tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85764447974125658072024-03-12T18:24:22.319-05:00I Love Being....Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-52138300834560633432014-02-28T08:12:00.001-06:002014-02-28T08:12:08.680-06:00This SpotThis little area of my life has been on my mind like a CD on repeat. So when that happens my mind must act, and today is the day.<br />
As we all know, this season we are in has been more than testing our abilities to adapt. I do my best to not complain. Whining will get me nowhere but into the gutters of my own self pity.<br />
Find the positive. Do your best to always try to find the positive. Good can be found in everything. Yes, everything.<br />
Getting along. With all of the cooped-up-ness, we have been getting along. Like whole heartedly wanting no more than each others company. What a blessing. By this time of year, I am usually not in my prime. A bit edgy. A bit ouchy. Well let's be honest, not your favorite person to be around.<br />
There were steps taken with the little women to insure our weeks of rarely leaving the house were smooth.<br />
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<i>Footnote: As your little children grow don't think for a second that "nap time" is not needed. My 11 and 8 year olds don't nap (like fall asleep), but they do have to take 20 to 30 minutes a day in their own rooms. This is for summer, snow days, and days when we are all here all day long.</i></div>
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<i> Doors shut. </i></div>
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<i>No electronics. </i></div>
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<i>You can gently play, by gently, I mean no flipping. </i></div>
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<i>Ainzli would do cartwheels all day long. </i></div>
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<i>You can read. </i></div>
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<i>You can rest your eyes. </i></div>
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<i>This has been a life safer.</i></div>
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<i>A true recharge for the rest of our day.</i></div>
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<i>And I'm not going to lie and say that they are always on board.</i></div>
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<i>There have been tears shed in the discussion of how tired one is not.</i></div>
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<i>As mom, I persevere.</i></div>
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This year is different and I am grateful for it.<br />
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Have a wonderful weekend,<br />
AutumnAutumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-88799731588565247752013-09-30T13:31:00.001-05:002013-09-30T13:55:59.371-05:00As the World TurnsNo. My life is not a soap opera. Nowhere close. It is pretty much a daily repeat. One day to the next. Right now, I am super happy with that repeat button being pressed. But with me, you never know when and if that is going to start to make me twitch. <br />
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Our Stella Macaroni. </div>
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This day, Duchess, her nemesis was out on a walk. </div>
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Stella can't see out of this window, but somehow she senses her.</div>
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So, I taunted her a little to get this shot. </div>
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Ms. Blue's white board.</div>
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She is T totally on a Daddy kick right now.</div>
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It's as if I don't exist.</div>
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It's completely heart melting</div>
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Ainzli did some research online on how to build a good tent.</div>
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She did awesome. </div>
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It had rooms.</div>
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No kidding.</div>
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It was up the entire weekend.</div>
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These next 3 were found on my camera after a download.</div>
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They had cleaned the entire shoot up.</div>
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I didn't even know about them.</div>
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What a pleasant surprise!</div>
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This particular yard was absolutely beautiful when we moved in.</div>
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7 years ago.</div>
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Since then, the woman of the house has gone into a nursing home.</div>
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The man of the house still lives here but spends all his time with her.</div>
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There is much neglected here.</div>
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Thistles galore. Her peonies have been swallowed by lesser beauties. The yard is pretty gnarly. </div>
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But what matters, what truly matters, is not here.</div>
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Now when I look at this yard, it is still beautiful.</div>
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In its neglect is beauty.</div>
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This girl has that ball with her at all times.</div>
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The marks on my walls are the proof.</div>
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She is passionate about it.</div>
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She wants to truly pursue it.</div>
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Her and I pass almost everyday.</div>
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We have a broken outside light.</div>
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A broken house number.</div>
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Making memories. </div>
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That is what I tell myself.</div>
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Scuffed walls.</div>
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Broken stuff.</div>
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Constant banging.</div>
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We are just making memories.</div>
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Garage Sale.</div>
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For some reason I stopped.</div>
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Too much fun.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXY0diF2MLCX2MOYKeTprq1aVeWi6JpioQFCS9OaVksqKUlTbjCwL2Mk8d74wfA39TtZBpI-Ld3j5AUgu075esc9vWjoXwlc-wwLSesYOql7rfFxvTNrGTC2m4Xy2nyEhvFMK9vFNGH5Q/s1600/IMG_5180.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXY0diF2MLCX2MOYKeTprq1aVeWi6JpioQFCS9OaVksqKUlTbjCwL2Mk8d74wfA39TtZBpI-Ld3j5AUgu075esc9vWjoXwlc-wwLSesYOql7rfFxvTNrGTC2m4Xy2nyEhvFMK9vFNGH5Q/s640/IMG_5180.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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Here we go.</div>
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Gingham apron.</div>
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Milkglass lamps.</div>
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Mirror.</div>
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Drumroll please.........</div>
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$5</div>
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A Sunday afternoon in the rain.</div>
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Gosh.</div>
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Sometimes our hillbilly roots cannot be concealed.</div>
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I love this shot.</div>
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No reason why, just do.</div>
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Oh happy day. Have a great one.<br />
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AutumnAutumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-64716299169965017102013-09-13T08:09:00.001-05:002013-09-13T08:13:51.427-05:00Line UpHow is it that you can be enjoying a good game of four square then, within 10 minutes, be having to discipline? Well, come on over to the Grismore abode and I will tell you! Unfortunate? Yes. Tiring? Very. Genius discipline action? I think so.<br />
We clean everything up outside and head in. We are in for about 5 minutes. The dad of the abode is wanting to take a shower, so he graciously offers the little women to go first. One says the other has to go first................ uh oh.<br />
Within 30 seconds voices are raised and Ms. Blue is screeching. I step in. I tell the Mr. to go take a shower. However long you want. Enjoy yourself, because the little women are going to line up and wait for their showers.<br />
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What? Why? one asks. Still screeching.<br />
The other little woman just walks and gets her towel and washcloth.<br />
There may have been some things said beyond my earshot, but it's not long and Ms. Blue is spewing unpleasantrys. <br />
So, I tell her she will be last in line.<br />
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OH. MY. GOODNESS!<br />
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It all worked out. I really think they will remember this one.<br />
Some of these shots of Ms. Blue were do to my photo taking. Ms. Blue gets really out of sorts with it at times.<br />
She got mad at Ainzli because, how long does it take to shower? Why did she get to go first when it takes her ssssoooooo long?<br />
The Mr. told her that he will sit here in his towel, in her great grandma Lillie's rocker and watch her show. Catapulted her even more. She is a passionate girl. I have said it before, the force is strong with this one. Seriously, strong.<br />
At this point the show was a comedy for him and me.<br />
It may well be offspring torture.<br />
But hey, it's the small things, right?<br />
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Have a wonderful weekend:) <br />
<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-27642522754518604122013-09-06T07:10:00.000-05:002013-09-06T07:10:18.995-05:00Family Lovin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I don't have anything to say. Things are good here. Just been enjoying life and documenting when I can. Have a wonderful weekend.:)</div>
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She ran for Student Council, again.</div>
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Good for her. </div>
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We have the poster making down to a science.</div>
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She had an idea. </div>
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She told me about it.</div>
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We built on it together.</div>
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The day of her speech her outfit matched her poster.</div>
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She didn't plan it, but it looks like she did.</div>
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She got voted in.</div>
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We spent most of a day together.</div>
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Just my niece and me.</div>
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They are 10 months apart.</div>
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They are either loving or fighting.</div>
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No in-between.</div>
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He was fascinated by our peanut butter making skills.</div>
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-45063964368432437092013-08-28T08:06:00.001-05:002013-08-28T08:08:46.724-05:00Everyday Living<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love my coffee in the a.m. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A nice big cup after my morning jog.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>But that iPhone.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Am I on it too much? Am I wasting a ton of time on useless stuff?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I asked myself that a couple of weeks ago.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My answer was yes without even hesitating.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Sad.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So, I talked to Shannon about it and he said that my usage had really gone up.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So I have become aware. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have set it aside and rarely mess with it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The majority of the day it is playing Pandora.</i></div>
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<i>I have to keep myself in check.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Our dilapidated sandbox.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am sad.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lillie is even sadder.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I don't know why I have let it go this summer.</i></div>
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<i>Sorry, Ms. Blue, it will be better next summer.</i></div>
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<i>Promise.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Barbies.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I had them but never played with them.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ainzli had them and deconstructed their bodies.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lillie has them and plays with them.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Grismore Girls are all so different.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ms. Blue loves to be in the kitchen with me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She does such a great job.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She is now the official "Onion Cutter".</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She stated that, "I don't cry when I cut them like you do."</i></div>
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<i>Awesome!</i></div>
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<i>I don't like cutting those things anyway!!</i></div>
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<i>We got an American flag to fly this summer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love American history.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There is something to be said for the people who sacrificed so much so that we </i></div>
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<i>could have a better life.</i></div>
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<i>Gives me chills.</i></div>
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<i>(We are a patriotic neighborhood. We have 3 veterans that live on our street.</i></div>
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<i>The red, white and blue is flying high here!)</i></div>
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<i>Ms. Blue makes these frequently.</i></div>
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<i>I don't want to ever forget these little things.</i></div>
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<i>I love that her sisters is a heart this time.</i></div>
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<i>She has learned to do her own name in cursive.</i></div>
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<i>It is the only word she writes in it.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><u>Ms. Blue</u>: "Mom. Mom. Come here!"</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><u>Me:</u> "Ok. Be there in a sec."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><u>Ms. Blue</u>: "Look."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><u>Me:</u> "Nice." </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><u>Ms. Blue:</u> "Take a picture of it."</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><u>Me:</u> "Okey Dokey?"</i></div>
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<i>.............................................</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It was her first art piece drawn with a ruler.</i></div>
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<i>She is funny. </i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lessons have not even started back up for fall.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She is back at it regularly.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She asked me the other day when they start.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She informed me that she does not want to ever stop playing the piano.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I hope and pray that is true.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And that she sticks with it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There is nothing better than listening to your child belt something out on an instrument.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Amazing.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There is some program on this Mac, that she found, to take little pictures and videos of herself.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>All. The. Time.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Love it. </i></div>
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Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-39936371181975906042013-08-23T20:22:00.003-05:002013-08-23T20:22:44.692-05:00Remembering Summer Vacation: Part 3A visual overload for this wonderful August weekend. Enjoy and have a great one!:) <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My little morning spot.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love our four seasons room.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I loved the short time the lilies were blooming.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Before our mini vacation.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A bicycle carwash.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She loves a website that allows her to dress</i></div>
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<i>up dolls. She doesn't care what she wears, but she</i></div>
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<i>sure does like these cyber dolls to be all prettied up. </i></div>
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<i>Neighborhood friends.</i></div>
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<i>It's a special bond.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Skyzone.</i></div>
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<i>Indoor trampoline park.</i></div>
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<i>Hour and a half is WAY too long!</i></div>
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<i>Fun!!!!!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPTQ8WGQGtgXzdwBn0eNnxYH8ZVQeF5qTJR0iqnhFd-4mi9dtgAtMiCjUC3y7LifQvwllKy0OZlUT6LFQ3EPB12UqkyHsuGIAnfw1mCT0DUUjN74fncLxfPfTEXeMjyUGZouK0yceQtw/s1600/IMG_4294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPTQ8WGQGtgXzdwBn0eNnxYH8ZVQeF5qTJR0iqnhFd-4mi9dtgAtMiCjUC3y7LifQvwllKy0OZlUT6LFQ3EPB12UqkyHsuGIAnfw1mCT0DUUjN74fncLxfPfTEXeMjyUGZouK0yceQtw/s640/IMG_4294.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Just an afternoon.</i></div>
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<i>Water balloons from the dollar bin at Target.</i></div>
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<i>It took awhile to fill them up.</i></div>
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<i>The girls had a filling system.</i></div>
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<i>We bombed Daddy when he pulled in.</i></div>
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<i>The fight was on............:)</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Z9AZl08v-uC5aFt0rZkEvEu9p-cFfe4zJYv_rpgh-eNqhyphenhyphenINsnotcJNDOZaTljRqbG0BfRtriFcCOvxH6nmA9sOgV5oKPtcZNLpyMnoapyoD2AxH2lkZDM3Ys6w2ooAyvJ-EkZlIUBc/s1600/IMG_4307.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Z9AZl08v-uC5aFt0rZkEvEu9p-cFfe4zJYv_rpgh-eNqhyphenhyphenINsnotcJNDOZaTljRqbG0BfRtriFcCOvxH6nmA9sOgV5oKPtcZNLpyMnoapyoD2AxH2lkZDM3Ys6w2ooAyvJ-EkZlIUBc/s640/IMG_4307.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>Sunflowers in my little front yard garden.</i></div>
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<i>I loved to cut them and have fresh bouquets daily.</i></div>
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<i>I walk around that little garden everyday.</i></div>
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<i>Happy.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKrN_8aCFoq7SOFjy8JcddguS2YDVeH4OWj_qcFJoi18pghcnS3YAu5Ck-MB1VVmlm-sJN4yG6vjax_8NGUX5fsm2IROUwoGPb3oD5z4dP4__KwWk97uZN6v4x-VeahHpVyOck9O9Axxg/s1600/IMG_4327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKrN_8aCFoq7SOFjy8JcddguS2YDVeH4OWj_qcFJoi18pghcnS3YAu5Ck-MB1VVmlm-sJN4yG6vjax_8NGUX5fsm2IROUwoGPb3oD5z4dP4__KwWk97uZN6v4x-VeahHpVyOck9O9Axxg/s640/IMG_4327.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>She found yoga on the Wii.</i></div>
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<i>This girl is so not flexible.</i></div>
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<i>She has been working on it. </i></div>
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<i>Good luck, Sis!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfbtRfSB8sLyJCh9XwR5JqJn899kl9sDLwy1YR-qJJ2jap5r3YlDglIHQFm7SjtXlPd0uUfYb7Luz-PqIdkt9O-kpr3o3mVhXrle-lGMfNr7uF96dZsq7CVpLYEtuLx3xVbyR6MRFeXo/s1600/IMG_4340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGfbtRfSB8sLyJCh9XwR5JqJn899kl9sDLwy1YR-qJJ2jap5r3YlDglIHQFm7SjtXlPd0uUfYb7Luz-PqIdkt9O-kpr3o3mVhXrle-lGMfNr7uF96dZsq7CVpLYEtuLx3xVbyR6MRFeXo/s640/IMG_4340.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ms. Blue is a picker.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Plus she gets bug bites like crazy.</i></div>
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<i>Horrible combination.</i></div>
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<i>So we have to cover them up.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Poor little lamb.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLSyq16gcdRBntkRXF-7oHt5gVwxgpCg9FviAjGgLPXTEhCbTsWJCikODuWWuesUCfJ1dU53Tz6i_kPB7rSCsVv-PIvRWqr2uZKQ3dxMWHrxet7ZsXfQ-UhRHvWL9YpTV7GbM8EBc8vs/s1600/IMG_4348.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoLSyq16gcdRBntkRXF-7oHt5gVwxgpCg9FviAjGgLPXTEhCbTsWJCikODuWWuesUCfJ1dU53Tz6i_kPB7rSCsVv-PIvRWqr2uZKQ3dxMWHrxet7ZsXfQ-UhRHvWL9YpTV7GbM8EBc8vs/s640/IMG_4348.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Ms. Ainzli loves sports.</i></div>
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<i>She loves to play them.</i></div>
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<i>She likes to watch basketball and American Ninja Warrior.</i></div>
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<i>She told me the other day she wanted to do it (ANW) someday.</i></div>
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<i>This girl can do anything she puts her mind too.</i></div>
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<i>Clyde's tree.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It is the neighborhood climbing tree.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It is right out our front door.</i></div>
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<i>The kids are fun to watch.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi468Lozs3z6duV-zP1X9SBGtlDGeKdEcNb7-5rUDq4wUaAjxi5tUTyPWQi7it6094ZS8w-JkC8s6dMGFQBQJd9PrnMjLq2Ngkk4PoO2OMzFXWGppnP8tYYELB4zsWBZhvbMZOseVWKTnI/s1600/IMG_4434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi468Lozs3z6duV-zP1X9SBGtlDGeKdEcNb7-5rUDq4wUaAjxi5tUTyPWQi7it6094ZS8w-JkC8s6dMGFQBQJd9PrnMjLq2Ngkk4PoO2OMzFXWGppnP8tYYELB4zsWBZhvbMZOseVWKTnI/s640/IMG_4434.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>GG, Shannon's grandma, is 91 this year.</i></div>
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<i>She is loved.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdNq0YZ-TxBmG_MRZuSQi9FD3tKlOAvc41F8y4lMctFQF2o83hX87OZOZU60A56VKKxkJ0ZQ7UKrhwcnKdClVIfuRXCkTH2PaTWNgfV7D2rZ-fP0OtqYtqvcViLdsADve-STunRqHMvE/s1600/Turtle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtdNq0YZ-TxBmG_MRZuSQi9FD3tKlOAvc41F8y4lMctFQF2o83hX87OZOZU60A56VKKxkJ0ZQ7UKrhwcnKdClVIfuRXCkTH2PaTWNgfV7D2rZ-fP0OtqYtqvcViLdsADve-STunRqHMvE/s640/Turtle.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A couple of neighbor boys found this turtle in the creek.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I thought they drew on the bottom with a permanent marker.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>They didn't.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>God doesn't forget the tiniest of details.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Beautiful.</i></div>
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Happy Friday to you!<i> </i></div>
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-55931568244587832232013-08-18T10:38:00.001-05:002013-08-23T20:23:06.163-05:00Remembering Summer Vacation: Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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At home. With a "trying to get sick" little girl. Did some searching through some photos from summer on Friday. Posting them here for sentiment. I like being able to look at them occasionally. Like when I am sitting in the doctor's office and there is no good magazine. I typically bring this blog up and stare. Vain, I know, but I do. </div>
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<i>Please let me in.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ok, fine. I am doing the evil eye on you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Are you vexed, yet? </i><br />
<i>(Look at how filthy my window is. That is awful!) </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_5gbegE2iGpF_ibe5-AmDT_z5Hyhw3CLiEXOK3aRq5-wtKzE8tJspq_54SG-Fv_mOqJGpjhUoFytLIizqSL0tCB9JneNXW9gi8chcbYR8VdjQ8PyLW48rlW8iLiZCtdPl29iRzNGD9k/s1600/IMG_1985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc_5gbegE2iGpF_ibe5-AmDT_z5Hyhw3CLiEXOK3aRq5-wtKzE8tJspq_54SG-Fv_mOqJGpjhUoFytLIizqSL0tCB9JneNXW9gi8chcbYR8VdjQ8PyLW48rlW8iLiZCtdPl29iRzNGD9k/s640/IMG_1985.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Splash House.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>iPhone photo.</i></div>
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<i>We had fun that day. </i> </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is her best friend.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>They have so much fun.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is cherry makeup. </i> </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Date Night.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We have not had enough of these lately. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>A mixer sixer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Noodles and Co.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The four seasons room.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>aaahhhh............... I do love my Mr. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i> </div>
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<i>Our neighbor had his 150 to 200 year old oak tree dropped.</i></div>
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<i>It was an amazing process.</i></div>
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<i>It took 2 days.</i></div>
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<i>There was a colony of honey bees in the top.</i></div>
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<i>I was a little sad at their demise. </i> </div>
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<i>My little front yard garden.</i></div>
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<i>My mom bought me the cedar for Mother's Day.<br />I built it.</i></div>
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<i>All by myself.</i></div>
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<i>It has produced a nice little bounty for us.</i></div>
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<i>I have learned a lot.</i></div>
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<i>The girls love it.</i></div>
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Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-70725695893253428772013-08-16T15:09:00.002-05:002013-08-23T20:23:16.991-05:00To Remembering Summer Vacation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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These are from June. A little glimpse of our wonderful summer! </div>
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<i>A donation.</i></div>
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<i>That was rarely used in the Grismore abode.</i></div>
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<i>Come to find out all the fun was had decorating the back.</i></div>
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<i>I sincerely hope the new owner enjoys it more from the other side!</i></div>
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<i>She has always loved to play in her sandbox.</i></div>
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<i>This day I believe she enjoyed playing with it in a bucket.</i></div>
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<i>Who knew?</i></div>
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<i>Nothing better than line dried.</i></div>
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<i>Friends.</i></div>
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<i>Our first harvest.</i></div>
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<i>Puny. Of course.</i></div>
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<i>We were excited all the same.</i></div>
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Happy weekend to all!<i> </i></div>
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-13008685118618921212013-08-15T13:57:00.001-05:002013-08-15T16:41:54.433-05:00Restless<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Finally. Today. I feel like I am able to breathe a little without missing the little women. I think about it and I almost feel foolish. I am pretty certain I can nail down the reason for all my angst. I am restless. I think, I have always been a restless soul. I have never been one of those people who has been certain of their path. I know that no one is 100% certain, but so many people seem to have a clue. I don't even feel like I can touch that category on my tippy toes. Not having the little women home to occupy me, scares me. I am alone with my thoughts. My mind is the scariest room to be in. Over the last couple of years I have really learned that I cannot change this particular part of me. Some things are just completely out of our control. I just have to give it up. Not the "I don't care" kind of give it up. But "hand it over" kind of give it up. God wants it. He wants to hold this weakness of mine. He wants to show me, if only I will let him, that He can work with it. I am trying. It is daily. Sometimes hourly. I have to be conscious of it. <span style="background-color: white;"></span><br />
His will. His way.<br />
Last night, we read<span style="color: blue;"> <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Grace-Moment-365-Devotions-Kids/dp/1400320348/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376602375&sr=8-1&keywords=grace+for+the+moment+365+devotions+for+kids">Lillie's devotion</a></span>,</span></span> and I had to snicker.<br />
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The heading read, "What Are Your Strengths?"<br />
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<i>We all have different gifts. Each gift came </i></div>
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<i>because of the grace that God gave us.</i></div>
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<i>-Romans 12:6-</i></div>
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He is working on me. He is reassuring me that I am on the right path. First, I had to start with giving it up. No second guessing. No looking back. No worrying. Did you know that the word <i>worry </i>in German means "to strangle."? In Greek it means "to divide the mind." How am I ever going to be able to find my strength? To find that purpose that He created me for? The one thing that I can do better than anyone else? </div>
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I don't know. I really don't, but I believe that I am on the path. The path that walks right beside Him. That is the start. He will show me. It may be a slap in the face glimpse. I know there are more glimpses that I don't even recognize, but I am trying. It will be in whatever way He deems it to be. It will only happen through faith. And trust. And knowing that only He can truly give me peace. That peace that seems to always be too far out of my reach. </div>
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My gift is there. I believe it is close to starting to bloom. Not as tightly budded as it was a year ago. Or 6 months ago. Closer than it ever has been, and for that, I am forever grateful. </div>
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-49707248645263280502013-08-14T12:56:00.000-05:002013-08-14T12:59:13.161-05:00HollandWe took a mini vacation in the middle of July. What, it's not still the middle of July? Holy Moley! But, I am getting the brief overview here now. I don't want to forget these little trips. We always have more fun than I ever expect. I don't know what it is, but we just blossom in new places. We are never anxious or nervous. Flourish, I tell you. We flourish.<br />
Holland, Michigan. Who knew you could have a world away vacation in only 3 short hours?<br />
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<i>As soon as we arrived our bikes came off the rack.</i></div>
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<i>They were our main mode of transportation the entire trip.</i></div>
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<i>We rode to Windmill Island.</i></div>
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<i>The girls were enjoying the horses.</i></div>
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<i>Windmill Island.</i></div>
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<i>Hence, the windmill.</i></div>
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<i>And said horses.</i></div>
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<i> The channel connecting a smaller lake to Lake Michigan.</i></div>
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<i>Dug by hand in the late 1800's.</i></div>
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<i>Big Ben.</i></div>
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<i>The privately owned lighthouse.</i></div>
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<i>We really enjoyed watching whatever was coming through </i></div>
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<i>the channel.</i></div>
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<i>Every Thursday night in the summer</i></div>
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<i>they shut down a couple of blocks and have a small street fair.</i></div>
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<i>Very artsy little town.</i></div>
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<i>We are in love.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0f0GfGJg88YPjbVJe2qjuSiOdUxWcjqwr-4nK_NPDyYad21fLKqUxwSiTFGUHIwZgs2Z8ugCKwx-pRHBawfla0S7pv3w0VerPCjJdvBnOeZO_ZmMN0hXr7z6SeJDNe94IWgDcq3IokY/s1600/IMG_3681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz0f0GfGJg88YPjbVJe2qjuSiOdUxWcjqwr-4nK_NPDyYad21fLKqUxwSiTFGUHIwZgs2Z8ugCKwx-pRHBawfla0S7pv3w0VerPCjJdvBnOeZO_ZmMN0hXr7z6SeJDNe94IWgDcq3IokY/s640/IMG_3681.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Shannon is showing Ms. Blue how to cut the sleeves off</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>of a shirt with a pocket knife.</i></div>
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<i>Major survival skill.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOsNMdQbAaJhpqup7aQb0qStiLtmfT7SFm9PKUi3C6XCQLsiXrhvEzFkXy03YTnylI9bnc2VI55wIKeH8v-V5aTjXkAjxcHky1TnpiUA8tdcdEQ2EL14WGGfrbZesJ683owGkDy466KY/s1600/IMG_3702.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUOsNMdQbAaJhpqup7aQb0qStiLtmfT7SFm9PKUi3C6XCQLsiXrhvEzFkXy03YTnylI9bnc2VI55wIKeH8v-V5aTjXkAjxcHky1TnpiUA8tdcdEQ2EL14WGGfrbZesJ683owGkDy466KY/s640/IMG_3702.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i> Why do I love your serious looks the most, my beauty?</i></div>
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<i>I always have.</i></div>
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<i>Who knew you could have a beach vacation so close to home?</i></div>
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<i>Awesome!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kb6m76wS0rEz4tfe9RC5N6fKwM5tgZVaa7dILDx21N89UNSZLBpD3uK-CKD8tC522FwtaAV7m-KtC7PAytbik8Qm4vMXQe6FCRyjpUk6E8NPmy_CebSSKakUxgdgSOuzj0mGx-_MXe8/s1600/IMG_3755.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1kb6m76wS0rEz4tfe9RC5N6fKwM5tgZVaa7dILDx21N89UNSZLBpD3uK-CKD8tC522FwtaAV7m-KtC7PAytbik8Qm4vMXQe6FCRyjpUk6E8NPmy_CebSSKakUxgdgSOuzj0mGx-_MXe8/s640/IMG_3755.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Evening swim.</i></div>
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<i>The beach was cleared out.</i></div>
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<i>Not a soul to contend with.</i></div>
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<i>That is when my heart starts thanking God for all his beauty.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5fhOBYmECZLJJuaYy9ZaGPZiDy0aRRtVCyHHBb7_viNzd2yaMeAa2D6ILvoUK5T3WVipWwwWQa0poJRCDMwa9VbTiXZNyVuB1L63YaDNZBEKq9WIB6zP3YDRJQR3eT6GOuLiqXpr5OU/s1600/IMG_3820.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh5fhOBYmECZLJJuaYy9ZaGPZiDy0aRRtVCyHHBb7_viNzd2yaMeAa2D6ILvoUK5T3WVipWwwWQa0poJRCDMwa9VbTiXZNyVuB1L63YaDNZBEKq9WIB6zP3YDRJQR3eT6GOuLiqXpr5OU/s640/IMG_3820.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>I love my sun hats.</i></div>
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<i>She loves my sun hats.</i></div>
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<i>We jockey for my sun hats.</i></div>
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<i>Get your own little lady.</i></div>
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<i>Oh wait, that's ok, you look too precious in it!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOj7N_DfSY3Hgx6i6m8r4vxTxdAC44Blf9PqYaxAQ7Q42J3FpZiCovLOWlXpwRq8gHJis4SHtfbDKVTErZC5PgGalHtyks56-I4DEoNDKWqugwjSEXJj_X_xFrcoIWM44k2BbkO4Ps6VA/s1600/IMG_3869.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOj7N_DfSY3Hgx6i6m8r4vxTxdAC44Blf9PqYaxAQ7Q42J3FpZiCovLOWlXpwRq8gHJis4SHtfbDKVTErZC5PgGalHtyks56-I4DEoNDKWqugwjSEXJj_X_xFrcoIWM44k2BbkO4Ps6VA/s640/IMG_3869.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>This girl is like a fish.</i></div>
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<i>Just try to get her to leave this water.</i></div>
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<i>Good luck.</i></div>
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<i><u>Side Note:</u> The long thing in the background is a pier.</i></div>
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<i>We jumped off of it.</i></div>
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<i>All 4 of us.</i></div>
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<i>Shannon said I was a little scarey.</i></div>
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<i>Sorry, but my crazy roots break the surface when fun like that starts calling!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6F8Czh04L6C8GSZQrnPaH8Bagcxi8LAG0hmToCZWaCMu12wBbkf0jxMbLJunekXYtXT5Ilt_nqQknE0JrNOb-20qXXen4R00wftBuevRQbAQrWP-whjbrqdb-s5m7i6m7pJQbnRUo5c/s1600/IMG_3874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim6F8Czh04L6C8GSZQrnPaH8Bagcxi8LAG0hmToCZWaCMu12wBbkf0jxMbLJunekXYtXT5Ilt_nqQknE0JrNOb-20qXXen4R00wftBuevRQbAQrWP-whjbrqdb-s5m7i6m7pJQbnRUo5c/s640/IMG_3874.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Wake up sleepy head.</i></div>
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<i>Get your booty out of bed.</i></div>
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<i>She is so precious with her blankey tucked up under her face.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdFFA9Ob6CJ-5xrSa6511AVnaef4G8-_EkTjYXT7O-c4qFp6nXpsEY0APdx1jCHBMh4ZK3qGoYcwz5bc0dk397LbPj1f9wNWL3SBnH6eN76W7rtwTIjvJ9tri2A9p_3_1QDz8uGeUSEY/s1600/IMG_3881.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdFFA9Ob6CJ-5xrSa6511AVnaef4G8-_EkTjYXT7O-c4qFp6nXpsEY0APdx1jCHBMh4ZK3qGoYcwz5bc0dk397LbPj1f9wNWL3SBnH6eN76W7rtwTIjvJ9tri2A9p_3_1QDz8uGeUSEY/s640/IMG_3881.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i> We browsed the farmers market.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMFXKj4Mmjv3gYkHRTloNS1zOTliAIUmrI0_R8q0Bi52rDdhQHPQJjNVfn-W75iuXfQGzvnGGsLEnX_yVKcXgLOLL0XqZ7O2kDOvxzIxjdYiLOVvkzE3t7LGG8bMbpmV3T-JDJ-OrAFA/s1600/IMG_3890.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMFXKj4Mmjv3gYkHRTloNS1zOTliAIUmrI0_R8q0Bi52rDdhQHPQJjNVfn-W75iuXfQGzvnGGsLEnX_yVKcXgLOLL0XqZ7O2kDOvxzIxjdYiLOVvkzE3t7LGG8bMbpmV3T-JDJ-OrAFA/s640/IMG_3890.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>We look like pros, don't we?</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkp4UVvg5-IDS5JhnOBkn4BQQJfcPiGcIUfD09n7KOvhn9EWJCou8HZirSHr6-xvX2CYwI4osSwafmQM9Cu6DJ5WTLXsCxriyzFCLCrsfNSXVT-8FzSRovSdqkIV04M-jLeg18awX0Ej8/s1600/IMG_3901.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkp4UVvg5-IDS5JhnOBkn4BQQJfcPiGcIUfD09n7KOvhn9EWJCou8HZirSHr6-xvX2CYwI4osSwafmQM9Cu6DJ5WTLXsCxriyzFCLCrsfNSXVT-8FzSRovSdqkIV04M-jLeg18awX0Ej8/s640/IMG_3901.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The little women.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUoK7K5RgS2pKY5d3YqrM2EZxS893ZrLX1w2P54hu4XtCteuYTTFjsX8CWlgcwkcdWbopCyO_hcdodsC2cinEn36KREPtKxkIWqlpfeiq5KRIi-RzUfTJMkkTUZn_kMcbhnpLxMSqsFtA/s1600/IMG_3907.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUoK7K5RgS2pKY5d3YqrM2EZxS893ZrLX1w2P54hu4XtCteuYTTFjsX8CWlgcwkcdWbopCyO_hcdodsC2cinEn36KREPtKxkIWqlpfeiq5KRIi-RzUfTJMkkTUZn_kMcbhnpLxMSqsFtA/s640/IMG_3907.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The man and the woman.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdZ3zbEaN3hiFTJojqwPQ4e4pEFLEjKJu-6XwrXO9Vo7gaCQID4qZ5Pm-HXMfRgllN6TbL_ppxtsYHXLjPU-NrLm62WzOu9WABkGZtRheuxtHzwZETwyomxETzhpurehl1Lc2q1fV0vY/s1600/IMG_3954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIdZ3zbEaN3hiFTJojqwPQ4e4pEFLEjKJu-6XwrXO9Vo7gaCQID4qZ5Pm-HXMfRgllN6TbL_ppxtsYHXLjPU-NrLm62WzOu9WABkGZtRheuxtHzwZETwyomxETzhpurehl1Lc2q1fV0vY/s640/IMG_3954.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>Um, hello!</i></div>
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<i>Who has the best family ever?</i></div>
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<i>(Two thumbs pointing back at her) </i></div>
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<i>This girl!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0pf3ilarLggt-rqlD2QrEKy_VDzKqxSJjj2o9plwHdoWDg0XNzd3a5ir0NmS2ZdAqQS1-7czvuExaNmqgPuFvq2rdk8rsHeFltaz3mXDMIPj6kH6GMlCwHPWZ7-QFDy6VVKoqCHhoXUc/s1600/IMG_3958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0pf3ilarLggt-rqlD2QrEKy_VDzKqxSJjj2o9plwHdoWDg0XNzd3a5ir0NmS2ZdAqQS1-7czvuExaNmqgPuFvq2rdk8rsHeFltaz3mXDMIPj6kH6GMlCwHPWZ7-QFDy6VVKoqCHhoXUc/s640/IMG_3958.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i> The only think she wanted the entire 4 days were wooden shoes.</i></div>
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<i>So, yep, she got.</i></div>
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<i>$36 later!</i></div>
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<i>What!</i></div>
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<i>But they are so cute, and she does clank around the house in them.</i></div>
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<i>Love.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHNdzwr1t_HZGXBWgo6EyuPZVke6V7gPLG-cgMk-9UN9q-Zp5h6bFfxMCiwBrr-kedXNIGpLVCBdLDlXc4y8P9JRCdGG9Tr5YHStD4hJDQc7xPYVEMOrR68Rb7IlTPRgLo2cWBYER3ko/s1600/IMG_3965.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHNdzwr1t_HZGXBWgo6EyuPZVke6V7gPLG-cgMk-9UN9q-Zp5h6bFfxMCiwBrr-kedXNIGpLVCBdLDlXc4y8P9JRCdGG9Tr5YHStD4hJDQc7xPYVEMOrR68Rb7IlTPRgLo2cWBYER3ko/s640/IMG_3965.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>What!</i></div>
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<i>Don't judge!</i></div>
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<i>It was on the way home. </i></div>
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<i>Sort of.</i></div>
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<i>We love their brews.</i></div>
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<i>And yes, that is one of my daughter's hands.</i></div>
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The trip was great. We had a wonderful time. We will be returning. You should give it a try. I have heard any town along the eastern coast of Lake Michigan is worth seeing. Hopefully, we will be telling you about a few more of them!</div>
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-23919011926595615712013-08-13T09:12:00.002-05:002013-08-13T09:12:26.595-05:00"First Day of School! First Day of School!" <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The first day. Actually, it was yesterday, but well, I'm behind. </div>
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All the time.</div>
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Anyway, the wonderful first day. Everyone gets out of bed with smiles on their faces. Outfits are for sure picked out and ready to be shown off. Everyone is in high spirits. It's a new year. A brand new start. A brand new chapter for us all. I love you first day. You are always bittersweet. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Second grade.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have been more nervous than she.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This year she got a teacher Ainzli did not have.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Huge blessing.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Lillie needs to forge her own way, make her own path.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Occasionally being called Ainzli was hard for her.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Won't happen this year my love.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Fifth grade.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Senior year of elementary.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She was nervous this morning.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I could tell.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Shannon could tell.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We just let her be.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Why the nerves, Sis?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>(She informed me after school she didn't know what to think</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>of her teacher. After the day was over she was feeling good. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>In fact, great. She told me it is going to be a fun year!)</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>And yes, it's no joke, this girl is almost 5'4"!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I didn't notice until I was editing this picture that they are holding hands.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>No matter what, they are sisters.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>They are forever entwined in each others story.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>God willing, holding each others hand along the way.</i></div>
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-15122506660676497202013-07-20T08:44:00.001-05:002013-07-20T08:44:25.803-05:00Ms. Blue be OchoWhen Lillie was born, I would think about the years to come. I would imagine my two little women playing together, giggling, loving and yes, fighting. I imagined a certain age. Both of them at certain years. It was 10 and 7. At the time it seemed so far away. You know, when you are rocking them and wondering if you will ever sleep. Well, you wake up one Saturday morning, and you have surpassed that "so far away" year. By an entire year!<br />
They are 11 and now 8. And it is awesome.:) Trust me when I say, the best is yet to come. They are a hoot. And yes it is definitely not all giggles and bows.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You are 8 years old today.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You have been very concerned this week about</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>when we are going to get your gifts.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Funny. You are funny. </i> </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You are beautiful, My Lillie.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I hope I tell you enough. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How much you mean to me. </i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How much you mean to your daddy.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>How much you mean to your Ainz. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love you so much, that sometimes, it catches my breath. </i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My heart flutters when I think of what is in store for you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I can see nothing but amazing things.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You make us laugh.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>But, not at you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You would not have any of that.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You make us think.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You don't even realize it, most of the time.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Always, looking ahead, you are.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You are a breath of fresh air.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Every.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Single.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Day. </i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This big sister of yours.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She loves you with all of her being.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She told me you deserved anything you wanted for your birthday.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Anything, well, because you are a great kid.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Happy Birthday, Lillie Blue.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I love you more than you'll ever know. Forever and Always. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mommy</div>
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-83328747290673841112013-07-19T11:53:00.002-05:002013-07-19T11:56:03.430-05:00Lesson Learned: Volume 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Learning. It is an on going event. You must work harder at it, I believe, as you get older. Who wants to become that older person that is "set in their ways". Not me, that's for sure.<br />
Learning has been pretty hard core for our little women, lately. <a href="http://autumngrismore.blogspot.com/2013/07/lesson-learned.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">Hence, this post.</span></a><br />
So the learning curve for Ms. Ainzli lately, has been that dang iPod!<br />
<br />
It all starts at Best Buy. I am looking at possibly taking advantage of my upgrade. So I let the girls browse. They told me they were going to look at movies and then the tablets. Great, I say. Don't think a thing about.<br />
Fast forward about a week and a half later.........<br />
Our home phone rings at 11:00. In the pm. I am like, who the heck is calling at this hour! Right? Nothing good is coming from a call at this hour.<br />
It is Riley's mom. You know, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><a href="http://autumngrismore.blogspot.com/2013/07/growing-in-grace.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">the little boyfriend</span></a>.</span> Oh golly! She proceeds to inform me that Riley got some extremely explicit text messages from Ainzli's iPod. What? How? What time? Tell me! My heart is in my throat. I am asking her all sorts of questions. She tells me what they are. She informs me that she KNOWS that they are not from Ainzli. She tells me it seems like she may have been hacked. They talk about unmentionable things. About goats. About body parts. About Best Buy.? Hhmmmm.<br />
I tell her thank you so much. We talked for a couple minutes. I now know that this is a mama that I can talk too. Awesome!<br />
So I grab the iPod and I read the text messages. Oh! My! Gosh!<br />
I wake up Ainzli. I don't let her read them, but I tell her about it. She said, "Oh Mom, I am so embarassed." Good! Great! (Didn't say that, but I was thinking it). Ok, so how did this happen. We talked. We were brain storming. Then it hits me. Best Buy...........<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Me</u><i>: Ainzli, did you log </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>into one of the tablets at Best Buy?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> You know, last week when </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>we went there for my phone stuff</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Ainzli</u><i>: No.....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Me</u><i>: Best Buy was mentioned in the texts. Think.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Ainzli</u><i>: Oh my gosh. Mom, I logged into the iPad mini.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Me</u><i>: Well, Sis, did you log out? I am guessing no.</i></div>
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<br />
We changed all of her passwords that night. I called Best Buy in the morning. And sure enough, her iMessaging was up and all exposed. Nick logged her out. He restarted the iPad mini. Thank you, Nick.<br />
That morning we had a major discussion about public technology.<br />
<u><br /></u>
<u><br /></u>
<u><br /></u>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Me: </u> <i>You never log into anything personal on a public device. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You never even log into your personal stuff on a friends device. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It only takes one time. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Even your closest friends could think a joke is innocent and it goes horribly wrong.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i> You can use your personal accounts on our home computers, your Dad's device, my device and yours. Do you understand? </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You need to take stock in this experience. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>You need to always remember this. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Please always be careful. So much more is said on social media than most people would ever say face to face. Always, Always, Always be aware. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love you, Ainzli Isabel. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Do you understand what I am telling you?</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u><br /></u></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<u>Ainzli:</u> <i>Yes, Mom. I understand.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Holy Crap!!!!!!!!!!!!!!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She apologized to Riley. He was so gracious. It was sweet.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I think it sank in. I surely hope so!:) </div>
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-83991027853748168212013-07-09T11:53:00.001-05:002013-07-09T11:55:36.330-05:00Lesson LearnedWow. This has been a week of lesson learning around these parts. And given this being a Tuesday, it was truly jam packed into 1 day. Bless you Monday, July 8 and all of your infinite wisdom.<br />
<br />
The story starts, at a local supermarket, on July 5. We were rushing around. Seems like we are always doing that. We, the little women and myself, were checking out. I did notice Lillie playing with a slap bracelet, but didn't think twice about it. I just thought it was one of those toys she would put back as soon as we left. Right? Wrong! Ainzli gets the van all loaded up, it was like a monsoon out, so all actions were extra rushy. We are cruising down the road and Ainzli asks Lillie where the bracelet came from? Lillie said that someone left it at the checkout. Huh? So she thought since some other child left their toy at the store that it now becomes hers. Oh golly! Very calmly, I told her that they sold them at the store. That one just happened to be by its self at the checkout.<br />
Tears ensued. As well as hysteria. She freaked out. She yells, "I didn't steal it!! I didn't know!!" She asked why we were yelling at her. At this point, neither myself nor Ainzli had said a word. We kind of let her go. You know, so she could get it all out. Then we could talk.<br />
I told her that I believe her. I do. I told her that I was proud of her reaction. That feeling she has in the pit of her stomach, it is a wonderful gift from God. That she should always listen to it. If she starts to stifle that little voice it will become harder to hear.<br />
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<br />
So the bracelet stays in the van, until yesterday. It must be returned, along with an explanation. That is what honest people do. That is being Christ like and showing Jesus and anyone else that we own up to our mistakes. We talked about the return. There were numerous tears again. There were questions about why I couldn't be the one to tell the manager. About why, it had to be this day. She was scared. I don't blame her. She and I got out of the van. She started to tear up. I told her she would be able to talk better if she didn't let them fall. She was strong. None fell. We approached the Customer Service desk and I asked for a manager. He came. He looked at us. I said hi. Lillie handed me the bracelet and I handed it right back. I told her to go ahead. She told him:<br />
<br />
"We were shopping at the other store. I saw this bracelet by the checkout. I didn't know that you sold them. I thought someone had left it. I took it. I am giving it back. I am really sorry."<br />
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He was dumbfounded. He just stared at her. He finally, after like 30 seconds, said thank you. Then he smiled a big smile. I said thank you back. My Lillie Blue and I walked, hand in hand, out of the store. I was almost in tears, I was so proud of her. I stopped to hug her and she calmly told me, "not here." We did not talk about it afterwards. She is funny that way.<br />
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I love being a mama. I love giving it my all. I did not want my Lillie Blue to be so upset, it broke my heart, but I knew this is what had to be done. I hope this lesson sticks with her. I hope she goes the distance in honesty and integrity. I love you my Boo. I love you so much.<br />
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Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-10925151726896296782013-07-05T13:41:00.003-05:002013-07-05T13:41:55.800-05:00Let Freedom RingI love you Independence Day. I love what you stand for. I love reading about the men who were willing to die of treason for what they believed in.<br />
So we celebrated with sparklers, M5000's, snappers, an old Halloween costume and a bike ride to the Fallen Heroes Bridge for our local fireworks display.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFJpqIN-hn8Q_cuvQlOHXMv28W4t6ajDSRamI1qSlbIB5loFxg9Ew-fpH_Df1okMm8usxni1Qi-m8_yy0fbhk7GOZEHT1UW8HLoGwUnsNT_Q-cPSUwi-gf-6mNliQ-iwtepkPB0wLkKQ/s1600/IMG_3365.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmFJpqIN-hn8Q_cuvQlOHXMv28W4t6ajDSRamI1qSlbIB5loFxg9Ew-fpH_Df1okMm8usxni1Qi-m8_yy0fbhk7GOZEHT1UW8HLoGwUnsNT_Q-cPSUwi-gf-6mNliQ-iwtepkPB0wLkKQ/s640/IMG_3365.jpg" width="426" /></a></div>
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<i>This is Raggedy Ann in it's former life. </i></div>
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<i>It is now the red, white and blue for the Boo. </i></div>
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<i>Thumbs up says the man of the house. </i></div>
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<i>Bike riding is so much fun on closed streets. </i></div>
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Hopefully, one of these years before they are too much older, I will bust out the tripod for some good 4th of July photos. Until then these will do.<br />
<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-30925813899563395872013-07-02T08:06:00.002-05:002013-07-02T08:10:49.965-05:00Growing in Grace<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNN21Ox4sOaGuU9KwMwhB7GzurzTGvmyJHjpSk9VXeiRFIQcTNLnmkNSs3I_5-csT8d1VgQYCjVHovcjYDT4JPsrkfIVzhxYvr_3S3GMszXWv-wUYC5qPb6C7m8hj22YHmJ-KsZr24iVU/s1600/IMG_3275.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNN21Ox4sOaGuU9KwMwhB7GzurzTGvmyJHjpSk9VXeiRFIQcTNLnmkNSs3I_5-csT8d1VgQYCjVHovcjYDT4JPsrkfIVzhxYvr_3S3GMszXWv-wUYC5qPb6C7m8hj22YHmJ-KsZr24iVU/s640/IMG_3275.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Shannon just said last night, "That girl is going to be the death of me." His comment was not in, "She's a brat. She doesn't listen. She's bad." sort of way. It was in a loving way. I hope that makes sense. Ainzli is kind, wants to make everyone feel included, conscience of other people (except for her sister, sometimes) and beautiful. At this stage, she is a scary combination for her parents. In a good way. I/We could not have special ordered a better kid. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I went to church camp last week for 3 days with Lillie. It was awesome (more to come). I get home on Friday night, after everyone else has gone to bed, and I am looking on Instagram. You see, Ainzli, has an account. I am psycho Mom, checking it all the time. Monitoring it. Following her. Following her friends. Just doing the best I can with this little bit of freedom we have allowed our 11 year old to have. I am starting to figure out what all of their lingo is. Oh my goodness, is there some crazy lingo spilling out of tweens! Hash tags, chopped up words, crazy names. I have run across some pictures from other kids, Ainzli and I talk about them. Almost always has to do with modesty. What is acceptable in our home. She gets it. We have had one hiccup with her. Shannon addressed it. We have moved on. So far, so good. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So anyway, back to the Friday night. I look in her profile area and it says, "Taken" with a little purple heart beside the word! I know what this means from being a psycho browser on other kids accounts. I know who he is too. I check his account profile and sure enough, "Taken" with 2 little purple hearts!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How do I handle this?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God, give me the words to handle this.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I want my daughter to know that I will not be the blow up parent.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">May wisdom flow from my mouth, my actions, and my heart.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Saturday morning rolls around. Shannon is at work. Everyone is up. Nothing. I have given her the chance to tell me. Heck, she could have text me while I was at camp. You see, that is not Ainzli. She has some "sneaky" running through those veins. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's afternoon. I am going for it. I ask her if she has something to tell me. She looks at my in puzzlement. So I just straight up ask, "Do you have a boyfriend?" I can feel that little bit of flutter in my voice. The small twinge of hope that maybe they both typed wrong on their accounts. She looks a little awkwardly and says, "Yes." Ok, good. Not "good" as in, she has a boyfriend. "Good" as in, she told me. I had to ask, but she told me. I said "ok." And left it at that. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We had a discussion later about how it all came about. Of course, it was all through text messaging. The boyfriend is Riley. We have gone to church with his family for 5 years. They recently moved into our school district. He seems like a nice kid. You know, all of the two words I have been able to pull out of him since I have known him. Anyway, he is Ainzli's first little crush. She has never been the boy crazy little girl. Never. So this past school year, I asked her if there were any boys she liked. You know, not Braxton or Luke (these two boys are her friends.). She told me, Riley. Ok, cool. He was never interested, apparently, until this summer. So, friend formerly mentioned, Braxton, text Ainzli about still liking Riley. She does. So then, Riley started texting her. Texting ensued. "Taken" status is where they are. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ainzli and Riley text, occasionally. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is cute. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is innocent. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is a first for us all.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aoTDOlKBzGEavAw6u2zv3J8NzNndyUcHSncF1dg23-KMkZ2eO0wVELZcyGPIySo2Vv1H_X5FrKu8bUzvWcuzveHAQ07QbHtakClVOsM4UCLolaw5-4Hy9UNgItXrjRAkmSthXWu5VL0/s1600/IMG_3263.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-aoTDOlKBzGEavAw6u2zv3J8NzNndyUcHSncF1dg23-KMkZ2eO0wVELZcyGPIySo2Vv1H_X5FrKu8bUzvWcuzveHAQ07QbHtakClVOsM4UCLolaw5-4Hy9UNgItXrjRAkmSthXWu5VL0/s640/IMG_3263.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here's the other kicker. I had to tell Shannon. She says it feels weird to talk about it with Daddy. Ok. I get it. I told her that I understood, but that he must know. She said, "I know, Mom, (like I was an idiot. Thank goodness) but you tell him." So he knows now. I just told him last night. Hence the comment, "that girl is going to be the death of me." That is his girl. His love. His heart. And she is growing up. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8tXKNOSM_DpzRBu38uobUjCRQtLBhBu75zrlUxNB9Kx3frBemy_v0QZ8ummusiCYcOQ_1eVZSCJMja8foHJ8PzUCx7c7jYB-vf3vC3u7N9Q2-Okro6rB5JmdyJZW-xyIrwPagCKcPLU/s1600/IMG_3258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc8tXKNOSM_DpzRBu38uobUjCRQtLBhBu75zrlUxNB9Kx3frBemy_v0QZ8ummusiCYcOQ_1eVZSCJMja8foHJ8PzUCx7c7jYB-vf3vC3u7N9Q2-Okro6rB5JmdyJZW-xyIrwPagCKcPLU/s640/IMG_3258.jpg" width="426" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are all sorts of things that are always running through my head. We are the parents of a fifth grader. A child who is getting ready to embark on her last year of elementary. A child that is earning more independence all the time. A child that is slowly, but surely, growing more beautiful on the inside and it is shining on the outside. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Things in life are forever changing. Change is truly the one constant in all of our lives. And really, this whole boyfriend thing is not a big deal. It is her just being a kid. What is does make me realize, is that we cannot do this parenting gig alone. Nor do we have too. We have to give it up. We must pray daily for guidance, for wisdom, for His words to flow from us. Not our own. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Be calm. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Be firm. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Be loving. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Be His and He will show us His way. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Thank you, God, for guiding us as parents. For revealing to us, your will, in our parenting for her everyday. Thank you for giving her a heart for other people. She truly is a blessing from you." </span></div>
<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-85854339793667749002013-06-30T12:45:00.002-05:002013-06-30T12:45:21.876-05:00This Sunday Afternoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am here. By myself. For like 30 minutes. So I thought I would drop a line. Get these photos out of the Blog2013 folder.<br />
Enjoy!<br />
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<i>I am telling you, this child has always been a hoot in goggles.</i></div>
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<i>I don't know what it is about them on her face.</i></div>
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<i>These particular ones always have the one side that flaps out. </i></div>
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<i>And the bathing suit.</i></div>
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<i>It is 3 years old.</i></div>
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<i>So stretched out and faded.</i></div>
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<i>It used to be a beautiful pink.</i></div>
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<i>She liked it this day.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnl1U3yx5HVn5yO3-PyFCnF8ljFbo_TvKtD8BZNJ8azB1D6Ejk2lvcCfr6OgLDb84Ommgk_g5q81bsHy5AF5LWMXIJmqeTQL8jUbvuN0lC-h0tBKdxBuK_iZq0ovjSHv0SmbBxKOaZG8w/s1600/IMG_3241.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnl1U3yx5HVn5yO3-PyFCnF8ljFbo_TvKtD8BZNJ8azB1D6Ejk2lvcCfr6OgLDb84Ommgk_g5q81bsHy5AF5LWMXIJmqeTQL8jUbvuN0lC-h0tBKdxBuK_iZq0ovjSHv0SmbBxKOaZG8w/s640/IMG_3241.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>My Ainzli.</i></div>
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<i>She is letting her hair grow.</i></div>
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<i>It is thick, bushy and unruly.</i></div>
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<i>She wears it well.</i></div>
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<i>She is letting it grow.</i></div>
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<i>It always gets almost blonde in the summer.</i></div>
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<i>I never thought for one second I would be able to use the word blonde to describe</i></div>
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<i>any offspring of mine. </i></div>
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<i>More personal stuff on this girl to come.</i></div>
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<i>We had a BIG announcement this week!</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We found an old friend.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Nabi.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It is a wonderful kids tablet.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It has been on a shelf for quite sometime.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ms. Blue found the charger. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Got it to 100%.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>It is a new found love.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Again.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Candy Land.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>They are 11 and almost 8.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>They laughed and laughed.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love you summer.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love you lazy morning.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love you board games and all the fun you bring to us.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I love you my little women.</i></div>
Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-1430332269327362262013-06-24T07:48:00.001-05:002013-06-24T07:48:25.657-05:00In A Month<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We have been out of school for one month. It has been fantastic. We are enjoying each others company. Simply, just loving life. Enough said. </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We are getting new kitchen countertops.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>What! What!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So excited!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The guy was here to measure.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Installation is not for about a month.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCHekMKQ5R_WN_vsVY2lGOR08Nm_hBU9hQ5vjG4dsGnkrnj5OGkEkOKahgeNM-yE45u3w-gxzedjb72Th1rm9R0lrVFL-QZ0hoZvQXYX32MSqRyPXB43LeGyRs6WVmSG_zs8WUI3Keso/s1600/IMG_2981.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCHekMKQ5R_WN_vsVY2lGOR08Nm_hBU9hQ5vjG4dsGnkrnj5OGkEkOKahgeNM-yE45u3w-gxzedjb72Th1rm9R0lrVFL-QZ0hoZvQXYX32MSqRyPXB43LeGyRs6WVmSG_zs8WUI3Keso/s640/IMG_2981.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Went out to Acton County. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>That would be my parents house. And that is what Shannon refers to their place as.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Mom found a nest on the ground, with two little eggs beside it.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>So beautiful.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Foliage. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I have come to find that green is God's backdrop color.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Look all around you.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Beautiful greens.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is me.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The flower is from my BooBoo Bear. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She still loves to give me flowers.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Ahh, my heart sings. </i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I wear a hat or something on my head.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>All. The. Time.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am letting my hair grow.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I wear something to cover my scar.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>All. The. Time.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am currently reading Sense and Sensibility.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>This is our Stella Macaroni.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She just turned 7.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She is getting gray.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She tires out more quickly than she used too.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>She is possibly the best dog that has ever roamed our little piece of land.</i></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Rusty Man.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Currently he is laying on our table.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>EEEKKKK!</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I know that is gross and all sorts of other adjectives.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am a cat lady and he is my cat.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>For all you cat people out there, you know what I mean.</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-5805138327658156762013-06-18T11:39:00.000-05:002013-06-18T11:39:27.516-05:00A Natural<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6Gwb12Fot2fluNIgoLbV5JxtX22vUioU6p7nKbjEz0kdGaksrSGSFbKgx9BeAmEvrq1buM-6nN15ny0RuoF08EDH-IMQ5Ct_L_Vu1efTlSsa5n9wKihwrpLzoiTc0GJdA9-Y6S7HpVk/s1600/IMG_2913.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6Gwb12Fot2fluNIgoLbV5JxtX22vUioU6p7nKbjEz0kdGaksrSGSFbKgx9BeAmEvrq1buM-6nN15ny0RuoF08EDH-IMQ5Ct_L_Vu1efTlSsa5n9wKihwrpLzoiTc0GJdA9-Y6S7HpVk/s640/IMG_2913.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<br />
<br />
Plays with the little women.<br />
Kisses them good night. Every single night.<br />
Longs to brush their hair.<br />
Has more patience with them than I do. (Most of the time)<br />
Longs to give them more than they will ever need.<br />
<br />
We went into this parenting gig young, unexpectantly, and unprepared. We had no idea how or what kind of parents we wanted to be. Turns out he is a natural. He knew how from the very beginning. There has never been a moment in his 11 years of fathering that I have doubted his abilities.<br />
Thank you, God, for the daddy you have given my little women.<br />
<br />
<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-74611817766670491832013-04-05T15:48:00.001-05:002013-04-05T15:48:16.108-05:00A RarityI bought my family flowers. At the grocery store. I can't remember the last time I did that. Probably because I have done it about, oh............ twice. But I tell you what, it really felt good. The girls wondered what they were for. They looked at me like "what is the special occasion?".<br />
Comical.<br />
Reasoning. I don't feel like I need them, but hey, here are a couple:<br />
<br />
I love you.<br />
I loved our walking and talking Wednesday night.<br />
I love that you loved it, too. You made it a point to tell me so.<br />
I love that our mornings have been wonderful.<br />
I love that our rainboots have been getting muddy.<br />
I love it that you, little women, are still wanting to share a room.<br />
I love it that you, the Mr., are laughing more.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
I love it.<br />
<br />
<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-21067048240685903402013-04-02T15:34:00.002-05:002013-04-02T15:34:45.925-05:00Me and Her. Her and Me. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<br />
We are raising two girls. I call them "the little women". I have called them that since, well, I don't remember when. I enjoyed that little moniker up until about a week ago. The Mr. and I were talking about our Ainzli. She will be 11 the end of May. She is 5'2'. She weighs 95lbs. She has pimples. She gets really greasy hair. She wears a side pony tail all the time, like maybe they will outlaw them! She will only wear jogging pants on gym day. It is so bad, that if there are none clean she will fluff dirty ones in the dryer. She wears a size 8 shoe (actually the sandals I just bought her were 9's, I am telling you, they ran big!)<br />
Anyway, there is a little bit about her.<br />
Back to the Mr. and I. We are talking. We were reminiscing. He was saying he is ready for the next few years. I believe him. He is a great dad. We are talking out of this world. He was put on this earth to raise girls. Fast forward. We are entering uncharted territory (for us, at least). Territory you think is so far away, but let me tell you, it isn't.<br />
So........... to the guts of my confession.<br />
Me and Her.<br />
Her and Me.<br />
We are not on the same plane. She and I. She gets really, really mad at me. Like really mad. And if I am being honest, I get mad at her.<br />
Sometimes I stop and think "oh my gosh, what am I doing wrong. Why did I say that? Why did I keep pushing? Please Lord, don't let her ever, and I mean EVER, think I don't love her. Please don't let her ever stop loving me, because, I can be very unlovable."<br />
She stomps those size 8 feet and I think she is trying to drill a hole in the floor. Or she clenches her teeth and does this "uugghh" sound. I am not a total idiot in her eyes, but not far.<br />
I say things sarcastically. This is a fatal flaw of mine. I mean fatal. I loath it about myself. I am trying to be more aware.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<br />
<br />
But here. Here is where I find my ground.<br />
We are sitting on the couch and her size 8 feet go on my lap. She loves my foot rubs. And I love to give them. She doesn't go to sleep easily if I have not kissed her and tucked her in. She tells me things. She tells me things I would not have thought to talk to my mom about. We talk about friends. We talk about the girl who is consistently mean to her. We talk.<br />
We pray together. She likes to say her own prayers, but I sit right in there with her. <br />
I say I am sorry. When I have crossed the line. I say I am sorry.<br />
I tell her that everything I do I am doing my best to prepare her for life.<br />
I believe most of the time she gets it.<br />
We say I love you. We say love you so much. We say love you to the moon.<br />
I pray that my love will cover a multitude of sins.<br />
Ultimately, I know Gods love will cover us both.<br />
And that is all I have to say about that.<br />
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-6754017320168512252013-03-22T10:15:00.001-05:002013-03-22T10:15:45.276-05:00A Balancing Act<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our little women make us laugh. They are in a stage where they are getting along. This house feels so much better when they are not at each other. They are sharing a room. Probably won't last long, but they are loving it, so why not. </div>
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Just a couple of pictures of the "look at me" girl. </div>
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Yep, She has crazy mad balancing skills. </div>
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It was her thing for the afternoon. </div>
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Balancing on the basketball. </div>
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So easily entertained. </div>
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-26969839425414130472013-03-20T18:54:00.000-05:002013-03-20T18:54:53.914-05:00A Stolen Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I work in a special education room at an elementary.<br />
Mr. Victory, (pictured above) stole my heart the day he arrived in our room.<br />
He steals it again and again.<br />
Daily.Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-83993031895311558602013-03-18T17:13:00.000-05:002013-03-18T17:13:12.128-05:00Plastic Eggs, Please<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
We attend the Easter Egg Hunt at our church. It is fun. There are over 3000 stuffed eggs. Way too many this year! Of course, it was raining. So the hunt was is the gym and surrounding classrooms. Plus, this year the hunt was early. </div>
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Like, way early. </div>
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Fun, none the less. </div>
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<i> Ms. Blue's finds.</i></div>
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<i>She devoured the majority of the candy on Sunday.</i></div>
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<i>She was sneaky about it. </i></div>
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<i>I can't believe she didn't vomit.</i></div>
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<i>I am not exaggerating. </i></div>
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<i>There are maybe 5 pieces left.</i></div>
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<i>Ainzli and Natalie.</i></div>
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<i>They are good friends.</i></div>
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<i>Her parents went to high school with Shannon and me.</i></div>
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<i>Natalie is a hoot.</i></div>
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<i>Somehow the subject of supermodels and their lack of modesty came up in their circle.</i></div>
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<i>Yep, church Easter Egg Hunt, Baby!</i></div>
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<i> I come strolling down the stairs and look across the way and I see this.</i></div>
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<i>No one around her.</i></div>
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<i>She is looking through her bucket.</i></div>
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<i>Not a care in the world.</i></div>
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<i>She does not care in the slightest that there is no one talking to or around her.</i></div>
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<i>Most of the time, she prefers it.</i></div>
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<i>Ms. Blue is an island.</i></div>
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<i>She has always kind of been that way.</i></div>
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<i>Makes me sad some days.</i></div>
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<i>Most days it proves to serve her very well.</i></div>
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It was one fun Saturday afternoon. Then we went home and watched the Hoosiers get their butts handed to them. Bummer! </div>
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8576444797412565807.post-47732118368801440782013-03-13T15:56:00.004-05:002013-03-13T15:56:55.926-05:00She's Shootin'<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Santa brought them bows and arrows this past Christmas. He brought them because they had asked for them. It crossed my mind, "Really, will they even remember them in the Spring?"</div>
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Apparently they have. The weather has not even turned warm consistently and they are target practicing at the fence. </div>
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They like it. Ainzli really likes it. It doesn't surprise me. There is definitely more outdoorsy blood running through that girls veins. </div>
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There are rules. The arrows are blunt ended. There cannot be anyone outside at any of the neighbors (the reasoning for that is there have been arrows go through the slits in the fence. Yep, we are THOSE neighbors!). </div>
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It is fun. There is nothing better than looking out the window and seeing them playing together. Enjoying an activity together. Laughing. Helping each other. Being outside. Not screaming at each other. Not seeing Lillie lunge at Ainzli's jugular. </div>
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Trust me, I have seen it. </div>
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<br />Autumnhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06435878556040949265noreply@blogger.com0