tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-305705682024-03-06T12:59:04.765-07:00Our Moments, Our MemoriesJackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.comBlogger217125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-19686394012499137862011-05-10T23:28:00.001-06:002011-05-10T23:32:45.768-06:00Perfect LoveSo, here are a few things I've been thinking about lately.<br />
<br />
When I was pregnant with Leah, it really took a long time for the reality of it to set in. I mean, here was this precious, amazing miracle growing inside of me, something we had longed for, prayed for, cried over. And now that it was an almost-tangible thing, I couldn't quite get my mind around it.<br />
<br />
And somewhere, deep in the recesses of my soul, I pulled back. I didn't want to get to close, too attached, didn't want to love too deeply. Not yet. Because, after all, nothing is promised, right? What if something happened? The very thought of loving and being crushed seemed overwhelming to me. <br />
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Isn't it so very silly how we fret and worry, borrowing trouble for tomorrow that might never appear? <br />
<br />
But a mother's heart is a strange, wonderful thing, and no matter the fear, you cannot help but love. And so I did - I cautiously loved that little being inside of me. And when she was born, healthy and plump and pink, there was no going back.<br />
<br />
<i>So in love. </i><br />
<br />
I think I had a little bout with hormones/depression/what have you right afterward, which I know is not terribly unusual, but still, I hated not feeling like myself. Right around her two week checkup, I had just started leveling off and feeling somewhat normal.<br />
<br />
At that checkup, I watched as the doctor passed his stethoscope slowly across her chest, listening, moving it again, listening. For <i>waaaay</i> too long. My eyes were glued to his face, and I knew something was not right.<br />
<br />
She had a heart murmur, which he was quick to tell me was not in and of itself a horrible diagnosis - he figured it to be a hole in her heart which would possibly close up on its own. But to be on the safe side, he wanted us to see a pediatric cardiologist. <br />
<br />
We went the next day, and found out that she had pulmonary valve stenosis - her little valve had not formed correctly, and the extra work it had to do to pump blood through was causing the heart murmur. He ran through the different scenarios, which ran the gamut of her leading a perfectly normal life to her needing heart surgery. <br />
<br />
My world kinda came crashing down on me. It was one of those weird things - you never expect to hear something like that about one of your own kids. I had a whole myriad of feelings to process - a bit of numbness over the situation, sadness that my little girl had to go through anything like this at all, and then some good old fashioned guilt that said I had no business feeling anything like that when so many other little ones had it worse.<br />
<br />
And then of course, fear.<br />
<br />
I was afraid of the unknown. Afraid that she would be taken from me in the middle of the night. I was afraid that her life would somehow be terribly altered by this diagnosis, and there was nothing I could do about it. I hated that even though you couldn't tell from the outside, something was wrong on the inside.<br />
<br />
But here is what I have slowly found out - love is way, way bigger than that fear. Than <i>any</i> fear. Even if some dark little place inside of me says that the worst <i>might</i> happen, and then tries to protect itself by pulling back and saying that loving is not worth it - oh, it SO is.<br />
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And that whole thing about perfect love casting out fear - well, that's true too. I guess I would like it if it was a one time thing - bam! - I love, and so the fear is gone. HE loves me - loves us - and so the fear is gone.<br />
<br />
But it's more like a daily thing. I get up and look at her sweet face, and start to worry. Sometimes when I lie awake in bed, those what-ifs hit me so hard. And because my own heart only knows how to love imperfectly, the fear is always there, waiting to pounce on my every weakness.<br />
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But the love always rises up to overcome it. He reminds me that no matter what, He is perfect love. No matter the outcome, He loves my Leah far more than I ever could.<br />
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And because I have no other option, and because I don't WANT any other option, I choose to rest in that.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-91508399552658542372011-01-09T23:08:00.000-07:002011-01-09T23:08:25.153-07:00The best giftOne year ago, give or take a few days, we were taking down our Christmas decorations. My job is to take down the tree, the lights, the stockings, the village. My long-suffering husband has the delightful job of hauling out the ladder and hefting huge boxes and bins into the attic. <br />
<br />
In the midst of all the holiday dismantling, I stopped in the doorway of Savannah's room, and forced myself to take a look around. <br />
<br />
This is what I had to admit; it still looked like a nursery.<br />
<br />
Sure, we had moved her to a big bed, and given her a dresser, a beautiful old antique thing that used to be mine when I was her age. And big girl toys were scattered everywhere - dolls, a tea set, an explosion of pony tail holders and barrettes. <br />
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But right inside the doorway, the changing table still stood. Across the room, the crib took up half the wall. And inside the drawers, baby things galore awaited. There were piles of bibs and blankets and boppy pillows. <br />
<br />
It was still a nursery, still waiting for a precious new bundle of joy, one for which we had been praying and waiting for almost three years now. <br />
<br />
But since my husband only hauls out that ladder once or twice a year, I knew it was time. And so, along with the Christmas decorations, those baby things finally made their way out of the drawers, into big plastic bins, and up into the attic.<br />
<br />
My heart sighed, but truly, I wasn't really sad. My heart still longed with everything in me for another little one, but somehow during the past year, I had come to a place of surrender. I wasn't fighting any more. It wasn't an act of giving up, but rather a way of saying, <em>It's in Your hands</em>. <br />
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Which, of course, it had been all along. But sometimes in my struggle I failed to see it. <br />
<br />
Three weeks later, on February 2, I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. For some reason, my groggy mind remembered that I had one last pregnancy test still stashed under the cabinet. I have no idea what made me think of it; I had no symptoms, didn't feel extra tired, nothing. But for some reason I reached for that test. I put it on the floor for 2 minutes like I had 50 other times in the past 3 years, and expected to see one lonely line. <br />
<br />
There were two.<br />
<br />
There were <em>two</em>. <br />
<br />
I couldn't wrap my mind around it. I actually started to hyperventilate a little bit, I think, and in the midst of my little meltdown, I grabbed the phone and called my husband. <br />
<br />
I was sobbing by that point. I blurted, "I just took a test and it was p-p-positive!" <em>Sniff. Sob. Blubber.</em><br />
<br />
And my poor husband, shocked and understandably concerned at this news, said, "Hon, what do you mean? What kind of test?" <br />
<br />
Well. Not the best way to make this kind of earth-shattering announcement, I suppose, since he probably thought for a second I had some incurable disease. <br />
<br />
But I explained, and oh, did we ever rejoice. <br />
<br />
And eight and half months later, we rejoiced again, when this precious little one came into our lives at 2:30 in the morning. <br />
<br />
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<em>(Those cheeks!)</em><br />
<br />
I have no words to describe the joy we feel when we look at her. For the first few weeks, I held her, and thought, <em>She's mine</em>. And I still couldn't quite believe it. <br />
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She is amazing, and delightful, and smells <em>so good</em> - that heavenly baby scent. And she had the loudest, maddest sounding cry you've ever heard, which frankly just makes me laugh. She is a good sleeper, and an excellent eater, and is already wearing clothes that Savannah didn't even dream of wearing until she was about nine months old.<br />
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She is an answer to prayer, and that answer went exceedingly, abundantly above what we could have ever asked or thought. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Welcome, sweet Leah Caroline. </div>To Him be the glory.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-89444683805391209792010-01-11T01:29:00.003-07:002010-01-11T01:36:01.272-07:00FourWhen we brought her home from the hospital, we sat and stared at her for hours.<br /><br />I didn't sleep at all that first night, but instead reached my hand out every 10 minutes to the bassinet at the side of my bed and touched her chest to make sure it was still rising and falling, an even cadence that let me know that she was real.<br /><br />I remember sitting in the rocking chair as she wailed that piercing newborn cry, and nothing I did stopped it. So I did the only logical thing for a sleep-deprived new mama, I sobbed along with her.<br /><br />We haven't sat in that chair much lately, but the other day, she was sick and she said, "Mama, let's rock."<br /><br />I gathered her up, all arms and legs, and she snuggled up and closed her eyes. "Sing, Mama", she whispered. And I tried, but I wasn't on tune because suddenly out of nowhere there were tears that came and fought for space with my voice in my throat.<br /><br />I sang Silent Night, and we rocked. I thought that there wasn't much difference between the first time I rocked her and now....the same overwhelming feeling, the same soft little hands, the same song.<br /><br />Funny how she can't wait to grow up, while I'm sitting here wishing she could stay little.<br /><br />Her world is all pink and princessy right now, so that's what we did for her birthday.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/S0rg8nkv75I/AAAAAAAACi0/G6PhBlTbuiQ/s1600-h/Blog.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425396033141075858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/S0rg8nkv75I/AAAAAAAACi0/G6PhBlTbuiQ/s400/Blog.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />One thing will never change - I can't imagine life without her.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-24487034009134706792009-08-21T11:59:00.003-06:002009-08-21T12:07:44.042-06:00Songs for my soulI am really behind the times, technologically speaking. I do not have an ipod, or a blackberry, or any other fancy thing. I barely have a cell phone, and it's only one of those Go Phones, where you add minutes as you need them. It's fancy.<br /><br />I am not even sure if the CD player in my car works.<br /><br />But still, I am joining in with <a href="http://www.itsalmostnaptime.blogspot.com/">Missy at It's Almost Naptime </a>to tell you what kind of music I've been listening to in my car lately. Or, in my house, as the case may be.<br /><br />On Wednesday when I decided I couldn't wait any longer to tackle the many, huge, overflowing baskets of laundry, I popped in a mixed CD, a compilation of various songs from iTunes, and hoped that it would give me some kind of laundry-folding inspiration.<br /><br />Here's a sampling of the songs that speak to me, in one way or another:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmzrpxLcaNo">Can't help falling in l</a>ove - Elvis<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/One-Fine-Day-Motion-Picture/dp/B000002BT3">One Fine Day </a>- Natalie Merchant<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j8Bgf54G-FE">How He Loves </a>- David Crowder Band (for the record, Savannah is IN. LOVE. with David Crowder. I think the attraction is the crazy hair and glasses, not sure. But she is like a little mini-stalker of his - she talks about meeting him, and knows he lives in Texas. Watch out, David).<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1O4eS9jxfM">When God Ran </a>- Phillips Craig and Dean<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OL2vSBBoPSw">Making Memories of us </a>- Keith Urban<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_hV8L65Rqo">Untitled Hymn (Come to Jesus)</a> - Chris Rice<br /><br /><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nothing-But-Best-Frank-Sinatra/dp/B0013L5M08/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=music&qid=1250877111&sr=1-1">The Way you look Tonight </a>- Frank Sinatra<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fShw08h9Sic">The Way I am </a>- Ingrid Michaelson<br /><br />I could go on...and on....and on....but that's enough for now.<br /><br />And if you pinned me down under extreme duress and forced me to name my favorite song of all time (which, really, how can you pick just one?)....well, I would have to say it is this - His Eye is on the Sparrow. I can barely listen to this song with crying. I know He truly is watching over me.<br /><br />Missy, thanks so much for hosting!<br /><br />Oh! One other thing - I have a new bloggy friend, Mirinda, and she owns a fabulous store called October Belle Designs. She is an uber-talented artist, and she does custom canvas paintings - and she's giving one away at her site. Because Savannah's room is very sad-looking, and basically still has the baby-ish nursery theme going, I so want one of these to help dress it up. Go visit <a href="http://obdforkids.blogspot.com/">October Belle Designs</a> and leave her a comment!Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-65650009831715917552009-08-16T12:39:00.006-06:002009-08-16T13:44:17.046-06:00This is how Picasso started out, too...Ricardo turned forty-two at the beginning of August, and I've been a slacking blogger and didn't even mention it.<br /><br />If you do the math, you will realize that he totally robbed the cradle. He's almost 9 1/2 years older than me. No complaints, though. In fact, that was one of the things on my list of what I wanted in a man. An <em>older</em> guy, and also one that spoke a different language. I scored on both counts.<br /><br />We won't mention the fact that the older the guy, the more set in his ways....that's just how it goes.<br /><br />Savannah heard the word "birthday" and immediately her mind went to <em>cake</em>. I can only handle making one fancy cake a year, so Ricardo got a plain Jane cake with a strawberry filling. Savannah tried offering him a choice of a Batman cake or a Dora cake, but mama said <em>no</em>.<br /><br />I didn't even make him fresh buttercream frosting; instead, I remembered that I had a good bit of the BRIGHT pink and green frosting leftover from Savannah's birthday in the freezer. Mixed them together, added a little blue, and voila. I hoped that nobody noticed the slightly freezer burned taste, and at the rate they devoured the cake, I guess it wasn't an issue.<br /><br />I found Savannah letting all of the cold air out of the fridge more than once that day as she sat and stared at the cake.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SoheGtYt5kI/AAAAAAAABn0/gaMUkbc_bMQ/s1600-h/Project+3651.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370646024994809410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SoheGtYt5kI/AAAAAAAABn0/gaMUkbc_bMQ/s400/Project+3651.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>These pictures crack me up. Savannah has recently left off scribbling and realized that she could draw actual, um...people. (What, they don't look like people to you??) Right now you can look anywhere in our house and find it littered with papers sporting fine specimens like these:</div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDx9uKtM_PuybAugrE5k9-Y1YMATduzDLSqsI87jjDFYW85rNuTK8ofYiXDmZ7gEtGN9s4rW-6vW0Yi6jdHSUCJz4evHfCogUEESnogALXGUleRQhetSt8T-JmNVQw45UzNPJAA/s1600-h/Project+3652.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370646034236581842" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDx9uKtM_PuybAugrE5k9-Y1YMATduzDLSqsI87jjDFYW85rNuTK8ofYiXDmZ7gEtGN9s4rW-6vW0Yi6jdHSUCJz4evHfCogUEESnogALXGUleRQhetSt8T-JmNVQw45UzNPJAA/s400/Project+3652.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Of course, she has to tell us which is Mommy and which is Daddy, since it's a little hard to tell. The only difference is the mile-long eyelashes that she puts on my drawing, which, by the way is NOT true to life. My favorite things are the freakishly long teeth, the arms coming out of the head, and the humongous nostrils. </div><br /><div>So, I know I've been terribly absent from blogland - lately the blog design business has been taking ALL of my free time. Which is great from a business standpoint, but not so terrific when it comes to anything else. Still trying to find balance, because I really do miss blogging.</div><br /><div>Thanks to <a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/2009/08/project-365-week-33.html">Sara</a> for hosting Project 365!</div><div></div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-82539004584378788902009-07-29T23:53:00.005-06:002009-07-30T01:29:22.984-06:00Out of control at the Nickel ArcadeThe thing about having a very handy, very competent hubby is that pretty soon, other people start to notice the handiness and the competency.<br /><br />One little case in point: Ricardo has a CDL license.<br /><br />Apparently, guys with CDL licenses are hard to come by, at least around these parts, because he is in high demand at our church for any random events that pop up. Senior trips to the mountains, field trips to the zoo. Once or twice even a trip to L.A. for some of the young people, a trip where they tried to convince me to come along when Savannah was 9 months old.<br /><br /><em>Think of all the fun!</em> they said. <em>Disneyland! Dodgers game! Shopping!</em><br /><br />Well, yes. And 16 hours on a school bus with a baby? Um...no thanks.<br /><br />But last Friday, he was asked to drive the middle schoolers to a local Family Fun Center, one of those places where they have laser tag and paintball and miniature golf and go karts. Since it was a Friday night and I think they felt bad for pulling him away from his family, they were kind enough to invite all of us.I figured we would hang out, maybe play a round or two of miniature golf, but I didn't have high expectations outside of that.<br /><br />We started out in the Nickel City arcade, a den of swirling lights and headache-inducing noise, the kind of place I usually avoid like the plague. But since the youth leader handed each of us a card with arcade credits on it, we couldn't very well waste it, right?<br /><br />I apprehensively approached the Skeeball games. I am one of those girls that always gazes afar at the Skeeball players at the fair because, while it seems like a fun enough game, I've always been too intimidated (and cheap) to try it out in front of people who could laugh and scoff at my sorry skills.<br /><br />But this time, I got over myself and thought I'd give it a try. A few throws into it, and I realized that I was actually pretty good! I sunk a 50! And then two 100s in a row! And then...well, then the ball bounced violently against the plastic shield and rolled back to me while my ego deflated and I glanced around to see who noticed.<br /><br />Turns out nobody really cares how good or bad anyone else is at Skeeball.<br /><br />After a couple of games, I suddenly realized that reward tickets were spewing out of the machine after each game ended. And then I realized that you could redeem said tickets for a selection of prizes, mostly junky little things, the kind you get in a Happy Meal and that multiply around your house and drive you crazy.<br /><br />Savannah wandered around the prize area, pointing to various things - "I want that! Oooh, I like that, Daddy!" - and of course they were all things that cost over 10,000 tickets, things like a Princess lamp or a humongous stuffed whale.<br /><br />I kept playing, and suddenly the weirdest feeling kicked in. That <em>I-have-to-win, I-have-to-get-more! more! more! </em>feeling. There I was, throwing skeeballs for all I was worth, sweat pouring off of me because it was insanely hot in there, and getting all excited when the machine spit out 9 or 10 tickets at a time. And all for some silly little prizes that probably weren't even worth the money that it took to buy the arcade card.<br /><br />I told Ricardo, "Now I know how gamblers feel, and why it's so hard to stop - you think, just one more time, the next time around I'll hit the jackpot."<br /><br />So we played until our cards ran out, and we had a grand total of about 200 tickets. We told Savannah to pick something, and after we convinced her that the Princess lamp was definitely not coming home with us, she settled for two little bouncy rubber balls.<br /><br />This, my friends, is what an hour of throwing skeeballs will get ya - two of these babies:<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo25Y_59KYHjwAX1bki58z-lCIgFtmfWDx-ubnJ8TiMKLP_EC4xxzQHn-GBgxoB7fS3YACuFIUMU0v0hPN1PGjhzFQODFqH6vNzUh-A0Od3uxp57Ho4ShLvzd-e51B6T0eJ86EQ/s1600-h/51I5ZUNGMSL__SL160_AA160_.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364148558412874498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 160px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 160px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo25Y_59KYHjwAX1bki58z-lCIgFtmfWDx-ubnJ8TiMKLP_EC4xxzQHn-GBgxoB7fS3YACuFIUMU0v0hPN1PGjhzFQODFqH6vNzUh-A0Od3uxp57Ho4ShLvzd-e51B6T0eJ86EQ/s400/51I5ZUNGMSL__SL160_AA160_.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Word to my hubby: if you know what's good for you, don't ever, ever take me to Vegas.<br /><br />On an unrelated note - the lovely and very hysterical <a href="http://itsalmostnaptime.blogspot.com/2009/07/extreme-blog-makeover-jackie-edition.html">Missy at It's Almost Naptime </a>is hosting a giveaway for a complete blog design done by yours truly. I know that at least a few of you have told me that you wish you could get a blog makeover, so here's your chance! (blogspot blogs only - so sorry to anyone else hosted by a different platform).<br /><br />So go on over and leave her a comment - you never know, you just might win! And if you don't need a makeover yourself - you can enter anyway, and give it away to someone else that you know needs some beautifying.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-89118931368468663062009-07-20T23:22:00.004-06:002009-07-21T00:16:27.602-06:00Don't mess with MamaI wrote <a href="http://rjsmomentsandmemories.blogspot.com/2008/06/knock-and-it-may-or-may-not-be-opened.html">this post </a>a year ago about our <a href="http://rjsmomentsandmemories.blogspot.com/2008/06/knock-and-it-may-or-may-not-be-opened.html">hiding-out tendencies when the doorbell rings</a>.<br /><br />Not much has changed, except that Savannah now knows the ropes. The doorbell rings, she hunkers down on the couch. Just like Mama. She says, "Shhhhhhh......" in a loud stage whisper. Just like Mama.<br /><br />And then when I have tiptoed over to the peephole and verified that whoever has dared to intrude is gone, she asks, "Can I talk now, Mama?"<br /><br />I've trained her so well.<br /><br />Last Monday, I was standing by the kitchen sink cutting up a mango for Savannah. I happened to glance up and noticed two young guys, maybe around 20, walking up my sidewalk and around towards my front door. My first thought was, <em>Oooh, they sort of look like hooligans.....</em>but other than that I didn't pay much attention to them.<br /><br />I hissed a warning to Savannah, who was in the living room on the couch....."Savannah! <em>Shhh</em>! Doorbell!"<br /><br />(And now that I'm typing this, our system sounds so much sillier than it does when we are actually implementing it. Not that I'm planning on changing it or anything, because it is has served us quite well thus far).<br /><br />Two seconds later, the doorbell sounded. We shrunk into our respective positions to wait them out; I heard their voices, but not clear enough to make out what they were saying, just muffled murmurs. A few seconds later, it was quiet.<br /><br />I stepped out from my little space and started to walk towards the living room. And that's when I saw them.<br /><br /><em>In my backyard</em>.<br /><br />One of them was scoping out the place, probably looking for a rock to hurl through the window. The other had his face pressed up to the sliding glass door, looking inside, trying to open it.<br /><br />Oh, <em>sisters</em>. In about two seconds flat I went from zero to sixty. I roared - ROARED, I tell you - at them while I sprinted for the front door. "What the...!!!! <em>GET OUT OF HERE</em>!"<br /><br />By the time I fumbled with all the locks - 3 locks and two doors - and burst outside, they had already leaped over my stone wall, which is chest-high on me, and sped around the corner.<br /><br />I was so furious that I followed them. I pounded across our lovely gravel yard and down the hot sidewalk in my bare feet and nice stretchy pants and pajama top that looks enough like a regular shirt that sometimes I pretend that I don't need to get dressed.<br /><br />Those boys were fast. But at that moment, I had such surge of adrenaline that I felt I could catch them and take them both down. That's how utterly incensed I was.<br /><br />Then reality set in as I realized, (a). I didn't have my shoes on, (b). there was no way I would catch them, and (c). oh yeah, my baby girl is still inside by herself. And a bonus point, (d). what exactly did I think I would do to them anyway, even if I could catch them?<br /><br />So I stopped at the edge where the sidewalk met the street, still screaming at them. They bolted far up the street, then turned right and careened away. Once they were gone, I suddenly became aware of just how hot the sidewalk was, and just how sharp the gravel was. Funny what adrenaline will do to you - I didn't even notice it on my mad dash out.<br /><br />My neighbor came over right away to check on me and calm me down. I called the police, and they came in two minutes, and started combing the neighborhood. I called Ricardo, who had left that morning for a business trip for 4 days, and he said, "Go figure, the day I leave...."<br /><br />Seriously, y'all. It still makes me mad to think about it, the gall of these people to march right on in like they own the place....to look in <em>my</em> windows, to contemplate taking <em>my</em> stuff.<br /><br />It could have been so much worse. All of the what if's......what if I hadn't been home? What if they had thrown a rock and broken the window before I screamed? What if they had a gun?<br /><br />But they didn't. None of that happened. We were protected by the great Protector - thank you Lord.<br /><br />I doubt if they will be back, since a crazy lady obviously lives here.<br /><br />A warning to all you hooligans out there....don't mess with Mama.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-24550770766957182372009-07-12T00:28:00.009-06:002009-07-12T11:13:08.805-06:00Project 365 - All about RedI was browsing my friend <a href="http://coffeegal.blogspot.com/">Kellie's</a> site yesterday when I saw this idea that I am borrowing for this week's Project 365. I picked one of my favorite colors, red, and then snapped pictures of random things around the house.<br /><br />I like it because it shows such a diverse scattering of things, and it represents exactly where we are in life right now.<br /><br />Some are things that I love - candles, red goblets, picture frames. A card from my hubby. Some are all about Savannah - books and barrettes.<br /><br />And no picture collage is complete without the random can of tomato paste, which reminds me, I still need to put away the groceries from my shopping trip...from <em>last night.</em> Oops.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIswSfUsPwNtaOJRuh7VHAIiFvvAqfL-0Xa9lHpQW_SigCuEyMeONH3QLBtDBdTyhBk0D4bvk_KEDS0HZUYTdIYLZPojcKQWts65Vc2dwiEzkK_KPO99sw0BcaKKiofvrCnCkSw/s1600-h/Red.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357457382283319938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGIswSfUsPwNtaOJRuh7VHAIiFvvAqfL-0Xa9lHpQW_SigCuEyMeONH3QLBtDBdTyhBk0D4bvk_KEDS0HZUYTdIYLZPojcKQWts65Vc2dwiEzkK_KPO99sw0BcaKKiofvrCnCkSw/s400/Red.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />And to brighten your day...<br /><br /><embed name="FLVPlayer" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://www.onetruemedia.com/share_view_player?p=" width="408" height="382" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" wmode="transparent" salign="LT" flashvars="&p=91c0a76abedc656e5c0e77&skin_id=701&host=http://www.onetruemedia.com"></embed><br /><div style="PADDING-BOTTOM: 15px; MARGIN: 0px; FONT: 12px/20px verdana,arial,sans-serif; WIDTH: 408px; TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a href="http://www.onetruemedia.com/share_player_link?p=91c0a76abedc656e5c0e77&skin_id=701&source=emplay" target="_blank"><img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" src="http://www.onetruemedia.com/share_player_link_image/91c0a76abedc656e5c0e77/701.gif" width="408" /></a><br /><a style="TEXT-DECORATION: none" href="http://www.onetruemedia.com/landing?&utm_source=emplay&utm_medium=txt1" target="_blank">Make an on-line slide show at <span style="TEXT-DECORATION: underline">www.OneTrueMedia.com</span></a></div><br /><br /><a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/">Sara</a>, thank you for hosting!Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-45934601111659883062009-07-10T12:30:00.006-06:002009-07-10T14:23:38.666-06:0010 on the 10th: Easy ButtonThings that make my life a whole lot easier (idea shamelessly stolen from <a href="http://familyteamof4.blogspot.com/2009/07/10-items-or-less.html">H-Mama</a>):<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SlejJFIb7wI/AAAAAAAABfE/vB6Np_wwt7w/s1600-h/easy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356929658172206850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 137px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 103px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SlejJFIb7wI/AAAAAAAABfE/vB6Np_wwt7w/s400/easy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />1. <a href="http://www.pamperedchef.com/our_products/catalog/product.jsp?productId=26463&categoryCode=NEW">Pampered Chef Garlic Press</a>. I am a firm believer that a little garlic should be added to everything (well, anything <em>savory</em>, that is), and so this gets used almost daily in my kitchen.<br /><br />2. Flat Iron. You would only need to glimpse my hair anytime during the 90's to know how absolutely true this is. Maybe one day I'll get brave and post a pic from this unfortuante hair era. Or not.<br /><br />3. Refrigerated Air Conditioning. On a day where it is supposed to get close to 100 degrees, and where we spent the morning outside at the aquarium, this is a big, big deal to me. Thank you Jesus.<br /><br />4. Portable DVD player. Yes, yes, a total non-essential, I know. But on long car rides, what a life-saver for Savannah. Even here at home, when I don't think I can listen to Dora's VERY VERY LOUD VOICE for another second, she just plugs in her headphones and away she goes.<br /><br />5. <a href="http://shop.nordstrom.com/S/2797608?cm_cat=datafeed&cm_pla=makeup:women:foundation&cm_ite=m.a.c_select_cover_up:12256U&cm_ven=Froogle&mr:trackingCode=347190F7-5619-DE11-B0EA-001422107090&mr:referralID=NA">Mac Select Cover-up</a>. The circles under my eyes thank me.<br /><br />6. <a href="http://www.mrclean.com/en_US/magic-eraser.do">Magic Erasers</a>. I have no idea how or why these work so well, but they do. They even removed the ink pen from my kitchen floor (somebody got in big trouble for that one) and they are the sole reason why I even attempt to clean my shower.<br /><br />7. Oscillating fans. Hmmmm....I guess this would be the second thing in my list that pertains to keeping me cool, but did I mention it's <em>hot</em>? And also, I love fans not only for their cooling properties, but for the <a href="http://rjsmomentsandmemories.blogspot.com/2008/09/now-i-lay-me-down-to-sleep.html">white noise they provide. </a>My husband doth scoff.<br /><br />8. <a href="http://www.unclebens.com/rice/fast-natural-whole-grain-instant-brown-rice.aspx">Uncle Ben's Instant Brown Rice</a>. In the ingredients list, the only thing listed is Parboiled Whole Grain Brown Rice. So I'm hoping that it is just as nutritionally sound as regular brown rice that I could cook myself if I actually remembered more than 40 minutes before dinner that, <em>Hey! I need to make the rice!<br /></em><br />9. My hubby. I realized again this week how very handy and wonderful he is. Door handle falls off in my car? No problem...he runs to the auto parts place and fixes it in an hour. Termites infest my walk-in bedroom closet, totally grossing me out and causing much involuntary shuddering? He's all over it - I don't even have to go in there. Gigantic van runs into the back of my car? He files the police report for me, and goes and gets all the quotes.<br /><br />Which allows me more time to recline on the couch at home watching soap operas and eating bonbons....the life of every stay-at-home mom.<br /><br />I know this is only 9, but Hubby counts for at least two.<br /><br />So...what's something on your Easy Button list?<br /><br />And thanks to Meredith at <a href="http://www.lifeat7000feet.com/2009/07/10-on-10th.html">Life at 7000 Feet </a>for hosting!Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-34250614091315713762009-07-09T01:53:00.012-06:002009-07-09T02:47:58.672-06:00The game that might drive me to.....cheat<p>Last week, due to the mild case of chicken pox that Savannah came down with, we were cooped up inside the house. All week, every. single. day.</p><p>And because my hubby was gone the majority of last week as well, I was her sole entertainment. </p><p>I dearly, dearly love her, but can I just admit that I was ready to throw Chutes and Ladders in the trash? </p><p>Now Candyland, I can take. Candyland doesn't take forever. You can romp your little plastic figure across the red and purple and yellow squares in no time. There are, like, maybe 5 cards that you can draw that will send you backwards. </p><p>But not so with Chutes and Ladders. I can't tell you how tempted I was to cheat...."<em>A 6? That will send me down the very longest slide and back into the oblivion of the bottom half of the board? I didn't spin a 6....surely it was a 5...."</em></p><p>I didn't do it. I just thought about it really hard. But y'all, that truly is the game that never ends. </p><p>So Daddy came home on Thursday night, and her spots had all but disappeared by then, so all was right in my world.</p><p>The next day Ricardo was moving some cardboard boxes out of our walk-in closet where we had been storing some things. I will spare you the details, but to sum it up in one word....<em>dun dun dun...</em></p><p>Termites.</p><p>I have never been so grossed out in my life. Ricardo, on the other hand, felt the need to turn this catastrophe into something fun, so he took a box crawling with the despicable things out to the yard, and watched some ants pounce on them. That really seemed to brighten up the situation for him. </p><p>Boys. I guess they'll always be boys. </p><p>The 4th was wonderful, relaxing, full of grilled foods and fireworks. Just the way it should be.</p><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SlWrHf52ojI/AAAAAAAABe8/E_Smkj4OqKc/s1600-h/36522.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356375477138661938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SlWrHf52ojI/AAAAAAAABe8/E_Smkj4OqKc/s400/36522.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxMddWCt5OishMQQQ9deQqcsGYl1YC7pZLjE-IT4lSSGUzzcBj8aEbZ7VWTMyCYcPZSn1hmALOrVSxxdUNg-HRfMsY7UYwFyC6Y0cmDGT1PPntTsYNj_ZaWx-d7dFcfsAvDFNSA/s1600-h/36521.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5356375472867922674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxMddWCt5OishMQQQ9deQqcsGYl1YC7pZLjE-IT4lSSGUzzcBj8aEbZ7VWTMyCYcPZSn1hmALOrVSxxdUNg-HRfMsY7UYwFyC6Y0cmDGT1PPntTsYNj_ZaWx-d7dFcfsAvDFNSA/s400/36521.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This second set of pictures is going back a few weeks, when Savannah was still in swimming lessons. On the day of her last lesson, we came outside, and a young girl, maybe 18, came up to us and told me that she had backed into my truck with her very long Community Center van. <p></p><p>The damage looked pretty minimal to me, but Ricardo took it for an estimate this week. The most expensive estimate was $1800 and the cheapest was $1200.</p><p>I was blown away...$1200? Really??? Unbelieveable. Fortunately it will all be taken care of, and I even get a rental while it's getting fixed. So it could be fun after all. </p><p>And I can guarantee you that Savananh will just LOVE the rental car and be "so, so sad, Mama" when we have to return it. </p><p>My little drama queen. </p>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-33130433662922313952009-07-01T13:37:00.002-06:002009-07-24T09:49:21.203-06:00Princess for a day...Savannah saw a wedding picture of us the other day, and I think for the first time she realized it was us, her Daddy and Mommy. She gazed at it with something akin to awe, and then whispered, "Mama...were you a <em>princess</em>? Is that your <em>crown</em>?"<br /><br />7 years ago, on June 1, 2002, I got to be a princess for a day.<br /><br />We planned an evening outdoor wedding, thinking how romantic it would be to get married as the sun set.<br /><br />There was just one tiny little problem. That morning, the skies opened up and it <em>poured</em> rain. Water pooled in the yard, and everything turned to soggy mush. We thought about implementing plan B and moving it to a church somewhere, but I just didn't want to.<br /><br />So we prayed. A lot. And sometime in the afternoon, the sun came out.<br /><br />The day turned out to be so gorgeous. It wasn't without flaws, or course - it was a little too breezy, and so we weren't able to do the unity candle. And we had two huge flower bouquets that were supposed to grace the sides of the arch where we stood to say our vows, and it was even too windy for that - they kept blowing over.<br /><br />But none of that mattered. What mattered was this:<br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj14NO6GIMqq56r6Mysts8MDmt0Oxub1SSShsCi3l8PHmoWyUeJXZwFyfAm6ZPx_fGZdeHVDUa6x9HerleJM2KDTJ1RRUsrfvdRVyEU5ydLMW_aaORSbodakw0PSm7QNmTGE1Ff4w/s1600-h/l_3e3720d272889a8b70c6c786ba45057e.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206788775420356802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj14NO6GIMqq56r6Mysts8MDmt0Oxub1SSShsCi3l8PHmoWyUeJXZwFyfAm6ZPx_fGZdeHVDUa6x9HerleJM2KDTJ1RRUsrfvdRVyEU5ydLMW_aaORSbodakw0PSm7QNmTGE1Ff4w/s320/l_3e3720d272889a8b70c6c786ba45057e.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />And this:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98N3OhOrVteYDYMotoxH1O9NhyrPYG7EQ-grgGVruDHkLiD2dquE9YAAp7KHXRaVv2-gqt2m7lvLqTUj4h1EqbbF7KynCTrJETqoy0IWWTpn91ZE_f8z7mWuhLLSy87ldeYvhOQ/s1600-h/1202240865_l.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206789110427805906" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi98N3OhOrVteYDYMotoxH1O9NhyrPYG7EQ-grgGVruDHkLiD2dquE9YAAp7KHXRaVv2-gqt2m7lvLqTUj4h1EqbbF7KynCTrJETqoy0IWWTpn91ZE_f8z7mWuhLLSy87ldeYvhOQ/s320/1202240865_l.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And this:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJc4PO2mouSRo5RDabL5__1xfYjM-zJ8Q5nSvR5n04h8MGqbbZlWgwfjAuDIixJWsXhCebTNmY47M3vsPIJFKLwVjQYVBVeZLmO0QEH2xbhxoCSAXhg6RklwKGy7YO103AmmBiCg/s1600-h/l_bd4bc1f32b8ac9c24d74b392e30a6c99.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206789359535909090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJc4PO2mouSRo5RDabL5__1xfYjM-zJ8Q5nSvR5n04h8MGqbbZlWgwfjAuDIixJWsXhCebTNmY47M3vsPIJFKLwVjQYVBVeZLmO0QEH2xbhxoCSAXhg6RklwKGy7YO103AmmBiCg/s320/l_bd4bc1f32b8ac9c24d74b392e30a6c99.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And all of that crazy rain produced this amazing sunset....<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcf0Ut6PDxBsmbCh38SEp9Y28f7yhvUlggeSVEo7SDY643dEzUlLc1UarooaC8UaXP0t15s7MEpTg8tuvtXb57VeRw0mIzQom2NPXcn1yKTrBn-UxQNkTCUjwlf-VSNEhrQfKifA/s1600-h/707407638_l.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206789591464143090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcf0Ut6PDxBsmbCh38SEp9Y28f7yhvUlggeSVEo7SDY643dEzUlLc1UarooaC8UaXP0t15s7MEpTg8tuvtXb57VeRw0mIzQom2NPXcn1yKTrBn-UxQNkTCUjwlf-VSNEhrQfKifA/s320/707407638_l.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SEI6iPNr6LI/AAAAAAAAANI/o9BTE22Px7E/s1600-h/l_d8c9c0389ca33e5511317b06bb443b2f.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206788479067613362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SEI6iPNr6LI/AAAAAAAAANI/o9BTE22Px7E/s320/l_d8c9c0389ca33e5511317b06bb443b2f.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3a9x-fe98Klm8eUawqDOyRmJSNvwX6vbPWVkAv9oqXvIvwElmHdYRjQFKf3YqEFuNBuv8vW-Urp4LClj2qEGWuXKhL0A2GMoJKts201Kezm_YtLWQJgQP7mKns6RBaOuWoKAxg/s1600-h/l_acb8c4ff2032140f4c5df700c4e90fa9.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5206789836277278978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW3a9x-fe98Klm8eUawqDOyRmJSNvwX6vbPWVkAv9oqXvIvwElmHdYRjQFKf3YqEFuNBuv8vW-Urp4LClj2qEGWuXKhL0A2GMoJKts201Kezm_YtLWQJgQP7mKns6RBaOuWoKAxg/s320/l_acb8c4ff2032140f4c5df700c4e90fa9.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />He's still my Prince Charming. And I'm still his princess, even if I don't get the chance to don my "princess crown" much these days. </p>(On a side note...Savannah is looking over my shoulder as I type this, and keeps asking, "But where am I, Mama?")<br /><p>Thanks to <a href="http://www.kellyskornerblog.com/">Kelly at Kelly's Korne</a>r for hosting! </p>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-36678519655412716662009-06-29T00:45:00.006-06:002009-06-29T02:12:11.439-06:00Swimsuit dilemmas and spotsFor the past two weeks, Savannah's been in swimming lessons.<br /><br />Excitement was at an all time high as we got ready for the first lesson, due in large part to the fact that she discovered she had three different swimsuits to wear.Because goodness knows one isn't enough when you're 3 years old.<br /><br />We've been very blessed with various people showering 3T swimsuits upon us.<br /><br />We had a slight hiccup in the swimsuit rotation on the 3rd day, however, when she went to pull on her Dora swimsuit. Wearing the purple suit and the red suit on the previous days had been just fine, but Dora was most definitely the icing on the cake.<br /><br />Except that, as she paraded around the house in it, I noticed that Dora Swimsuit was sort of falling down on the job.<br /><br />I know they say that you are supposed to get a high-cut leg on your swimsuit to make your legs look longer and leaner. But I didn't know that applied to toddlers, too. Seriously, this swimsuit rode up so high on her legs, and there wasn't enough material in the back to cover the little tush.<br /><br />I happen to think that little baby tush is about the cutest thing in the world, but I am not necessarily a fan of showing it off at the public pool. And I knew her daddy would most definitely have a thing or two to say about it.<br /><br />So we got an impromptu lesson in modesty when I told her that too much tush was showing. To make it a little less painful, I told her she could run around the house in it all she wanted.<br /><br />That was good enough for her.<br /><br />So (switching gears here, lest you think the previous story is continuing....)last Thursday, as I was getting her out of the bath, I noticed a sprinkling of peculiar spots on her tummy and chest. She had fallen at the park that night, and face-planted into a pile of wood chips, so I thought maybe it was from that.<br /><br />Being a good mama, I did the whole 20 questions thing..."Did you fall on your tummy? And your chest, too? Does it itch? Does it hurt? Are you sure? It doesn't itch? For sure??"<br /><br />She finally sighed a big dramatic sigh, and said, "Mama, you don't ask me that anymore, ok?"<br /><br />Alrighty then.<br /><br />So I chalked it up to a bunch of little wood chips having impaled her, until the next morning when the spots seemed to have multiplied overnight. Which is when I began to channel my inner doctor, via Google, and realized that it had nothing to do with wood chips.<br /><br />I'm pretty sure my baby has chicken pox. A very mild case, but still. Pretty sure it's the pox. So far it has followed the exact progression that Google promised that it would.<br /><br />My hubby is out of town this week, and so we are going to be cooped up in the house for at least 5 days straight while we wait for these awful little things to run their course.<br /><br />However, I am very, very thankful that they aren't itchy and painful, like I remember them to be when I had them, oh, 26 years ago or so.<br /><br />But enough about that...<br /><br />I am weeks and week behind in my Project 365 endeavor. So here's two collages - the first is from Memorial Day and our trip to the mountains. Notice the two cannisters of Pringles, a very, very rare treat at the Moments and Memories household, being held in Savannah's death grip.She refused to put them down for the entire 2 hours that it took to get to our picnic site.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SkhuTS3pzeI/AAAAAAAABaU/Yac1Qlzh-1o/s1600-h/36519.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352649434891668962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SkhuTS3pzeI/AAAAAAAABaU/Yac1Qlzh-1o/s400/36519.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The second is from our Indiana trip. My brother turned 30, and Savannah had the honor of picking out what kind of cake he should have. She picked guitar. That made them both happy.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SkhuTnHC30I/AAAAAAAABac/jjGAUQvuGrE/s1600-h/36520.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352649440324935490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SkhuTnHC30I/AAAAAAAABac/jjGAUQvuGrE/s400/36520.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/">Sara</a>, thank you so much for hosting!Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-2526137701242541272009-06-24T00:33:00.009-06:002009-06-28T11:01:52.960-06:00Old friends, new friendsI cannot believe my last post was 3 weeks ago.<br /><br />3 weeks!<br /><br />Part of the problem is, when you come back from vacation, you are so tired and overwhelmed with laundry and re-adjusting back to your normal life that there isn't time to even think about blogging.<br /><br />And also, you might just get a call from friends whom you haven't seen in ten years (quite literally, ten years) , and they might tell you that they will be driving through your town, on the very night that you fly home.<br /><br />And of course you will tell them that you will be delighted for them to stop by, if they can find it within themselves to ignore your dusty house wherein you have not set foot for over a week.<br /><br />So that's what happened. Our plane touched down at 11 p.m. I lugged my carry-ons and a suitcase and a very sleepy Savannah outside where we waited for the Park and Fly bus to take us to our car. (And lest you wonder why my hubby was not there to greet us, he was in NYC on a business trip. A business trip that involved a dinner cruise around Manhatten and a trip to the Hamptons. A trip full of seafood and steak.)<br /><br />We finally arrived at home at midnight exactly. I put Savannah to bed, and then called my friends to see how far away they were.<br /><br />They were somewhere in Arizona, I think, and with embarrassed voices they admitted to me that they had forgotten about the time change. Then they further divulged that they had left late anyway, and wouldn't be there until 2:30 in the morning.<br /><br />Well, no problem. I was already all hyped up from traveling, so it didn't matter to me. As a matter of fact, I got SO much done in those two hours that I was waiting for them. I threw in a load of laundry. Emptied all of the suitcases and bags. Cleaned the house a little. Lit some candles and threw open the back door for the breeze to blow in, and just enjoyed the quiet. I haven't felt that productive in a long time - I should try the late-night cleaning binge more often. I even contemplated making an apple pie for the following day, but just as I was preparing to peel a bowl of apples, they pulled in the driveway.<br /><br />It was so worth it. It's wonderful when you pick up right where you left off, even if it has been 10 years. And they have two of the most beautiful kids. Just look at that glorious hair.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHL83SbzhkTJx_Q4V79SFFlVuuLC-XCyJiFwyb6aoHFHUfMGr_W6p6Nqrsjq_t0oikqR88bfWHeUPNZX-XkdRgVI4g3BeprHT8Zfz3iFU8o6TEYVb02zganE2ce1yqJaCMMJh6xg/s1600-h/gullings.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350794434378241522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 250px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHL83SbzhkTJx_Q4V79SFFlVuuLC-XCyJiFwyb6aoHFHUfMGr_W6p6Nqrsjq_t0oikqR88bfWHeUPNZX-XkdRgVI4g3BeprHT8Zfz3iFU8o6TEYVb02zganE2ce1yqJaCMMJh6xg/s400/gullings.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It's good to have friends. Both old friends, and...<br /><br />New friends! A huge highlight of my Indiana trip was meeting these two ladies....<a href="http://theyakfamilyblog.blogspot.com/">Amanda</a> and <a href="http://www.miraculouschaos.blogspot.com/">Wendi</a>.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbltbGr-ERz507GNYHByH0ymJ8CeC6-iZj3pa1d1jVs64XUVJN2IRi2m_7ESRcrhRNAcvbAxk1ADDRBTYb6vKcFcbL_fsZfmLtZGSRwvxLMC3Wk7lQS_UPt-1YTaNXgpMwaMliBg/s1600-h/IMG_6133.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350794426496980978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbltbGr-ERz507GNYHByH0ymJ8CeC6-iZj3pa1d1jVs64XUVJN2IRi2m_7ESRcrhRNAcvbAxk1ADDRBTYb6vKcFcbL_fsZfmLtZGSRwvxLMC3Wk7lQS_UPt-1YTaNXgpMwaMliBg/s400/IMG_6133.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Si-O70cT5NGm30KJI2uz1oF0SlftFlRFkkUtef7YUiK76Jjk6c8N2BfRf6h1HLib1S7FlNaGoATOGJV0E2jkgy_5zH6j0K84v7jg7k-wj28PSvjnt8490HxaRjNc5wHguzQLA/s1600-h/IMG_6135.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350794433072389570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 282px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm7Si-O70cT5NGm30KJI2uz1oF0SlftFlRFkkUtef7YUiK76Jjk6c8N2BfRf6h1HLib1S7FlNaGoATOGJV0E2jkgy_5zH6j0K84v7jg7k-wj28PSvjnt8490HxaRjNc5wHguzQLA/s400/IMG_6135.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I knew Amanda lived near my hometown, so I knew a get-together with her would very likely happen during one of my trips, but never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would ever get to meet Wendi. But because she is smart and thinks ahead, she did some googling and found out that she lives 4 hours from my folks. And that if we both just drove two hours, we would find ourselves in a great little town which would be the perfect meeting place. </div><br /><div>Perfect because, for one thing, it had a Panera Bread. I had never been to a Panera, because they have not had the foresight to come to my little town yet.<br /><br />But after eating there just once, I do believe there is no better place to meet bloggy friends than a Panera Bread. </div><br /><div>Soup. Salad. Bread, big warm hunks of bread. Wonderful conversation. The day could not have gone any better. Ladies, I am so thrilled to have met you, and only wish our time could have lasted longer.<br /><br />I've had some late nights recently working on some blog designs. I am absolutely loving it, even more than I thought I would, but it <em>is</em> terribly time-consuming. So if I haven't been by to visit you recently, that's why. I'm sorry. I hope to get faster at this as I go along, but we'll see.</div><br /><div>And I also want to especially thank <a href="http://www.bayoubelles.com/">Mama Belle </a>and <a href="http://www.itsalmostnaptime.blogspot.com/">Missy</a>, my first actual clients since I started this. They took a chance on me, having never really seen anything I'd designed before. So...thank you! </div><div></div><div> </div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-18876928739997301252009-06-04T03:00:00.004-06:002009-06-04T03:00:01.015-06:00I'm not really here....<div>I'm in the land of dial-up and humidity for the week, visiting family and celebrating my brother's birthday and enjoying country air.<br /><br />I've sat here for 10 minutes waiting for the page to load so that I could put a cute little graphic of Indiana on here, but I give up. It's not happening.<br /><br />I am also technically not here at my blog, either - I am guest posting for the lovely Jamie at <a href="http://jamiehess.blogspot.com/">Purposeful Pursuit</a> today.<br /><br />Here is the first part of the story....<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Every night after dinner, my 3 year old daughter Savannah puts her hand in her daddy's and they walk across the street to the park.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />She is a social butterfly if I've ever seen one, and the highlight for her is not playing on the swings or slide or monkey bars. No...instead, she cannot wait to go and find her friend, Ash-u-lee.<br /><br />Ashley is 5, but somehow the age difference doesn't seem to bother either of them. Savannah is the little follower, running around after her, and she thinks that Ashley walks on water. Every night she comes home with stories..."<em>Ash-u-lee said I could come to her house</em>....or, <em>Ash-u-lee is going to have a Dora birthday party, Mama</em>!....or, <em>Ash-u-lee gave me a piece of gum tonight!</em> Which, by the way, she promptly swallowed, since she has no clue what to do with gum.<br /><br />So all was well, and they got along famously. Until a few weeks ago...<br /></div><br /><br /><br />Click over <a href="http://jamiehess.blogspot.com/">here</a> to read the rest of the story.<br /><br />And then, if you have it, thank the Lord for your high speed internet.<br /><br /></div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-74982462240298744752009-06-03T00:30:00.004-06:002009-06-03T01:48:20.043-06:00What's Your Answer....My friend <a href="http://growinwithit.blogspot.com/2009/06/wyaw-with-twist.html">Linda</a> hosts What's Your Answer Wednesday every week, and I've been meaning to join in for awhile now. Because it's just fun hearing what everybody has to say to random questions. I think of really awesome questions to ask during the week, but can never remember them when it's time to post.<br /><br />But let's give it a shot anyway...<br /><br />1. What is your philosophy on ironing? Do you wait until you have a huge pile and then tackle it all at once? Do you buy as many wrinkle-free clothes as possible, or are you an ironing fanatic? Or (like nobody I know, just saying...ahem) do you figure that as soon as you sit down in the car, the wrinkles will return and no one will know if you spent 20 minutes slaving over it?<br /><br />2. Which web browser do you use, Internet Explorer or Firefox? Or something else?<br /><br />3. What is your go-to meal when you are having company and you want to make something a little bit impressive?<br /><br /><br />Ok, my answers -<br /><br />1. Ironing - I'm no good at it. I don't really hate it, but I do try to buy as few wrinkle-ish clothes as possible. A few months ago I got out the ironing board and iron, and Savannah started jumping up and down with excitement .... "What's that, Mama? What are you doing? What is it called? "<br /><br />Isn't that terrible? She was 3 years old and didn't know what an iron was. I was so glad that my neighbor, who is iron-happy to the <em>extreme</em>, wasn't around to witness this debacle. But to my credit, I usually iron when Savannah's in bed, so there.<br /><br />2. I use both, but usually IE. I know all of you Firefox users just gasped in horror, but change is hard for me. What exactly is the benefit of Firefox again...?<br /><br />3. I don't have one, which is why I'm asking you. Because I'm having company soon and I don't have any idea what to fix for them. I'm thinking <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/03/chicken-scallopine/">Pioneer Woman's Chicken Scallopine</a>, maybe?Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-72868537982476025462009-05-28T00:31:00.000-06:002009-05-28T00:50:16.096-06:00BreatheHow long can you hold your breath before your chest starts to hurt, and your mind starts panicking for air?<br /><br />For me it is about 15 seconds. That should tell you two things right there - one, I will never be joining the Navy, and two, I need to start amping up my aerobics to increase my lung capacity.<br /><br />When I was a girl, I would play a little game with myself. I would lay in bed and think of different things, different people I was missing, or maybe a boy I had a crush on. Maybe I would think of a celebrity that was far removed from the life I knew, so far that they didn't even seem real.<br /><br />And then I would hold my breath and count to 10. In those 10 seconds, I would tell myself, <em>The whole time you are holding your breath, the person you are thinking of, missing, just breathed two times...three times....four.... </em><br /><br />A little, um....quirky, I know. But somehow just knowing that they were out there, still far away, but breathing exactly at the moment I was thinking of them, made them seem a little closer. A little more real. The fact that I was holding my breath right when they took a breath made for some strange little bond in my mind.<br /><br />This past year I have been holding my breath. It's been a long year, a very, very long time not to be sucking in any air. Long enough that my chest started to hurt, and then my brain, and then I just wanted to shut down and lie on the couch and not think about any of it. It's the kind of feeling where you know you aren't going to die, but where you mind still goes crazy and you feel like you are trapped in a cave somewhere, claustrophobic, and it's hard to see past your immediate circumstances.<br /><br />It wasn't just the whole not getting pregnant for two years thing, although that in itself knocked the wind out of me. It was a myriad of other things, like hubby starting his own business and suddenly being plunged into a world of financial stress. Worrying about house payments and bills and food. Stress. Stress. More stress.<br /><br />So for awhile I quit breathing.<br /><br />And then I found that sometimes holding your breath is a good place to be. Not fun. Not fun at all, but <em>good</em>.<br /><br />Because you close your eyes and as your chest starts to hurt, you think about the One you need more than life itself. And in those moments, He is closer to you than you even realize. You <em>feel</em> Him feeling every pain, every fear, ever worry.<br /><br />And you realize that you are still alive, even though you haven't been breathing for such a long time. You wonder how that's possible, and then you just know.<br /><br />He's been breathing for you the whole time.<br /><br />And even though your chest still hurts, and you want it to just be over, you know it's gonna be ok.<br /><br />Because without Him, any breath that we take really isn't breathing at all.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-80931225954655369302009-05-23T23:41:00.004-06:002009-05-23T23:53:42.707-06:00Project 365, Week 21 - Mama's got a laptop...1997. That was when I bought my very first, very own computer. I was in school, and I thought I was pretty snazzy when I lugged the huge and heavy PC back to my campus apartment and set it up. Seriously, it was a monster.<br /><br />I got an AOL account, and was thrilled to death every time that metallic voice intoned, "<em>You've got mail." </em>Does AOL still exist? And does that little voice still talk like that?<br /><br />My obsession with the internet had begun, never to return from whence it came.<br /><br />I got married, and we went through a variety of used computers that all inevitably crashed, and work computers that we had to return when we left our places of employment. Finally we purchased a laptop of our own, nothing top of the line but good enough to get the job done.<br /><br />Then we got high speed internet. And, oh, watch out, because my hubby? Well, he discovered the joys of surfing the internet. Before, when we had dial-up, my sweet impatient man did not care to wait around while a page took 45 seconds to load.<br /><br />But with high speed? Suddenly a whole new world opened up to him. You Tube. Ebay Motors. Car sites where they played videos of loud cars going super fast. Videos of airplanes making scary landings, or motorcycle wipeouts, or other such things that I really couldn't care less about, because after all, being the avid (ok, maybe <em>semi-avid</em>) blogger that I was, I had much more important things to peruse.<br /><br />But you see the problem, right? One computer. Two people. Mars and Venus orbiting in two totally separate internet galaxies, but forced to share.<br /><br />We were sneaky. Cordial, but sneaky. Like, he would call me to do something while I was busy with my blog reading, and when I would get up to do it, he would comandeer the computer. And then I'd do it back to him.<br /><br />But this week, that all came to an end. Take a look at this:<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/ShjbCp82GEI/AAAAAAAABV8/Esz8Zzk7KOw/s1600-h/087.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339258196915001410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/ShjbCp82GEI/AAAAAAAABV8/Esz8Zzk7KOw/s320/087.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>That's right. We are now the proud owners of <em>two</em> computers. His and hers. Mars and Venus. It was a necessary and perfectly legitimate business purchase, but my hubby is in You Tube heaven.<br /></div><div><br />And you know I am joking about this, and making light of it, because sharing a computer with my man hardly constitutes a hardship. And I realize this. But I've gotta admit - <em>it's still nice</em>. And lest you think that we spend all our free time on our side-by-side computers, let me assure you that we actually do other things, too, like take walks and read to our daughter and water our flowers outside. Truly. </div><div><br /></div><div>More pictures from the past few weeks - </div><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/ShjdEyvfQqI/AAAAAAAABWU/uUk3b45r3fc/s1600-h/36517.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339260432657892002" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/ShjdEyvfQqI/AAAAAAAABWU/uUk3b45r3fc/s400/36517.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXfvBHszr_QHG5ts8Hvg-2IYGfVr20CFYicfeLzgYRDlM1FsqMNWXfVImUq9xtVOhj-fLShrSSatsM_0Vvd_lpJf246yA8SxYePBPOg1P_wp5caToJvM_Ukip-efiYlHEZpTTlQ/s1600-h/36518.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5339260432023678642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXXfvBHszr_QHG5ts8Hvg-2IYGfVr20CFYicfeLzgYRDlM1FsqMNWXfVImUq9xtVOhj-fLShrSSatsM_0Vvd_lpJf246yA8SxYePBPOg1P_wp5caToJvM_Ukip-efiYlHEZpTTlQ/s400/36518.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/2009/05/project-365-week-21.html">Sara</a>, thank you for hosting Project 365!<br /><br /><div>And a huge thank you to all of you who have given me such encouragement on my new <a href="http://yourmemoriesbydesign.blogspot.com/">blog design business</a>. I appreciate it more than you know, and I've been having so much fun working on several new projects. If you know of anybody that needs a blog makeover, send them my way! </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div>And also...it has been cool and gray these past few days, and we have had <em>rain</em>. Lots of it, alternating between heavy downpours and gentle drizzles. I've loved every second of it. </div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-55145528174014186932009-05-18T01:39:00.005-06:002009-05-18T02:25:30.814-06:00Drumroll, please...First things first....<br /><br />I've been a bad blogger. Not only because my posts have been few and far between, but also because I have not been visiting and reading and commenting. I'm so, so sorry, and plan to fix that this week.<br /><br />But I have some good news! Remember that little contest I held where I begged all of you to help me name my new design blog?<br /><br />Well. We have a winner! And it is...<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.lifeat7000feet.com/">Meredith at Life at 7000 feet!</a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><p><p><div align="left"></div><div align="left">Meredith, congrats! I'll be emailing you to figure out which gift card you want. </div><p></p><div align="left"></div><div align="left">The reason I waited so long to announce this is because I wanted to have the site done. Or at least mostly done, which it now is, although there are many, many things to be tweaked. </div><p></p><div align="left"></div><div align="left">So if you want to know the winning name that Meredith submitted, <a href="http://yourmemoriesbydesign.blogspot.com/">click here</a>. And then come back and tell me what you think - suggestions are welcome! I guess this means I am officially open for business, which could be a little scary if I thought about it very long. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">I picked this name because for one, my hubby and I agreed on it. And it also had the sort of whimsical, lyrical feel that I was going for, and it still played off of my personal blog name. So thank you, Meredith!</div><p></p><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I have stared at the computer screen for far too many hours this weekend, and my bed is calling my name. Loudly. </div><p></p><div align="left"></div><div align="left">I'm looking forward to hearing what you all think...</div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-39680949247220911412009-05-13T00:01:00.006-06:002009-05-13T00:33:45.337-06:00How to talk yourself out of writing a blog post1. At approximately 11:45 at night, realize that it's been awhile since you've blogged. Decide that it's probably a good idea to post something.<br /><br />2. Sit down on the couch with blurry eyes and an even foggier brain and try to come up with something. Anything. Witty and well-written aren't even factors at this point.<br /><br />3. Since nothing brilliant is occurring to you at the moment, tell yourself that it couldn't hurt to glance through your Google Reader. Perhaps something there will give you some inspiration.<br /><br />4. Scan through some of your favorites blogs. Notice that everything you read is either screamingly hilarious or intensely thought-provoking. Sink into a bloggy funk because you just <em>know</em> that nothing you can write tonight will match anything you've just read.<br /><br />5. Decide that you need a small distraction. Tell yourself that you can get on Facebook for 5 minutes. That's it. Just. five. minutes.<br /><br />6. Make the mistake of clicking on the most addictive word game ever, Word Challenge.<br /><br />7. Notice with horror that your top score has been roundly beaten by your sister, and that she is now an Anagram Cyborg while you are still a lowly Philosopher. Tell yourself that you are not competitive and that it doesn't matter.<br /><br />8. Snap out of your denial and realize that you ARE competitive. Very, very much so. Proceed to spend the next 38 minutes trying to beat her score. Come no where close. Sink into a Facebook funk because your scores are only getting lower with each successive try.<br /><br />9. Remember that, oh yeah, I'm supposed to be writing a blog post. Look at the clock. Take a moment for your fuzzy brain to realize that it's now 12:56.<br /><br />10. Decide that you are far too tired to formulate any coherent thoughts. Shut down the laptop, which has been on so long and has become so hot that it has been burning up your legs without you even realizing it.<br /><br />11. Go to bed, where you stare into the dark and compose the best blog post EVER in your head. Think about getting back up to write it down, but decide that's silly. You can write it in the morning.<br /><br />12. Get up in the morning. Have absolutely no recollection of what the best blog post EVER was about.<br /><br />I know, I'm crazy, right? I'm sure this NEVER happens to anyone else.<br /><br />In other news...I've been frantically working to get my Blog Design site up and running. It's almost there, just a few more tweaks. And we do have a winner from my Name that Blog Contest, but I am waiting to reveal it until my site is ready to go. Just thought I'd mention it so you don't think that I am trying to skip out on awarding the $20 gift card.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-72291554612745671172009-05-10T14:17:00.013-06:002009-05-10T15:29:52.998-06:00Just don't tell her anything top-secret....and Project 365I went to Kohls yesterday (where else?) because they lured me in with a 15% off coupon. That's 15% off already marked down 80% off clearance, and who am I to turn down such bargains?<br /><br />Because it was Saturday and my hubby was home, I got to go all by myself. No little voice begging me to go play in the toy section, just blissful browsing in the ladies section. No one telling me they had to go potty right when I reached the dressing room. Just a stack of about 18 tops which I tried on at a leisurely pace.<br /><br />Why is it that out of 18 things, only one thing looks halfway decent on me?<br /><br />Probably why I gravitate towards the purse and shoe section. Purses and shoes always look cute no matter what. There is no tummy to try and conceal when it comes to purses and shoes.<br /><br />So I returned home a few hours later, refreshed from my shopping therapy, and Savannah greeted me like I'd been gone for at least a week. <em>Hi, Mama! Where did you go? Did you go shopping? Did you go to Kohls? I miss you, Mama!</em><br /><br />And then she proceeded to inform me...<br /><br /><em>Mama, we went to the store and Daddy got you a card and it is so beautiful and it has bunny rabbits on it, but you can't open it now, it is just for tomorrow, you can color it tomorrow if you want to, it's for you AND for me, ok?</em><br /><br />Ricardo just shook his head and said, "I figured she'd spill the beans before tomorrow."<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgdBG4k5ioI/AAAAAAAABTs/pO-KvXMmqjg/s1600-h/008.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334303870165813890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 264px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgdBG4k5ioI/AAAAAAAABTs/pO-KvXMmqjg/s400/008.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>This precious little one, with her long curly hair and chocolate eyes, and her tendency to talk my ear off all day - one of my greatest blessings.</div><div><br />I'm trying to catch up on my Project 365 pictures from the last few weeks. Any picture that looks intensely green was taken in Missouri. Anything brown and dusty looking was taken here. Not hard to figure out which I prefer. </div><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgdBHI4VhyI/AAAAAAAABT8/xYhyfZACIz8/s1600-h/36516.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334303874542307106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgdBHI4VhyI/AAAAAAAABT8/xYhyfZACIz8/s400/36516.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLNkbKO39EFxnvcEafJfgEQ_XxWkTkjHtfpI3Tm7LYMcMBzNE6pzOg3kAXCebM4XbT1X78_GNIV7B1ewFJEPrK10MJkCO1ETv8ULoqTvVSK9VmLsXJMzw9xw9kmOZlZGsUf-vCA/s1600-h/36515.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334303871036538034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 225px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLNkbKO39EFxnvcEafJfgEQ_XxWkTkjHtfpI3Tm7LYMcMBzNE6pzOg3kAXCebM4XbT1X78_GNIV7B1ewFJEPrK10MJkCO1ETv8ULoqTvVSK9VmLsXJMzw9xw9kmOZlZGsUf-vCA/s400/36515.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/2009/05/pproject-365-week-19.html">Sara</a> - as always, thank you for hosting! </div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-62242307406273100882009-05-07T00:04:00.002-06:002009-05-07T01:18:16.167-06:00Like choosing between tots and friesI've been back from my little trip for a couple of days, but I have been holding off on posting because I was really hoping that I would've picked a winner from my little <em>Name That Blog</em> contest by now.<br /><br />Obviously I forgot to factor in my inherent indecisiveness, and also the fact that you all are amazing and came up with so many choices that my head is pretty much spinning.<br /><br />I feel exactly as I do when we pull up to the Sonic menu board. I've talked about this before, haven't I? Where I just sit there, and also make my very patient hubby just sit there, while I study the menu for a good 10 minutes. Because everything looks fabulous, and I don't quite know what I want. And since it's such a monumental decision, you know, deciding between a cherry limeade or the lemonberry slush, you can't just rush these things.<br /><br />So. I haven't picked a name yet. I'm pretty torn.<br /><br />But - we had an amazing trip! It rained the entire time we were there, and I loved every second (sorry, <a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/">Sara</a> - I know you are sick of the rain!). And it was so green...real, live grass, enormous trees, and my grandma's garden that was exploding with lettuce and onions.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgKIjx-n2NI/AAAAAAAABTM/fe9grgvlXfU/s1600-h/019.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332975057052883154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 220px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgKIjx-n2NI/AAAAAAAABTM/fe9grgvlXfU/s320/019.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgKIU-84HpI/AAAAAAAABTE/eawjiNuGCSE/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332974802837184146" style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 220px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/SgKIU-84HpI/AAAAAAAABTE/eawjiNuGCSE/s320/020.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Something else I learned last week...Savannah loves crab legs. I had no idea. My uncle cooked a feast of steak and crab legs one night, and it's obvious that she is my offspring - the girl likes her meat. I spent most of my meal cutting up steak and cracking open the crab for her, and I couldn't keep up. <em>More crab, Mama</em>.<br /><br />She has expensive taste, this one.<br /><br />My extended family has had their share of issues over the past few years, and so we didn't really know what to expect going into this. We weren't sure if we'd be welcomed with open arms, or if the entire week would be spent awkwardly tiptoeing around trying not to offend.<br /><br />We got the open arm treatment. Reconciliation is a good thing, y'all.<br /><br />It was good to get away for awhile, and even better to come home. Because there really is nothing like your own plush mattress and pillow that is squished in all the right places. It's the little things that do it for me.Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-8994013155580755892009-04-29T00:20:00.001-06:002009-04-29T00:24:01.327-06:00The giveaway where I make you workI am on a plane today with Savannah, flying to what might possibly be the very smallest town in existence in Missouri, visiting my grandparents. My hubby is back home holding down the fort and probably reveling in the fact that he will be eating bachelor food for the next few nights. I believe that frozen pizza and chili dogs and hamburgers are the only things on the menu. Nary a spinach leaf in sight.<br /><br />So, today is my 200th post! Honestly, I hadn't planned on doing anything about it initially. It has taken me so long to get to this point that it's almost embarrassing.<br /><br />But I do love to do a giveaway. And, as I alluded to in my last post, I am in need of your help. So I am combining the two in a sneaky effort to pull out some creative ideas from you, my invisible friends.<br /><br />So here's the deal:<br /><br />I am in the midst of deciding whether or not to start a little blog design business. I've played with it the past several months, and have done several for friends. And I love it (I actually love figuring out the code more than the design part - how's that for exposing my inner geek?). Some of the girls I've helped out have really encouraged me to jump in and just do it; I am still vacillating.<br /><br />But regardless of whether I actually start it for profit, or whether I keep doing freebies, I'd like to set up a separate page. And to do this I need a name.<br /><br />And I have not a clue what I want to name it.<br /><br />So this is where you all come in. I know some of you are far more creative than I am, so I need your suggestions!<br /><br />Now, the good part - what's in it for you?<br /><br />Well. I haven't quite figured all of that out yet. It will be several different things, but the main thing that I know you will be interested in is a $20 gift card.<br /><br />I was going to purchase one to Starbucks, but it has come to my attention that not all of you are Starbucks aficionados. So I'll give the winner a choice; Starbucks, Target, Sonic, or...let's say Chik-fil-A. Because that's what sounds good to me right now, and it will give me an excuse to drive to the one that is completely on the other side of town.<br /><br />To be entered, you have to leave a suggestion for the name of the blog design business. It can be anything; trust me, there are no ideas that are too silly. I won't laugh at you. At least not any harder than I did at my hubby when he suggested "Jericho"; he came up with that one right after he finished doing some Bible study in Joshua. To be fair, he scoffed with equal fervor at my suggestion of "Sweet Savannah Designs".<br /><br />You can see why I'm turning to you.<br /><br />As for picking the winner, the following extremely random steps will apply; if my hubby and I agree on one that we love, that person will be declared the winner. If for some reason we cannot agree, I will do a random drawing.<br /><br />I am moderating comments on this post since I'll be gone. And I cannot wait to come back and see what you all have thrown out there.<br /><br />Thanks for helping a sister out!Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-67731402075016594922009-04-27T00:04:00.001-06:002009-04-27T01:29:56.453-06:00On the cleaning warpath - and Project 365, Week 17<div>What I'd like to know is this; why do I have this huge compulsion to clean my house right before I go on a trip?<br /><br />It never hits me at any other time, this weird need to have everything spotless. I'm usually ok if everything is just picked up. But give me a departure date and a plane ticket, and suddenly I can't scrub everything fast enough. And then? I'm not even around to enjoy it. I don't get it.<br /><br />We're leaving this week for our short trip to Missouri, and I have been cleaning like a maniac all day today. And also planting a few flowers to try and brighten up our back yard.<br /><br />Something about cleaning a lot tends to stress me out. I know it is a stress reliever for a lot of people, but I can't stand the thought that all of the hard work I just did is going to get messed up in a matter of minutes. And so I think I snapped a few times at poor Savannah, who would follow along behind me and, well, mess things up. Because she's 3 and she likes to play and she doesn't get why she should be banned from playing just because Mommy is a little off her rocker. I'm sorry, baby.<br /><br />I wanted to post a few Project 365 pictures, since I completely missed last week.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsooIBcVW1UYUYFhDwFkq-cG-ueBt85qsO3SVaTtDWr5KbeW3dDNDcTbDy4zFGGSjM7tySkWxQRM-kefGpnNNbsVhJDnbXAA7H2Sdjz6Xq3oHzGTRGqf3dtHiRDnInxD2ZZH3gBg/s1600-h/36514.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329269973871056866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsooIBcVW1UYUYFhDwFkq-cG-ueBt85qsO3SVaTtDWr5KbeW3dDNDcTbDy4zFGGSjM7tySkWxQRM-kefGpnNNbsVhJDnbXAA7H2Sdjz6Xq3oHzGTRGqf3dtHiRDnInxD2ZZH3gBg/s400/36514.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Thanks to <a href="http://thebowyers.blogspot.com/2009/04/project-365-week-17.html">Sara</a> for hosting!<br /><br />I'll be back to post once again before I go. My 200th post is coming up (which sounds like such a low number to me, considering how long I've been blogging. Hmmm...must be the erratic and sparse blogging schedule I adhere to). Anyway, I think I want to do a little giveaway. But I'm going to make you work for it, because I need your input on something. So come by and help a sister out!<br /><br />Happy Monday, y'all. </div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-14193260842658643932009-04-24T00:29:00.004-06:002009-04-24T02:03:05.942-06:00A dream come true....sort ofI believe I've mentioned a time or twenty that at the very top of my wish list is a piano. Preferably a baby grand, black and shiny.<br /><br />Never mind the fact that we have no room in our house for one....I'd <em>make</em> room. Couches in the living room? Who needs those?<br /><br />But hubby maintains, and I know he's right, that it would just be too crowded even for an upright, so I sigh and agree with him, and continue to dream.<br /><br />Today we went to Kohls to see what kind of clearance deals we could snag. Savannah and Ricardo headed straight for the toys, while I shopped in the lingerie section (which, let me tell you, was a huge, <em>huge</em> exercise in futility).<br /><br />I'm wandering among the many aisles of undergarments, where there was plenty of selection, just none in the right color and size for me, when Ricardo and Savannah found me. He was toting a big box and sporting a huge smile, and he said, "Look what I found!"<br /><br />It was a keyboard. I started to smile and scoff in that, "<em>Yeah, right</em>" way, because after all, we're at Kohls. Not the best known for their excellent selection of electroncis, you know? But then he told me the price; originally $100, but marked down to $9.99.<br /><br />Right there in the lingerie deparment, he found a plug, knelt down on the floor, took it out of the box, plugged it in, and tested it out. Oh, how I wish I had my camera at that moment. And, oh how happy he was that I did not. He kept muttering, "I feel weird doing this over here..."<br /><br />The keyboard worked. And unlike other super cheapy keyboards I've tried, on this one you could play actual chords, instead of just two warbly sounding notes at a time. A definite bonus.<br /><br />So the keyboard came home with us. Savannah was in heaven.<br /><br />Here's what the little beauty (ahem) looks like. Don't laugh - it's <em>better than nothing</em>.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAz1zi-c-pqjhRgtSFqsGW_MpBPaIkzhDTnN9V4ZNMnqRqM9S8fUSIKMg_QQojk78UCuKWuAXrOgVS2MrpfR7plZTbTtRkAqVqzxYgmu-koHndHLPw7pIq9zSF7BbGCbDtTNf5aw/s1600-h/016.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328162401279287282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAz1zi-c-pqjhRgtSFqsGW_MpBPaIkzhDTnN9V4ZNMnqRqM9S8fUSIKMg_QQojk78UCuKWuAXrOgVS2MrpfR7plZTbTtRkAqVqzxYgmu-koHndHLPw7pIq9zSF7BbGCbDtTNf5aw/s400/016.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Now if I can just ignore the fact that the label says "Spectrum" instead of "Steinway", we'll be in business. That, and the fact that the keys are super small, and when I go to play an octave, my fingers keep overshooting and the result is some majorly disonant sounds. And of course, no sustain pedal. I did mention it was $9.99, right?<br /><br />Who says dreams don't come true?Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30570568.post-36476469877776256182009-04-22T09:30:00.001-06:002009-04-22T09:40:33.863-06:00Flip Flop FrenzySo, yesterday I put on my cute little black wedge sandals and went shopping.<br /><br />I was feeling mighty sassy at first, but then, since I obviously haven't worn them all winter, they begin to rub a little. After about 3 hours of walking around, they were <em>really</em> starting to rub. A lot. My poor little feet were so happy to get home and kick those shoes off. So much for vanity.<br /><br />And then as I was inspecting the damage done in the form of little red welts on the top of my feet, it hit me - <a href="http://www.growinwithit.blogspot.com/">Linda's Flip Flop Frenzy</a>. Today. Where we all show off our brand new shoes that our flip-flop buddy sent us. The kind of event where you are expected to take pictures of your <em>feet, </em>self-inflicted welts not withstanding.<br /><br />However, the only redeeming factor that I have going on right now is that I got an amazing, relaxing, paraffin-dipping pedicure on Monday, thanks to a lovely gift card from some friends.<br /><br />So maybe you'll focus on the pretty toes instead.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/Se6j6WC0V_I/AAAAAAAABRU/IL01jKuPIK0/s1600-h/011-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327375631971014642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 333px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/Se6j6WC0V_I/AAAAAAAABRU/IL01jKuPIK0/s400/011-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I was matched with the lovely <a href="http://www.jamiehess.blogspot.com/">Jamie from Purposeful Pursuit</a>. I don't know about you, but I get so giddy when I get real mail, so I was thrilled when I got my package from her.<br /><br />Aren't these darling?<br /><br /></div><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/Se6j6Xk10MI/AAAAAAAABRc/Go-cbZss3r4/s1600-h/015-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327375632382152898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 381px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/Se6j6Xk10MI/AAAAAAAABRc/Go-cbZss3r4/s400/015-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>And these little bracelets are the best color combination ever...I think that Savannah is going to fight me for them, though. </div><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydXHiDGaY1KQ16LpCXGrAGOx1B0gASUo5GNxqHHdb4FHKvC5Oygqn76ellgRndCX9R3ISx0qC_2-zUJVMdqBKH3FaKLL0V4A7xCk1bIbwD2CIE1BdIZDRTzhAbRUQ6vukZC1Unw/s1600-h/040-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327375878468876930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 313px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydXHiDGaY1KQ16LpCXGrAGOx1B0gASUo5GNxqHHdb4FHKvC5Oygqn76ellgRndCX9R3ISx0qC_2-zUJVMdqBKH3FaKLL0V4A7xCk1bIbwD2CIE1BdIZDRTzhAbRUQ6vukZC1Unw/s400/040-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuY4SALCuqwhxZgd6OouBlruVmSqy2QHLQDEqxSSgbJqx6Kqm16xRDCXbBNHzuy2wUEPAKqsarpug5jvLO3hwVC13PPzJV89IT18u3urQ69S3ID9iQClEJn1vv_QcU1mdUZgY8Uw/s1600-h/035-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327375641251906498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuY4SALCuqwhxZgd6OouBlruVmSqy2QHLQDEqxSSgbJqx6Kqm16xRDCXbBNHzuy2wUEPAKqsarpug5jvLO3hwVC13PPzJV89IT18u3urQ69S3ID9iQClEJn1vv_QcU1mdUZgY8Uw/s400/035-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div>Jamie also sent along a little bottle of pink polish for Savannah, which thrilled her to no end. I had no peace until I sat down and painted her toes. Don't look too closely, I never claimed to be a pedicurist.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFFMdyQSFNiP7Ilr35jWoRzCFBV-hiQPeb22Tu3x0TVrwyg0_NK0uRtpfvIktm1rhyphenhyphenn3orw4u1QbNLH1yti8hLI-K5dnGz4GYzQ2gmvGM48qwEI1r3bKegDzJ0g79faA_s53CLg/s1600-h/030-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327375637426069490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 302px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyFFMdyQSFNiP7Ilr35jWoRzCFBV-hiQPeb22Tu3x0TVrwyg0_NK0uRtpfvIktm1rhyphenhyphenn3orw4u1QbNLH1yti8hLI-K5dnGz4GYzQ2gmvGM48qwEI1r3bKegDzJ0g79faA_s53CLg/s400/030-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCjdl43s4on5yJ91aDq-nSCb4L-5e_GYTlOol_FSSB_janMNYSABdGqQQi4RhomYXZF4ycr2mknjOKhIUAL8c22RhCUDbvkcLczlGEIMU0g-CVXTOEftShwTqfKSHnr41AOtNHg/s1600-h/032-1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327375637813519346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 389px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTCjdl43s4on5yJ91aDq-nSCb4L-5e_GYTlOol_FSSB_janMNYSABdGqQQi4RhomYXZF4ycr2mknjOKhIUAL8c22RhCUDbvkcLczlGEIMU0g-CVXTOEftShwTqfKSHnr41AOtNHg/s400/032-1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.jamiehess.blogspot.com/">Jamie</a>, thank you so much - I couldn't have asked for anything better! And thanks to <a href="http://www.growinwithit.blogspot.com/">Linda</a> for hosting!</div><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/Se83IABCwXI/AAAAAAAABSE/ODAI2y9KEDs/s1600-h/flipflop.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327537494785442162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_BqZ1kKBzXR4/Se83IABCwXI/AAAAAAAABSE/ODAI2y9KEDs/s400/flipflop.jpg" border="0" /></a> </div></div></div></div>Jackie http://www.blogger.com/profile/06689420082726915164noreply@blogger.com27