tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75587064961347698602024-02-18T19:34:49.504-08:00Me, Myself, and Ry. Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-20940771649526090782013-07-08T17:34:00.001-07:002013-07-08T18:18:12.047-07:00Let freedom swing!Freedom to me is taking off my bra as soon as I get home. Am i right ladies? <div><br></div><div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Short and sweet. My computer is being an a-hole, so I'm going for the participation ribbon. Sorry for no button or rules. Who needs rules. :)</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Check out Mel at @AccordingToMags and Michele @OldDogNewTits. They're pretty awesome. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-47515602300266689512013-06-08T15:16:00.001-07:002013-06-08T15:17:28.001-07:00Best Vacation.I've seen England. <div>I've seen France. I've seen lots of people in their underpants. </div><div>By far my favorite vacation was last August with my girl in NOLA! </div><div>Can't wait to do it again this summer. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYEUv7uBI0u9ZCihTss6adsVgOrdf55OKejSA1NzEKHJ_EFuKDl7SqeK4WQuqFzoEo_p2e8eYm9ZtLNeVy_a-dBGhz8IKasJKC02y4XgL8OTiqK2sjCiRxoI7HI6ALw_SNyfdG88Ex-vE/s640/blogger-image--627095416.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZYEUv7uBI0u9ZCihTss6adsVgOrdf55OKejSA1NzEKHJ_EFuKDl7SqeK4WQuqFzoEo_p2e8eYm9ZtLNeVy_a-dBGhz8IKasJKC02y4XgL8OTiqK2sjCiRxoI7HI6ALw_SNyfdG88Ex-vE/s640/blogger-image--627095416.jpg"></a></div></div>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-11967955038677154552013-05-31T14:50:00.001-07:002013-05-31T15:12:02.483-07:00What to do when the boys take over your THREE car garageWhen you have a teenager that wants to build a car, I highly recommend you do your best to accommodate. Especially if he's a car enthusiasts. <div><br></div><div>Why?</div><div><br></div><div>Because that means he will want to spend time at home with his friends working on the car. You will know where he is, and you get to meet ALL of his friends. </div><div><br></div><div>Great plan. Just don't think of the expense that goes along with it. Remember, your boy is at home. He's working on a project with his dad and 100 of his closest friends. Oy. </div><div><br></div><div>I gladly accommodated. In fact, I'm so cool it was my idea. Go me! </div><div><br></div><div>This works out so well because we have a three car garage. You hand over two bays because you know you'll still have yours. Yeah, right. </div><div><br></div><div>It's fantastic at first. He's home all the time. His friends are all here. You're providing pizza to half the town, but you know on any given weekend where your teenager is. Fan-freakin-tastic!</div><div><br></div><div>But wait. Here's the catch. You can never NEVER go out of town with your daughter. Ever. </div><div><br></div><div>Why? </div><div><br></div><div>Because your husband is an overgrown teenager. . . with money. Limitations melt away. You're not there to <ahem> guide them in the process. You can't stop them from opening accounts at various "car" places. They spend, spend, spend. Think that's the worst of it? Oh hell no. You come home from a lovely getaway with your daughter to find that you have been kicked out of your THREE car garage. For ONE car. </div><div><br></div><div>Why you ask? </div><div><br></div><div>Because they have bought a cherry lift, an engine host, and bolted a pipe bender in your spot TO THE GROUND! </div><div><br></div><div>You ask why did you do that? Their answer. . . because we needed to bend pipes. Ahhh. Makes perfect sense if you have a penis. Which I don't. All I know is I've been parking outside for months now. Damn. Almost a year. Not cool. </div><div><br></div><div>Here's the solution though. </div><div><br></div><div>You wait until they're gone and you're fed up. </div><div><br></div><div>Go to the garage and take back your spot! Get the bolt remover thingy and move that baby. Pile all their crap up, and take what is rightfully yours. Oh wait. They don't like where you put their crap? Tough. Remember you don't like parking in the driveway. In the heat, in the rain, in the winter. That's right gals, reclaim your space. It's YOURS! Take it back. It might take a little hard work, but that's ok. Maybe next time they'll think about what's rightfully yours. If they don't? Let them know there will be consequences, and see if they want to find out. I bet I could get some good money with all their hard work. </div><div><br></div><div>Besides, the teenager has recently become an "adult" and moved out. Apparently he has a life of him own between school and work. It would be a great reminder to coming home to work on his project. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dq5lP7AOGFcPM69UKdRwZ7SfTH4cWKXrVGxGwb8LIusicR7CxNyIl_GWSxomkHLgDuprH490SkrimQA5N9_HyfkAKh-mVgIwnFRJXwO9Rasn84J6Y7rEG9XoY-2S_6TzwrSI_eqeC5fW/s640/blogger-image-666130277.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_dq5lP7AOGFcPM69UKdRwZ7SfTH4cWKXrVGxGwb8LIusicR7CxNyIl_GWSxomkHLgDuprH490SkrimQA5N9_HyfkAKh-mVgIwnFRJXwO9Rasn84J6Y7rEG9XoY-2S_6TzwrSI_eqeC5fW/s640/blogger-image-666130277.jpg"></a></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx173Sp6cS7amaI7TzBx6vSQgLI8GZGL6Rj1XT6sgUQ1hYd1Nyuy8jJwSgSG4TnjKwBANceppQuDu5Zy4tYrTx1-mFrZ7nZosWf4rYC7BDyyu-gDVjlHF4GUm3UqOoI6wVUdZnpIf1J3zm/s640/blogger-image-677997319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx173Sp6cS7amaI7TzBx6vSQgLI8GZGL6Rj1XT6sgUQ1hYd1Nyuy8jJwSgSG4TnjKwBANceppQuDu5Zy4tYrTx1-mFrZ7nZosWf4rYC7BDyyu-gDVjlHF4GUm3UqOoI6wVUdZnpIf1J3zm/s640/blogger-image-677997319.jpg"></a></div>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-74354155790902492812013-05-08T14:37:00.001-07:002013-05-08T14:37:07.697-07:00My sister. My friend.<div style="text-align: center;">
We fought like cats and dogs growing up. </div>
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Then we became best friends. </div>
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She is younger; yet I look to her for advice. </div>
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She was a mother before me. </div>
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She paved the way. </div>
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She embodies the mother I aspire to be.</div>
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Sister.</div>
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Friend.</div>
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<i>Mother.</i></div>
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<h2 style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'Cherry Cream Soda'; font-size: 15px; font: normal normal bold 100%/normal 'Cherry Cream Soda'; line-height: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.5em; position: relative; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">'KETCHUP WITH US' - PROMPT #17</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In 57 words or less, tell us about a special mother</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> in your life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can pick anyone you want. We won't tell.</span></div>
</span>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-50914165672412627362013-04-23T11:59:00.002-07:002013-04-23T11:59:05.469-07:00My birthdayAs a kid you always look forward to your birthday. I still do. The thought of getting another year older makes me truly happy. Think about the alternative. <br />
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However, since 1993, every time my birthday approaches I can't help but recall the tragic events that have happened over the years since then. My birthday reminds me of Waco and the Branch Davidians. I remember seeing the house on fire, and so many people dying. Then in 1995, the bombing in Oklahoma City at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building. I remember the feeling of helplessness for all of those people; especially the children. And now, the Boston Marathon. More senseless death. <br />
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Each year is a time to celebrate another year of life on this earth. Yet, over the years, I've began to hold my breath and I say a prayer that nothing It happens again when my birthday week rolls around. My heart sinks and goes out to all of those have been effected by all of these tragedies. I wonder when it will stop. At a time I want to celebrate, I'm reminded of the evil that lurks in our society.<br />
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On top of all the tragedy that has taken place in our society, we had the explosion at the fertilizer plant in West Texas. Coupled with the death of my niece's mother on the same day. Instead of a birthday cake this year, I morned the loss of her at her funeral yesterday. I watched two girls that will forever be without their mother.<br />
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However, this year I'm still going to celebrated the fact that I am here. I'm going to be mindful that this time thirty-eight years ago, I began my journey. I'm thankful I had another year to see my daughter grow. After all, <a href="http://kbar3.blogspot.com/2012/10/october-17-2006-upsidedown.html">when she was five weeks old I wasn't sure if I would even be here to see her first birthday</a>. I thank God everyday that I am. So, even if it is my own private celebration, I will celebrate. Regardless, I am thankful.<br />
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As I write this, I realize what I need to do to bring balance to this crazy world. I need to embrace the past and look to the future. What impact can I have on encouraging goodness in others? For my birthday this year, I will not let the evilness invade my every thought this year. I will refocus on what I can do to seek out and spread love to others instead of hate. <br />
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I will choose love and strength to fight this battle. I will choose faith over fear.<br />
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It's MY birthday week. I'm taking it back.<br />
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<br />Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-20137717586958520362013-04-18T11:18:00.000-07:002013-04-18T14:37:00.950-07:00What happens when a mother takes her lifeA mother's number one job is to protect her children from harm. <br />
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She is who they draw their strength from. <br />
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She is their comfort. Their everything. <br />
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What happens when a mother feels so helpless? Who does she turn to? <br />
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Her children bring her such joy, but when is that not enough?<br />
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What is going through the mind of a lost soul? Where is the line blurred? When is the line so out of focus that it is crossed? <i>Forever</i>. <br />
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It's unimaginable. The ultimate betrayal to a child. The mother leaves this world by her own hands. She drifts into sleep. <i>Forever</i>. <br />
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Who is left to pick up the pieces of a child's broken heart? Their crushed souls that are crumbled into tiny little pieces never to be put together the same again. <br />
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<i>No one</i>. <br />
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No matter how many people love and comfort the children, there is no replacement. <br />
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There will always be a void that no other person can fill. <br />
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Not a father. <br />
Not a sister. <br />
Not a brother. <br />
Not an aunt. <br />
Not an uncle. <br />
Not even a grandparent. <br />
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A decision perhaps in desperation that can never be taken back. <br />
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No one will never know why, but the question will always linger . . . <i>what could I have done?</i><br />
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</i>I will never know the demons that she fought, but I will do my best by the children she left behind. I will remind them every day that they are loved.<br />
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Just two days ago, I received a phone call that my (step*) niece's mother was in the hospital. We later found out that she had overdosed on prescription pills. With what was found, it was no accident. Today we received news that she is brain dead. She was taken off life support, and passed this afternoon.The family has decided to donate her organs; which is the best gift you can give to another family. Although I did not know her mother personally, I am extremely sad. Sad for many reasons. I'm extremely sad that she saw no other way out. I'm sad she didn't have anyone to turn to; or to ask for help if she felt like she could not go on. I'm sad for her children, her disabled mother she lived with that will forever have that lasting memory of finding her child unresponsive, and her other family and friends. I'm sad that she left behind a 13 and 11 year old that will always ask why. The 13 year old has a strong support system within our family. However, I worry about the 11 year old that does not know who her father is; nor does she have the same support system. She is autistic and does not have the ability to understand what is going on. She doesn't understand why her mommy won't wake up. She's left sobbing and screaming "my heart is broken!" I will never understand. I am not angry at their mom. I do not know her struggles. I am simply sad. <br />
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For anyone that reads this, please share any experience that would help us cope with the situation. If you suspect that anyone you know is struggling, please reach out to them. It might just be what they need to make it through the day. <br />
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* I only refer to her as my step niece for clarification for those who might know me. She is my family no matter what. Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-55844130341746725002013-04-07T20:38:00.001-07:002013-04-08T08:11:38.304-07:00Why I don't feel guiltyI'm about to venture on my first trip ALONE in years. 1998 to be exact. Before I was a wife or mother, I went to Europe by myself. I felt so independent and it was amazing. I actually planned on moving overseas. Then I met my husband. Things changed. Needless to say, my plans changed. We've been married for almost 13 years now. That just seems crazy typing this out. Surly I'm not old enough for that, right people? RIGHT!! Anyhoo . . . we have always done everything as a couple; which is great don't get me wrong. Even when we travel somewhere I always manage to get some alone time; mostly because he likes to nap. Heck, even when we go somewhere it's never a shock to our friends when he decides to go back to the hotel, and I go do my own thing, but he's there. Even after I had my daughter, it wasn't until she was four years old that we spent the night out at a hotel 20 miles from home. Now we frequently go out of town. However, this weekend it's just me. I'm <i>stoked</i>. I'm headed to New Orleans to see a friend's dream to come to fruition. His sister and him have been working on a side project, and have produced some wonderful new children's music. This weekend they're playing at the French Quarter Festival in New Orleans. I've been helping him promote it, and I'm grateful to be apart of this experience. I'm also grateful that my husband "gets it." I thought I was going to have to "sell" him on the idea, but as soon as I told him he told me I had to go. That makes me so much more excited. Why? Because I <i>need</i> this. I need to be independent. I need to go do my thing without having to say "what do you want to do?" Even know when my husband and I go out of town we pretty much do what I want to do. He's pretty laid back, and I always want to go, go, go. However, I just want the freedom of knowing I get to do what I want to do when I want to do it with no questions asked. Selfish? Maybe. Necessary? Yes. It's easy to get lost after almost 13 years of marriage. I've felt that a lot lately. So what am I going to do? I'm going to go and have fun. I'm going to meet up with friends. I'm going to have fun promoting my friend's new venture. More importantly, I'm going to leave my husband in charge of taking care of our daughter and know she's in good hand. They are going to have a great weekend. Honestly, she's ready for me to go. She's excited about <i>daddy</i> time. You know what? I'm excited about <i>mommy</i> time. <i><b>ME</b></i> time! It's only over night. So it's not a big deal, but it is at the same time it is for me. I'm looking forward to it and counting the hours. Sometimes we just need to hit the reset button and refresh. So that's what in doing. Does that make me a bad mom? I hope not. I hope it makes me a better one. I'm looking forward to it, and I expect to come back refreshed. Some times we just need to get away. Do you ever feel like this? If you do, I hope you get a chance to hit the refresh button. Maybe for an hour or over night. As the old saying goes, "if mom is happy, everyone is happy." Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-91386484830971068292013-04-01T18:16:00.001-07:002013-04-02T09:17:12.242-07:00Rich Collins - All he needs is three chords.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Alrighty folks, I'm going to come right out and say it . . . I could come off a bit biased here. We have been an <i>Imagination Movers</i> family for years now. They have fantastic music for kids and adults, and their TV show is both smart and funny. As many parents know, kids can be all about one thing one day, and the next . . .well. They <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">ask</span> BEG you to get them the latest, greatest, just have to have because if not I'm going to explode, and the next day, POOF! They've moved on. Not my kid. My daughter discovered the Movers on Disney Junior when she was two years old. Now she is six and a half and they are still a part of her everyday routine. Every. Day. We have been to more of their live shows than I can count on two hands, and have met the greatest group of friends through these guys. My daughter is a loyal little human. From day one, Rich has always been her favorite. It may be her love for the drums, or maybe it is his hair. Who knows.<span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>You may be asking yourself right now . . . <i>Why in the hell is she going on about the Movers? Isn't this supposed to be a review about Rich's CD release party at the Rusty Nail? Come on lady!</i> All right people! Let me explain.<span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>When I heard Rich was working on a solo CD for the adult crowd, I must admit I was excited. We've been listening to the "kids" music for years, and thought, “Great something different for the adults.” Then, I thought, “This had better be good.” I am sure he felt the pressure. He and his fellow Movers have a catalogue of over 150 songs, and they are all great. That's a lot to live up to.<span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>I digress. <span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>The Rusty Nail was the perfect New Orleans Bar to host his CD release party. After all, unbeknownst to many, Rich and his crew <i>The Kangaroo Assassins</i> had been preparing by playing open-mic nights leading up to the show. This became obvious when they took the stage. Rich Collins has been around the New Orleans music scene for some time now, and has surrounded himself with other fantastic musicians. Accompanying him on stage was drummer Kyle Melancon, a member of the Movers, and formerly Dash Rip Rock. On guitar, Todd "Whiskey T" McNulty of the band Country Fried. On bass, Rene Coman, a member of the Iguanas. On vocals, Daria Dzurik of Daria and the Hip Drops, Carla King Jewell, and Lizzy Dannemiller. Not to mention surprise guest Scott "Smitty" Smith on guitar from the Movers. <span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>When I arrived at the release party, I didn't know what to expect as far as the crowd. I don't live in New Orleans, but visit there frequently. Ironically, I was in NOLA a few weeks previously for Mardi Gras this year, and had a chance to check out Dash Rip Rock at this same venue. Dash had a pretty good crowd, but when I <span style="text-decoration: line-through;">walked</span> squeezed into the door I was overwhelmed with the crowd that had turned out for this event. It was shoulder to shoulder. After chatting with drummer Kyle Melancon, he mentioned that he had been there for many shows, but the bar was as packed as he had ever seen it. It was pretty damn amazing to see the support of all of Rich’s friends, family, well-wishers, and of course his fellow Movers. <span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>When the show kicked off, Rich started in the wrong key for his first song, <i>Zombie Radio</i>. How did he and the Kangaroo Assassins handle it? Like pros, of course. They just started over. As Rich said, they pulled a mulligan. They immediately found their groove. At this point, I slipped away from my friends and slipped into the music. Rich looked completely comfortable taking the reins in the spotlight, stepping out into his first solo endeavor, and I was completely impressed. The first few songs they played were ones I had received earlier to get a little preview, and was very familiar with them. These songs are very catchy, and will have you tapping along in no time. They transcended my expectations of hearing them live. What I wasn't expecting was the rest of the songs. As great as the ones were that I had heard before the show, I was completely blown away by the rest of the songs. It was like seeing a completely different side of a musician for the first time. It was a mix of funk, soul, playfulness, swankiness, and some deeper song lyrics. I was quickly caught up in the vocals of Daria and Carla as well. The soul in their voices intertwined together and stopped me in my tracks. The night was full of surprises. Smitty took the stage and joined in for a few songs. Rich handed off his guitar to him, and they played<i> News of the Day. </i>Next thing you know, Rich was holding his signature drink of the night, a "Bourbon Collins," in one hand and a mic in the other. I suddenly found myself listening to the sweet sounds of a cover of Bob Marley's <i>Could You Be Loved. </i>It was fantastic. After a well-deserved break, the guys and gals got up and did a second performance. It was a fantastic night; and true to his word, Rich got me his signature drink, the "Bourbon Collins" and we toasted to a successful night! CHEERS!<span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>I am a girl that<i> loves</i> a live show. I try to catch as many as I can. There's nothing better than discovering new music, and sharing it. If you have not listened to Rich Collin's new CD, <i>That Escalated Quickly</i>, I highly recommend you check it out. Download it on iTunes or grab a copy on his <span style="color: #000009;"><a href="http://richcollinsmusic.com/">website</a></span> or Amazon. Be sure to check his website for his next upcoming event at Fulton on Tap, too. <span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>You can also find Mover Rich over on the Movers <span style="color: #000009;"><a href="http://imaginationmovers.com/">website</a></span>. <span style="font: 12.0px 'Lucida Grande';"><br />
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</span>Special thanks to Chris Pierce over at Totally Driven Radio for asking me to do a review for their <span style="color: #000009; text-decoration: underline;">site</span>. Tune in on Thursday, April 11<sup>th</sup>, to catch <span style="color: #000009;"><a href="https://www.facebook.com/JasonandLayla">Jason & Layla</a></span> talk about their upcoming show at the French Quarter Festival, as well as Jason Rhein's many <span style="color: #000009;"><a href="http://elephantquilt.com/">projects</a></span>. I look forward to giving another recap on Jason & Layla's first live show together!</span></div>
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</span>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-53045244209642854692013-03-28T22:28:00.001-07:002013-03-28T22:53:30.985-07:00MuffledCloudy vision. <br />
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Wanting clarity. <br />
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Waving your arms back and forth.<br />
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Suffocating with every breath. <br />
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Muffled screams for help. <br />
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Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-2780588462326304292013-03-26T13:21:00.001-07:002013-03-26T13:21:51.814-07:00You can't out run it . . .<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The overwhelming feeling shakes you to your core. It has been haunting you for so long, but it is inescapable. Suddenly, rearing it's ugly head, you fight with all of the strength you can muster. Maybe, just <i>maybe</i> you will out run it this time. Dropping your guard, you allow yourself to think you're finally out of it's grasp. It squeezes you tighter leaving you almost breathless. Still you continue to try and draw a deep breath; struggling to fill your lungs. You thrust yourself forward; even if only for a fleeting moment. All of the sudden, it lunges out directly in front you <i>again</i>. You struggle to get away from the immense feelings that haunts you. Suddenly, you are tackled from behind and dragged to the ground. Now you are caught. All that running was in vein. You know better, but you try. At last, you are confronted. Completely at it's mercy. </span></blockquote>
Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-30085828930357551372013-03-20T13:28:00.002-07:002013-03-20T13:30:07.365-07:00My Doppelgänger<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-10438240427870041422013-03-08T01:00:00.000-08:002013-03-08T01:00:02.234-08:00Dunna, nunna, nunna, nunna . . . BATMAN!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It must be pretty awesome being Batman. No, no, no. Not <i>that</i> Batman. Batman the Gecko. Sheesh! That's right . . . Bat<i><b>man</b></i>! Not Bat<i><b>girl</b></i>. For crying out loud.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week, <a href="http://www.thebeardediris.com/2013/03/07/you-people-are-sick-and-me-likee/">Leslie (aka The Bearded Iris)</a> posted a few pictures on her <a href="http://www.thebeardediris.com/2013/03/04/diary-of-a-sexually-maturing-leopard-gecko/">Blog</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thebeardediris/posts/452029358195762">Facebook</a> of her family's gecko; more like his/her junk. Naturally, this caught my attention. It's not every day that you have lizard porn show up on your news feed. The following day <a href="http://olddognewtits.com/">Michele </a>and <a href="http://accordingtomags.blogspot.com/">Mel</a> posted their bimonthly <i>Ketchup With Us</i> writing prompt. Coincidence? I don't think so. This time they are asking folks to write "<i style="font-weight: bold;">In 57 words or less, tell us about whose shoes you’d like to walk in for a day." </i>Immediately I thought of Leslie's family gecko, and knew I would need to take the liberty to walk in those tiny little lizard shoes for two days for this post (Michele and Mel, please don't start hurling ketchup bottles at me). She had mentioned that her family had been sick, and thought Batman would require a trip to the exotic vet because something was protruding from him. Then she went on to say<i> "</i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><i>I'm sorry y'all, but I ain't payin' no $300 on gecko dick surgery." </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Famous last words from a mom! The things we do for our kids. I think it would be pretty awesome to Batman. He's one luckily lizard to get his peewee put back in surgically. </span><br />
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</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Without further ado, I'm slipping into Batman's scaly little feet for this two day adventure. Do they make Prada shoes in his size? I wonder what the gecko from Geico wears? </span></span><br />
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<b><i>As I reached sexual maturity, there's no place I'd rather be. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>One of my peters popped out for the world to see.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>It could have been a death sentence, but the woman caved. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>She took me to the vet, and I was saved.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>Thanked 'em with a tea bag, and I left her 300 bucks in debt!</i></b></div>
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Special thanks to <strike>Leslie</strike> Batman for the inspiration! HE truly is a lucky gecko. If you want to follow along his little adventure to adulthood, check out "Diary of a Sexually Maturing Leopard Gecko" at <a href="http://www.TheBeardedIris.com./">www.TheBeardedIris.com.</a> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIhyrToLjVbWeZW7giEQyP1fcxblSABX_iJXPH-dbnQQc0_cd5KkFXH25ffC1-mWi85ajxPMvq19h2J_Iv1EhWXdp0E4WF-c54ggo5bINlaKw_pwp755gFwes43DoDVYBsYXK7o3WgmrvX/s1600/Batman's+Diary.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIhyrToLjVbWeZW7giEQyP1fcxblSABX_iJXPH-dbnQQc0_cd5KkFXH25ffC1-mWi85ajxPMvq19h2J_Iv1EhWXdp0E4WF-c54ggo5bINlaKw_pwp755gFwes43DoDVYBsYXK7o3WgmrvX/s320/Batman's+Diary.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.thebeardediris.com/2013/03/04/diary-of-a-sexually-maturing-leopard-gecko/">Diary of a Sexually Maturing Leopard Gecko</a></td></tr>
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Also, make sure to check out <i>Ketchup With Us</i> hosted by ODNT and According to Mags!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktliFekzL_h5SFxxmRg1KLof4FL_L5J5Skec3GxZyYfNFtUnFnbs4qTErVFT3uUIUHy3j5An9acAJacOiPY6EuKYNfh5k5pUtoBuft3VmP-gXyrx9RTaT814XuvTS_J3-NMd-KZ3IKBlI/s1600/KetchupWithUs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktliFekzL_h5SFxxmRg1KLof4FL_L5J5Skec3GxZyYfNFtUnFnbs4qTErVFT3uUIUHy3j5An9acAJacOiPY6EuKYNfh5k5pUtoBuft3VmP-gXyrx9RTaT814XuvTS_J3-NMd-KZ3IKBlI/s1600/KetchupWithUs.png" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://accordingtomags.blogspot.com/2013/02/ketchup-with-us-13.html">KetchupWithUs</a></td></tr>
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<br />Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-53507993169417163442013-02-26T11:36:00.000-08:002013-02-26T11:36:08.163-08:00Perfection Perfection is a bitch. I always felt the need to meet these expectation (and still do). It was great to a point. I played all the sports, and excelled in all of them. I had a city record in track for the 1800 meter, and never lost a race in the mile. All the adults in my life were pushing me to the Junior Olympics in middle school. I finally crumbed under the pressure. There was one race I just couldn't run. The only mile I didn't win in my high school career. It was a horrible feeling. I never want my daughter to feel that type of pressure. Being competitive is one thing. Being pressured to win for others is different. <br />
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I have always had a competitive streak in me. I played club soccer, volleyball, basketball, and track. I did it all, and I did it at a high level. Pressure. <br />
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Now I have my daughter. I don't want her to feel that crushing pressure. I want her to compete if that's what she chooses to do. I want her to strive to be her best, but not at her own expense. <br />
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I have been becoming more and more aware of her need to do things "perfectly." While I appreciate her intentions, I'm trying to figure out a way for her to understand it's not about being perfect. It's about trying new things, learning from experiences, or enjoying an activity. This need to be perfect is making homework so frustrating. This is kindergarten homework y'all! KINDERGARTEN! She has to write her site words, and once a week she illustrates an activity and writes a three sentence summary on it. Now mind you, she does excellent at school. She has fabulous handwriting and reading skills. She also turned six two days after school started. Therefore, she's one of the oldest in her class with two years of pre-k under her belt. During the writing portion of her homework, she erases the letters in almost every word in order to do them a little better, and they're great to start with. It's driving me cray-cray! I try to explain to her there is nothing wrong with the way she did it the first time, and it's actually harder to read after she erases it a few times. What do I do? How do I make her understand? She says "I want it to be perfect!" God, I hate that word.<br />
<br />
Then it happens.<br />
<br />
I pick her up from school on Thursdays and Fridays. She always runs our and says "I got a red!" Meaning that she got a frowny face at school for the day, and I of coarse play along knowing that's not true. This Friday, she came to the car with teary eyes, and a heavy heart. She told me she got a yellow. I could see the look in her eyes, but for some reason still thought she was joking. She is such a people pleaser. Especially her teacher. But I knew. She wasn't kidding. She got a yellow. This was heartbreaking for her. It happened early in the day, and it ruined her whole day. I was so sad. Her face wrecked me. Her offense...sharpening her pencil. AFTER. The teacher told her not too (probably because she used all the damn lead to rewrite her assignment over and over). I can handle that. At least it wasn't something really horrible. Of coarse, not listening to the teacher is not a good thing. But, it's not like she stabbed someone <i>with</i> the pencil. That is totally frowned on. I regress. So I pull over after leaving the pick up line. I try to reassure her that I'm not mad at her, but reiterate how important it is to follow the rules and listen to the teacher. She broke down crying and began telling me she thought I was going to be mad at her, and I was going to take all her toys away. You know, cause that's how I roll. What the what? Of coarse I wouldn't do that on a first offense. Plus that sounds like a lot of work. She's got way to many toys for me to take them all away. After talking for a few minutes, we got some hugs in and even a smile. I could see this weight she had been carrying around for the last four hours melt away.<br />
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Looking back on this now, I'm actually glad it happened. We've got to find a balance. I realize her mission to be perfect will hurt her just as it did me. But how do I do this? How do I teach her it's ok to fail. She doesn't have to be perfect? Some of the best lessons come from not being afraid to put yourself out there, and not having to be "perfect." Do you struggle with this? How would you handle this?Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-45781791872422199802013-02-20T20:19:00.004-08:002013-02-22T08:22:31.167-08:00The Playground...<br />
<i style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The bells rings. All the children bolted to the playground excited to be free of the constraints of the classroom. Finally. They are free to release their pent up energy. All of the sudden SNAP! The freedom is snatched away in an instant by a flying soccer ball. He drops to his knees. Ironically, this innocent game of soccer has cast a dark shadow to his upcoming baseball season. His parents exhaust their options. Surgery is scheduled for in the morning. Soon his little hand will be manipulated back to where they should be, and pins will be inserted. Nevertheless, we will all be cheering him on as he wakes at the hospital, rather than our normal perch at the baseball field.</i><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">EXHAUST (transitive verb)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">1a : to consume entirely : use up</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">b : to tire extremely or completely</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">2a : to draw off or let out completely</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">b : to try out the whole number of</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Please remember:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">The word itself needs to be included in your response.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Only one entry per writer.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Unfortunately, this is based on what happened to my nephew. He went through surgery yesterday like a champ. </span></span></div>
Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-55200670111482745242013-02-16T15:51:00.000-08:002013-02-16T15:53:38.728-08:00V.M.C.P.C.<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.accordingtomags.com/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_self"></a><a href="http://www.accordingtomags.com/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_self"></a><a href="http://www.accordingtomags.com/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_self"></a><i>I was the new bartender trying to learn the ropes. </i></div>
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<i>I was cramming all the info so I didn't look like a dope.</i></div>
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<i>I made up funny saying to help me recall the ingredients. </i></div>
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<i>Fifteen years later I can still recall one drink immediately. </i></div>
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<i>Sex on the Beach...</i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Virgin</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Monkeys</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Chanting</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Penis </span></i></div>
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cramps</span></i></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">'KETCHUP WITH US' - PROMPT #12</span></b></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">In 57 words or less, tell us about the best drink you ever had. Recipes and pictures are encouraged. </span><br />
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Sex on the Beach</div>
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Ingredients:</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">3/4 ounce Midori (Melon liqueur)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;">3/4 ounce vodka</span></div>
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3/4 ounce Chambord (Raspberry liqueur)</div>
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1 and 1/2 ounces pineapple juice</div>
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1 and 1/2 ounces cranberry Juice</div>
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Instructions:<br />
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Mix well and pour over ice.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"></span>Then enjoy like it's the 90's!</div>
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<br />Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-49453400444443711362013-02-13T14:27:00.001-08:002013-02-13T14:27:18.747-08:00The tree and her apple<br />
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<i>From a seed I was born.</i></div>
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<i>I grew into a tree.</i></div>
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<i>Then I had an apple that grew from me.</i></div>
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<i>I want to nourish that seed that came from me.</i></div>
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<i>Fertilize her to be the best she can be.</i></div>
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<i>She's the greatest apple I could ever meet.</i></div>
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<i>I love watching her become the tree she will be.</i></div>
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<i>"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."</i></div>
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I know most people have overheard someone say this; or have said it themselves. It resonated with me differently this time when I was thinking about it.<br />
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When I see my girlie bust a move, I know <i>that</i> <i>apple</i> is sitting right next to the <i>her tree</i>. We've got our own special moves. Then I see her compassion, and love for life, reading, learning, music, and bubbly personality. Then I wonder how that little apple came from me. Her apples are so fresh and drenched in the juice of life. I'm just a tree who's bark has been harden by life.<br />
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I could never of imagined a better apple to have around me in my life. I often wonder . . am I the tree that deserves this apple? She must have been given to me to soften my bark.<br />
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There is no better apple to this old tree.<br />
<br />Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-34895646545940845392013-01-22T20:01:00.001-08:002013-01-22T20:02:20.146-08:00My little secret for getting the girl to sleep.Some may ask . . . How do you do it? I have a hard time getting my daughter to go to bed when she's over tired. <br />
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Well, let me share a secret. Hold your breath. <br />
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I paint her nails. <br />
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This has been a godsend. When I feel her having a hard time winding down from a long day at kindergarten, I offer to paint her nails. She chooses the colors. ALL OF THEM, and I go to work. Within about five minutes she's out. Usually the process is pretty easy. Except tonight she wanted dots on them. Keep in mind, every nail is a different color; so the dots must be too. <br />
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So I forge on. <br />
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Tonight, the easy part was the initial painting. However the dots, proved challenging. But hey! She's got dots. Some smeared, some on point. <br />
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The end result is the same. SHE IS ASLEEP! And fully pampered. <br />
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I just wanted to share, because I never knew how much painting finger and toe nails would be my saving grace to a night time melt down. <br />
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Without further ado . . . My sleeping beauty. Fingers and toes and all. <br />
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Don't mind the polish on her face and arms. She had an itch. <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yc_EL3tnKNeTB7VYioITBRrzF6DnZbIeEVcs22uAjpAp689XYkNYRalgEMuGmvnCa_3G0SMjHmnlBqFzszlbLqZcoywPfGr10fCZDkzvmZuiida89nH0nXm57AeEcefRM2Km8NNIEd05/s640/blogger-image--14731614.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8yc_EL3tnKNeTB7VYioITBRrzF6DnZbIeEVcs22uAjpAp689XYkNYRalgEMuGmvnCa_3G0SMjHmnlBqFzszlbLqZcoywPfGr10fCZDkzvmZuiida89nH0nXm57AeEcefRM2Km8NNIEd05/s640/blogger-image--14731614.jpg" /></a></div>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-77242554481124025752013-01-22T12:11:00.000-08:002013-01-22T12:22:39.444-08:00As she grows<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I start out slowly, and gain knowledge as I go. </i></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.accordingtomags.com/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_self"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Usually this leads to confidence as I grow. </i></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.accordingtomags.com/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_self"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br />
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>However, being a mother this has not been so. </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>As the years speed up, I feel more and more out of control.</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>It's so easy when they're little, but then she grows. </i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love being a mom. However, everyday it seems that I worry more and more if I'm doing it "right." This is the most important job I will ever have, and I know I don't get a re-do. I couldn't ask for anything else in a child, and I <strike>hope</strike> pray that she will look back and say the same about me as her mommy. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dammit! Someone hand me a tissue. </span><br />
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<a href="http://olddognewtits.com/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="olddognewtits.com" height="125" src="http://olddognewtits.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/ketchuplabel125copy2.jpg" width="125" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>'KETCHUP WITH US' - Prompt #10</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In 57 words or less, tell us about WHO (or WHAT) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">you go head to head </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">with every day.</span></div>
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<br />Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-38482036105461591802013-01-08T14:09:00.001-08:002013-01-08T14:09:43.050-08:00Yep, I will break you<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm going to be honest. I always make New Year's Resolutions. I don't want to, but it just seems par for the coarse. A right of passage, if you will. A yearly reset so to speak. With that being said, I will give you my usual run down. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Be a better mom, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Loose weight, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Get healthy, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Exercise, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Blah, blah, blah . . .</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However, I intend on keeping those. Hell, I've even signed up for TWO 5Ks so far this year. One of which will take place while I'm in New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Side note, I might be running a bit tipsy. BUT, I will be running. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This brings me to the resolution that I <i>need</i> to make, but I <i>know</i> I won't be able to keep it. I'm breaking it in my head as I sit here and type. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">With out further ado . . .</span></div>
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<span style="color: red; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">'KETCHUP WITH US' - PROMPT #9</span></span></h2>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In 57 words or less, tell us the New Year's resolution you </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">want to make but know you'll break.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>A whirlwind of a year for my girlie and me. </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>We took many trips, we felt so free.</i></b></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7558706496134769860" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://WWW.ACCORDINGTOMAGS.COM/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_SELF"></a><a href="http://WWW.ACCORDINGTOMAGS.COM/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_SELF"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>Made our way up the Northeast coast to see friends. </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>Then headed down south so the journey wouldn't end. </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>From there we went east, with New Orleans to see. </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i>We found we liked it best, my daughter and me.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Last year, Ry and I traveled all over the place. We went to New Jersey, NYC, Maryland, Philly, New Orleans, San Antonio, Austin, Tulsa, Arkansas, and some other more local places. I can not even begin to describe how much fun we've had over the last year. I'm so grateful for all of these experiences we've shared, and all of the friends and family we have been able to spend time with in person! I am also thankful to have a husband that has been supportive of all of our adventures. Btw, we've traveled without the girlie too quite a few times. I think Nola has become our second home. So, he hasn't been left out. However, I keep telling myself this year we need to do a lot less traveling. We were gone once a month, and sometimes twice. As I made peace with this resolution and vowed slow down this year, I found myself planning trips in my head. Needless to say, there will be no keeping this resolution. The hubs and I are headed to Mardi Grass in a few weeks (preplanned in 2012, thank you very much), and the girl is already asking when it's her turn to go back to Nola (can you say Jazz Fest?), and San Antonio (where her bff lives). What kind of mother would I be to deny her these learning experiences? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never mind, Don't answer that. </span></div>
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Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-34158073199535408562013-01-06T06:03:00.001-08:002013-01-06T07:17:09.440-08:00Core Struggles<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Dealing with inner struggles. </i></b><br />
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<b><i>Trying to get to the core. </i></b><br />
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<b><i>So many layers.</i></b><br />
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<b><i>The top layer so thin. </i></b><br />
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<b><i>Like a mask, easy to break. </i></b><br />
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<b><i>The deeper, the harder to navigate. </i></b><br />
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<b><i>Must break through. </i></b></div>
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<img height="200" src="http://i1132.photobucket.com/albums/m573/SeekingBlog/Picture11-1.png" width="187" /><br />
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On to the weekend challenge. As you'll recall from your elementary science class days, the structure of the earth can be divided most simply into three sections: core, mantle, crust. Here's a diagram.</div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> <img class="CSS_LIGHTBOX_SCALED_IMAGE_IMG" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSAdvUS8Y6xwG32jsmK3VkkKrua4uXZnX6jw75UQ42X8DzZVRWL2VY7GZO_uGOezCGLYaGVjv4e5y17ZGA0F5l-d-6NlJipc9GkseY47RvQioMfrNpSP8rtZurbpRH7ifiRXg2WdXBGpdB/s200/ID-10028908.jpg" style="height: 299px; outline: rgb(0, 0, 0) solid 1px; position: relative; width: 400px;" width="200" /></span></div>
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Image courtesy of Danilo Rizzuti / FreeDigitalPhotos.net</div>
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Give us 33 words from it. Interpret the prompt however you wish--literal, metaphorical, or somewhere in between. </div>
Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-31086350683129292502012-12-26T20:35:00.001-08:002012-12-26T20:35:19.419-08:00I do not blame the dead.Please know that I do not blame the dead. I do not condone the actions of others. Being in Dallas this is a constant news story; as it should be. It's a great reminder that you do NOT drink and drive. My heart goes out to Jerry Brown and his family. They have stood by his best friend, and that says a lot. This story makes my heart heavy and sad. However, I think it is important to note that it is the responsibility of everyone to be responsible for themselves. I picture two best friends going out and having a good time with too much to drink, and making a horrible decision to get in a car. Josh Brent is carrying the load of driving a car that killed his best friend. I can not imagine the weight of sorrow he is carrying. THAT is a life sentence. My point is that there were two adults in the club that decided to get in a car after drinking. Unfortunately, the worst happened. Regardless of what happens in the courts, it is important for everyone to take note. This time of year, people can make bad decisions because they are celebrating. I think it is important for everyone to remember they are responsible for themselves. Think ahead. Make prearrangements. Do not put yourself at the mercy of another. Bad things happen to good people when they make bad decisions. Don't let this happen to you or the ones you love. It is not worth it. Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-90534905914356884312012-12-22T12:43:00.001-08:002012-12-22T15:50:57.348-08:00Traditional Christmas WeekendWe have so many family traditions this time of year. I think that's why this was such a hard post to write. As I thought of all of them, each one brought a smile to my face. <br />
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I'll share one of our newest holiday traditions. My mom began this one last year, and I love it. She chooses a weekend, and she books two rooms at the "Great Week Lodge." When she announces the weekend she chooses, you'd sure as hell make sure you're available. She gets two "kid cabin" rooms. These have little cabins inside with three bunk beds. It's the best weekend of the holiday season. My sister gathers her family, and I gather mine. Then with mom and pops in tow, we head out for the weekend. As soon as we arrive at the hotel, we drop our stuff off and the kids get their "paw passes" and it's game on! The weekend begins with the kids getting their magic wands and choosing their quest. As we make our way through the hotel, the kids are pointing at treasure chest and random objects to collect their magic. Then the adults retreat to the rooms for a festive drink, and the kids plot their next move. After all, they are steering the boat so to speak. They usually jump from bunk to bunk in the rooms. Later, we head to dinner, and off to see Santa. Then the moment we all dread, but do it anyways. We get in our bathing suits and head to the indoor water park! Nothing like getting in your bathing suit in December. Oy! Nevertheless, we have a blast. My tiny little child picks the biggest slide to go down. She is fearless. Finally, we head back and everyone gets in their pjs, and heads to the lobby for story time being at the Lodge is like being in a twilight zone. Everyone is roaming the halls in their pjs. The kids take one more trip around with their wands and head to bed. <br />
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In the morning, my mom reserves the life size gingerbread house for her and the kids to go have breakfast in. The rest of us get to stay snuggled in bed just a bit longer. Then, it's back to the water park. Finally, the kids get to use the rest of their paw pass. They make a shirt, stuff an animal of their choice, get ice cream, and glitter tattoos. Once those puppies are applied, it signals that its time to head home. <br />
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There is nothing better than spending the weekend cooped up in a hotel with my mom, pops, sister, brother-in-law, niece, nephews, daughter, stepson, and hubby. It truly is the best weekend of the season! <br />
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<div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5CFdemIBodyLXiv9FKkuaGnI_NhQB0Gs8qGyx-nky-hD9g3ImC8wLcJH2yNAnM_fPQYtrw4pQkmRTW75gqdU2Cp0ejdcDEYDSaLTKlXhlFdRIifmplw-VOkLPwfEgidv3R5m4y54ACmz/s640/blogger-image-104807418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5CFdemIBodyLXiv9FKkuaGnI_NhQB0Gs8qGyx-nky-hD9g3ImC8wLcJH2yNAnM_fPQYtrw4pQkmRTW75gqdU2Cp0ejdcDEYDSaLTKlXhlFdRIifmplw-VOkLPwfEgidv3R5m4y54ACmz/s640/blogger-image-104807418.jpg" /></a></div>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-57994950795508740682012-12-21T12:33:00.001-08:002012-12-21T13:21:16.859-08:00I think I might be raising a homeless personSeems like all kids love boxes. They're fun to play in, and encourages them to use their imagination. It's really is one of the best "toys" around. <br />
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Now that the holidays are here, I've been doing a lot of online shopping. That being said, we have accumulated quite a few boxes. Ryan has made cat beds, robots, monsters, and a house to name a few. We have one box in particular that is big enough for her to get in and close it up. She really made me smile when I found the box addressed "to Kari from Ryan." It was even better because she was inside. <br />
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Later that night after she brushed her teeth, she announced she was going to bed . . . in her box. My hubs and I chuckled and did what we needed to do to get ready for bed. Then we went to give hugs and night-night kisses, and found Ryan laying in the box. She had it turned on it's side and lined it with pillows, and of coarse a flashlight. She was already snuggled up in her covers, and insisted on sleeping there. So, I figured what could if hurt. However, around midnight I took the box off her bed and put her in bed properly. I didn't want her to wake up with so weird crick in her neck. I went back to bed only to be woken up at 4:00 am to . . . "MOM! WHY AM I NOT IN MY BOX?" Talk about a rude awakening. She went and got her box and reassembled her box bed. The next night she slept in it again. I did not bother taking her out of the box this time. I know how that will play out, and frankly, I like my sleep. <br />
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This brings us to last night (which would be another night in the box). She announces she's going to get her box ready for bed. Fine, fine just go get ready for bed. When I went to give her hugs and kisses, I found her IN the box. Yep, the opening was at the top and she was curled up in it. She had her "whaley" and pulled her covers over the top. Of coarse I laughed. When the laughter subsided, she asked me so sweetly if she could sleep in her box. I have in and said, sure why not? I figured I would get up and take her out of the damn box later that night. Good plan, right? One problem though. I totally fell asleep. When we got up this morning she was still curled up in her box. This brings me back to my question. Am I raising a future homeless person? Or just a very intelligent girl with a big imagination? I'm going with the second one. <br />
<br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRI8kTDc7DlmYJ66M9FdIzo33FEu_x3bD2dk0ChsytWeZu5K5u9Bxnnw_nbbNuoRmr3pSqmdqLm2CU7u8awqTosD9u0VlZq7kYZtPySSAvEGpqvxw9xBN95LYH_FV-xWrjC_HPXs5xXev/s640/blogger-image-55924548.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpRI8kTDc7DlmYJ66M9FdIzo33FEu_x3bD2dk0ChsytWeZu5K5u9Bxnnw_nbbNuoRmr3pSqmdqLm2CU7u8awqTosD9u0VlZq7kYZtPySSAvEGpqvxw9xBN95LYH_FV-xWrjC_HPXs5xXev/s640/blogger-image-55924548.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU1C_inWqMRKcyFv5LkAdADA7cH_Q7xq9mf_nVvbwxXrG04wV-41xxcJLpM5-_ju9ipshEZdyrdHb9qsbc3fnD6MxrKKIyH7Zdtw35p0pwyiijS0M3GEaYb9eyfDBfdS3Ik4kedemuqUw/s640/blogger-image-1862269411.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpU1C_inWqMRKcyFv5LkAdADA7cH_Q7xq9mf_nVvbwxXrG04wV-41xxcJLpM5-_ju9ipshEZdyrdHb9qsbc3fnD6MxrKKIyH7Zdtw35p0pwyiijS0M3GEaYb9eyfDBfdS3Ik4kedemuqUw/s640/blogger-image-1862269411.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYKe9QwaqTsYHpQ-nNvs6qQkLc9m2iuom_J6o5Po7lAWAVammctWPWS1xhCs6FgSFs6razg2PtegQf10Op59EuA3VF2v-fsMPj302GEtRWJCPpDAUXuvZljkF7UaEPMcSaqMgMAtAHXxu/s640/blogger-image-1816719784.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtYKe9QwaqTsYHpQ-nNvs6qQkLc9m2iuom_J6o5Po7lAWAVammctWPWS1xhCs6FgSFs6razg2PtegQf10Op59EuA3VF2v-fsMPj302GEtRWJCPpDAUXuvZljkF7UaEPMcSaqMgMAtAHXxu/s640/blogger-image-1816719784.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0sNqXgsYoPpf-_MAJNK0ze1YlH52SU6oOzK1uA5kPBN-nvP5IBGxnfN-nsDtq5kvAEQEFiQRsdt2AfpkdEL-yLlmzf6eIsx4xwOib3SZOXE9_axbFr_0Iy0YCF1kR40L5D8R2k3eKaPZ/s640/blogger-image-2032345413.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0sNqXgsYoPpf-_MAJNK0ze1YlH52SU6oOzK1uA5kPBN-nvP5IBGxnfN-nsDtq5kvAEQEFiQRsdt2AfpkdEL-yLlmzf6eIsx4xwOib3SZOXE9_axbFr_0Iy0YCF1kR40L5D8R2k3eKaPZ/s640/blogger-image-2032345413.jpg" /></a></div>Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-56211532030576929352012-12-11T10:56:00.000-08:002012-12-11T10:56:00.629-08:00Anticipation<div style="text-align: center;">
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Another year comes to an end.</div>
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Look back to see where you've been. </div>
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Look forward with anticipation.</div>
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See the fruits of your blood, tears, and perspiration. </div>
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Those little eyes will give you inspiration.</div>
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<span class="ssens"><a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/anticipation" style="color: #1f2bad; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal;">ANTICIPATION (</em><em class="sn">noun)</em></a></span></div>
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<span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">a</em> <strong>:</strong> a prior action that takes into account or forestalls a later action</span><span class="ssens"></span><br />
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<span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">b</em> <strong>:</strong> the act of looking forward; <em>especially</em> <strong>:</strong> pleasurable expectation</span></div>
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<span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> the use of money before it is available</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/anticipation" style="color: #1f2bad; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">3</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/anticipation" style="color: #1f2bad; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">a</em> <strong>:</strong> visualization of a future event or state</span><span class="ssens"></span></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/anticipation" style="color: #1f2bad; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span class="ssens"><em class="sn" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: bold;">b</em> <strong>:</strong> an object or form that <span style="color: #1122cc;">anticipates</span> a later type</span></a></div>
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<span class="ssens"><strong>:</strong> the early sounding of one or more tones of a succeeding chord to form a temporary dissonance — compare suspension</span><br />
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Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7558706496134769860.post-42503977721143266152012-12-07T07:41:00.001-08:002012-12-07T07:41:21.759-08:00It' Scampi Time!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Welcome Guest Chef - <a href="https://twitter.com/GhettoGirl2005">Ghetto Girl 2005</a> (aka Susan)!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">She's my blogmate. When I'm out and about, she likes to pop in. Grab your taste buds, and enjoy. Just make sure to wipe the drool off your face, but DO NOT wipe it on the couch!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">It' Scampi Time!!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Again, I have to give special thanks to @KBar3 for allowing me to crash at your pad! Kari and I are currently under sublet negotiations! ;)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">The holidays always trigger memories of Christmas Eve at my Nana' s apartment where 20+ of</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">my closet relatives gathered to yell at eat other gorge on every type of fish imaginable! Some were more appetizing than others. Fried smelts (still not even sure what hell a smelts is?) and squid sauce were some of the less desirable dishes in my opinion! Actually they were "hurl" worthy! But my Nana's</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1354893621_0" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-color: rgb(54, 99, 136); border-bottom-style: dotted; border-bottom-width: 2px; cursor: pointer;">Shrimp Scampi</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">, that was kick ass! So in the honor of <a href="http://accordingtomags.blogspot.com/">Mel</a> and <a href="http://olddognewtits.com/">Michele</a>, I give you a family treasured recipe for Shrimp Scampi!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Nana's Shrimp Scampi</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*1 1/2 pounds large shrimp (about 16 to 24)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*1/3 cup unsalted butter</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*3 large garlic cloves, finely minced</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*2 tablespoons olive oil</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*1/4 cup dry white wine</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*2 tablespoons finely chopped flat leaf parsley</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*salt and pepper</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*Fresh lemon wedges to garnish, optional</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Rinse and pat dry shrimp. In a large skillet, melt the butter and the olive oil over medium low heat. When butter melts, stir in garlic. Cook the garlic, stirring occasionally. DO NOT LET THE GARLIC TURN BROWN!! (Nana was always yelling). It should take about 7 minutes for the garlic to cook. Turn up the heat to medium high and add shrimp and wine. Cook the shrimp until they are just pink, turning the shrimp once. Stir in the parsley and lemon juice and cook for 1 minute. Add salt and pepper to taste.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*Best served as is with lots of warm and crusty Italian bread to "dunk" into the garlic, butter, lemon sauce! :) But also can be served over linguini or rice.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">*Sorry, there were never any Gourmet magazine photo ops at Nana's house! I hope this does not disqualify me! :( I can offer up a picture of me and my sister holding a dead pig under a Christmas tree? It even had an apple in it's mouth!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">Happy Holidays!!</span><br />
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<a href="http://olddognewtits.com/" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="olddognewtits.com" height="125" src="http://olddognewtits.files.wordpress.com/2012/08/ketchuplabel125copy2.jpg" width="125" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><b>The Rules . . .</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: lemonde-journal-1, lemonde-journal-2, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br />
‘KETCHUP WITH US’ – Prompt #7<br />
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Share a favorite holiday recipe with us. For once, there is no Heinz-inspired word limit. Just don’t go overboard. (God, I HATED that movie.)</div>
Kbar3http://www.blogger.com/profile/16720280741115807855noreply@blogger.com5