tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49441430940594917962024-03-12T21:15:55.868-07:00The Journey of EleniA blog about the adventures and misadventures that come with parenting, farming, writing, and being a later life college student in the midst of it all.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-69522639334789489952012-03-05T08:16:00.003-08:002012-03-05T08:16:47.578-08:00A Snapshot of the Past Few MonthsI plan on blog posts that are more indepth about these happenings, but for now the past few months in brief:<br />
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August- A family trip to the zoo where my husband is noticeably walking oddly.<br />
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September- A Dr visit with notes of other strange symptoms, a video of the odd walking leading to a Dr. trying to suppress his panic. A few MRI's.<br />
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October- Appointment with a Neurologist. I decide I should go to work and start studying for my insurance license.<br />
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November- pass my license exam, go away for a week for corporate training, husband has a spinal tap. Husband is then diagnosed with <strong><a href="http://www.nationalmssociety.org/about-multiple-sclerosis/index.aspx">Multiple Sclerosis</a>. </strong><br />
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December- everyone is adjusting to this diagnosis and to me working<br />
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And then more of the same...Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-9574526803934638442012-03-05T06:09:00.000-08:002012-03-05T06:09:09.412-08:00It's been awhile...But I will get this site up and running again.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-61881808107885912492011-08-29T12:21:00.001-07:002011-08-29T12:21:51.124-07:00You Learn By Living"The encouraging thing is that every time you meet a situation, though you may think at the time it is an impossibility and you go through the tortures of the damned, once you have met it and lived through it you find that forever after you are freer than you ever were before. If you can live through that you can live through anything. You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, `I lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' The danger lies in refusing to face the fear, in not daring to come to grips with it. If you fail anywhere along the line, it will take away your confidence. You must make yourself succeed every time. You must do the thing you think you cannot do."<br />
— Eleanor Roosevelt<br />
You Learn By Living (1960)<br />
Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-6926401738086063352011-08-26T03:38:00.000-07:002011-08-26T03:38:11.396-07:00Disappointment on early work and pushing throughNobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste. But there is this gap. For the first couple years you make stuff, it’s just not that good. It’s trying to be good, it has potential, but it’s not. But your taste, the thing that got you into the game, is still killer. And your taste is why your work disappoints you. A lot of people never get past this phase, they quit. Most people I know who do interesting, creative work went through years of this. We know our work doesn’t have this special thing that we want it to have.<br />
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We all go through this. And if you are just starting out or you are still in this phase, you gotta know its normal and the most important thing you can do is do a lot of work. Put yourself on a deadline so that every week you will finish one story. It is only by going through a volume of work that you will close that gap, and your work will be as good as your ambitions. And I took longer to figure out how to do this than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s gonna take awhile. It’s normal to take awhile. You’ve just gotta fight your way through.<br />
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-Ira Glass<br />
Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-40101263174918000642011-08-25T17:41:00.000-07:002011-08-25T17:41:40.530-07:00Tigers<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beauty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My daughter loves tigers. Specifically she loves white tigers, but since our zoo doesn't have any she manages to content herself with the regular orange variety. I had promised her a few weeks ago that we would go to the zoo again before school starts and make it to the keeper talk. During the keeper talk, the tiger keeper talks about tigers and feeds them meatballs through a heavy duty chain link fence. We made it in time, but the speaker was broken, so we just watched the tigers take meatballs...and I took pictures.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/s720x720/321243_10150293606962500_685082499_7656293_1695611_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/s720x720/321243_10150293606962500_685082499_7656293_1695611_n.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at how powerful his muscles are!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/s720x720/293550_10150293597072500_685082499_7656137_3384937_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a2.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/s720x720/293550_10150293597072500_685082499_7656137_3384937_n.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A discussion over who goes first.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/s720x720/300865_10150293595217500_685082499_7656110_1949256_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/s720x720/300865_10150293595217500_685082499_7656110_1949256_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She waits patiently for him to finish</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-2969974708720047402011-08-23T18:26:00.000-07:002011-08-23T18:36:15.761-07:00ClothingOver the course of this past year (being that it was all four seasons) I spent approximately $100 on clothing for my three children. Also, until a few weeks ago, did not purchase clothing or shoes for myself.<br />
People have asked me how I managed this and I have been promising a blog post for awhile, so here it is...<br />
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I made liberal use of a certain Goodwill. There is one that I have found that tends to have barely worn, well made clothing and nothing is over $1.99. Often things are half off.<br />
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In the effort of living more of a less complicated (read less cluttered) life I limit the amount of clothing and buy things that have flexibility. My kids layer a lot, so I mostly buy short sleeve shirts and then they have several hoodies, cardigans or fleece jackets to wear over. This helps because my kids get too hot when only in a long sleeve shirt, and too cold without one. The boys have two pairs of casual pants, one pair of dress pants and a pair of gym pants...alternate to shorts in the warm months. Since I have two boys, clothes that made it through being worn by my oldest and are not mangled/stained/torn/stretched out, get passed down to his brother- who so far does not mind.<br />
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My daughter enjoys clothes, and I make sure she has plenty of flexibility with pairing pieces together.<br />
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Another thing that I feel strongly about is clothing with visible brand names or characters on them. We try not buy them because they are essentially free advertising, and I have a hard time putting them on my children with a clear conscience. Especially since many of these companies utilize unfair business practices, disturbing advertising, treat employees unfairly, and have been found to be using child labor and sweatshops to make clothing. Which is another benefit to shopping at thrift stores...we are not contributing monetarily to these companies. <br />
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I am not perfect in avoiding all new clothing, or seeking out clothing (usually rather expensive) that is ethically made...today we did buy some shirts at Target while shopping for back to school, because they were on clearance for $2.00. <br />
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Going a year (give or take) without new clothes, was not too hard. I tend to buy clothes in neutrals (which for me is black or grey) and then I have colorful scarves, tights, shirts and shoes already. I found I can make a few outfits by switching things up and then it isn't dull. I had one pair of jeans for the year, which I loved, but have sadly been retired due to becoming a bit worn in spots. I replaced them with a new pair. <br />
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Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-80404133793369087092011-08-23T03:26:00.000-07:002011-08-23T03:26:22.549-07:00Last day of summer breakIt went by too fast. <br />
Last night we went to meet their new teachers. My oldest learned how to struggle with a locker. Old friends were seen, and last years teachers said hello to. There was candy. <br />
<br />
As with everything having to do with parenting, having them go back to school is bittersweet. Summer was a blur of activity and I got nothing done that I wanted to, but the kids had a good time and I enjoyed having the time with them. It is exciting to watch them go off into a new grade and have new challenges to take on, new friends to meet. Both boys will be playing violin in the strings orchestra, and I think I have them convinced to join the choir (they both are in that age where boys have beautiful singing voices). <br />
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At the same time, it is watching them take on a deeper level of independence and a further realization of how short the time I have been given to parent them. A privilege of time, really. <br />
So, tomorrow they go off on their new journey, and I begin the process of decluttering, repainting, cleaning carpets, and getting my house back into ship shape order. <br />
Then next month I start back to school with a math class, philosophy of logic, and a psychology course...which will be my own adventure. Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-30541852623129698132011-07-28T18:24:00.000-07:002011-07-28T18:24:42.907-07:00I miss her...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZuUL67yeAjA42vgbRbvOLr-mOQjOqUCRb0hYkKIK69UcQFREzaDr2kbP7xeZiOf2xjk1quUX0YZi8CBdnGOvJHB4wQ9dIoCo8MARJaAL2NsSf7uWG7ZQ5azjKY0vWsKcmCybNHMoVv6m/s1600/DSC_2600.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEZuUL67yeAjA42vgbRbvOLr-mOQjOqUCRb0hYkKIK69UcQFREzaDr2kbP7xeZiOf2xjk1quUX0YZi8CBdnGOvJHB4wQ9dIoCo8MARJaAL2NsSf7uWG7ZQ5azjKY0vWsKcmCybNHMoVv6m/s320/DSC_2600.JPG" width="214" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWqFPI1u8fUqQTawNYn6ps__muSM039AlhWr9dqIBFDm_6EFXuOWEpi1fuCERIRsyEfCaYJL1x0y3nJb_sih055JlU40GNB5cEaqGYNZ3uSkg6Zyh66x-cQgq1cDgKmwcsdqDGHoLhcGa/s1600/DSC_2617.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBWqFPI1u8fUqQTawNYn6ps__muSM039AlhWr9dqIBFDm_6EFXuOWEpi1fuCERIRsyEfCaYJL1x0y3nJb_sih055JlU40GNB5cEaqGYNZ3uSkg6Zyh66x-cQgq1cDgKmwcsdqDGHoLhcGa/s320/DSC_2617.JPG" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom and me May 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-83487994493942140572011-07-26T07:01:00.000-07:002011-07-27T04:18:33.890-07:00Photos from our zoo trip<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLVxqCsSe6hxXXUWZBNF2JSlrcyk-OLCJtNU-ne37uE9-wrBt4I-P8lto2pCBGxRyZoh9QKhvMegBYwLra84mNg-Wii-c_vKHB0QHamnjWvHfuIe-sPp6PGX09zK8MN_yZCh95R3KABDR/s1600/DSC_1599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVLVxqCsSe6hxXXUWZBNF2JSlrcyk-OLCJtNU-ne37uE9-wrBt4I-P8lto2pCBGxRyZoh9QKhvMegBYwLra84mNg-Wii-c_vKHB0QHamnjWvHfuIe-sPp6PGX09zK8MN_yZCh95R3KABDR/s320/DSC_1599.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5No7NyhHvDaRGIPerDhNBeRD46enBrTnXgH9UcJEBgD6nnhfUkJzN7ooDgvM5j6EGot4G-ltuG-iPK9Ia-lxsEipzJNxYyuRqDpKuKwHPp-FdJk4onVWf3K7d7Zc_E8yIzW96Iq9OqnW3/s1600/DSC_1659.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5No7NyhHvDaRGIPerDhNBeRD46enBrTnXgH9UcJEBgD6nnhfUkJzN7ooDgvM5j6EGot4G-ltuG-iPK9Ia-lxsEipzJNxYyuRqDpKuKwHPp-FdJk4onVWf3K7d7Zc_E8yIzW96Iq9OqnW3/s320/DSC_1659.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-24580365514148413072011-07-17T17:38:00.000-07:002011-07-17T17:38:42.784-07:00The Problem...with blogging consistently is that I don't have much to say. Summer days are filled with the rhythm of housework, keeping kids busy, many library visits, swimming, TKD lessons, cooking, avoiding cooking, gardening, keeping the chickens alive, keeping my brain alive, anticipating school starting back up and getting back into the classroom, planning fishing trips and wondering what equipment we really need, looking at my camera and thinking I need to take more pictures, trying to keep my head above water literally and figuratively. The sun feels wonderful, the heat I love more than any other year in memory.<br />
(This post was completely gratuitous)Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-79294428549755665352011-07-12T06:45:00.000-07:002011-07-12T06:45:38.313-07:00On Good Work“<span class="quote">What matters is that you do good work. What matters is that you produce things that are true and will stand. What matters is that the Flaming Lips's new album is ravishing and I’ve listened to it a thousand times already, sometimes for days on end, and it enriches me and makes me want to save people. What matters is that it will stand forever, long after any narrow-hearted curmudgeons have forgotten their appearance on goddamn 90210. What matters is not the perception, nor the fashion, not who’s up and who’s down, but what someone has done and if they meant it. What matters is that you want to see and make and do, on as grand a scale as you want, regardless of what the tiny voices of tiny people say.</span>” <br />
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<tr><td style="padding: 0px 10px 0px 20px; width: 1px;" valign="top"> — </td> <td class="quote_source" valign="top"> Dave Eggers </td></tr>
</tbody></table>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-78390265182565154082011-06-29T15:12:00.000-07:002011-07-27T04:16:04.761-07:00The Courage to Write"Advising writers to go ahead and ignore their anxiety and forge ahead is like telling a ten-year-old who's about to get a shot, "There's nothing to be scared of." That kid knows better. So do writers." (from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Courage-Write-Writers-Transcend-Fear/dp/0805074678/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1309384068&sr=8-1">The Courage to Write-How Writers Transcend Fear b</a>y Ralph Keyes)<br />
<br />
I just started reading this book and am finding it tremendously useful. To be cliche', writing is as essential to my life as breathing.<br />
Even so, I love it and I hate it. <br />
Getting the narrative out of my head and into print is freeing<br />
Getting the narrative out of my head and into print is terrifying.<br />
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My husband is a salesman. He says he enjoys what I write and he is convinced that there are novels in my head that are just waiting to be written and that I need to do that, and what is holding me back?<br />
Holding me back?<br />
He is a salesman. He experiences rejection often, from people rejecting the product he is selling. Self doubt can kill a salesman, and he refuses to go there and instead pushes past it. My husband always analyzes and pinpoints where he went wrong during a presentation. He has a formula that was developed from the agency he works for and it is a wonderful thing. His day of appointments might go miserably but he can look at the formula see where he is off and adjust accordingly. The formula supports him and he uses his talent to amplify it, but the support structure is always there.<br />
<br />
If writing were like that, all the people who dream of writing would probably be published. There is no support structure in an empty page, or as -of -yet nameless characters or stories that need to be fleshed out and brought to life that are simply residing in the mind. <br />
<br />
The truth is, writing is scary on many different levels. There is the letting go part and allowing the story to develop and characters to become themselves and the writer giving up some modicum of control to let the magic happen.<br />
<br />
There is the "THAT came out of MY HEAD??? What kind of sick FREAK am I? No one can see this, I shouldn't see this!!" and that section, which added a needed third dimension to the story is deleted.<br />
<br />
Anxiety. From the blank page staring back...and a peck at the keyboard."NO. Wrong letter, I can't start with that ." delete again. Anxiety that people will actually read...or worse, not read what is written. Anxiety that one is revealing too much of their inner life on a page and it is there in black and white.<br />
(I'm feeling naked here) <br />
<br />
Writing-at least for me- is a battle of will. The narrative in my head flows so well, but gets lost on the way to my fingers. Reading it on paper makes me self conscious and tempted to play it safe. Safe does not work and I have to push past safe into areas so far out of my comfort zone that I never imagined they existed. <br />
<br />
Knowing that well known and highly regarded authors struggle(d) through every word, eases my mind and gives me pause to think that even though I am not known, nor published, (or anything else like these people I admire), they push through the same struggles I am having- and survived.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-34844214263386775742011-06-28T18:23:00.000-07:002011-07-27T04:19:36.384-07:00Fireflies, photos and probable bad impressionsLast evening after getting the kids to bed I wandered outside because of the sky.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniil3Ea3m7RW7ULJ2Os5IXKWq08xqidNidJuB3lDKIkYq89XdbBqTZklfRS_sO_7qPegbzWfccBR6dedJGmFsHQZPyUGlF0cjs8ytCFWWbtSJ1KE5SK3uMiG7RdPntxoaztFqBlRIDsty/s1600/DSC_1552.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniil3Ea3m7RW7ULJ2Os5IXKWq08xqidNidJuB3lDKIkYq89XdbBqTZklfRS_sO_7qPegbzWfccBR6dedJGmFsHQZPyUGlF0cjs8ytCFWWbtSJ1KE5SK3uMiG7RdPntxoaztFqBlRIDsty/s320/DSC_1552.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>I stood and breathed and let my mind settle after a busy day. As the sun set further, the toads began to sing, then the jug-a-rum calls of the bullfrogs from the back ponds showed up. A high pitched squeaking with scrambling sounds came from the vicinity of the barn as the bats made ready for their nighttime exodus.<br />
I stood and watched as the bats dropped out...they fall and swoop back up. Twenty one bats exited last night.<br />
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The fireflies began their nightly signaling, sparking off nature's strobe light show in the bushes, trees, and tall grasses.<br />
For some reason I thought I should photograph it and see what I managed to capture.<br />
I tried several positions to steady myself for the long exposure time since I wasn't using my flash.<br />
Out of curiosity I turned the flash back on and took a picture...at the exact same time a truck was driving through the field next to my property. It was the <a href="http://journey-of-eleni.blogspot.com/2011/03/progress.html">Developer. </a><br />
I kept on taking pictures, but had to wonder what he was thinking about this woman running around in the semi dark taking photographs.<br />
It was a bit weird.<br />
<br />
I moved to the other side of my yard so I would feel less weird, and stood -taking picture after picture.<br />
There was a rustling noise.<br />
Every time the shutter clicked and I was left sightless standing perfectly still so as not to blur the photo too badly, I heard the rustling.<br />
I half expected that when the shutter closed that I would see some horrible gaping monster through my viewfinder.<br />
No such luck...close though, because the noise was a raccoon in the Mulberry tree.<br />
I went back to the other side of the yard because raccoons are horrible. I went back to using the flash while covering it with my hand...and again, right then the developer drove away.<br />
Wonder if he thought I was photographing him? <br />
The photo results...<br />
Blurry, noisy photos with pinpricks of light that are fireflies.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFoASBT2Ya7oJMetymzOPYHzHfJEEXBDV3UOiFPBM7U7mQ6QvuAZEMjuAOkCwQ8GV5QAp74P4DuAVgYQfMd3lq5j1ZYkxwhZHhCgE_99v2SmfnyX9u7mKu3D32R4XxH2aETF5J2hyqcXH/s1600/DSC_1566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFoASBT2Ya7oJMetymzOPYHzHfJEEXBDV3UOiFPBM7U7mQ6QvuAZEMjuAOkCwQ8GV5QAp74P4DuAVgYQfMd3lq5j1ZYkxwhZHhCgE_99v2SmfnyX9u7mKu3D32R4XxH2aETF5J2hyqcXH/s320/DSC_1566.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKhgFarGp4v1LozJlZ1fQpmvLMrsuWLbeP1dF09WHufTnmvu80kzuTw8SuPs_Ae4gy4NuhukpLjAIo7BVhoBMy1soxRF-8fc9LPRSKZ8Do_kb7xGOMuYyY2S53TF_GSmZ1toBL1CFHd7j/s1600/DSC_1555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZKhgFarGp4v1LozJlZ1fQpmvLMrsuWLbeP1dF09WHufTnmvu80kzuTw8SuPs_Ae4gy4NuhukpLjAIo7BVhoBMy1soxRF-8fc9LPRSKZ8Do_kb7xGOMuYyY2S53TF_GSmZ1toBL1CFHd7j/s320/DSC_1555.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-12712936624390295352011-06-26T19:00:00.000-07:002011-07-27T04:20:15.404-07:00Nighttime AdventuresLast night I went to bed late. Midnight to be precise. I was sort of ok with this, because 5 hours is the lowest amount of sleep I can get and still function semi decently. Emphasis on semi. Should I get 4 hours and 55 minutes, then it becomes semi indecently. Really, my mind just sort of implodes at that point.<br />
Anyway, confident in a full five hours I pulled the covers up and started to drift off.<br />
Mid-drift I heard growling, and snarling and thumping.<br />
It came closer...<br />
and closer...<br />
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Till I had one large cat with a kitten in hot pursuit galloping all over my bed.<br />
I yelled and they ran off.<br />
The husband...he was breathing the deep breaths of a soundly sleeping man.<br />
I pulled the covers up and started drifting and achieved full sleep.<br />
Then "Mom!!"<br />
I screamed in terror.<br />
My daughter screamed and then laughed at me for screaming<br />
The husband...he kept breathing.<br />
"What? Are you ok?"<br />
"No...there is a HUGE spider in my room."<br />
"Ok, where?"<br />
"In my room!"<br />
"Yes, I know that, but where?"<br />
"On the wall"<br />
"Which wall"<br />
"Come see"<br />
I struggled out of bed and grabbed my glasses so I wouldn't be trying to catch a blurry spider and since this was a 7 yr old, I figured her big spider would really be small and I would need glasses to see it.<br />
We get to her room and I ask where it is and she points.<br />
"That grey thing on the wall"<br />
"WHAT THE.....???!!!"<br />
(I was tired at this point and not sure what really came out of my mouth, but I think I kept it in my head"<br />
This was truly a spider that qualified as HUGE, like Jurassic era, caveman spider, horror movie stand in spider.<br />
I ran for my trusty Dyson that I use to suck up any manner of creepy thing I find in my house.<br />
I dragged the Dyson up the stairs. It is now 2am.<br />
The daughter disappears into my bed and leaves me to fight off this horrid thing...alone.<br />
I plug in the vacuum and pull out the wand that makes an awesome clicking sound when I am using it...reminds me of the Terminator and I always say "lock and load" when I am using it to suck up a creepy thing. (yep my life is THAT awesome and exciting that I need to do things like that)<br />
Anyway, I aim the end of the wand at the spider...he moves.<br />
The vacuum sucks it into the opening of the wand, and the damn thing got out, and crawled on the wall a bit.<br />
It started to dawn on me that my Dyson was no match for this creature, and I had to be hands on.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, my restless sleeper of a daughter had knocked her pillow onto the floor, and the spider fell onto that. I picked up the pillow,oh SO carefully, and carried it to the bathroom and talked to the spider- words of comfort and happy things, and lies. Lies about letting it go, free to wander.<br />
Because really, I took it to the bathroom, knocked it into the toilet and flushed.<br />
Twice.<br />
Spiders that big can probably hang on and climb back out of toilets, you know.<br />
I wander back to bed, and shove into the middle between happily deep breathing, deep sleeping husband and restless sleeper daughter.<br />
I drift off...and then I hear. "Yip!" 30 seconds later "Yip!" and so on.<br />
So I start yelling from my bed. "DAISY SHUT UP!"<br />
Amazingly, no one wakes up.<br />
At night it is like I am a ghost in my own house.<br />
Now it is about 3am. I fall asleep.<br />
4:30 am and the dog is barking incessantly, she needs to go out.<br />
I get up and take her out.<br />
Normally I wake up between 4:30 and 5, take her out, start the coffee and read or write. This morning I stared at the coffee maker, thought about the non-sleep I had, and went to the couch and passed out till 7.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-1182346793281172062011-06-22T06:05:00.000-07:002011-06-23T04:24:14.934-07:00Without fail...There is a phenomenon in my house that confounds me on a daily basis. In fact, it is happening right at this very moment.<br />
All three of my children were occupied, in separate parts of the house, everything was quiet and calm. I thought "Great! I have some ideas percolating in my mind, and I can get them out"<br />
WRONG.<br />
<br />
I took my laptop into the kitchen and sat a the table, and sat down prepared to write.<br />
The moment my finger touched the very first letter a giant fight broke out amongst the <strike>barbarians</strike> children. One wanted to do a Pokemon battle, the other one didn't. Apparently the one that didn't want to play promised yesterday that she would today. This started a giant argument, and a third child got involved.<br />
So now I am back to being referee, and talking to the upset child about why no one wants to play and suggesting ways that he might create an atmosphere that would be conducive to his siblings to want to play with him.<br />
<br />
I am now clueless as to what it was I was going to write when I sat down.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-91719099593131461582011-06-21T05:49:00.000-07:002011-06-21T06:01:04.400-07:00Recap...This past week I discovered, experienced, etc....<br />
<br />
~That things like this...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/260557_10150223031632500_685082499_7105643_5161022_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a5.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/260557_10150223031632500_685082499_7105643_5161022_n.jpg" width="312" /></a></div>...Make my family and me laugh like lunatics. The first time we saw it we turned around and tried to take a picture but the people who lived at the house were in their yard and staring, so I drove away. The next day I managed to drive past again and no one was outside. I considered taking him because I was imagining several awesome photo ops I could use him as a prop for, but I wasn't sure if he had bugs or anything so I left him.<br />
<br />
~My 9yo ds had his brown belt test yesterday and tested really well. Afterward his instructor, who is a very intense, always happy, upbeat positive man who commands respect came over to tell me how pleased he was. His conversation went like "I am so pleased with your son's progress!! He has achieved some wonderful accomplishments and his confidence is through the roof! He maintains eye contact well and speaks loudly.." Pause his conversation and I need to say here that he is talking and standing close to me, I have a pretty large area of personal space that I am comfortable with, and he was closer than that, and making strong eye contact, because that is what they do in TKD. NOT only am I uncomfortable with people standing close to me, I have a VERY hard time with sustained eye contact. However, I figured this was not the time to let my eyes wander around, so I stood there and thought "keep eye contact, keep eye contact" and I have no real idea what he said past the part I paused a few sentences back, because it took that much concentration from me...so I smiled and nodded and said thank you.<br />
Awesome social skills for the win!!!<br />
<br />
~ My kids are now old enough to handle all the furry beastie care, so I delegated tasks and chores to them, and told them that I am only taking care of my large dog, and they can take care of everyone else. They agreed and have been very diligent with their chores.<br />
<br />
~When eating breakfast my daughter is prone to yell for me from upstairs to "come see something" I ask her to explain but she sounds panicky as she repeats herself. I go up and discover that she is brushing her teeth and whatever food she just ate is being brushed out of her teeth and this worries her. I reassure her this is a normal and good thing.<br />
<br />
~ I haven't gone shopping for clothes or bought any clothes for a whole year. Since my jeans were getting holes in them my husband suggested that I might want to buy new ones. I went and relearned a few things.<br />
1) If I am putting on a shirt or dress and cannot figure out which is the front then I should not even bother because chances are the shirt will look horrible.<br />
2) If I have to struggle to pull a shirt or dress over my boobs then I shouldn't -with ridiculous determination- pull it all the way over, because it will be much harder to get off and I will wind up I with it stuck on my body while I do some weird panicked dance and debate if I should ask for help. The inevitable decision on help will be that I would rather die stuck in fabric then ask a stranger to help me pull a shirt back over my boobs.<br />
3) I remembered that buying a new outfit can do wonders for lifting a person out of feeling frumpy.<br />
<br />
~I learned from my Dr. that I am anemic which explains why I am always so tired and feel horrible and only get short bursts of energy.<br />
I also learned that my cholesterol level is 145. This made me super duper happy, because I remembered when I was 22 my cholesterol was 202. My other numbers were perfect and she declared me wonderfully healthy...aside from being anemic. (I haven't been to the Dr in over 4 years.)<br />
<br />
~Unlimited wifi from Verizon does not REALLY mean unlimited. Apparently, when you hit 5GB of usage they filter your usage so if you try to watch Netflix whatever you are watching will pause to reload every two minutes and a 30 minute show will take at a minimum twice as long to watch. Now we need to ration our Netflix viewing. Which is hard because my husband and me are completely addicted to <a href="http://tv.blinkx.com/show/the-it-crowd/vw4tmSd1SS4K96jJ">The IT Crowd</a>. Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-67453849270427876182011-06-14T08:15:00.000-07:002011-06-14T08:15:30.348-07:00Observation~Writing brings one's various neuroses front and center.<br />
~ this can be helpful because then they can finally be used <br />
~This is not helpful because they make one aware of various weird quirks they have that they enjoy <br />
being unaware of.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-64802675632633909442011-06-12T15:02:00.000-07:002011-06-12T15:02:59.106-07:00Boys and dollsI took the kids to Goodwill the other day and told them they could get something. My oldest son, who will be 11 next month came up to me with a boy china doll and asked if he could get it. I looked for a minute and probably made a face. He asked what was wrong, and I told him the doll was creepy. My son shook his head at me, looked at the doll and informed me that he was very cute. I couldn't argue with that so I said yes. <br />
<br />
A few minutes later he comes back with a girl doll and told me that both of them would only cost $3 and he would like to have them both and call them Lysander and Lindsay. He also told me again that dolls are not creepy and he really likes them. <br />
<br />
We bought the dolls and the ride home he just held them on his lap. At home he brushed their hair and fixed them up and put them in a safe place where he can look at them. He thanked me for letting him get the dolls and says he knows that sometimes people might find it weird that a boy would even want a doll but he loves them. I thanked him for being himself and told him I admire his nurturing spirit and how what people might think does not bother him. <br />
<br />
He is a boy that has great empathy and a love of younger children. He told me one day that his favorite thing is when a baby looks at him and grins, it makes him feel warm and happy and peaceful inside. Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-75476027019296284272011-06-08T18:54:00.000-07:002011-06-08T18:57:01.560-07:00Taking a break...From social media.<br />
I realized that I had become dependent up on facebook for all my social needs. Being an introvert, I am ok with checking in on people, having a brief back and forth conversation and presto! my social needs feel fulfilled. However, they really aren't, and it became an excuse for me to not pursue friendships on a deeper level, or to get together with people and so on.<br />
(that hurts to admit, but it is true)<br />
<br />
Another reason, my attention span has decreased to the point of being more akin to the attention span one would find in a kitten on speed. I fully blame FB. Why? Because I can log on, look at the updates of 100+ people and see all the interesting links they post which leads to a scenario like this:<br />
(entirely loosely fictional)<br />
<br />
Person's status- i made pork cheeks for dinner tonight<br />
(my head thinking - what is that and where does one get it and do with it?) <br />
go off and google pork cheeks, but while that is loading because sometimes my computer is slow, I look at someone else's update and see a link to something.<br />
Person's status- I LOVE this site, check it out!! I love the tips on making a childhood magical and sparkly!<br />
Me- OOOO! I should read that. So I click and look it over for a split second. Oh LOOK! beeswax crayons, I like beeswax crayons. They smell good. Then I search for those to find the best price.<br />
<br />
Oh, gotta check my email.<br />
Email - Lose a zillion calories with this workout! <br />
me - Awesome! (check it out and it involves some barbaric looking exercise that I would never do)<br />
Wait! Library! <br />
Off to library web site. <br />
There was a book I wanted, what was it called? About decreased memory? Damn! What is that book?<br />
<br />
Commence search on book about decreased memory, see a billion results<br />
Olive oil helps memory loss. Greeks use lots of olive oil. How much is a vacation to Greece. Ok, nevermind. Does my school have Greek classes? Look that up, and no. But they have Japanese. How much is a trip to Japan...wait, nevermind. Radiation and all that. Radiation leads to looking up the Cold War and that leads to Russian history which leads me back to the mystagogy site about Orthodoxy. <br />
<br />
look at time and realize family will be waking up in about 20 minutes and I just lost 1 hour to looking up nothing beneficial in the time I am supposed to be writing.<br />
Ok, back to writing.<br />
Sit. Stare. Blank Page. Scary Blank Page. Type something. Laugh at it because it is too lame. <br />
click on FB icon to escape annoyance at my writing.<br />
See an article on education.<br />
Go to article...which talks about the effect of techonology on adolescents. Remember book about descreased memory, try to find it. Go back to library web site and reserve a bunch of Atlantic Monthly magazines.<br />
So, by 7 am I have completely fried my brain doing nothing productive, but instead behaved in a way that makes me think of a hamster on a wheel. I have now overwhelmed myself with too much information about too many things, I am completely overstimulated and want to go back to bed.<br />
<br />
That is why I am taking a break.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-56621879257465038332011-06-06T08:10:00.000-07:002011-06-06T08:10:47.138-07:00Kid picturesGwen and Burrito<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247501_10150209994987500_685082499_6990297_6226230_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247501_10150209994987500_685082499_6990297_6226230_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><a href="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247501_10150209994987500_685082499_6990297_6226230_n.jpg"></a><br />
<a href="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/247501_10150209994987500_685082499_6990297_6226230_n.jpg"></a><br />
And for comparison- two pictures of all three kids. The top one is from their first day of school this school year and then one I took this morning of their last day. (almost last day, it is actually tomorrow)<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/250039_10150210020632500_685082499_6990414_4230471_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a7.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/250039_10150210020632500_685082499_6990414_4230471_n.jpg" width="240" /></a>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-62045097196743489942011-06-04T12:07:00.003-07:002011-06-04T12:07:56.442-07:00Any given Saturday<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <w:BrowserLevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<div class="MsoNormal">Took my husband’s blue French cuff shirt out of the dryer and noticed that it was too wrinkled and the collar too limp.<span> </span>Out came the iron and the ironing board in the room that is supposed to be my office but has been taken over by clothes marked for donation.<span> </span>The collar was curled under and stubbornly refused to straighten as a proper collar should.<span> </span>After many minutes and much pressing the collar finally agreed to submit and lay pointed and true.</div><div class="MsoNormal">My husband told me one reason out of a million that he loves is that I notice things like his collar and fix them, so he doesn’t leave the house looking unkempt.<span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">He left for his sales calls.<span> </span>I fixed the kids their cereal. </div><div class="MsoNormal">A blanket went into the washer because my son was wearing it around the house, causing it to collect dog fur. </div><div class="MsoNormal">The kids argued over who had to take the dog out, one son objected because he was only wearing boxer shorts.<span> </span>The other pointed out that we don’t have next door neighbors. I pointed out the group of men working in the field adjacent to the house with their bulldozers and assorted loud machines. Oldest son said he never knew they were there.<span> </span>I mentioned the smell of exhaust fumes coming in the windows, he shrugged and took out the dog. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I vacuumed the floors wondering how a small dog can drop so much hair.<span> </span>I wondered about my attention span and lack of focus. I thought about the bit in a book I’m reading that addresses self doubt and her cousins talking to a writer while writing and making a mental note that they somehow appear even while cleaning-but never about cleaning.<span> </span>The kitten and the dog began wrestling in line of the vacuum and I shooed them off. <span> </span>My daughter began crying about an ant that could only move its antennae and not walk; I quickly picked it up in a Kleenex and flushed it. </div><div class="MsoNormal">She cried harder and told me I killed it.<span> </span>I tried to explain suffering and that with insects it is better to kill them swiftly. She told me I was mean. <span> </span>Later she asked me to get rid of a big hairy jumping spider on the curtain, I used the vacuum hose. <span> </span>This did not make her sad. <span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal">My son ate an apple and instead of it turning out the normal shape an apple does when eaten to the core, he ate it into a square. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I was given a note covered with infinity signs that said “This is how much I love you, your kid Gwen”</div>Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-61180119468119845842011-06-01T10:28:00.000-07:002011-06-01T10:28:25.003-07:00SchoolI took last quarter off from school in order to focus on getting things done at home.<br />
I didn't accomplish as much as I thought I would and I got rather uninspired. <br />
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Over the summer I am taking a Sociology course, and then in the fall will take on a decent course load. Between having the kids in school all day, and not taking any classes I discovered that I get MUCH more done when I have more to do. When Im not busy I get complacent. <br />
Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-19223171854906220302011-05-27T03:54:00.000-07:002011-05-27T03:54:57.975-07:00The One Thing That Caught Our Attention....The other night my husband and I watched <a href="http://americathebeautifuldoc.com/">"America The Beautiful"</a><br />
It is a documentary on the beauty industry and various pressures women feel to conform to some ideal of what is considered beautiful.<br />
A lot of the footage was about a 12/13 yo girl who worked as a model/runway model. This girl was finding tons of work and designers loved her. <br />
Overall it was an interesting watch, but the ONE thing that really stood out to us was this girl and her padded bra issue.<br />
Here is a girl who works in the fashion industry, where theoretically tons of pressure is applied for the girls to look a certain way, right? The girl transfers schools and all of a sudden is crying to her mother that she NEEDS a padded bra. Her mother is arguing with her about this, and commenting on the girl using more makeup and wearing tight clothes. It turned into a big, teenage girl crying mess.<br />
Eventually the mom decides to homeschool her daughter. Mom and girl go to London to find more modeling work and there is a scene with the girl going through her suitcase. She holds up the padded bra and said "now that I am homeschooled I don't need this anymore"<br />
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It really stood out to my husband that the girl who works in the fashion industry and is judged on her looks constantly felt MORE pressure to be attractive when she was in school. He thought that was very weird. Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-65253246997221787512011-05-25T05:12:00.000-07:002011-05-25T05:12:49.808-07:00And now for something completely cute....Somehow my family convinced me to keep Burrito. It is absolutely awful having to keep this snuggly, always purring, feisty, TV watching, toilet falling into, feet attacking kitten. Sheer torture I tell you.<br />
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The resident housecats are not too thrilled about this new addition. The dogs have had different reactions. Leia wants to play...or eat him (not sure which)<br />
Burrito wants nothing to do with her and stands his ground.<br />
I think in this one he is threatening to claw her face off if she comes any closer.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/225514_10150198846442500_685082499_6888072_1145802_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://a4.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/225514_10150198846442500_685082499_6888072_1145802_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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With Daisy he is completely different. They paw at each other, and Daisy lets him chew on her ears. I took this photo of them playing together. After I took this Burrito began licking Daisy's face. I guess her doggie hygiene was not good enough for this kitten.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/228249_10150198905652500_685082499_6888812_965851_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc6/228249_10150198905652500_685082499_6888812_965851_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>I also think Daisy wins "Most Patient Dog of the Year" award.Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4944143094059491796.post-3763691394463300312011-05-23T06:43:00.000-07:002011-05-23T06:43:30.168-07:00Car Conversations"Hey Mom, can you be my substitute teacher? Come into the school and tell Ms. H to take the day off and then you can teach us!"<br />
"No, Gwen. Mom can't she needs to graduate first and would need a degree in teaching"<br />
"Well, Mom, go do that! "<br />
"But Gwen, she isn't going to graduate in time to teach your class."<br />
"Yeah, she might even still be in college when we go to college!"<br />
"And then we can go to college with MOM!!"<br />
"Yeah!!!"<br />
"Hey! Mom! Remember when you were super interested in Psychology and Russian Literature? And all you read was books written by Russian people and big thick books about Psychology?"<br />
"Yeah! And Add and I told you that you should be a Russian Psychologist!"<br />
"What does a Psychologist DO anyway? Do they make people psycho?"<br />
"No...the opposite"<br />
"Ohhhh...so they help people work through irrationalities and fears....like my fear of stuffed animals in museums"<br />
"Yep"<br />
<br />
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I just drove and listened to my 3 children talk on and on......Elenihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14668499756305200794noreply@blogger.com2