tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59951458526894628532024-03-05T06:53:31.753-07:00Laura's Ramblings In ColorLaura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.comBlogger291125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-25267965050565866972014-09-12T21:26:00.001-06:002014-09-12T21:26:31.384-06:00I'm Not Good EnoughLately I have had friends that have either gone through really rough, earth shattering times, or amazing and unbelievably miraculous times. And with either case, the question that always comes to my mind is, "Could that be me?"<br />
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I don't honestly know how I would react to a severe health issue. <br />
I would hope I would react graciously and tenaciously. <br />
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I don't honestly know how I would react to an amazing blessing. <br />
I would like to think I would be humble and giving. <br />
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The people who I know who have been through these things have been awe inspiring. <br />
And I would like to think I would react like they have. <br />
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But I don't think I would. <br />
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Because my focus would be on me, not my God. Not in the Giver of the Gift-good or bad. (But we all know, God doesn't give bad gifts. Only opportunities to draw close to Him.)<br />
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Sometimes I see people that go through trials, and I wonder what they have done wrong to experience that. Or I blame the brokenness of our human race. And I pray that I am good enough to avoid the bad stuff.<br />
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And then I see these amazing, holy people, being blessed above all measure. And I think that I am too sinful to receive such blessings.<br />
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And so, deliberately, I took all this to my God the other day. And He gave me clarity of thought. The kind that lets me know He is the Author of the answer, because my answer is so completely wrong.<br />
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He reminded me that blessing or trial, the person's goodness or sinfulness is NOT the reason they have experienced the things they have. The only reason that person has experienced it is for His Glory. And for whatever reason, He has chosen that person to bring Glory to Himself.<br />
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I have seen sinful people in despair. And in triumph.<br />
I have seen faithful people in despair. And in triumph.<br />
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I'm not saying He doesn't allow the wicked to be blessed. Or the faithful to be tried. Only that regardless of who they are, they will bring Him Glory.<br />
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I would love to hear your thoughts. Respectfully.<br />
<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-90390425002149707482014-02-27T20:59:00.003-07:002014-02-27T20:59:53.988-07:00Then and Now<div style="text-align: center;">
I've been looking at pictures lately. </div>
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My kiddos' birthdays make me sentimental.</div>
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Here are some Then and Now pics. </div>
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I hope you "d'aaawww" as much as I did.</div>
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<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-66065207998951188872013-10-01T20:27:00.002-06:002013-10-01T20:29:36.661-06:00Random PicturesI am well aware I haven't posted anything in awhile. I must admit, I don't have any creative juices flowing at the moment. I do, however, have a monster cold that is making my life miserable. But because I found some gems on my camera, I'm going to do random pictures. And maybe explain them. Or not. It might be more fun if you caption them.<br />
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I call this one,</div>
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"<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-family: Trebuchet, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?" </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #fdfeff; color: #001320; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Actually, Matthew 7:3 calls it that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #001320; font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px;">This pic just vividly brought to mind that wise verse.</span></span></div>
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Now it's your turn.</div>
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Ready?</div>
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GO!</div>
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1.</div>
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4.</div>
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5.</div>
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<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-83303110470670390962013-08-31T15:18:00.001-06:002013-08-31T15:18:26.626-06:00Ah, The Places Minnie Has BeenSo with a new family member, I might have to dedicate a post or two for her. I know my kids are cute and all, but you may need a break. So, here is a poem, to the tune of Old Mother Hubbard. I don't know why.<br />
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She went to the groomer to get her a, uh, groom.</div>
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She sat on a lap to watch the cars vroom.</div>
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She checked out the dashboard to catch her some rays.</div>
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She felt the wind blowing one hot summer day.</div>
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She jumped on a boat and set out for sea.</div>
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She checked out some ponies, with a little monkey.</div>
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(No, she's not in the picture, you'll have to trust me.)</div>
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She's walking and swimming and napping for sure,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She can't hardly wait for the next adventure.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The girls are excited whenever we go,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Their family member they've so much to show.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
The End.</div>
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<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-12116731603752188212013-08-21T21:29:00.001-06:002013-08-21T21:29:52.644-06:00Change. Again.Today was the first day of school. 2nd grade for my oldest. 1st grade for my youngest.<br />
<br />
The girls are 11 1/2 months apart. We went from zero kids to two kids in a year. Children that are a year apart, in my opinion, are harder than twins. Their development is not the same, and they are not far enough apart that the parents get a break before the next one begins.<br />
<br />
All that being said,<strike> I</strike> we have been very, very busy for the last seven years.<br />
<br />
Ashamedly, I tend to escape when I feel overwhelmed. Usually when they are home, squabbling or tearing the living room up. I escape to my computer. Or my phone. <br />
<br />
Because when they were two, and wanted to play, I liked building blocks with them. Or swinging them on the swingset. Or reading them stories.<br />
<br />
But now, they are older. And I have no interest in playing Barbies, or Ponies, or Fairies. I love my daughters' imaginations, but I have little patience for the intricacies of the societal norms of plastic toys.<br />
<br />
And so, with full knowledge that time is slipping away, I read while they play. Or do laundry. Or make dinner. Because as they become more independent, I need some space. And I think this might be normal, but I feel guilty all the same.<br />
<br />
Last year was their first year of all-day school. I spent a good part of last year staring at walls and roaming an empty house. It wasn't entirely unpleasant. I was tired.<br />
<br />
When summer began, I was happy to have them home. We camped, got a new puppy, beefed up the chore list, reviewed some school, visited relatives and swam in the pool.<br />
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When they said school started August 21, I thought that seemed early.</div>
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And it is.</div>
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I'm not ready for them to go back. </div>
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But they already have.</div>
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We drove them to school this morning. </div>
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Dropped them off with their teachers. </div>
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And headed home. </div>
<br />
<br />
I have a few things I want to do different this year. Staring at walls got boring. So I got started on my projects.<br />
<br />
And 3:30 came faster than I thought it would. <br />
<br />
Because I missed them.<br />
<br />
More than I did last year. More than I thought I would.<br />
<br />
It took my breath away how much I needed to see them again. To hear about their day. To feel them hug me and tell me they were happy to be home.<br />
<br />
They were excited. Over ice cream, their words stumbled over each other's as they told me the details they remembered. And they were content with school.<br />
<br />
And I am grieving. Just a little. But enough to surprise me.<br />
<br />
I am proud. Proud they are confident little spirits who feel safe at school. Safe by themselves. They are able to navigate their ways through lunch and rules and homework.<br />
<br />
The independence that I have longed for, they have achieved. <br />
<br />
The little girl stage is gone. For both of them. But especially my oldest.<br />
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And she will break my heart as she grows up. </div>
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<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Because my youngest is my admirer. </div>
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She will always be a Mommy's Girl. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbHtyP7QWmAMthyphenhyphenXKFBPkVFZ82QAwpN0DiqdvORYOvwOpc7un3KPh3NI0lU4FUFfUWthuhR8wogEGYRiHiuxIivVmO-_HSY4bQNDXxERi-7z5PcSKlVPTXfncpAi8Xfaj8VfCxSXx-l1M/s1600/318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMbHtyP7QWmAMthyphenhyphenXKFBPkVFZ82QAwpN0DiqdvORYOvwOpc7un3KPh3NI0lU4FUFfUWthuhR8wogEGYRiHiuxIivVmO-_HSY4bQNDXxERi-7z5PcSKlVPTXfncpAi8Xfaj8VfCxSXx-l1M/s320/318.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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But my oldest is brave. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And shrewd. And seven. </div>
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She is trying her wings. </div>
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<br />
Especially with Mom. And my efforts at being direct with my children are being mirrored by her. Which can sometimes be jarring. From a seven-year old w<span style="text-align: center;">ith a previously docile temperament.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
And I know I have to let them go. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Again. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I know things change. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And if they didn't, something would be wrong.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I'm not ready for summer to end. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Not yet. </div>
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Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-56480360967823785762013-08-17T23:27:00.003-06:002013-08-17T23:27:52.413-06:00MLBAlmost three years ago, we gave up cable and our land line. Partly to help our budget, partly because we weren't impressed with the shows available for our ever more observant children.<br />
<br />
We got Netflix for a Christmas present, we bought Hulu, and Brian had subscribed to Amazon Prime for the free shipping. (If anyone can tell me which two would be your preference, I'd be obliged. I feel like there's a lot of repetition between them.) I figured out how to watch some of my shows on the channel's websites, and we were set.<br />
<br />
Except for sports.<br />
<br />
My husband is not sports-oriented. In my youth, however, I spent weekends snoozing in a beanbag with my dad while watching various sports on TV. It is a cherished memory. (I now can not watch a ball game, televised or live, without getting drowsy. Unfortunate side effect, I know.)<br />
<br />
I am a firm believer in the benefits of organized sports. And that's a whole other post. But watching or playing, I'm in.<br />
<br />
So during the last few years I have sacrificed. <br />
<br />
Really.<br />
<br />
I have paced at home during the Superbowl. <br />
<br />
I have sat down during a waitressing job to watch the Olympics.<br />
<br />
I have monkeyed with my phone when I realized it had NFL Live on it. And beat my head on my desk when I couldn't figure it out in time.<br />
<br />
I have wondered, out loud, to my husband, if there was something he could do about it.<br />
<br />
So eventually, he bought an antennae. It didn't work. And then we kind of forgot about it.<br />
<br />
And then he splurged and bought a digital antennae. And it did work. And then we kind of forgot about it.<br />
<br />
Until today. <br />
<br />
Today, amazingly, I had nowhere to be, all my chores were done, and I was bored. And then I remembered we had 4ish local channels. And I excitedly asked whether there was a ball game on. <br />
And he said,<br />
<br />
"Let's go see."<br />
<br />
We found Little League, golf, a western, and on the last channel, a baseball game. An honest-to-goodness, live baseball game. It was Boston vs. New York. Not teams I follow. But I settled down on the couch for the duration. And in a few minutes, Brian came in and sat down beside me. And I was content.<br />
<br />
A few minutes after that, my girls stumbled in from the 90 degree heat and sat down. <br />
<br />
And my memories had come full circle. The weekends with a game on TV. My sister and I half watching while we played. Or dozed. A time to quietly bond while learning about the intricacies of opposing teams, game rules, statistics and ethics.<br />
<br />
And then I was more than content. I was overjoyed. And satisfied. That we could continue a tradition. Continue to come together and learn. Learn about sportsmanship and excellence. To watch TV without sex or violence. And watch a show that didn't have singing unicorns or pink mermaids in it.<br />
<br />
And to think.<br />
<br />
Football is just around the corner.Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-36001915272109172922013-08-15T20:26:00.001-06:002013-08-15T20:26:29.805-06:00August Update 2013<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Where does the time go? (Do I sound old now?)</div>
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It's already August 15 and I haven't updated you on our exciting lives.</div>
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Well, here goes.</div>
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The girls having a garage sale.</div>
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I was especially impressed by the way they made a hanger bar out of their toys.</div>
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As I look at the date, I see that this was actually taken in July.</div>
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Forgive me.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNW9wqOF5ZDOlh4OexQ8vu7Tm4gG7ti93HX7pi1GvMTkOzn-Z5mC8B8LaOwYpqeVfH89VgiL8kSR0EBcsfQEQFSoJEPo7iFndvrRwyePQkyoaJnURw_sRVVpfMn3sl7yETFyFA9FBNMZk/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNW9wqOF5ZDOlh4OexQ8vu7Tm4gG7ti93HX7pi1GvMTkOzn-Z5mC8B8LaOwYpqeVfH89VgiL8kSR0EBcsfQEQFSoJEPo7iFndvrRwyePQkyoaJnURw_sRVVpfMn3sl7yETFyFA9FBNMZk/s400/002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Every year about this time we get a few motorcycle riders in town.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My girls and I went home to Iowa to avoid the traffic.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
While we were there, we made a side trip to Kansas City.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We saw my grandma.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtlSOTuRa_wRPigdwDtSqlc0We9PcXzgfO3ABGc2jL0qSkF8yZEDbHIFLeS1aOgTJF-YjzzeTE7549xyQNHG77WEdTGq-PTW3RyFLe-jxm2Ukwpw20YF3pxNIDzYQ7xQ1TDnBqxQouV6O/s1600/008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJtlSOTuRa_wRPigdwDtSqlc0We9PcXzgfO3ABGc2jL0qSkF8yZEDbHIFLeS1aOgTJF-YjzzeTE7549xyQNHG77WEdTGq-PTW3RyFLe-jxm2Ukwpw20YF3pxNIDzYQ7xQ1TDnBqxQouV6O/s400/008.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
We went to the Deanna Rose Children's Farm.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I think it's silly to pay to see a farm, seeing as how I'm from the Midwest.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But another blogger recommended it, and I'm glad we went.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
My girls aren't ready for World's of Fun yet.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This was much more their speed.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Plus they learn valuable skills.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Like milking a cow.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Catching a fish.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(And huge props to my mom for putting worms on the hooks. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Still not my favorite thing to do.)</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Feeding bottles to baby goats.</div>
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<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Papa relaxing on the front porch of a very nice garden shed.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You know it's Papa, because his shirt says,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
"Papa, the man, the myth, the legend."</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
My little sprouts and a cousin.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Later in the week, we headed to Des Moines.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I took the girls to the same science center I went to in the 5th grade.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This swinging pendulum clock was still there after all these years.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But we didn't get to see a rattlesnake being fed a live mouse.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Bummer.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
We did try our hand at weather reporting though. Along with rocket ship making, sound wave experimenting and IMAX butterfly movie watching. Oh. And lunch at The Cheesecake Factory.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Definitely a successful outing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOgh0DqIvZqBL4XklBRAsa4KJ-a-4hk7bj7uc_cq62DcCMqL8zxxT4u3EPSfQpC5E_ObhGjY1Au9oP17XVk3Px7R1QpNxwX9K9v3QZDwI7W45UpZ79RXEAO49RJc7H3NJZHsw8WemQent/s1600/090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOgh0DqIvZqBL4XklBRAsa4KJ-a-4hk7bj7uc_cq62DcCMqL8zxxT4u3EPSfQpC5E_ObhGjY1Au9oP17XVk3Px7R1QpNxwX9K9v3QZDwI7W45UpZ79RXEAO49RJc7H3NJZHsw8WemQent/s400/090.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This is the car I drove in high school.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Dad just fixed her up again.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She looks way better at her age than I do at mine.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was going to show you my senior picture.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
You know, the one where I lay across my cool car.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I can't find it.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So here's another one.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eEy4_o0uVQhcsVCpMB1vfKzfn-UxlGKSjq1oLlCe-0bpC4gS2dA4whwGTaPfvLnK0NSwwFS0EepCGPW0WAdkismBdd_A4NyrdJqcoq3UQyuuyMSdpJ7aWtTmcwHJFl0KXpf81m4-7EDm/s1600/Sr.+Pic+89.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9eEy4_o0uVQhcsVCpMB1vfKzfn-UxlGKSjq1oLlCe-0bpC4gS2dA4whwGTaPfvLnK0NSwwFS0EepCGPW0WAdkismBdd_A4NyrdJqcoq3UQyuuyMSdpJ7aWtTmcwHJFl0KXpf81m4-7EDm/s400/Sr.+Pic+89.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Just pretend that deck is my car.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
K?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thanks.</div>
<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-7033000188941381052013-08-15T13:16:00.001-06:002013-08-15T13:16:37.114-06:00a big (little) family: When the days are hard.<a href="http://www.abiglittlefamily.com/2013/08/when-days-are-hard.html">a big (little) family: When the days are hard.</a><br />
<br />
A good read from a good friend.Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-35152204157521483872013-07-13T21:05:00.000-06:002013-07-13T21:05:40.472-06:00Smile!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I can't get a picture</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSmCnRI6SqxO0x7Hjndn6PkyrW3L7XkKfjafTmoeBIpsYAHTdk6iBB1RLvNl0-2l8dRGwvWsOjnU0FWGnz_BYT4laxnUBSPMh6cNI0PcA9z89XozxN2YlVndKI-jaImnUHZnCtk0kw5pm/s1600/055.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSmCnRI6SqxO0x7Hjndn6PkyrW3L7XkKfjafTmoeBIpsYAHTdk6iBB1RLvNl0-2l8dRGwvWsOjnU0FWGnz_BYT4laxnUBSPMh6cNI0PcA9z89XozxN2YlVndKI-jaImnUHZnCtk0kw5pm/s320/055.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
of this one</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMnMMu61zg_1mG0pu9dkbKX3CpMUERQxyEe9RQ9hAvViFbRYotM9uLQjdxu31BM3wEgXbYOl9OR8eTsmRFA0r9duOoUKo9lkGy2dOGZEu0rf16BnvpZNAiv4T1UmV3lRR9PelS1lj6BKI/s1600/054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkMnMMu61zg_1mG0pu9dkbKX3CpMUERQxyEe9RQ9hAvViFbRYotM9uLQjdxu31BM3wEgXbYOl9OR8eTsmRFA0r9duOoUKo9lkGy2dOGZEu0rf16BnvpZNAiv4T1UmV3lRR9PelS1lj6BKI/s320/054.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
with a genuine smile</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAc3xlrySR2IZeFj_4noQONLD-TAzhsM16wTmYVD9tC0ilKY9lyLtHWExgRm9VH5yGGeGcnYTbivDFPpESfGE5OoRrkImfbd_dT5Tt67-ciCw41nHLO84H_MZXek438jrElYC8cBV240_k/s1600/056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAc3xlrySR2IZeFj_4noQONLD-TAzhsM16wTmYVD9tC0ilKY9lyLtHWExgRm9VH5yGGeGcnYTbivDFPpESfGE5OoRrkImfbd_dT5Tt67-ciCw41nHLO84H_MZXek438jrElYC8cBV240_k/s320/056.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
even when she's hanging with Daddy</div>
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
or compliantly posing for me</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEpiSfwPu3t5ZJg31Uc5pim5OpV9f6Oosje42sZf81yDmoSP9-fWzYneRCi0POcJN8ZXfhZtzev8s4U7CrAhch8TShXTRNfrOCLRNpg5cC6dcTDoERkdpPaF0ewOvGqUbATFb0zX_5B-L/s1600/106.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzEpiSfwPu3t5ZJg31Uc5pim5OpV9f6Oosje42sZf81yDmoSP9-fWzYneRCi0POcJN8ZXfhZtzev8s4U7CrAhch8TShXTRNfrOCLRNpg5cC6dcTDoERkdpPaF0ewOvGqUbATFb0zX_5B-L/s320/106.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
unless she is engaging in shenanigans</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEKGu9XrMYYiByDVCcuvR6TdK2aE1hliK-blvQnBJI8f_CvKlgsZ1ZVX7CSI5p3TtN36nhgq8QAP9EQ8fjRGkJcSPLly9aK3omJwjq8joX2yI1XRfxRXRmYyVRqDpJFvz02jC6n5RZ0Z3/s1600/042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibEKGu9XrMYYiByDVCcuvR6TdK2aE1hliK-blvQnBJI8f_CvKlgsZ1ZVX7CSI5p3TtN36nhgq8QAP9EQ8fjRGkJcSPLly9aK3omJwjq8joX2yI1XRfxRXRmYyVRqDpJFvz02jC6n5RZ0Z3/s320/042.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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for which I will happily be the victim.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
For that smile.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Unlike this one</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAb7V1VGgdHwGJ8n6jl1045gWFIgwDmbrcGBUBVGwbgOV-J60PEpOj5LBg2n-HSLor2bJifSt21WSitQxUT7-bm3twnlslAk47dqkpEPAtNLQmQmQoi9nQy8bxUzPyyL2g7LHz1w94g5r/s1600/069.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuAb7V1VGgdHwGJ8n6jl1045gWFIgwDmbrcGBUBVGwbgOV-J60PEpOj5LBg2n-HSLor2bJifSt21WSitQxUT7-bm3twnlslAk47dqkpEPAtNLQmQmQoi9nQy8bxUzPyyL2g7LHz1w94g5r/s320/069.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
who will give me her best smile</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qKbcLg2M1IyU0jrL_QF7WWPhrILoM94Nv7HP2VNTed_wM9hrOtTCxkIzyDbifLTAYrU3jyMyyXfbvJVomO0gpR3ZFWZuA6vQGQKcOxjppdQAfMZXx_YeFcmAE3_zQ5AFz2Q3b7F8_mqk/s1600/039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qKbcLg2M1IyU0jrL_QF7WWPhrILoM94Nv7HP2VNTed_wM9hrOtTCxkIzyDbifLTAYrU3jyMyyXfbvJVomO0gpR3ZFWZuA6vQGQKcOxjppdQAfMZXx_YeFcmAE3_zQ5AFz2Q3b7F8_mqk/s320/039.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
for any chance</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hhs5iJwmhJnactkw5AGbwjGDLB6r23S1-2k4DX5qLhPwn0zmI7GJc7PYubx_fhzzRnFtlkVivTyNNRS8LXsS-Zy2n1J9b07CPu77AMMnAlxjuKpZNsiKEGUwK0qPAiLA-SSX2cLYkzpy/s1600/085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0hhs5iJwmhJnactkw5AGbwjGDLB6r23S1-2k4DX5qLhPwn0zmI7GJc7PYubx_fhzzRnFtlkVivTyNNRS8LXsS-Zy2n1J9b07CPu77AMMnAlxjuKpZNsiKEGUwK0qPAiLA-SSX2cLYkzpy/s320/085.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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to be immortalized</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPZopeBbtiR3uQzWn-Fdm82YUS5-SkrOgKOK4Do4RtWpSuECu5d5APIqkS4nVjB3jJsMk_W8-JJAFu8I7qysseXbk3VyoOs1Ep3r3ALJHx4A59bMz_k57ExuUQprYvGeR67Ye_YwOt5hE/s1600/101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPZopeBbtiR3uQzWn-Fdm82YUS5-SkrOgKOK4Do4RtWpSuECu5d5APIqkS4nVjB3jJsMk_W8-JJAFu8I7qysseXbk3VyoOs1Ep3r3ALJHx4A59bMz_k57ExuUQprYvGeR67Ye_YwOt5hE/s320/101.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
on film.</div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-4417666829528750852013-06-29T10:36:00.003-06:002013-06-29T10:36:42.784-06:00MidolThe girls have rediscovered their stuffed bunnies that Ginka made.<br />
<br />
They are huge, about half the size of My Littlest Girl.<br />
<br />
This morning, she was looking for a bottle for her bunny. She ran upstairs looking for it, telling her bunny, "Come on, my doll. Let's go find it."<br />
<br />
I couldn't help but notice....Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-25890652070216300722013-06-28T16:58:00.000-06:002013-06-28T18:38:47.158-06:00LeatherAfter many, many years of trying to tan, I realized I just wasn't a tanning kind of gal.<br />
<br />
I could burn, tan, burn, tan, burn, then tan, and at the end of the summer, if I had spent enough time outside, my overall color was a jaundice yellow. <br />
<br />
Not something to flaunt.<br />
<br />
But as I got older, I realized I was okay with using the tanless stuff. It protected my skin and turned me a few hundred shades darker than I ever could have gotten naturally.<br />
<br />
Until last year.<br />
<br />
I think the elevation has finally gotten to me. We live a few thousand feet higher here than anywhere else I've ever lived.<br />
<br />
And my skin gave up.<br />
<br />
Because now I tan. A kind of tan I had always seen on my dad and grandma. And now I know.<br />
<br />
The answer to tanning isn't a lot of melanin. It's complete and utter defeat on behalf of my skin. <br />
<br />
Although I am tan, my freckles are multiplying. And my wrinkles now rival those of a baby elephant.<br />
<br />
My 15 year old self is ecstatic, my 40 something year old self is panicking and wondering if the spackle they sell in the makeup aisle really works. And if they have it in tan.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1mlKZ1OrRGXVAMLmtyhAHJVc_sMIL2E1LcHv_7JLsAXufTuhBU3kKkLA5g-3iKfyOi6aGy1t8G8SY-U9qT-jWhl9eiVjhBL4DhYFUoaVubptBUggrFwxFvDyGkmV7sLQ9sTgprMVQAEuu/s400/particia-krentcil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1mlKZ1OrRGXVAMLmtyhAHJVc_sMIL2E1LcHv_7JLsAXufTuhBU3kKkLA5g-3iKfyOi6aGy1t8G8SY-U9qT-jWhl9eiVjhBL4DhYFUoaVubptBUggrFwxFvDyGkmV7sLQ9sTgprMVQAEuu/s320/particia-krentcil.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-67479760957761461162013-06-26T23:02:00.000-06:002013-06-26T23:03:33.839-06:00A Big Weekend for My Littlest Girl<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Last week My Littlest Girl went to dance camp.</div>
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The first day, she was anxious.</div>
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She said she would miss us.</div>
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It took a couple of tries to help her realize dance camp wasn't an all-nighter.</div>
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Just a couple of hours a day.</div>
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Once she figured that out she was all in.</div>
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At the end of camp, the dancers got to perform in a local art fair.</div>
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<br /></div>
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This was My Littlest Girl before her performance.</div>
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She might have been a little nervous.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-toNpM5JxFH7uRzzufHOpZ1oKlTsJlNr0PITQiW-xV2cF1pi5CTsqm8KBCnAqIAdoC9gzp7jdXYENAUq2JebsO3ZOO4JZRO961yHVBMgyw7wzjamkuOJGZek3xDsDu8DjJ5bEtgjks-FQ/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-toNpM5JxFH7uRzzufHOpZ1oKlTsJlNr0PITQiW-xV2cF1pi5CTsqm8KBCnAqIAdoC9gzp7jdXYENAUq2JebsO3ZOO4JZRO961yHVBMgyw7wzjamkuOJGZek3xDsDu8DjJ5bEtgjks-FQ/s320/001.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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But once the music started, she couldn't be stopped.</div>
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(It was a scarf dance. She was a Sprout.</div>
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Yes. People infinitely more creative than me come up with these things.)</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4PUR_dr0iZb2kQY9KOTVS5wQMO7MvuLmdonMMjNsYaNjN2FhLYbhIayi5o4nx146EoQ6c2K4zc_gZBgNt5Ek71AUUBDgbl69mDkAIoF3xgiCDIKrll61CYlbrTAJH_1hsZa-AURMy3fB6/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4PUR_dr0iZb2kQY9KOTVS5wQMO7MvuLmdonMMjNsYaNjN2FhLYbhIayi5o4nx146EoQ6c2K4zc_gZBgNt5Ek71AUUBDgbl69mDkAIoF3xgiCDIKrll61CYlbrTAJH_1hsZa-AURMy3fB6/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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She loved the experience and couldn't stop talking about ballet the rest of the weekend. </div>
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And then some.</div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
But on Monday, she had more to talk about.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Can anyone figure out what this is?</div>
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(Without looking at the answer at the bottom?)</div>
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<br /></div>
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Nope. It's not a doll hand...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibg_dzVHsFv0t4i8ZqXNfvA9GiPPwEcE44vmBddxn97PZ9GwqT5Lt2tNX-ut7x0DgSRRH3lvloU5Dp-xPppiRATl3eSY0gTYAfyd7u2YpudtQkQFl83_dg02ALbdE2ZRxrFNoRGFUS9KY9/s1600/023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibg_dzVHsFv0t4i8ZqXNfvA9GiPPwEcE44vmBddxn97PZ9GwqT5Lt2tNX-ut7x0DgSRRH3lvloU5Dp-xPppiRATl3eSY0gTYAfyd7u2YpudtQkQFl83_dg02ALbdE2ZRxrFNoRGFUS9KY9/s320/023.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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It's her tooth! </div>
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It seems her teeth come out a pair at a time.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But this was the strangest tooth I had ever seen.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I had never noticed it when it was in her mouth.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I might have to ask the Tooth Fairy to give it back. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This week we are back to our normal schedule.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
No driving to the next town for dance lessons, </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
or lunches out, </div>
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or really, really good naps.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But I'm okay with that.</div>
<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-13380839597054725892013-06-20T21:58:00.000-06:002013-06-20T21:58:15.615-06:00Teeth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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She lost one.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_3EAVhTvfiPkfQuA5BqQts9yxH_ZfHZGIcWgzfvC5LTi3UU_8ND1Niqkf9SdPtnZDm6RQgVJGSlAq2BxhJPL_ghX0PNzV3QU9zuHutTAC0c40SfpY3dep-Si46Gs-wbWZY207CEMY9Pl/s1600/012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_3EAVhTvfiPkfQuA5BqQts9yxH_ZfHZGIcWgzfvC5LTi3UU_8ND1Niqkf9SdPtnZDm6RQgVJGSlAq2BxhJPL_ghX0PNzV3QU9zuHutTAC0c40SfpY3dep-Si46Gs-wbWZY207CEMY9Pl/s320/012.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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We can see hers now.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(Braces came off!)</div>
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<br /></div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-44393586440701193552013-06-20T21:55:00.001-06:002013-06-20T21:55:49.350-06:00Life with Minnie<div style="text-align: center;">
Now that she's home, here's what she's doing:</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Licking the water from the dishwasher.</div>
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She almost climbed inside at one point.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMSBW1eFVU099A-hqJO43OYJxXfFzR_qrtujKZNcf0gBMHoNovRCEP13TA6-00dqHQ4E3D3gzmbMYuD2HfngGdlGmT-gbmriFsGIjTYmkLlr3ekNMA612ewljMgsthGXMjRqKTpfPA028/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggMSBW1eFVU099A-hqJO43OYJxXfFzR_qrtujKZNcf0gBMHoNovRCEP13TA6-00dqHQ4E3D3gzmbMYuD2HfngGdlGmT-gbmriFsGIjTYmkLlr3ekNMA612ewljMgsthGXMjRqKTpfPA028/s320/001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
I was comparing her to the size of my foot.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I have GINORMOUS feet, but she's still pretty small.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
4 pounds, to be exact.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(I wonder if that means my feet are 4 pounds, too...)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXtE1g-hM_pce8vZrvC78sZ6ymaJlS1NVBWq9th25iCWF05ib93uEjAEidcBKaQkYmHYYSC0b8ix3ZljyLGd4ugaJxcGXhYqm3Lk_Z6P875qqdWpd9QbdzkpVCK0zpWLtD48Hu1v7DETQ/s1600/005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXXtE1g-hM_pce8vZrvC78sZ6ymaJlS1NVBWq9th25iCWF05ib93uEjAEidcBKaQkYmHYYSC0b8ix3ZljyLGd4ugaJxcGXhYqm3Lk_Z6P875qqdWpd9QbdzkpVCK0zpWLtD48Hu1v7DETQ/s320/005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Belly scratchin time.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniu0Jbau-dWSA4Ou5IZG3En1ATFQoZ-HvRt4OkieP2UeGHI7BkrUEjMgGWZE-tdvwWVpP1O3_81Xs31d2mE8891490GU36rkHF5fEibEqNefGHG87tM5wgvU7tjUkWi7AhRAaWogyM_L9/s1600/010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniu0Jbau-dWSA4Ou5IZG3En1ATFQoZ-HvRt4OkieP2UeGHI7BkrUEjMgGWZE-tdvwWVpP1O3_81Xs31d2mE8891490GU36rkHF5fEibEqNefGHG87tM5wgvU7tjUkWi7AhRAaWogyM_L9/s320/010.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
After bath.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(On a side note, does anyone have advice for teaching a dog not to eat her own feces?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thanks in advance.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGpNak5SyenkzpPIbx4cFwVrqYgygXjenfK1VjWF4E-u1rsYP2eNRLnGJ2K-RMDFXkDAs-qM-lBocrYkowiWUo-5OdHaM9_Z6UrLJH09mdOGYzr-Hr168s1q5jYF9Dt_KKdAZcwGujriC/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNGpNak5SyenkzpPIbx4cFwVrqYgygXjenfK1VjWF4E-u1rsYP2eNRLnGJ2K-RMDFXkDAs-qM-lBocrYkowiWUo-5OdHaM9_Z6UrLJH09mdOGYzr-Hr168s1q5jYF9Dt_KKdAZcwGujriC/s320/015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Ahem.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Making new friends.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Prince Eric lost a few fingers in the encounter.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Minnie thought they were making out.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ax3mBJOwJXq-mBJEoFehEn1BGbtJxf5fSo_PDHl6HpT6RU2QoHppFyGQSfkgaM2GTOTm_D13Dk8BRy-aUGZCbkho9weVXsM53aP6RmhwMnvwxgqNhNQ9FgI6bwt3TR2-qcjdStRgoU7V/s1600/018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ax3mBJOwJXq-mBJEoFehEn1BGbtJxf5fSo_PDHl6HpT6RU2QoHppFyGQSfkgaM2GTOTm_D13Dk8BRy-aUGZCbkho9weVXsM53aP6RmhwMnvwxgqNhNQ9FgI6bwt3TR2-qcjdStRgoU7V/s320/018.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
On the plus side, the girls have never been so vigilant about putting their toys away.</div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-69741705276630298532013-06-17T21:29:00.000-06:002013-06-17T21:29:48.617-06:00Day 5: Wanderlust<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
It was time to go home.</div>
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But not before we saw the sights.</div>
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My husband spent his summers in a town of the same name.</div>
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In a different state.</div>
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It tickled him to get his picture on the street where his grandparents lived.</div>
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In a different state.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLXfqYdn-wV37Aeh1VP1RsrbOpXY4qwuC18P_qdt5OuA_GsbuyY-VRPkIP_hT17l4X5_FmNWf8VhX1susvfwxxpN8lb8oHeqlupmcsZyAi4KGZhAKOcts_8tS6LD4TUBwYoKDj4uOL5Fu/s1600/172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzLXfqYdn-wV37Aeh1VP1RsrbOpXY4qwuC18P_qdt5OuA_GsbuyY-VRPkIP_hT17l4X5_FmNWf8VhX1susvfwxxpN8lb8oHeqlupmcsZyAi4KGZhAKOcts_8tS6LD4TUBwYoKDj4uOL5Fu/s320/172.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
De Smet, SD</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The girls sat in a replica of a school house that Laura Ingalls Wilder taught in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_Ag0KgmchWNxVfszT_ktZCAFKUEuaM9qiOjOmsnTijr55GjNUiRmQiq_VLrpRkykcv4yExqH-0ObHzuoa05U94W0_ArcPVl9oGS3en_c_ZDytwxJaRVHs-Y2PQsctIGc8Q4PQns4K8ZD/s1600/183.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1_Ag0KgmchWNxVfszT_ktZCAFKUEuaM9qiOjOmsnTijr55GjNUiRmQiq_VLrpRkykcv4yExqH-0ObHzuoa05U94W0_ArcPVl9oGS3en_c_ZDytwxJaRVHs-Y2PQsctIGc8Q4PQns4K8ZD/s320/183.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The most beautiful campground in South Dakota.</div>
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That is the Missouri River.</div>
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Every camping spot had a view of it. </div>
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It was magnificent.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Requisite campfire and the campground.</div>
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Minus the s'mores.</div>
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Popsicles were the order of the evening.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Updated family portrait.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The campground conveniently had a boat dock.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The woman who took our pictures asked where we were from.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
She was disappointed when we told her we only lived 3 hours away.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbZs-uqZU4XlduiH1jhztKGVK-OQXoKzapZlGxUVF1LS1rXFaqChfxItVX66t6pWrLxidtAVaYymmLOI-3sCH8Ie80t8x_ACr5kUUyAs_AmSwKPClbzfHeX47PE8KkXV2gMlZf3DE3RmN/s1600/312.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzbZs-uqZU4XlduiH1jhztKGVK-OQXoKzapZlGxUVF1LS1rXFaqChfxItVX66t6pWrLxidtAVaYymmLOI-3sCH8Ie80t8x_ACr5kUUyAs_AmSwKPClbzfHeX47PE8KkXV2gMlZf3DE3RmN/s320/312.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
A girl and her dog.</div>
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Passed out in the backseat on the drive home.</div>
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Minnie didn't even mind she was being used as a pillow.</div>
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I silently worried the Indian Princess would squish her.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje82nNFyi__6ZaBAYB9c_Nvr1Yp0nRludLGsps5dNi2w_AFAf7C4Gla_XKNp1T9aQtoY7BOyXN0P-A5spYIW-4HTuK12l6BbmuhKqGBAINQ7YZWHe3DhxJgRRp8hKRoy0T26tsZE7gBC5p/s1600/323.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje82nNFyi__6ZaBAYB9c_Nvr1Yp0nRludLGsps5dNi2w_AFAf7C4Gla_XKNp1T9aQtoY7BOyXN0P-A5spYIW-4HTuK12l6BbmuhKqGBAINQ7YZWHe3DhxJgRRp8hKRoy0T26tsZE7gBC5p/s320/323.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
In a few short hours, we were home.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We had quite the adventure, exploring the plains, picking up puppy, and meeting old friends.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
We can't wait to get on the road again.</div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-71442669475375103402013-06-15T20:52:00.001-06:002013-06-15T20:52:20.704-06:00Day 4: Good-byes and New Beginnings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
On the last day-</div>
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We said our good-byes.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZumG4Ma25dulIt-lRtmvF25ft8gbsIKVH4jI6jL7ABylYP7JMq4y8Fy7N5z7TtNNYuC2UOzRRU96cwqr43GWGJPoMxf30h6k1MWIG7wgVKJqsqRsOK_F7TqwIQ2K-595zfets2SITNPYM/s1600/144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZumG4Ma25dulIt-lRtmvF25ft8gbsIKVH4jI6jL7ABylYP7JMq4y8Fy7N5z7TtNNYuC2UOzRRU96cwqr43GWGJPoMxf30h6k1MWIG7wgVKJqsqRsOK_F7TqwIQ2K-595zfets2SITNPYM/s320/144.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Minnie got a bath to wash the kennel smell off of her.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Minnie got a second bath after she pooped in her kennel and proceeded to carpet and wallpaper it with her own feces. (At this point, I was rethinking our decision to get a puppy.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38eRBKtCwhPHeuWcKDPORm-YuxsvJfCfPo7UtDQIKLd-WThfQJ7QUZzRgQW2-_goAzIkGukxnPYOQFzppwzKKo-BXuR9Q2yPBjB0vI8qCaT5-4CnH7hZhzru3HwvQ0DgireOuO19JP-27/s1600/163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38eRBKtCwhPHeuWcKDPORm-YuxsvJfCfPo7UtDQIKLd-WThfQJ7QUZzRgQW2-_goAzIkGukxnPYOQFzppwzKKo-BXuR9Q2yPBjB0vI8qCaT5-4CnH7hZhzru3HwvQ0DgireOuO19JP-27/s320/163.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Minnie's first car ride. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKr92J_IUKYcIxnY3BbMGaAtxP0hmkXw2kyw_BjLBoq43EZxurxmxNys1xfjuyrAeP2NYIB-0JMKmCyL-1OjlerPPnsopHxoO0jBiGqKvA0lp9Z68vOV3IFOEDp7A6w_luMVDvGBXjV2i/s1600/167.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKr92J_IUKYcIxnY3BbMGaAtxP0hmkXw2kyw_BjLBoq43EZxurxmxNys1xfjuyrAeP2NYIB-0JMKmCyL-1OjlerPPnsopHxoO0jBiGqKvA0lp9Z68vOV3IFOEDp7A6w_luMVDvGBXjV2i/s320/167.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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And we were on our way home.</div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-40198527700170127812013-06-14T23:29:00.001-06:002013-06-14T23:31:34.482-06:00I Heart Boots<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="http://g.nordstromimage.com/imagegallery/store/product/Large/7/_7844947.jpg" /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I'm a boots girl.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
And these boots caught my eye.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Thanks,<span style="color: blue;"> <a href="http://thebigmamablog.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">Big Mama</span></a></span>, for the link.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
But they're not $15.</div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-8598284420647532052013-06-13T13:06:00.001-06:002013-06-13T13:06:29.273-06:00Recipe of the WeekOh my.<br />
I just found my new favorite thing. It's super complicated, so save it for special occasions or company or something. But I'll post it for you because I like you.<br />
<br />
1. Ritz crackers<br />
2. Planters NUT-rition Banana Granola Nut peanut butter<br />
3. A banana<br />
<br />
Slather peanut butter on a Ritz. Add a slice of banana.<br />
<br />
Wowsers.<br />
<br />
You'll thank me.Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-42030752090443300402013-06-12T14:25:00.000-06:002013-06-12T14:25:18.829-06:00Day 3: The DiversionAs well as all the kids got along, they still needed something to do. So we took them to a regional zoo in the area. It was a perfect day. The weather was not too hot, the kids loved the animals, and no one got lost or sick. Although the Indian Princess hurt her knee on the playground. Here are some pictures. And you can check out my friends' pictures on her website <a href="http://www.abiglittlefamily.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;">here</span></a>.<br />
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They were terrified of the bears.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhiOeuUtG8PC7d9okdEMy01zT3mepcQJMon3AujACOG3_3km5I881pbuNRjjFUCGwSbHdvf1JSLvV_2MrFrxGDbVhf2F6lBfFShr5WOBRdmBSjjgjXmMCzoIDQcDxF21MBtRbeI_8O1K1/s1600/086.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAhiOeuUtG8PC7d9okdEMy01zT3mepcQJMon3AujACOG3_3km5I881pbuNRjjFUCGwSbHdvf1JSLvV_2MrFrxGDbVhf2F6lBfFShr5WOBRdmBSjjgjXmMCzoIDQcDxF21MBtRbeI_8O1K1/s320/086.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
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Dad, thoroughly enthralled with the snake show.</div>
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Or not.</div>
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These signs were the highlight of the zoo, according to the kids.</div>
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8 kids + 5 signs =multiple variations of friends.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eo5rSzs5ZDl4vzjjpDaP8J53X-NBHi_Kvg9dElcAqsKJ2mUIPrQTIqgYLOv7anJ2yIj48IG8vvLVp12nE7Zv5CYe3eFKDrWsL957nfWoFEwqxKlnm4qrnSnL-hLkYupr2zUd3DxISu9s/s1600/089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6eo5rSzs5ZDl4vzjjpDaP8J53X-NBHi_Kvg9dElcAqsKJ2mUIPrQTIqgYLOv7anJ2yIj48IG8vvLVp12nE7Zv5CYe3eFKDrWsL957nfWoFEwqxKlnm4qrnSnL-hLkYupr2zUd3DxISu9s/s320/089.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I think it was mating season for the peacocks.</div>
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I've never seen such pomp.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiS2LXyCmQl5Tdezwav5-HyBy-TevkngRqrICn4x8VTdXKI6OVA6_cvgMhwk3XDuo8mIIIvrfnQg3DNrvW-fLjfWNR_gx-KSDPqL57_oWmcBsL9CRDXmW3BIOsCTJuqJAAYPSztxmtBbZ/s1600/114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikiS2LXyCmQl5Tdezwav5-HyBy-TevkngRqrICn4x8VTdXKI6OVA6_cvgMhwk3XDuo8mIIIvrfnQg3DNrvW-fLjfWNR_gx-KSDPqL57_oWmcBsL9CRDXmW3BIOsCTJuqJAAYPSztxmtBbZ/s320/114.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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All of our chickadees.</div>
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Safe in the biggest nest I've ever seen.</div>
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The zoo had kangaroos, which I had never seen close up. They also had a few wolves, which were scarily interested in a couple of the littler kids. They paced and smelled and followed them, their ears pricked up and their eyes totally focused. I was never so thankful for high wire fencing. They even had a little aquarium, which is My Littlest Girl's favorite part in every zoo.<br />
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Good day, good friends.Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-6225322310702954032013-06-10T19:08:00.005-06:002013-06-10T19:09:29.367-06:00Day 2: Horsing Around the Sheep Farm<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Although we were there mainly to pick up a new puppy, we had the added benefit of spending quality time with our friends. We figured the 8 kids would find something to do together, and we were right.</div>
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Puppies weren't the only things to be found, on the farm.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOv1VbjLsuedtuPVW7ySwdqCXcYIv4xPywMrtyGvAGC7GY75kBcH57islpu2TxK6y8aScwmdLJ6tq8cF9jhU2Od13-bRze6fyHkFCjb5CwNVckuxBmbqUQOQlCVxrDxI0khd-A1rIJWhyphenhyphen/s1600/036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipOv1VbjLsuedtuPVW7ySwdqCXcYIv4xPywMrtyGvAGC7GY75kBcH57islpu2TxK6y8aScwmdLJ6tq8cF9jhU2Od13-bRze6fyHkFCjb5CwNVckuxBmbqUQOQlCVxrDxI0khd-A1rIJWhyphenhyphen/s320/036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Barbies riding My Little Ponies, on the farm.</div>
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Rock climbing with a friend, on the farm.</div>
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<br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-19644954345952606792013-06-08T16:19:00.002-06:002013-06-08T16:19:04.979-06:00Day 1: Introductions<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
The pass-off.</div>
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The utterly in love Indian Princess.</div>
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<br /><br />Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-54125311302158250492013-05-30T21:45:00.000-06:002013-05-30T21:45:54.573-06:00May 2013 Update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I know, I know. It's almost the end of May. Where's the spontaneity of a<a href="http://laurasramblingsincolor.blogspot.com/2013/04/our-month-in-review.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;"> mid-month update</span></a>? Where's the disorganized rambling that we've come to know and expect from the Laura-chick? Well. Don't worry. The pictures will explain why...</div>
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School project of my Indian Princess. </div>
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An astronaut helmet. </div>
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She needed to wear it to do homework.</div>
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Whatever. </div>
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She likes science. </div>
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I'm happy.</div>
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Inter-school track meet with other Christian school around the area.</div>
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I'm so glad they make the effort to do stuff like this.</div>
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Yes. She competed wearing a Dora necklace.</div>
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You'll understand if you have girls.</div>
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Notice a similar head-tilt in all of My Littlest Girl's pictures?</div>
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She has a look she's perfecting.</div>
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This was at her kindergarten graduation program. </div>
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Which we were almost late for. </div>
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Because we were at her dance dress rehearsal.</div>
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That we cut out early for. </div>
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(Forgive my poor grammar. It's a blog, dang it. Not a college entry exam.)</div>
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My Indian Princess is hidden in this picture, too.</div>
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Can you find her?</div>
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Clearly she's nervous about her dance recital.</div>
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This one skateboards, skis, rides bikes, climbs trees, ziplines, rock climbs, pogo sticks(?), etc.</div>
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How did she hurt it?</div>
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In our living room.</div>
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School project.</div>
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It's an umbrella.</div>
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I tried to wait until she left the room before I giggled.</div>
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Is that mean?</div>
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The last day of school.</div>
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Do they look different from their<a href="http://laurasramblingsincolor.blogspot.com/2012/08/milestones.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;"> first day</span></a>?</div>
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My heart.</div>
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Coming soon. June 2013 update.</div>
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Spoiler: We get a dog!!</div>
Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-80428246008173424482013-05-25T20:04:00.001-06:002013-05-25T20:10:56.262-06:00CherriesI pitted and dried/froze 24 pounds of cherries today. In the process, three things were made clear to me:<br />
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1) Cherries deteriorate quickly once the pit has been removed from the fruit. I'm sure there's a deep metaphorical story I could extrapolate, but I'm too covered in cherry juice to find it.<br />
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2) In ranking all the tools for cherry pitting, the pitting tool is #1, my fingernails are #2, and a paperclip is #3. Only because I am not coordinated enough to use a paperclip. And as long as my fingernails don't bend backwards digging in. Which happened. <br />
A few times. <br />
No, that's not blood.<br />
That's cherry juice. <br />
Really.<br />
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3) There was a huge amount of twin cherries in my haul. I was really surprised at all the fully grown twins and the cherries with one large fruit and one withered fruit attached to it. Again. I'm sure there's deep meaning in that somewhere. See above. <br />
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But this cherry has them all beat:<br />
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It's a triplet. Like the three pound chicken breasts at Sam's Club, I'm sure this phenomenon is completely normal and natural. No genetic mutations at all.<br />
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The good news is, I only have 16 pounds more to go.Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-46365518328981881792013-05-16T16:30:00.003-06:002013-05-16T16:30:55.623-06:00May UpdateI might be posting more. In a little while. But this is the week we all brace ourselves for. The one where we are supposed to be at three places at the same time.<br />
So I will take pictures and show them to you later. <br />
In the meantime, we'll be at a kindergarten graduation, a high school graduation, a dress rehearsal, a dance recital, a BBQ, and a school anniversary party. All in the next two days.<br />
Have a great weekend!Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5995145852689462853.post-54151339129008895092013-05-04T14:51:00.001-06:002013-05-04T14:51:11.177-06:00WorkIt's not the work I do<br />
That gives me value.<br />
It's that I do the work.Laura's Ramblings in Colorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17930512755503359149noreply@blogger.com0