guess what? She wasn't 100% housebroken. She is tiny and cute, and I think I hate her (not really--not all the time, anyway).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Vujvh306DyVTp5BEqy4Asu2lVO4Z6gfL9WmtUhg0i32N2OIw8Yjn1noG9BL3Jl8nfv5eKUDAMM0ECJZFIFbwIw4Cf12b4lt0HSdRSb0V80QmRNESQBikiBHiRR1UFhDh2kpXWsAfGsw/s1600-h/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Vujvh306DyVTp5BEqy4Asu2lVO4Z6gfL9WmtUhg0i32N2OIw8Yjn1noG9BL3Jl8nfv5eKUDAMM0ECJZFIFbwIw4Cf12b4lt0HSdRSb0V80QmRNESQBikiBHiRR1UFhDh2kpXWsAfGsw/s320/015.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Chihuahua #3--Sugar</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I turned 35 this past summer. At roughly the same time, Sassy turned 2, and stopped smelling like a baby and started smelling like a stinky little kid. I was less than happy, so I started looking for another tiny cute thing to love on. And I found Sugar. When we got her at 6 weeks, she weighed exactly 1 pound. She's now up to 2.2 lbs., so has remained tiny and cute, and thankfully is almost 100% housebroken. She's not a barker, thank goodness, but she is a licker. She will lay on the sofa, licking the same spot on the upholstery over and over until it looks like you poured a glass of water there. This is what Mya and Sugar spend roughly 90% of their time doing:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzzkic6AKPK4n2GKT1XJuqFQsMthv5lx3vkNEoHg88c8L2Vf_L8tbONv31nfHHvL3wxSZgt6aqqfJ4-j3Izfu1u1B-tfbEs776gCMpRseTttxDJvOacu6w4Qsax3y3ZgtnoczoCjVbC0/s1600-h/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifzzkic6AKPK4n2GKT1XJuqFQsMthv5lx3vkNEoHg88c8L2Vf_L8tbONv31nfHHvL3wxSZgt6aqqfJ4-j3Izfu1u1B-tfbEs776gCMpRseTttxDJvOacu6w4Qsax3y3ZgtnoczoCjVbC0/s320/018.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">playing...I guess? It always sounds like about a million angry bees, with occasional yelping. Who knows? I'm about to give up on tiny and cute.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrUyHAV0v44rZXsrNwWR9VQe310K2dz_n86wwa_ip60yc9sV5d_1eoTfPy_Ke2ta45Rooj1K4cnddJJS5AWT7Y-POc8mt5wch03AG0dOZXO2hwKXzeEUOw70KXaaFXEJHOyMt0oLvc4I/s1600-h/6a00d83451580669e20115719d8f37970b-320wi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcrUyHAV0v44rZXsrNwWR9VQe310K2dz_n86wwa_ip60yc9sV5d_1eoTfPy_Ke2ta45Rooj1K4cnddJJS5AWT7Y-POc8mt5wch03AG0dOZXO2hwKXzeEUOw70KXaaFXEJHOyMt0oLvc4I/s320/6a00d83451580669e20115719d8f37970b-320wi.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Should I go for big and ugly next time?</div><br />
</div><div align="left" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-57858809782190138942010-01-28T10:07:00.002-06:002010-01-28T10:10:11.556-06:00Braving the Texas winterWe needed a little vitamin D therapy yesterday, so we hit the backyard. Boy, it was rough out there in January--I think it was around 70 degrees or so. Now, I fully admit there WILL be whining in July when it's 102 out and I'm praying that my 15 year-old A/C unit makes it through just...one...more...summer (please, please Lord, I implore you--just one more summer? Just one?), but for now--I'm digging Texas.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCo7IuzEs8mtK0frKwuQHBXrs_J-6r4dUhOoCfb-UArVt6OFwHaxuAP4DGwMBObaPIKeT2tlX51f2G3FBU0RmgNgtnST5QcldlVpXSchvHtXbPtn_x0kb2rqmFckYJCWp872II6gcM54I/s1600-h/029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCo7IuzEs8mtK0frKwuQHBXrs_J-6r4dUhOoCfb-UArVt6OFwHaxuAP4DGwMBObaPIKeT2tlX51f2G3FBU0RmgNgtnST5QcldlVpXSchvHtXbPtn_x0kb2rqmFckYJCWp872II6gcM54I/s320/029.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXUVIcLP1kVvEhXImbRTkB_TZC9DCjG1ZaU65UIV13K3abOsULiPYeIrOiuPO74ND1FIqddg83G-lhyphenhyphenv0g5tWZZ39eg6C1bqf4QEwFg-pTLFhOefZavckDbGnLgbVf2n0fUlZ3xy4Sr4/s1600-h/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoXUVIcLP1kVvEhXImbRTkB_TZC9DCjG1ZaU65UIV13K3abOsULiPYeIrOiuPO74ND1FIqddg83G-lhyphenhyphenv0g5tWZZ39eg6C1bqf4QEwFg-pTLFhOefZavckDbGnLgbVf2n0fUlZ3xy4Sr4/s320/011.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxNF9aG6MBOc3HZg10k9jTqc0mSMziDCd5r5Xl7ifn0-2XEG24B00m5aYxMiqiR9Cv2_9ChOxjuK2_sF_CNOVHmWbllmqPGgtBEeJXd7bmhJO5lTmi1tRgFC1aYY9YC-BY_qiZWxZZoQ/s1600-h/026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHxNF9aG6MBOc3HZg10k9jTqc0mSMziDCd5r5Xl7ifn0-2XEG24B00m5aYxMiqiR9Cv2_9ChOxjuK2_sF_CNOVHmWbllmqPGgtBEeJXd7bmhJO5lTmi1tRgFC1aYY9YC-BY_qiZWxZZoQ/s320/026.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91D1bt4VZ8qMM6kczyOy4aweikG7THdcT-Kq-bS2YidAbKaJ3ui5gWM49FPoly6bsqNDrZiePSq1b_FltPk_0hU_hPHJNnULzK3rs_l6SC7y5oxPPhTs0ThGjxZUu4cyiX7EYZhEjeBI/s1600-h/009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj91D1bt4VZ8qMM6kczyOy4aweikG7THdcT-Kq-bS2YidAbKaJ3ui5gWM49FPoly6bsqNDrZiePSq1b_FltPk_0hU_hPHJNnULzK3rs_l6SC7y5oxPPhTs0ThGjxZUu4cyiX7EYZhEjeBI/s320/009.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTCO9Idw8KsKviuuIZuy1P46mny78YvXy_HrpyWYL0eKe1a7kApvjz-_lugWMxeUy5n5OgXJ2PLrWHUjrkLf1hfqNm7sk0Dw2T10BXHdgE9k3NDGCAiE3kw2U1AuEdCjuj_dtS6edIRE/s1600-h/022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQTCO9Idw8KsKviuuIZuy1P46mny78YvXy_HrpyWYL0eKe1a7kApvjz-_lugWMxeUy5n5OgXJ2PLrWHUjrkLf1hfqNm7sk0Dw2T10BXHdgE9k3NDGCAiE3kw2U1AuEdCjuj_dtS6edIRE/s320/022.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXv-ov6VUk-NNeu4NH7R1nFH43s1qeUIFkEoMn7UNXdOJRPcNDpV1dRX0SidQTTl40fI2w2kiwMqlf1T5JSCNIiDnJ36-mN5rVirEnSS5EuLoPoT-xmkySg1DwOBkSYIReKvGcTscyIwE/s1600-h/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXv-ov6VUk-NNeu4NH7R1nFH43s1qeUIFkEoMn7UNXdOJRPcNDpV1dRX0SidQTTl40fI2w2kiwMqlf1T5JSCNIiDnJ36-mN5rVirEnSS5EuLoPoT-xmkySg1DwOBkSYIReKvGcTscyIwE/s320/015.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWDpHp8TVomUvvzhskxPgEGoZKFeygZdcLmP14Ie5xVRMF0nWCKK7VZi680WtOymEq4qELA-58RX3uNmWMZgc4yrl_k-cHl6waT2JfJyZ7qZ3Wd16Ijh-sOqgPa8hz-B8pKkntIcnIk4/s1600-h/027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMWDpHp8TVomUvvzhskxPgEGoZKFeygZdcLmP14Ie5xVRMF0nWCKK7VZi680WtOymEq4qELA-58RX3uNmWMZgc4yrl_k-cHl6waT2JfJyZ7qZ3Wd16Ijh-sOqgPa8hz-B8pKkntIcnIk4/s320/027.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-21397308255479664782010-01-27T12:51:00.000-06:002010-01-27T12:51:39.640-06:00Wordless Wednesday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihSb58nSMdN7ENYlAbqb5VSezoAO2MQdgcrGhq3iBFGjwdmv0ebNpTVN3IQkQTV543MxOn1IluFFJEi8WKy9M0XPPdh75Ml3uB7JPheIWBc6SBfrwhBRdDRzg20-tOhfkPFnZjptrP_k/s1600-h/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiihSb58nSMdN7ENYlAbqb5VSezoAO2MQdgcrGhq3iBFGjwdmv0ebNpTVN3IQkQTV543MxOn1IluFFJEi8WKy9M0XPPdh75Ml3uB7JPheIWBc6SBfrwhBRdDRzg20-tOhfkPFnZjptrP_k/s320/002.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WQKNic_70hkiqznHiiV5hOXDZJAUUtDPWUXXsc-6SG2cVckAk0QCH061If1N4BprI16YPrx1kugYfZ525OzxTGCciWHxoXKr1rBuXUaH_bezJ55OT8TtS506DeEPydavellUsXoLIic/s1600-h/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7WQKNic_70hkiqznHiiV5hOXDZJAUUtDPWUXXsc-6SG2cVckAk0QCH061If1N4BprI16YPrx1kugYfZ525OzxTGCciWHxoXKr1rBuXUaH_bezJ55OT8TtS506DeEPydavellUsXoLIic/s320/003.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9oeDgvPBbgqQAUaCELBIpOkUHgaCR0rwut4nEduS85xqC_qn6qP7D0f66-lvmdoNZcp861wToiTKw0huRRQDmfJxxygv7S6Ud6TVDdrGZMAUl3uSxNrs2NKvNToZ8hkHmQuTVgMAIz_M/s1600-h/004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9oeDgvPBbgqQAUaCELBIpOkUHgaCR0rwut4nEduS85xqC_qn6qP7D0f66-lvmdoNZcp861wToiTKw0huRRQDmfJxxygv7S6Ud6TVDdrGZMAUl3uSxNrs2NKvNToZ8hkHmQuTVgMAIz_M/s320/004.JPG" /></a><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-1450171886179151342010-01-26T17:09:00.001-06:002010-01-27T09:49:53.097-06:00My Kid Could (and did!) Paint That<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZ6RKnsOYjjPmFFP05PMt5Qdac1a-YQGLyVhvlyEehg0o60j8kxJox2ibH3qointsGbElRT9k9Z-u36DofG2X2kueS44uImTjgX_Pcl8bPRnn9r935-IT4tBYnWSo6cmLHr17TFC3C8E/s1600-h/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZ6RKnsOYjjPmFFP05PMt5Qdac1a-YQGLyVhvlyEehg0o60j8kxJox2ibH3qointsGbElRT9k9Z-u36DofG2X2kueS44uImTjgX_Pcl8bPRnn9r935-IT4tBYnWSo6cmLHr17TFC3C8E/s320/6.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">please 'scuse the flash in the above picture. thank you.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewHz_DxZbRM-2vLVFildy2ZiDjxEhHqZpNROoibX2QyBKHCx9NRWuGCBGpoOWHmYJqfsHSZbml5UTlpcMcJEOiG27JxXS_7ekvyWWZjnWcxULzONBeCC4gIqYMJ9VNW5a7iUjXuNcHjk/s1600-h/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewHz_DxZbRM-2vLVFildy2ZiDjxEhHqZpNROoibX2QyBKHCx9NRWuGCBGpoOWHmYJqfsHSZbml5UTlpcMcJEOiG27JxXS_7ekvyWWZjnWcxULzONBeCC4gIqYMJ9VNW5a7iUjXuNcHjk/s320/001.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sissy's artwork. For an almost eight year-old, I'd say she's pretty awesome. I want to go sit on that island and drink a margarita, staring at the sunset.<br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-27880521386514819222010-01-24T17:56:00.000-06:002010-01-24T17:56:03.115-06:00Tiny TatesWe made cupcakes this weekend ("tiny tates", according to Sassy). Very non-nutritious, cake-mix-from-a-box, pastel-hydrogenated-oil-frosting-in-a-can cupcakes. They were fun & also delish. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiwdUiiL9hIoj8lBRtgJi6AL_tx7SWoOiv0MZ5WnTXjmMAqrgU4vbT9CNmRROThrjokvlIdB0SscjQgdIOpz7CTE0u9NaaF_skat8vKAmkWk5utQ-Xa4F0bOWiuMZt1bTz-uf2OT1LbU/s1600-h/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitiwdUiiL9hIoj8lBRtgJi6AL_tx7SWoOiv0MZ5WnTXjmMAqrgU4vbT9CNmRROThrjokvlIdB0SscjQgdIOpz7CTE0u9NaaF_skat8vKAmkWk5utQ-Xa4F0bOWiuMZt1bTz-uf2OT1LbU/s320/002.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Chocolate, lemon, and cherry frosting--the cherry was pretty gross, actually--don't ever buy it.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrPfE_l_xOFwY8Gm-yEZs0RKKu_nLGxja1CSgRpXhSeE5gPpNy9_b9B8dTMHwdhJ5wzobfqoJFadzKgH12ZgDISAHPHKjgaAqL1ro-NyAwryKa_naRSokvI5IlqJY4mXfitblqEXpKMM/s1600-h/006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNrPfE_l_xOFwY8Gm-yEZs0RKKu_nLGxja1CSgRpXhSeE5gPpNy9_b9B8dTMHwdhJ5wzobfqoJFadzKgH12ZgDISAHPHKjgaAqL1ro-NyAwryKa_naRSokvI5IlqJY4mXfitblqEXpKMM/s320/006.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sissy got right down to business...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglvMnKmpm_0Y1titqW-M13_WvAmh_rLjfus7AdYxab-1qiL5VynswKqTkRHrTX38vTepDzDvkDVhu6Cd-FsAVQLe-SgwXu2KmgVOwef9jVks2D_2KYJXq72uzd_1dsc9R15xx-Pb2KSTA/s1600-h/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglvMnKmpm_0Y1titqW-M13_WvAmh_rLjfus7AdYxab-1qiL5VynswKqTkRHrTX38vTepDzDvkDVhu6Cd-FsAVQLe-SgwXu2KmgVOwef9jVks2D_2KYJXq72uzd_1dsc9R15xx-Pb2KSTA/s320/008.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">lickety-split!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHARSkG14_vNp-HM_Z0q8Pr8YhKYUgYDCWdHgRl4f848G9azF9-xn4TZ_gLb7r6eUdOCz9pJAR0OKvg2mC9AI1Gdt27b5_iTwSqaqryoPP2JJwR8Oq89ClRWngFxRInXLZ8UFc_HX85Zs/s1600-h/003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHARSkG14_vNp-HM_Z0q8Pr8YhKYUgYDCWdHgRl4f848G9azF9-xn4TZ_gLb7r6eUdOCz9pJAR0OKvg2mC9AI1Gdt27b5_iTwSqaqryoPP2JJwR8Oq89ClRWngFxRInXLZ8UFc_HX85Zs/s320/003.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Sassy, however, was quite intent upon creating a frosting masterpiece.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw87waIfi6C8q0Hk6Wh1tTZLYLUjN20CerMY4yjYi6HRY803uhDdJNvpdc48u6ZO7rBNEzQIAeybu2XpC7RPToKvqXVDleKTX-li7FUEGziFp3ZikDIulvyt25tZ2lhhPU0fPoIIMnyhM/s1600-h/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw87waIfi6C8q0Hk6Wh1tTZLYLUjN20CerMY4yjYi6HRY803uhDdJNvpdc48u6ZO7rBNEzQIAeybu2XpC7RPToKvqXVDleKTX-li7FUEGziFp3ZikDIulvyt25tZ2lhhPU0fPoIIMnyhM/s320/005.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Not yet...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4RFhGtQaupEsbl2lFwZIJBnznPzJ72ZlphEiiTv44aZXou_uHLxRYFbSjxhg7e0J__7077pB2wMe1LcoTXW2Tz6mlSb_XzyFH9w_DdZFWzw5gpRSI4xPwR3ngG8_bMydlYHF0VJ_FNI/s1600-h/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB4RFhGtQaupEsbl2lFwZIJBnznPzJ72ZlphEiiTv44aZXou_uHLxRYFbSjxhg7e0J__7077pB2wMe1LcoTXW2Tz6mlSb_XzyFH9w_DdZFWzw5gpRSI4xPwR3ngG8_bMydlYHF0VJ_FNI/s320/010.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">closer...<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_puADrBAulQv33imXuT7DaMeFFvWVmBIggFgrIRCQWOLY4JUv6o2WE8GAps9Naaz76fWc3GmyqRKIG9VuW8HQFbKjQd9tzJVFcEPO5xgWUJ2C7_EtLo9LSbcP2f7SDaH-Pgyq3JqozU8/s1600-h/013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_puADrBAulQv33imXuT7DaMeFFvWVmBIggFgrIRCQWOLY4JUv6o2WE8GAps9Naaz76fWc3GmyqRKIG9VuW8HQFbKjQd9tzJVFcEPO5xgWUJ2C7_EtLo9LSbcP2f7SDaH-Pgyq3JqozU8/s320/013.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">what? You didn't tell me there were sprinkles!<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/AVvXsEjZU3BFaPa-C6C8GqO7nSM9zPfT7WgPqkyCcdkvGT9h1Ef1eNQOor-1kTsgWFfhr5_S9iYDwJdlLCKedPKECWb0WC8CKZiMZbbbt3y9x-_IfaL6TE11r8BzbemkDz-ciL_on4G_W-vK8sw/s1600-h/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" mt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZU3BFaPa-C6C8GqO7nSM9zPfT7WgPqkyCcdkvGT9h1Ef1eNQOor-1kTsgWFfhr5_S9iYDwJdlLCKedPKECWb0WC8CKZiMZbbbt3y9x-_IfaL6TE11r8BzbemkDz-ciL_on4G_W-vK8sw/s320/015.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ahh...at last. And it only took 30 minutes to frost one cupcake! Perfection takes time. <br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-43677283691064464062010-01-08T12:49:00.002-06:002010-01-08T12:54:24.130-06:00Checking In With the Chillun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdylkHcb0vvZTiRXzaMLIqJIJeVHv93hiqxuUIBjpScjO2XcoD53MZfBHD8RqYr7MVtuYdsc12egtEOkfzJOEyEPFbq7kTaimcAou9JMyVxoSzMA6bF5vL9LOCb0NneL8_CG2NMTEEQ8/s1600-h/holidays+001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEdylkHcb0vvZTiRXzaMLIqJIJeVHv93hiqxuUIBjpScjO2XcoD53MZfBHD8RqYr7MVtuYdsc12egtEOkfzJOEyEPFbq7kTaimcAou9JMyVxoSzMA6bF5vL9LOCb0NneL8_CG2NMTEEQ8/s320/holidays+001.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sassy smelling a leaf--what do leaves smell like, anyway? I'll have to ask.<br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Just wanted to do a quick update on Sissy and Sassy, for whom this little blog is named. We are having sleeping issues around the S & S household. Sassy has graduated to a "big-girl" bed and has lost her mind in the process. She used to be this baby:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AXHSmZ7v8WZegSnf-d5lA8t3u1RK7NxD209e0ZUVn1hoQEzkVt3bYGbT__Cyrd_tFKcA4PQxfaW425VbIHZ4KkaE6FQP3l3pCd3PGq7HWI1Plt6Z4P2P-_X4Wo3gYOy8oAEGQAyB4SA/s1600-h/052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AXHSmZ7v8WZegSnf-d5lA8t3u1RK7NxD209e0ZUVn1hoQEzkVt3bYGbT__Cyrd_tFKcA4PQxfaW425VbIHZ4KkaE6FQP3l3pCd3PGq7HWI1Plt6Z4P2P-_X4Wo3gYOy8oAEGQAyB4SA/s320/052.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Day or night, you could put this baby in her crib with a binky and her blanket, and she would drift right off to dreamland. Maybe a cry or two here and there, but mostly such a great sleeper I got VERY spoiled--I did crazy things like take a shower, fold laundry, check the mail. It was such a welcome change from this baby:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHUZH2Lj9zsYqHi4Y-iu7Dvpuj7Kb2sXzfkPFMlYdWkwYSH_aZxpNBcX9yn-sViT0YVpy-C4snc4trzXJyrCDzylQAjLEvjD0u8esgKVzPB3NrmQyH4t5_4k-XIrcp9epOuz9_ehjayQ/s1600-h/011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZHUZH2Lj9zsYqHi4Y-iu7Dvpuj7Kb2sXzfkPFMlYdWkwYSH_aZxpNBcX9yn-sViT0YVpy-C4snc4trzXJyrCDzylQAjLEvjD0u8esgKVzPB3NrmQyH4t5_4k-XIrcp9epOuz9_ehjayQ/s320/011.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This beautiful child is the worst sleeper the sweet Lord ever made. We finally drove her out of our bed when she was 5. She still wakes up EVERY SINGLE NIGHT at least once, and she's about to turn 8. I doubt she's ever experienced a single REM cycle in her life. I know I've gone 8 years without one. Somehow, she has stealthily communicated to her sister that it would be a great idea if they satggered their late-night awakenings. It goes a little something like this:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">8:00--Daddy gets Sassy to sleep; takes about 15 minutes<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">8:30--Sissy gets into bed, sternly warned not to read any books<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">10:00--after much drama (and book-reading), Sissy falls asleep<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">11:00--Daddy & Mommy turn in for the night<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">11:30--Sassy wakes up & Daddy goes & gets her back to sleep<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2:00--Sissy comes in to use our bathroom, though there's one right next door to her room<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3:30--Sassy wakes up & is brought into our bed out of desperation<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">5:30--Daddy hits alarm and nearly weeps from pure exhaustion<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">6:30--Mommy hits alarm and does same.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sometimes, not one of us wakes up in the same place we started out the night before. Often, actually. And when I go in to wake up Sissy for school, I get this look:<br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqK-vyrjbPrEaH8iV6VobButTudLI9xW4nHY4RrcT_3OJjW7wo7z0ApK-irT9PyIq7UYLYpB17AGXC6DC28bhzNA4hrBU7pKFmBBnhT3d0Qn1Crc45yOytI_zfb-cq3Idh86-r__LQZY/s1600-h/017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqK-vyrjbPrEaH8iV6VobButTudLI9xW4nHY4RrcT_3OJjW7wo7z0ApK-irT9PyIq7UYLYpB17AGXC6DC28bhzNA4hrBU7pKFmBBnhT3d0Qn1Crc45yOytI_zfb-cq3Idh86-r__LQZY/s320/017.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Actually, that is a much nicer look than the one I usually get. I refuse to take a picture of her devil-possessed look.<br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh, well. One day I'll back on these times and wish they still wanted nothing more than to snuggle in my bed. But that time will probably coincide with me waiting up to see if they make curfew. Sigh.<br />
</div><div align="center"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-78947317226430647192010-01-06T14:16:00.001-06:002010-01-06T14:17:23.980-06:00Ringing in the new yearOh, bloggy friends, it's been too long. I took a break to deal with all the insanity that is Christmas in my family, and am finally feeling normal again. And, of course, I made the obligatory resolution to lose weight. This time, though, it HAS to be different. I'm 35 & at my highest weight ever. And, friends, it is high. The good news is that, by counting calories, I'm already down 4 pounds or so. My goals, specifically:<br />
<br />
To stop abusing food--'tis my delicious drug of choice<br />
To drink lots of water<br />
To pay attention to my body and its signals<br />
To log everything I eat into caloriecount.com<br />
To exercise moderately, stepping up the intensity when I see some weight coming off through dieting<br />
<br />
Pretty much sounds like the boring advice in every magazine on the stands right now. But I feel bad, and bloated, and unattractive, and unhealthy...the list goes on. Most of the time the simplest thing is the best thing, so I'm ebracing the simplicity of this plan. Keep you posted.<br />
<br />
PS--I would give a whole, whole lot of money for a Dr. Pepper right now. No fooling.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-52006802888798184052009-12-10T10:24:00.002-06:002010-01-24T18:59:02.697-06:00Taters<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoGi1NmUNJq0NhWej9fcE7VRmI-z8fkJzOOEr2CUNCOYG7KC0zPbz_2aqhnGiTsIUxsiRx7wxuM9sJyllg3zVS7Dol6WAMKk18A0w21hmNtTUJvOS8UWn44ch8yjEuo8P7HDT5CWcStw/s1600-h/_AUTOIMAGES_HP22619lg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ps="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoGi1NmUNJq0NhWej9fcE7VRmI-z8fkJzOOEr2CUNCOYG7KC0zPbz_2aqhnGiTsIUxsiRx7wxuM9sJyllg3zVS7Dol6WAMKk18A0w21hmNtTUJvOS8UWn44ch8yjEuo8P7HDT5CWcStw/s200/_AUTOIMAGES_HP22619lg.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I have had quite a thing for potatoes lately. I watched the movie "Food, Inc." a few weeks ago (still shuddering) and I'm trying to fit in more meatless meals in my cooking repertoire. Potatoes help a lot, if you're a carnivore and green veggies don't always cut it. So far, this is the best thing I've made, & man is it good:<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Easy Potato Soup<br />
<br />
1 large potato per person<br />
2 stalks celery<br />
2-3 shallots<br />
2-4 slices bacon<br />
1/4-1/2 stick butter; I used a 1/2 stick<br />
Milk--whole, 2%, skim--whatever's on hand<br />
salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder<br />
<br />
1) Peel the potatoes (or not--your choice), cut into medium size chunks & put them in a pot; add just enough milk to cover them & begin cooking on med. heat<br />
<br />
2) Chop celery (incl. leaves) and shallots--relatively uniform pieces are best since they'll cook evenly--you want them really soft<br />
<br />
3) Dice bacon & saute for 1-2 min.; add butter and stir until butter is completely melted<br />
<br />
4) Add shallots & celery; saute for about 3-4 minutes longer<br />
<br />
5) Dump all the bacony, buttery goodness into the pot with your potatoes; at this point you may want to add more milk--it's really dependent on the consistency you like best<br />
<br />
6) Season with salt, pepper, paprika, garlic powder, & whatever else blows your skirt up<br />
<br />
7) Cover & cook 25 min.--about 1/2 way through, take a potato masher and do some mashing--leave some chunks, though, unless you want it to turn into mashed potatoes. Which is fine, 'cause they're pretty darn good, too.<br />
<br />
8) Revel in the fact that this meal is delicious & CHEAP--two of the best adjectives in the world!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-50972255049621235462009-12-04T18:30:00.000-06:002009-12-04T18:30:33.158-06:00SNOW!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7PzhB9CleMAR_wDxGpqoGxZ0AdeB-H7mMDSFIWY62J1UBatiidgnEV8gMWH8IiFJD3bz1TywTPUCNNOC4Ub-6KgJcXcreNZgnpksbeZlh0TXgI55TzuMjq4HrUUpLnaoKhts72WgQhU/s1600-h/copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" er="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL7PzhB9CleMAR_wDxGpqoGxZ0AdeB-H7mMDSFIWY62J1UBatiidgnEV8gMWH8IiFJD3bz1TywTPUCNNOC4Ub-6KgJcXcreNZgnpksbeZlh0TXgI55TzuMjq4HrUUpLnaoKhts72WgQhU/s320/copy.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiqXR3SCfmZR4B8kRhemNolWvKt2UaD6gbn3mCUBHPvaSlHmrChQ119S3byoh2aEj6G5ABA4NZbT6d9fDAdcaQ9oN92Oe0CvIWbU_sPWh88qIIfVPBGPLpEee1VSXipsA5qBA4G_Mp2c/s1600-h/holidays+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" er="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiqXR3SCfmZR4B8kRhemNolWvKt2UaD6gbn3mCUBHPvaSlHmrChQ119S3byoh2aEj6G5ABA4NZbT6d9fDAdcaQ9oN92Oe0CvIWbU_sPWh88qIIfVPBGPLpEee1VSXipsA5qBA4G_Mp2c/s320/holidays+005.JPG" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wNRUqCaSrPaUrTzkZ77GcfDYboyxp8Whgxys6rckxsa9XVIg2Ir3cB_QQ0Txe6nA_uO4vVHiYjPIHqbIcpqY2urJbP7mpm5VObLYfq-u0rzKOac6cCKzu5U3MQCIKxXYC8DdD8wUwF8/s1600-h/holidays+016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" er="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wNRUqCaSrPaUrTzkZ77GcfDYboyxp8Whgxys6rckxsa9XVIg2Ir3cB_QQ0Txe6nA_uO4vVHiYjPIHqbIcpqY2urJbP7mpm5VObLYfq-u0rzKOac6cCKzu5U3MQCIKxXYC8DdD8wUwF8/s320/holidays+016.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You must understand...<em>it doesn't snow here.</em> I live in a suburb of Houston. Last Thanksgiving it was like 80 degrees. Snow fell from the sky, and for <em>just</em> the briefest period, it stuck to the ground and covered everything in white. The last time that happened, I was 8 years old! I'm so grateful we got to have a little bit of winter weather. Hope all of you are as warm and cozy tonight as we are!<br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-63458719956942287672009-12-03T10:25:00.002-06:002009-12-03T10:32:50.481-06:00Christmas At Our House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAbpjhwivGCpP_hRk4Gq_VF53BH1r2_rYrE40BlTY_Tymfu-jDfGUQ2bv-q0chMOtY8EIFJH9rcGwsIf0OT4rGQ_c4eWLFImSq4aVRcqA86CskX1XvIkjQQfUQbUpMVVqhwSwodW2YW4/s1600-h/Christmas+08+032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" er="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvAbpjhwivGCpP_hRk4Gq_VF53BH1r2_rYrE40BlTY_Tymfu-jDfGUQ2bv-q0chMOtY8EIFJH9rcGwsIf0OT4rGQ_c4eWLFImSq4aVRcqA86CskX1XvIkjQQfUQbUpMVVqhwSwodW2YW4/s320/Christmas+08+032.jpg" /></a><br />
</div><br />
<a href="http://itsalmostnaptime.blogspot.com/">Missy</a> very generously shared this little "get-to-know you" list, so I figured I'd be a copycat. I've officially used all my creative energy on dreaming up Christmas presents for the approximately 4,790 people in my family. I'm spent. Feel free to copy & paste in your own blog if you're spent, too. So, here goes:<br />
<br />
1. <em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Egg Nog or Hot </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Chocolate</span></em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">?</span> I have honestly never had a single urge to try eggnog. It seems disgusting. What I do like is Starbuck's hot chocolate with an extra shot of vanilla. Nummers. <br />
<span style="color: #3d85c6;"></span><br />
<br />
2. <em><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">the tree</span></span></em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">?</span> We had to tell Sissy about Santa this year. She was devastated. I'm not sure how this will affect the whole Santa thing yet. Back when there <em>was</em> a Santa, he wrapped them.<br />
<br />
<br />
3. <em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Colored lights on tree/house or </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">white</span></em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">?</span> It has long been a known fact among the females in my family that colored lights are tacky. I understand that now, but when I was little I always wanted colored lights.<br />
<br />
<br />
4. <em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Do you hang </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">mistletoe</span></em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">?</span> Nope. My husband doesn't need any more encouragement to be, um, frisky.<br />
<br />
<br />
5. <em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">When do you put your decorations </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">up</span></em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">?</span> Day after Thanksgiving. I always think I'll put it off until the first weekend in December, then can't resist & do it anyway.<br />
<br />
<br />
6. <em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">What is your favorite holiday </span><span style="color: #3d85c6;">dish</span></em><span style="color: #3d85c6;">?</span> Cookies, cookies, cookies.<br />
<br />
<br />
7. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Favorite Holiday memory as a child</em>?</span> Reading <em>The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.</em> I need to get a copy to read Sissy this year.<br />
<br />
<br />
8. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>When and how did you learn the truth about Santa</em>?</span> My mom let it slip when I told her I lost the necklace I got for Christmas when I was 8. She was pretty mad, & I figured out why.<br />
<br />
<br />
9. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve</em>?</span> We do Christmas Eve with my in-laws, so we open a plethora of gifts on Christmas Eve.<br />
<br />
<br />
10. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>How do you decorate your Christmas tree</em>?</span> Gold and red balls, then a mixture of sentimental stuff. I'm not really sentimental about anything except Christmas ornaments. I love unwrapping them every year & remembering who gave them to me/made them etc.<br />
<br />
<br />
11. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Snow! Love it or Dread it</em>?</span> If I ever saw any, guess I'd love it, but here outside Houston, we're more likely to get a hurricane a-blowin' at Christmas than snow. When I was younger & lived in Tennessee, it snowed about 18" & stuck for 2 weeks. I started out loving it & hated that crap after about 3 days.<br />
<br />
<br />
12. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Can you ice skate</em>?</span> Only if I'm trying to win $100,000 on America's Funniest Home Videos. I suck.<br />
<br />
<br />
13. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Do you remember your favorite gift</em>?</span> I got a Barbie Dream House that I nearly wet my pants over one year. <br />
<br />
<br />
14. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you</em>?</span> Umm...Jesus!? Kind of the point of it all, dontcha think?<br />
<br />
<br />
15. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>What is your favorite Holiday Dessert</em>?</span> see numero 6<br />
<br />
<br />
16. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>What is your favorite holiday tradition</em>?</span> Though I gripe about it, I really do like going to my mother-in-law's for Christmas Eve. It's less tense than being around my family (though the food is terrible, terrible, ter-ri-ble).<br />
<br />
<br />
17. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>What tops your tree</em>?</span> A tin angel.<br />
<br />
<br />
18. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Which do you prefer giving or receiving</em>?</span> Both, equally. I'm kind of a present slut.<br />
<br />
<br />
19. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>What is your favorite Christmas Song</em>?</span> "What Child is This" is the bestest. I also love Harry Connick, Jr. Christmas music.<br />
<br />
<br />
20. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Candy Canes: Yuck or Yum</em>?</span> Yuck by themselves, but yum in the following: ice cream, hot chocolate, milkshakes, and cookies.<br />
<br />
<br />
21 <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Favorite Christmas Show</em>?</span> Charlie Brown. I know, I'm boring. I also like to watch "When Harry Met Sally' at Christmas, though it's not really a Christmas movie. Just one of them things, I guess.<br />
<br />
<br />
22. <span style="color: #3d85c6;"><em>Saddest Christmas Song</em>?</span> "Little Drummer Boy" is so melancholy-sounding. <br />
<br />
<br />
What about youse guys?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-91850846037458212562009-11-26T19:50:00.000-06:002009-11-26T19:50:49.222-06:00I Will Pay For This, I'm SureUmm, a roll call of the hideously-bad-for-me-yet-delicious food I consumed today:<br />
<ul><li>fried turkey</li>
<li>cornbread dressing</li>
<li><a href="http://sissyandsassy.blogspot.com/2009/11/friday-faves-favorite-thanksgiving.html">Gulliver's Corn</a></li>
<li>sweet potato casserole (no marshmallows--that is sacrilege)</li>
<li>Green Beans Almondine</li>
<li>macaroni casserole</li>
<li>cranberry sauce (homemade & Ocean Spray --I love food that retains the shape of its can)</li>
<li>roasted garlic mashed potatoes</li>
<li>Parker House rolls</li>
<li>deviled eggs</li>
</ul>Aaaand, for the desserts: (I've only had 1 dessert so far--this will not be the case by tomorrow)<br />
<ul><li>chocolate pie</li>
<li>caramel bread pudding with vanilla ice cream</li>
<li>apple pie with crumb topping</li>
<li>pecan pie</li>
<li>carrot cake</li>
<li>pumpkin pie</li>
</ul>I will now go and wallow on my bed, if I can fit through my bedroom door.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-79303076467383503912009-11-24T08:44:00.001-06:002009-11-24T08:45:57.156-06:00Free at Last!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs97rdQytLglE_NLsmXvyUJFSpBuI3RJ-jf50tBv4nSGkjpTRmuzahnpuRY81oYTJUMf2gwudp1bgcvutTcXcB93ycujVmXO8O0rsuVUvz1-Yo94djYFQLZAai22_shOK1IGVVfSAo58w/s1600/gosselin-kids-jon-and-kate-plus-8-5037481-320-317.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs97rdQytLglE_NLsmXvyUJFSpBuI3RJ-jf50tBv4nSGkjpTRmuzahnpuRY81oYTJUMf2gwudp1bgcvutTcXcB93ycujVmXO8O0rsuVUvz1-Yo94djYFQLZAai22_shOK1IGVVfSAo58w/s320/gosselin-kids-jon-and-kate-plus-8-5037481-320-317.jpg" yr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I refuse to waste very many words on the parents of these 8 children, so I'll merely say this: I am incredibly glad these kids aren't being forced to support their family anymore. Fame is fleeting, and I hope it flies far away from them so that they can have a shot at a normal life. If anything, I hope when they are older and watch the footage from their "reality show", they'll realize they had nothing to do with the break-up of their parents' marriage. Such a depressing end to a family, and such a shame it was offered up as "entertainment" to the rest of the country. <br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-41795465002100466332009-11-19T08:23:00.004-06:002009-11-19T13:02:18.765-06:00Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop: Diary Entry from my 13 Year-old Self<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOVnMgMkc0a0yFjLXzKs8zWlD6hHyWLQQOX2cvuF5dzDbVtLYfxP7vHhieVBmSzLl3r7noIf8vDQ2svJ9be5nemVdMMrlVU18Ht15Yex_tugQnktRhQunKJQX63-EauvyKAdy4vU_hus/s1600/mamakat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKOVnMgMkc0a0yFjLXzKs8zWlD6hHyWLQQOX2cvuF5dzDbVtLYfxP7vHhieVBmSzLl3r7noIf8vDQ2svJ9be5nemVdMMrlVU18Ht15Yex_tugQnktRhQunKJQX63-EauvyKAdy4vU_hus/s320/mamakat.jpg" yr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Awesome writing prompt from <a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/">Mama Kat</a> today...post a diary entry from when you were 13. Since there's no possible way to locate my diary from 1987, I'll have to think back. I haven't matured much past the age of 13 so it probably won't be very hard.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Dear Diary,<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I really hate my new haircut. It was my 13th birthday present (I'm a TEENAGER now!!!!). It's really short, like a super-short bob with short bangs. It makes my face look round and fat. Since my hair's straight, I've been tucking it behind my ears, so it's a little better, but not much. My aunt took me to this fancy place in the mall, which was cool because I've never been to one of those places, but now I'm totally sure that Davis will never even look at me again. I really wanted tickets to see Madonna, because she has a concert exactly on my birthday, but I had to get the haircut instead. I'm going to try and fix my hair before Monday, because I will die if I have to see Davis looking like this.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(later)<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Oh my gosh, I am going to kill myself!!!!! I begged my aunt to help me fix my hair and she said OK and took me to another hair place (not the cool one at the mall) and she said she thought it would help if I got a perm. What do I know, so I said OK. MY HAIR LOOKS LIKE A POODLE. My bangs were so short the lady could barely get the little perm roller thingie in them and now my bangs are LIKE A FRIZZY LITTLE PUFFBALL exactly like those fancy poodles you see. I went home and cried so hard I threw up. Now I'm going to the mall to try and find a hat. There is no fixing this hair. I want to die. I'm going to see Davis tomorrow!!!!<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is no explanation for why the adults in my life allowed this abomination to be done unto me. Just so you know, during the summer I turned 13 I gained about 15 lbs., started my period, and got this awful hairstyle. I wore a hat for the rest of the summer, a la Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles, but I started a new school in the fall and they wouldn't let me wear the hat. Eventually, my hair grew out and it was actually kind of cute, but when that perm first set, it was baaaad.<br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And, Davis? Was an 18 year-old boy who never even knew my name, except in my vivid 13 year-old stalker/fantasy life. I doubt I ever even said hello to him. He sure was purty, though, I remember that. Man alive, thirteen sucked. <br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6394019587955552139.post-58973068668969932732009-11-18T08:07:00.000-06:002009-11-18T08:07:37.119-06:00More Felt Food Fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YOQl0ISJiASyX91fGLWQZaXBgwb_SCSZ_yeay2qeaX4nAK5Cpt2VP7sfdsWDeLiUUPHzUKONHyqjRQe8KGBrnydJuaTxgeKI3ybzv6brDqtnHosc46H-h3UTgEKVWDeZPhTfoQBVf9A/s1600/cakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_YOQl0ISJiASyX91fGLWQZaXBgwb_SCSZ_yeay2qeaX4nAK5Cpt2VP7sfdsWDeLiUUPHzUKONHyqjRQe8KGBrnydJuaTxgeKI3ybzv6brDqtnHosc46H-h3UTgEKVWDeZPhTfoQBVf9A/s320/cakes.jpg" yr="true" /></a><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A few more little felt cakes, made the same way as my first <a href="http://sissyandsassy.blogspot.com/2009/11/handmade-christmas-felt-fun.html">tutorial</a>. These were made with smaller styrofoam rounds, but all the other steps are the same. I love making felt food, primarily because it's such a quick process from start to finish. Being a little ADD, I love a project that I can finish in one sitting. And, the very best part, the total cost for these three cakes was (excluding needle & thread) about $6. Can't get better than that for a handmade, one-of-a-kind toy!<br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1