tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41323600608336484202024-02-19T00:18:51.184-08:00Some Sort of Southern BelleStacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.comBlogger133125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-23283196575105868702011-09-19T06:33:00.000-07:002011-09-19T06:33:05.827-07:00I've Moved!Hi friends! <br />
I've moved to a new site and I'd love you to join me over there.<br />
<br />
Please click on over to <a href="http://somesortofsouthernbelle.com/">www.somesortofsouthernbelle.com</a> and follow me there!<br />
<br />
Southern love to you and yours...<br />
<br />
StacyStacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-61723472462392340732011-08-31T06:53:00.000-07:002011-08-31T06:53:25.014-07:00Banana Bread, Cookies and Mac & CheeseLately I've been trying to get my cooking and baking back on track. <br />
<br />
I enjoy cooking and baking. And while I'm no Paula Deen or Pioneer Woman, I can follow a recipe with the best of them. <br />
<br />
I've shared a few of my favorite recipes <a href="http://somesortofsouthernbelle.blogspot.com/2010/12/chicken-french-fry-casserole.html">here</a> and <a href="http://somesortofsouthernbelle.blogspot.com/2010/10/meat.html">here</a> and <a href="http://somesortofsouthernbelle.blogspot.com/2010/11/you-are-so-going-to-love-me.html">here</a>.<br />
<br />
Today is the first day in a while that my schedule is pretty easy after school. I only have one child to pick up from a practice.<br />
<br />
Oh Joy!<br />
<br />
It makes me as happy as seeing this....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpMmGuYlvWEIlVeqJYiqtKcZXCKsqXFUG4rdWtBnyd72YtyAhzMhKcvqbyq3eIqSTqyuadAkrFklwDME69yZHSAUYk6ci6YxQXVvcbjAUjymTdU8s5iMqvpC2q3e_5_zLyZ9fZmzdpG9y/s1600/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHpMmGuYlvWEIlVeqJYiqtKcZXCKsqXFUG4rdWtBnyd72YtyAhzMhKcvqbyq3eIqSTqyuadAkrFklwDME69yZHSAUYk6ci6YxQXVvcbjAUjymTdU8s5iMqvpC2q3e_5_zLyZ9fZmzdpG9y/s400/images-5.jpeg" width="258" /></a></div><br />
Helloooo Ryan. :)<br />
<br />
I know. I know. He has nothing to do with my cooking or baking or whatever. I'm just saying that his cutie-patootie face brings joy like baking does.<br />
<br />
Work with me, people.<br />
<br />
So in honor of my schedule being a tad less hectic, I'd like to share the yummy recipes I've been making today. They've all been taste-tested in my house multiple times so I can put our stamp of approval on them. And I didn't invent one of them. Nope. I found them and I'm going to share where I found them with you today. <br />
<br />
Doesn't that make <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">you</span> happy? If not, just look back to the picture of Ryan. <br />
<br />
Go ahead. I won't mind.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEYrqgH06mxNVXenq3qkUXsyMovrPyRkG-eDNZp0YkMsRDTwUtOjTXB8B4c5lCwZ3MJ_Ob4z0yWBvxyToaSZTAK7H6wvT_s18AY4WL_kbXbQdtzvtXGqcS8k4o_5K2c3VH3gcShU1C8_Wg/s1600/cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEYrqgH06mxNVXenq3qkUXsyMovrPyRkG-eDNZp0YkMsRDTwUtOjTXB8B4c5lCwZ3MJ_Ob4z0yWBvxyToaSZTAK7H6wvT_s18AY4WL_kbXbQdtzvtXGqcS8k4o_5K2c3VH3gcShU1C8_Wg/s400/cookies.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://www.melskitchencafe.com/2009/11/whole-wheat-oatmeal-chocolate-chip-cookies.html">Whole Wheat Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies</a> from Mel's Kitchen Cafe. So good. So soft. So yummy! She says you can freeze them, then take one out for your child's lunch and it will be yummy, soft and thawed by lunch. I haven't tried the freezer thing since they have yet to actually make it to the freezer before being eaten. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ63sIBTe2cJ8FT-3OrvfPsF-_QtYFfMUcCIIHEpZesIyqU7pQUMYMxDVaghJz6tCrdC8z1sILJnQBD4Zwty_ofyB6bRI1kQ22ZPLGy02YjWVY9oBZaYiE0fgi8yhaTO84jcViignp8ei6/s1600/bananabread.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ63sIBTe2cJ8FT-3OrvfPsF-_QtYFfMUcCIIHEpZesIyqU7pQUMYMxDVaghJz6tCrdC8z1sILJnQBD4Zwty_ofyB6bRI1kQ22ZPLGy02YjWVY9oBZaYiE0fgi8yhaTO84jcViignp8ei6/s400/bananabread.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<a href="http://www.melskitchencafe.com/2008/03/buttermilk-banana-bread.html">Buttermilk Banana Bread</a> also from Mel's Kitchen Cafe. I've made this bread 3 times in the last week. Once for my family, once for my daughter's volleyball team and today I made it to use up some bananas. The recipe is for a loaf of bread. I made mine in muffin tins. I can't tell you how long they cooked, but I'd guess it was about 20 minutes. The buttermilk must be the magic ingredient. They are light, moist and gone in less than a minute.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2009/04/macaroni-cheese/">Mac & Cheese from the Pioneer Woman</a>. Nothing beats homemade mac and cheese. This recipe is one that my entire family enjoys. My younger daughter requests it at least once a week. She will be so excited when she finds out I made it today. Add some ham and broccoli and you've got yourself a nice little dinner! (And how <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">big</span> a goober am I that I actually went out and bought the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>same square dishes</i></span> like The Pioneer Woman? If you see the picture on her post, I have those dishes! I'm trying hard to be cool and failing miserably!)<br />
<br />
For all this work, I deserve a cookie. <br />
<br />
Or maybe two or three.<br />
<br />
What have you been making lately?Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-66204364426815053522011-08-30T06:47:00.000-07:002011-08-30T06:47:10.888-07:00SportsMy oldest daughter, now a 7th grader, has played some sport since she was 5. Soccer was our main sport with volleyball entering our lives just last year. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61nqc6gvp9RddvB7v5UnX4JtX7snVugjpptRTJxnyJojHbpCIBowgIrJhYtG_bDd5kabP8cBg2G89HhZFoCWquR4hX_kTZROw0sWTmjArGY_K9dNMDMB0pGUoDD3osMk2ZlWIZQhai1Yq/s1600/andie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh61nqc6gvp9RddvB7v5UnX4JtX7snVugjpptRTJxnyJojHbpCIBowgIrJhYtG_bDd5kabP8cBg2G89HhZFoCWquR4hX_kTZROw0sWTmjArGY_K9dNMDMB0pGUoDD3osMk2ZlWIZQhai1Yq/s400/andie.jpg" width="336" /></a></div><br />
As a parent is is hard to remember what it was like starting out in a sport. I played softball for years growing up. Back then we had pitchers who threw the wicked twelve foot arc-type pitches. The fast pitch stuff was for the traveling teams.<br />
<br />
So here she is, after a year of lessons in volleyball, playing for her middle school team. <br />
<br />
What a sweet bunch of girls. They are equal parts competitive and cute. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4k64j_pT-JZ23b9ZxR7ENDEAV5LiOczMYkffObRAGa9sXf_jtwWmsuW71gy69tFg7SmJGINiQywISCE1a2q5tNlpecxwissHN1Y7yq7qGoDy3DZ96aqWxZOIzzPuBQhI_NZjo9_37nz16/s1600/sassy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4k64j_pT-JZ23b9ZxR7ENDEAV5LiOczMYkffObRAGa9sXf_jtwWmsuW71gy69tFg7SmJGINiQywISCE1a2q5tNlpecxwissHN1Y7yq7qGoDy3DZ96aqWxZOIzzPuBQhI_NZjo9_37nz16/s400/sassy.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Sporty and sassy.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8qMEAooBCCYQgYM83MgcH0S4vgaP7iWHWKECodjnLnVSnaJKDXVFSAWoTqee0DPLGeNoZW7pEDzeb0ZMuP3PX74CKY-kIRyY0zyfYGxyCsQf_Rvx8Cu3hGEB-QiY-sdxKiYUzhXB2Voq/s1600/hair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjh8qMEAooBCCYQgYM83MgcH0S4vgaP7iWHWKECodjnLnVSnaJKDXVFSAWoTqee0DPLGeNoZW7pEDzeb0ZMuP3PX74CKY-kIRyY0zyfYGxyCsQf_Rvx8Cu3hGEB-QiY-sdxKiYUzhXB2Voq/s400/hair.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
And smart. Let's not forget that these girls are bright. That is the best part.<br />
<br />
Sitting in the stands with the other parents, I want my daughter to do well. I want to <i>will</i> her to be as strong as I know she is. <br />
<br />
<i>"Just hit the ball like your little sister is on the other side of the net. Hit it HARD." </i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fosXFna3g9ymBvyFMwc2PtFZ6NP3Hv5gsU-xuhF0IYMqsofEcAO96Uxmz73yw681JcdwGMYusZT8m7a4CE24HUW3XW0svucN77ZUnFwOT9SxjX3TZbFKO-ssfr9Eqg1VSEmA5xS70Lby/s1600/andieserve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5fosXFna3g9ymBvyFMwc2PtFZ6NP3Hv5gsU-xuhF0IYMqsofEcAO96Uxmz73yw681JcdwGMYusZT8m7a4CE24HUW3XW0svucN77ZUnFwOT9SxjX3TZbFKO-ssfr9Eqg1VSEmA5xS70Lby/s400/andieserve.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
There are plenty of smaller girls who are just muscle packed in a petite package. My daughter is the lanky one. Tall enough to cover the net, but without the confidence of some of the others. That will come in time. It would come sooner if she would let my brain vibes into her head. I was <i>willing </i>that serve to go over as hard as I could. It did. She should listen to me. Somebody tell her to listen to her mother. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuOzpN7jHmqAtlWF3cRWKFQxYeFSdoKfnwiwmdY0ID5GhcKv7_ZO0sPKIZijFy4uObGR535gDhkm8VFgTlmSzBQFJbi8enblysH0dcHtqkCl_bwc8BAbUg4DOBTDPEaMnEG0G14_tumWx/s1600/ers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIuOzpN7jHmqAtlWF3cRWKFQxYeFSdoKfnwiwmdY0ID5GhcKv7_ZO0sPKIZijFy4uObGR535gDhkm8VFgTlmSzBQFJbi8enblysH0dcHtqkCl_bwc8BAbUg4DOBTDPEaMnEG0G14_tumWx/s400/ers.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
She's forbidden me from yelling for her since I embarrassed her during soccer season last year. I can, however, yell for her teammates. Above is one of our girls doing a jump serve. That's right. <i>JUMP SERVE IN 7TH GRADE</i>. Sweet, right?<br />
<br />
I've kept my promise to just clap for her.....<br />
<br />
So far. I may break out into a yell or something later in the season. I'm unpredictible like that.<br />
<br />
She listens to her coach and is thrilled when he compliments her on a hit or block. He is tough and expects the girls to practice as hard as they play in a game. I like that.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiqha0yFozu3sAEwH51zZ8ySDXV2hrdUT3qqW8ngkLrD2kkGjuChj2o-kuaq9sOCFiMPJ87lNMBUPOuB04a44rrKh7aOE7H4qv8gBgvq-MGvSPdfVCMyaUZFgy6dowdk_qvhi6Ae34U_i/s1600/coach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCiqha0yFozu3sAEwH51zZ8ySDXV2hrdUT3qqW8ngkLrD2kkGjuChj2o-kuaq9sOCFiMPJ87lNMBUPOuB04a44rrKh7aOE7H4qv8gBgvq-MGvSPdfVCMyaUZFgy6dowdk_qvhi6Ae34U_i/s400/coach.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
Everyone doesn't get to play in every game. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3bMx_DFMJyjKxFc00Ek4Ju8xehhqygvE9S1USrXw-bGMzbvJwx4Xas1YdjbyYJLTcN2f-tTWMyxMYaBZdYTntfHdREO1Wtq0G8jmMe_sTYi7AcGWeFqJThRT1Wr90CwFFjlUMRcn89Lo/s1600/game1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3bMx_DFMJyjKxFc00Ek4Ju8xehhqygvE9S1USrXw-bGMzbvJwx4Xas1YdjbyYJLTcN2f-tTWMyxMYaBZdYTntfHdREO1Wtq0G8jmMe_sTYi7AcGWeFqJThRT1Wr90CwFFjlUMRcn89Lo/s400/game1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrBp0rLNi2IymFiCJlrnJSX8rNnWTWWpRTFwPOV66a549XW8Uonn97Qh_hF75oYulG_PxnszkLJ3PuR6-Zqs2abB9riDw2PIN3urd1bLsqh3YNbe2HPXSTfDNefE91-lftZ_NzvG2gmZJ/s1600/game.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlrBp0rLNi2IymFiCJlrnJSX8rNnWTWWpRTFwPOV66a549XW8Uonn97Qh_hF75oYulG_PxnszkLJ3PuR6-Zqs2abB9riDw2PIN3urd1bLsqh3YNbe2HPXSTfDNefE91-lftZ_NzvG2gmZJ/s400/game.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3bMx_DFMJyjKxFc00Ek4Ju8xehhqygvE9S1USrXw-bGMzbvJwx4Xas1YdjbyYJLTcN2f-tTWMyxMYaBZdYTntfHdREO1Wtq0G8jmMe_sTYi7AcGWeFqJThRT1Wr90CwFFjlUMRcn89Lo/s1600/game1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx3bMx_DFMJyjKxFc00Ek4Ju8xehhqygvE9S1USrXw-bGMzbvJwx4Xas1YdjbyYJLTcN2f-tTWMyxMYaBZdYTntfHdREO1Wtq0G8jmMe_sTYi7AcGWeFqJThRT1Wr90CwFFjlUMRcn89Lo/s400/game1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I like that too, even when my daughter is not one of the ones playing. She learns by watching her teammates.<br />
<br />
I want to get out there and play.<br />
<br />
I think that would put her over the edge. One can't <i>really</i> die of mortification, right?Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-7640516895353178322011-08-26T11:17:00.000-07:002011-08-26T11:17:39.499-07:00Strawberry SeasonStrawberry season is at the beginning of summer here in the South. <br />
<br />
I'm partial to eating strawberries when they're in season where I live. <br />
<br />
Call me a produce snob, it's just the way it is.<br />
<br />
The beginning of the week my 7th grader tells me she's been asked to bring in strawberries as part of a treat day in one of her classes. This was Monday. I write it down on my calendar. I put it in my iPhone. I add it to the Family Calendar on the fridge. You'd think I'd remember.<br />
<br />
You'd be wrong.<br />
<br />
I forgot all about this until late today. Make that tonight....like I forgot and the 7th grader forgot until after dinner and baths and kitchen cleaning and me wanting to sit down and enjoy a little Tony DiNozzo on NCIS. He is <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">so</span></i> dreamy, don't you think?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rd-iJsjloXwUoWE_MpnWVQsG7r219ELc6s-BiIaWNAeEe62vaCNYjZ-vi6Ih1E6m9GCAok0Bhxr9JKY_lhyGRzPdkpUvY4_G51rJx5Z25HEFDvXUZz-5qqGQ4kZ4vH977sdzF8bEmpTq/s1600/Anthony-Tony-D.-DiNozzo-a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8rd-iJsjloXwUoWE_MpnWVQsG7r219ELc6s-BiIaWNAeEe62vaCNYjZ-vi6Ih1E6m9GCAok0Bhxr9JKY_lhyGRzPdkpUvY4_G51rJx5Z25HEFDvXUZz-5qqGQ4kZ4vH977sdzF8bEmpTq/s400/Anthony-Tony-D.-DiNozzo-a.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Anyway.....<br />
<br />
Remember I said strawberries are in season at the beginning of summer? Well, they are <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">not</span> in season any more and my trip to the grocery proved it. I bought 2 packages of abnormally large strawberries (they really shouldn't be the size of a golf ball, right?). Most of the strawberries were gross and mushy and generally yucky. I ended up having to cut them up so as to preserve the good parts of the fruit. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WxSEO7ACjEIBKW1bHPEK5jPnIjPurKom7hYBi6VsozVtuR3zpsnvelrPjxWbmAwt6PRlcmJoLy0Wg0L2FzL81X6zATxhBpl8i2fTLvcjh_9gV87Y3xXaf54BCVAToe_QbJEzOGJO0Ejf/s1600/strawberries.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9WxSEO7ACjEIBKW1bHPEK5jPnIjPurKom7hYBi6VsozVtuR3zpsnvelrPjxWbmAwt6PRlcmJoLy0Wg0L2FzL81X6zATxhBpl8i2fTLvcjh_9gV87Y3xXaf54BCVAToe_QbJEzOGJO0Ejf/s400/strawberries.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Arrrggggg</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">.</span>...I was a little perturbed right about now.<br />
<br />
Once I cut them I had to figure a way for the kids to serve themselves. <br />
<br />
Lucky for me I had some grapes and leftover pixie stick-like toothpicks. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEKDWiwhW_Pn0LFIHnUiG-XbnOQJthKE8ieKSLBNXDxZYSn3EMiZkU0xszAIcZPO-ndVRBGbIehxTr3YotxCFd69GG6FEk_LzTkrIaJwnhBmjBBkyJvCgE4zMHytR5IWvjmGc16zYwEQ5/s1600/picks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEKDWiwhW_Pn0LFIHnUiG-XbnOQJthKE8ieKSLBNXDxZYSn3EMiZkU0xszAIcZPO-ndVRBGbIehxTr3YotxCFd69GG6FEk_LzTkrIaJwnhBmjBBkyJvCgE4zMHytR5IWvjmGc16zYwEQ5/s400/picks.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
Note to self. Don't drop pixie stick-like toothpicks on the counter. They are slippery little suckers.<br />
<br />
This silly "hey, could you bring in some strawberries for our class buffet on Friday?" ended up taking me almost an hour. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW29fzXtMn6eq0eiFU8sYeukdYSAbp2vBVy7qDCUWblhmj0dBlQ4Piesnu0SW_obvqxFcV9qLWp4Kthp6tpxErvz_ZihTRP-cMnwTnOl9wBRrv8UFrxYFVkiWbOemO4V_yZzE-dKaUQBoh/s1600/plate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW29fzXtMn6eq0eiFU8sYeukdYSAbp2vBVy7qDCUWblhmj0dBlQ4Piesnu0SW_obvqxFcV9qLWp4Kthp6tpxErvz_ZihTRP-cMnwTnOl9wBRrv8UFrxYFVkiWbOemO4V_yZzE-dKaUQBoh/s400/plate.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
And all I ended up with was half a bag of strawberry pieces and grapes.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSprPXd9lE2diqTVtWiea7GFRe4RAoGh6EXTioRPTIaYIcr5vmzfGUgp7yZ3H8A43n7JWJceejvGUKYtxC8oicDPeHUZDZP6jdhRwcQSF54lw1_J6ucNuAhXbbxnH6LMpYYIKFE_BgeXtX/s1600/ziplock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSprPXd9lE2diqTVtWiea7GFRe4RAoGh6EXTioRPTIaYIcr5vmzfGUgp7yZ3H8A43n7JWJceejvGUKYtxC8oicDPeHUZDZP6jdhRwcQSF54lw1_J6ucNuAhXbbxnH6LMpYYIKFE_BgeXtX/s400/ziplock.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I hope this isn't a foreshadowing of my weekend.<br />
<br />
Happy Friday, Ya'll!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-5143487203606114892011-08-24T03:28:00.000-07:002011-08-24T03:28:45.516-07:00Run, Forrest, RunThis post will have pictures that have nothing at all to do with the subject. <br />
<br />
I'm just sayin'.<br />
<br />
Lately I've started running so my wild, crazy, goofy, teen-aged-in-dog-years puppy can exert some of her energy.<br />
<br />
I run around the lake in my city. It's not far. I think it is just about 3 miles. But it could be 12 miles and I'd never really know the difference because 3 miles feels like a really really long way to my legs.<br />
<br />
The trails that skirt the lake are pretty nice. They are almost always in the shade. There are usually plenty of people who are running/walking/biking to look at. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsdjM92-8FGqSM1MtNXO0MaFXmQGRJuyJOi8-VmbMRnr2IZrGOogO-TE1yLOVT20SqIygNFarsJZ3ArYeniOjzTz8NxrNjbn5Wgm2DV-6u7B0G58tgbMh4JQKFMdQSdYATUJaGWqlpIm7/s1600/dog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsdjM92-8FGqSM1MtNXO0MaFXmQGRJuyJOi8-VmbMRnr2IZrGOogO-TE1yLOVT20SqIygNFarsJZ3ArYeniOjzTz8NxrNjbn5Wgm2DV-6u7B0G58tgbMh4JQKFMdQSdYATUJaGWqlpIm7/s400/dog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
There are golf carts driven by teenagers to dodge. That keeps me on my toes.<br />
<br />
I have dreams that I look like some amazing runner when I run.<br />
<br />
This is NOT me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhofm32YXoK-ybGtmTL9AogMrnOL69lAO0evAJUchJ74_HgXqTEmBJ8gpCx0xD5XLxDp1pxTre5xCeO-eliJGAGiyXluRd9P9Wjfkjn7NQpAywPlsBE9EF8cHRc4u6HK2BIGo3GYnvnGl/s1600/at-otf-out23893odv02.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikhofm32YXoK-ybGtmTL9AogMrnOL69lAO0evAJUchJ74_HgXqTEmBJ8gpCx0xD5XLxDp1pxTre5xCeO-eliJGAGiyXluRd9P9Wjfkjn7NQpAywPlsBE9EF8cHRc4u6HK2BIGo3GYnvnGl/s400/at-otf-out23893odv02.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Athleta Sportswear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I believe that I actually look like I'm about to have an "episode". <br />
<br />
An episode of what, I'm not quite sure.<br />
<br />
But the image of me when running is one of a red-faced, middle-aged woman<i> (ugh...did I really just write that</i>?) trying to keep her dog from <s>running into traffic </s> stopping in mid-stride while simultaneously trying to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">look</span> like she really can make it around the lake without stopping.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogUpbfGwjdoxrpg4XrvTZPUpS9awbDQfrbc6x7VKgqYyT74WZYWKN40OkSBKWjkHertLDje2u6EMVf9HZsW4IDuSWAv8d3kNapFGwa4uunglydsOfCI4e2VfVZVn0JMQIUhoHOh-VgmFb/s1600/jose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhogUpbfGwjdoxrpg4XrvTZPUpS9awbDQfrbc6x7VKgqYyT74WZYWKN40OkSBKWjkHertLDje2u6EMVf9HZsW4IDuSWAv8d3kNapFGwa4uunglydsOfCI4e2VfVZVn0JMQIUhoHOh-VgmFb/s400/jose.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
<br />
That alone should be off-putting, but today a kink was thrown into my running routine.<br />
<br />
A guy, I'll call him Creepy Guy, actually ran up beside me and asked how far the route around the lake was. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrvBFkBpfXOBw3Rzrni_aPLBMDgbKpjqhVprJddeZNvkw6okdF-mjctSTdknc6sNKOF_zJInQtkGBvdXqy8ZZ8WyywwjeaDwJPrOAKz02Wcf6_r-lfk55mF7DFW4VyklmAAJIVj4zDq7j/s1600/sebastian.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrvBFkBpfXOBw3Rzrni_aPLBMDgbKpjqhVprJddeZNvkw6okdF-mjctSTdknc6sNKOF_zJInQtkGBvdXqy8ZZ8WyywwjeaDwJPrOAKz02Wcf6_r-lfk55mF7DFW4VyklmAAJIVj4zDq7j/s400/sebastian.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is NOT creepy guy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>First of all, I had headphones in and didn't hear him coming. Note to self...teach my spastic dog to bark when Creepy Guy approaches.<br />
Second, I had headphones in. Isn't this the universal sign for <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Leave Me Alone</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">?</span><br />
<br />
I was nice, though, took out my ear bud and answered his question. Then I hightailed it right out there. I think I finished faster than I'd ever run before. I didn't see Creepy Guy any more that day. <br />
<br />
Thankfully.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjimgHhTHVNl8_1pMH6z_11YZ2pqWdcQWKHsXDOdi9HTXVth-yJqHVLKL2ZDoAn16l-FmaT9VXhT4z-Iv_PqhadlAg6PEan8Ha-jYQvGW_CO8f4kGyNdjdty_dDBop1qcQzAJf-9-Yk_Uk-/s1600/flops.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjimgHhTHVNl8_1pMH6z_11YZ2pqWdcQWKHsXDOdi9HTXVth-yJqHVLKL2ZDoAn16l-FmaT9VXhT4z-Iv_PqhadlAg6PEan8Ha-jYQvGW_CO8f4kGyNdjdty_dDBop1qcQzAJf-9-Yk_Uk-/s400/flops.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Poor puppy was practically being drug behind me as I <s>sprinted</s> walked really fast with a hop back to my car.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS03LwLPwN176AaCJuVb9mfzaDK12ELYZnKXF6H4U9Z_0zTz6bRyMW7Nw-WTpiUdBnAceo_dyI7k5peYP6HRRVj1dYgqJSbC-t_iRv1MV89dC3mN4jntvklL48tv4E8VQSNnPMCehF_MVm/s1600/piper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS03LwLPwN176AaCJuVb9mfzaDK12ELYZnKXF6H4U9Z_0zTz6bRyMW7Nw-WTpiUdBnAceo_dyI7k5peYP6HRRVj1dYgqJSbC-t_iRv1MV89dC3mN4jntvklL48tv4E8VQSNnPMCehF_MVm/s400/piper.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I think I need a box of chocolates now.<br />
<br />
<br />
Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-17784839878214698392011-08-23T05:47:00.000-07:002011-08-23T05:47:19.782-07:00Spelling PracticeI used to teach elementary school. I've taught 1st, 2nd, and 3rd grades. I've had experience in 4th grade, but my heart is in the younger grades. I think it is because I'm much more proficient in their math. Long division gets me every time!<br />
<br />
If you have a younger child who is in need of spelling help OR you would like a new way to practice spelling words, here is an idea you could try.<br />
<br />
You'll need index cards, markers in 2 or 3 colors or a highlighter and your spelling list.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uLnkhyuJr2fPR5h9TwGgH1WQAKVZWjiGGy4RCQANKyXKqFz_pq3qvBcznlpRqH-YB4Ruf1_hRFeQ4q3CRr-gRsHxUahbfFCkoRwzyb5RE_kxztjByazMfHMgKKSsxSJcdcYdT4kM93QL/s1600/spell1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9uLnkhyuJr2fPR5h9TwGgH1WQAKVZWjiGGy4RCQANKyXKqFz_pq3qvBcznlpRqH-YB4Ruf1_hRFeQ4q3CRr-gRsHxUahbfFCkoRwzyb5RE_kxztjByazMfHMgKKSsxSJcdcYdT4kM93QL/s400/spell1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
In younger grades the spelling lists usually cover a spelling rule - like "-ai says A like in rain" or "-ea says E like in clean". <br />
<br />
Figure out what your rule is. There may be more than one rule per list if your child is in 3rd grade or higher.<br />
<br />
Have your child write their spelling word, highlighting the rule by writing it in another color. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VHd367kVSgHlnK_AAJj_vLUhOFx4PLzspe7krf-k8jeYNIupzpVkSsKW-efTo6QdejfoqsxkMN6oxSXCLekkWet3zC2mzyK0UauhRguAtJgJqWF7k_QQJcBx_Vv4qVnUKzYQmeU9udjd/s1600/spell2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6VHd367kVSgHlnK_AAJj_vLUhOFx4PLzspe7krf-k8jeYNIupzpVkSsKW-efTo6QdejfoqsxkMN6oxSXCLekkWet3zC2mzyK0UauhRguAtJgJqWF7k_QQJcBx_Vv4qVnUKzYQmeU9udjd/s400/spell2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
You could even have your child write the word and actually <span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: yellow;">highlight</span> the spelling pattern WITH a highlighter. <br />
<br />
Use different colored markers/highlighters for different spelling patterns. (I didn't do that for the picture, but for "ea" you could use green or orange to write those letters.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUyW2YIKJFBLiy9g7mEJdUbNRv48pF_aiKzPyZWhyG_u4grbH1_ZXDF9I2hoIlupSnaeQSpCgVj8a6XpodTX7KZ0AY3YUmfSdJVgy13ltPaKmPn7uuWTxpIM0x6AXTiWVz-U00ww6TtCr/s1600/spell3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUyW2YIKJFBLiy9g7mEJdUbNRv48pF_aiKzPyZWhyG_u4grbH1_ZXDF9I2hoIlupSnaeQSpCgVj8a6XpodTX7KZ0AY3YUmfSdJVgy13ltPaKmPn7uuWTxpIM0x6AXTiWVz-U00ww6TtCr/s400/spell3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Once you have written all the words down, use the cards to group the words by pattern or in alphabetical order. <br />
<br />
IF one of your child's words doesn't follow a spelling pattern, write that one in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">RED </span>ink. You can tell your child that the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"> red </span>words don't follow spelling rules and they just have to learn them. <br />
<br />
When your child gets older, you can have them use this technique to look for Greek or Latin roots/prefixes for words. Knowing the derivation for roots/prefixes can help them when they are learning definitions or are trying to pronounce a really long word.<br />
<br />
Happy Studying!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-17783267677143938082011-08-22T06:58:00.000-07:002011-08-22T06:58:25.574-07:00ControlThis past weekend was our first volleyball tournament with the oldest daughter. Aside from having to be up way too early on a Saturday, having to be coherent enough to follow the directions of my navigation system while simultaneously looking for the closest Starbucks and trying NOT to embarrass my daughter, the day was pretty fun! I have no pictures to show...I was busy trying to learn to score for the volleyball games. I can tell you that scoring volleyball involves a lot more than just flipping over a number when a point is earned. <br />
<br />
Anyway, the games were fun--our girls had 4 games and won 3 of them. Pretty good for a team that only had four practices under their belts before the tournament! And this was just the first tournament of many this season. My need for organization has reached the critical point. If you have a child, or children who are in after school activities, you understand where I'm coming from.<br />
<br />
This is my calendar for the remainder of the month of August. The week hasn't started yet and already it is full. (Actually it is full online...I haven't put the online stuff from school on my MOM'S MAKE IT OR BREAK IT - IT HAS TO BE WRITTEN HERE OR IT DOESN'T EXIST CALENDAR.)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9hdsFjfdDY0_os2Xhzka80k487wZyZt-tderjg3AUKFaIIvfi0RF9TyYdPSdJQ9ELTeDWLIXiDXzT7PTZzkuJQ_rfTBsfvyV330dn-9-MEYYCUdGnR1ctFDRmOISDANu66IXiZVHGHjA/s1600/aug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9hdsFjfdDY0_os2Xhzka80k487wZyZt-tderjg3AUKFaIIvfi0RF9TyYdPSdJQ9ELTeDWLIXiDXzT7PTZzkuJQ_rfTBsfvyV330dn-9-MEYYCUdGnR1ctFDRmOISDANu66IXiZVHGHjA/s400/aug.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I haven't put in this week's stuff in...I'm behind already!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>In an effort to make my life easier, I am trying to become more organized and reduce the number of random paper piles around my house. (Darling husband...are you listening?)<br />
<br />
Here are my ideas. They aren't original, by any means, but they are useful for me. Take them, change them, or just read about them. They are already helping me get a handle on the activities in our lives.<br />
<br />
First up is my school notebook. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhRDwNwHaQoUzNYac_VdbsrB1ZE1y1ebvsQN3QmLmuZq9cG73DSc0kVNPDA64DvQIR4oU0yg6UIAg4_3Wg8SSL8nQH98PyVcUqP83kYoWzRmSgZSA7nAZMX6bOz0UQctQ29TJprLJO9Zx/s1600/folder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmhRDwNwHaQoUzNYac_VdbsrB1ZE1y1ebvsQN3QmLmuZq9cG73DSc0kVNPDA64DvQIR4oU0yg6UIAg4_3Wg8SSL8nQH98PyVcUqP83kYoWzRmSgZSA7nAZMX6bOz0UQctQ29TJprLJO9Zx/s400/folder.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
This notebook is for all the forms, lists, random notes that need to be kept but not on the refrigerator.<br />
<br />
I've labeled the sections with the grades for my kids.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDEn99ArblJAO6lq1A6FAXoUFp5SbVvPh4HnzNMGpt9JnOYOU3FtVdWatRhYeS_pOCA9gVZGlJY9ixbvR6fx09rP81kyXlF9wBS5TIybhLwsPnmjpx8TqYTlf1n_LE-k-aJZs-EXAW9bv/s1600/kdg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifDEn99ArblJAO6lq1A6FAXoUFp5SbVvPh4HnzNMGpt9JnOYOU3FtVdWatRhYeS_pOCA9gVZGlJY9ixbvR6fx09rP81kyXlF9wBS5TIybhLwsPnmjpx8TqYTlf1n_LE-k-aJZs-EXAW9bv/s400/kdg.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Then I put the papers I want/need to keep in page protectors. This way I know where they are at all times.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-jci093KEy_XdFtykA3hKWyIAsLd9-RBbqycf-JuzBIGdCmwZjG5aXaT3q5DZJR8uIVjGBUNxr6etNVHzL9bYFXzXLAIcxUb9VzN-g7qnbTywSPdNiOQ1XPVI0BJn6zSPCF2RWX-NW9j/s1600/papers1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-jci093KEy_XdFtykA3hKWyIAsLd9-RBbqycf-JuzBIGdCmwZjG5aXaT3q5DZJR8uIVjGBUNxr6etNVHzL9bYFXzXLAIcxUb9VzN-g7qnbTywSPdNiOQ1XPVI0BJn6zSPCF2RWX-NW9j/s400/papers1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
My daughter's third grade teacher is doing something on a larger scale for each student this year. Each child has a 2-inch binder. A parent has volunteered to keep the class binders at their house. Then, when the teacher has a paper or art work or whatever that is keepsake-worthy, she simply sends it to the notebook keeper's house and they file it in page protectors in each child's folder. By the end of the year all the special papers will already be filed in a neat and organized fashion in their notebook. Cool, huh?<br />
<br />
The other file helper is my folder file. <br />
<br />
My husband is a piler. All over my kitchen are "organized" piles of stuff. Drives me batty.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSp-stRxqkm7XgKiA_fJE7lJ6d3T2AEAdR1TvWDfCUvbE9M26HjfiXCzguQMdqsHnHwDi9TPfw7fA6sulxDkByHSOXg0t_vrmFuWN2iEoAPzHcyUTXnno9owLTt2HGwsdrCU_9Bg4-8dc/s1600/piles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSp-stRxqkm7XgKiA_fJE7lJ6d3T2AEAdR1TvWDfCUvbE9M26HjfiXCzguQMdqsHnHwDi9TPfw7fA6sulxDkByHSOXg0t_vrmFuWN2iEoAPzHcyUTXnno9owLTt2HGwsdrCU_9Bg4-8dc/s400/piles.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So to keep the peace and my sanity, I've gotten the cute folder file. I've organized the bills to pay, bills that we need to keep and other papers he needs in spots in the folder. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0Egp-YFjqeA698_FvTm-tXnV4CvpV_Rmgx9syxbfZt2zrFAyElGjTqjEowqGfhAxYwg0WDs0YCun1XE-ValwT3h7OlZOGf5tGbOcc1zOwl4iWL0A_ycV6RffUQ7ylS0yhLNLagVkt43V/s1600/filefolder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_0Egp-YFjqeA698_FvTm-tXnV4CvpV_Rmgx9syxbfZt2zrFAyElGjTqjEowqGfhAxYwg0WDs0YCun1XE-ValwT3h7OlZOGf5tGbOcc1zOwl4iWL0A_ycV6RffUQ7ylS0yhLNLagVkt43V/s400/filefolder.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Yea! Counters are cleaned off and mom is a happier camper. Well, they aren't cleaned off yet. I have to actually put my file folder to use for that to happen. But I'm on my way to clean counters and THAT, my friends, is what matters.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSp-stRxqkm7XgKiA_fJE7lJ6d3T2AEAdR1TvWDfCUvbE9M26HjfiXCzguQMdqsHnHwDi9TPfw7fA6sulxDkByHSOXg0t_vrmFuWN2iEoAPzHcyUTXnno9owLTt2HGwsdrCU_9Bg4-8dc/s1600/piles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSSp-stRxqkm7XgKiA_fJE7lJ6d3T2AEAdR1TvWDfCUvbE9M26HjfiXCzguQMdqsHnHwDi9TPfw7fA6sulxDkByHSOXg0t_vrmFuWN2iEoAPzHcyUTXnno9owLTt2HGwsdrCU_9Bg4-8dc/s400/piles.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look, the files are there...waiting to be used!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It has taken me 14 years of marriage and 12 years of parenthood to come up with these ideas. <br />
<br />
I'm a slow learner.<br />
<br />
Happy Monday, Ya'll!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-71316725509121209922011-08-19T07:00:00.000-07:002011-08-19T07:01:34.154-07:00Off To School SnackOur sweet neighbors have a sweet daughter who is near and dear to my little guy's heart. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0xIiLx6iEd47o9hdKJrfSOJoVRaaMUIUEb6D_0uPtxP-ct_FDZXWZQnHgLx4Xr27lHyD_SmNwYLFLZsaT3HU1KKotDUs96HXgE1Q6OOkCSuwz1UgR-VtOD2dFQ2yamNgHvaI2YxgiLw1/s1600/katiejenson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0xIiLx6iEd47o9hdKJrfSOJoVRaaMUIUEb6D_0uPtxP-ct_FDZXWZQnHgLx4Xr27lHyD_SmNwYLFLZsaT3HU1KKotDUs96HXgE1Q6OOkCSuwz1UgR-VtOD2dFQ2yamNgHvaI2YxgiLw1/s400/katiejenson.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
He says she's his "Best Katie". To say he's smitten is putting it lightly. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(And who wouldn't be? Look at her...athletic, smart and beautiful!)</span><br />
<br />
He's shy around her, hugs her, plays Wii with her and generally wants to be around <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">her</span> when she's around.<br />
<br />
Now being around Katie will be more difficult than just running across the square.<br />
<br />
Katie is leaving for college.<br />
<br />
Did you hear me?<br />
<br />
<i>COLLEGE</i>! And it is in another state. Waaaaa!!!!!<br />
<br />
Actually, it is a bunch of states away from us, but we are so excited for the adventure she is about to start.<br />
<br />
She and her parents drove her up yesterday to get her settled in and I knew I had to make something to help sustain them on this trek. <br />
<br />
I'm made Monster Cookies. You may know them as Cowboy Cookies or Everything But The Kitchen Sink Cookies. We call them Monster Cookies because they are so darn big.<br />
<br />
Plus this recipe makes, like, a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">million</span> cookies.<br />
<br />
Well, not a <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">MILLION</span>, but a lot of cookies. Perfect for snacking on while driving across multiple state lines. <br />
<br />
*I'm sharing the recipe, but please forgive the lack of pictures while I'm baking. Seems I forgot to take pictures until I was almost done. The recipe is straight forward, so I figure if you all can follow a recipe, we're all good. *<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">MONSTER COOKIES</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 C butter, softened</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 C sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 C packed brown sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">3 C creamy peanut butter</div><div style="text-align: center;">6 eggs</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 1/2 tsp corn syrup</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 1/2 tsp vanilla</div><div style="text-align: center;">4 tsp baking soda</div><div style="text-align: center;">9 C rolled oats</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 lb M&M's</div><div style="text-align: center;">1/2 lb chocolate chips</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Preheat oven to 350.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In a large bowl, cream butter, sugars and peanut butter till smooth.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Beat in eggs, 2 at a time, then corn syrup and vanilla. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mix in baking soda and oats until well blended. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Stir in chocolate chips and M&M's.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSeRqzThOLxYcEIlckvdafLMVt2Olz4KkwZt5QlZNfASkrkBVphxpjgqmX9cKZV2BKb5eAoBBP_WeIDX5rYj9bKkcj6ZSmq98QJ2pq3QwhmHnhOP0WuzzmeVt6s8PeBfE15BQi48j5uj7/s1600/cookies2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSeRqzThOLxYcEIlckvdafLMVt2Olz4KkwZt5QlZNfASkrkBVphxpjgqmX9cKZV2BKb5eAoBBP_WeIDX5rYj9bKkcj6ZSmq98QJ2pq3QwhmHnhOP0WuzzmeVt6s8PeBfE15BQi48j5uj7/s400/cookies2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See my mixing bowl? It's still THAT full after 3 or 4 pans of cookies...</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Place 2 in balls on cookie sheet. Flatten slightly with a fork. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Bake 10-12 minutes, then remove and cool on cookie sheet before removing to a wire rack.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRfwByF9Skv-vbigxw-BhvkT1NPC4u803KvVGuBpw-y-WfubKeqoWHYIwPUogG-c-hKkJ9eljQ2jcvImM1LolpjMDD5Ve0GyhNXZKqjFiwnAaquzD4vgyRfaYx6_hJWk7tibrDIqMPAH2/s1600/cookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCRfwByF9Skv-vbigxw-BhvkT1NPC4u803KvVGuBpw-y-WfubKeqoWHYIwPUogG-c-hKkJ9eljQ2jcvImM1LolpjMDD5Ve0GyhNXZKqjFiwnAaquzD4vgyRfaYx6_hJWk7tibrDIqMPAH2/s400/cookies.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div>Make these for someone leaving for a fantastic adventure. Or for a college football team who happens to come to your house for a snack.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0xIiLx6iEd47o9hdKJrfSOJoVRaaMUIUEb6D_0uPtxP-ct_FDZXWZQnHgLx4Xr27lHyD_SmNwYLFLZsaT3HU1KKotDUs96HXgE1Q6OOkCSuwz1UgR-VtOD2dFQ2yamNgHvaI2YxgiLw1/s1600/katiejenson.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO0xIiLx6iEd47o9hdKJrfSOJoVRaaMUIUEb6D_0uPtxP-ct_FDZXWZQnHgLx4Xr27lHyD_SmNwYLFLZsaT3HU1KKotDUs96HXgE1Q6OOkCSuwz1UgR-VtOD2dFQ2yamNgHvaI2YxgiLw1/s400/katiejenson.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">We love you, Katie! </div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-85151549440736782402011-08-18T06:40:00.000-07:002011-08-18T06:40:35.228-07:00Day 7On the seventh day, God said to rest. Isn't that right?<br />
<br />
God spent the first 6 days making the Earth, sun, moon, stars, sky, birds, fish, animals, plants,Man and then He took a day to rest. <br />
<br />
Today is day 7 of school and I'm ready for a rest.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PZikWft5Okzd_A2c1vTrLjnMkWCgVO-3nDBYYXUhW2Zqbe8pYSWgWNjIBSOrkUIC6YE1jWl-JuGRo3oE5stPdFjAR2OW1-tzkbT6rv9DbaQfrfUNOYfSWk7RNZYOmdD5knPzq1T94q4c/s1600/IMG_1239.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8PZikWft5Okzd_A2c1vTrLjnMkWCgVO-3nDBYYXUhW2Zqbe8pYSWgWNjIBSOrkUIC6YE1jWl-JuGRo3oE5stPdFjAR2OW1-tzkbT6rv9DbaQfrfUNOYfSWk7RNZYOmdD5knPzq1T94q4c/s400/IMG_1239.JPG" width="298" /></a></div><br />
Florida beaches in the winter. There is nothing better. I'm ready to go rest on a beach right now. My kids are 12, 9 and 5. They can take care of themselves for a few days, right? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I'm not a nut...I'm not leaving my children for days on end so I can go to the beach. Put the phone down. No need to call DEFACS. :)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
When you first have kids, it is fun to think about all the activities your child(ren) will get to participate in. Dance, sports, musical lessons...there are so many choices for our kids now. It seems like forever until their chubby little hands can hold a ball, much less catch one. <br />
<br />
And then it happens. They reach the magic age of 4 or 5. Maybe it is even younger for your kids...but either way, that birthday comes and goes and you've signed your little darling up for a class/sport/activity. So starts your love affair with your car seat. Yes. I said YOUR car seat...because this is where you will be spending countless hours shuttling kids from one thing to another and back.<br />
<br />
It is Day 7 of school and I must admit that my after-school calendar is looking a little crowded right now. Last night I even went so far as to contemplate pulling my kids out of ALL after school stuff just so I wouldn't have to ride in my car all afternoon. Selfish, I know, but seriously, having to start cooking dinner at 7:30AM so that it will be ready to warm up at 7:30 PM is a bit much. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuvBYgyh-lbua_swWWwWnzYxkyBG92Wvxg3pWFTjPFn1R2nrKaeRz5d3xZHeFsysm4jL6SOpCtA3CEPuhOhC4qF3uIzyGYRBRCij5XVbNdWQiIxmJ4zkXCfkx-Dj311WinqeaT1kmVxcO/s1600/IMG_1235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimuvBYgyh-lbua_swWWwWnzYxkyBG92Wvxg3pWFTjPFn1R2nrKaeRz5d3xZHeFsysm4jL6SOpCtA3CEPuhOhC4qF3uIzyGYRBRCij5XVbNdWQiIxmJ4zkXCfkx-Dj311WinqeaT1kmVxcO/s400/IMG_1235.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Look...here they are running on the beach. Idyllic. Carefree. And all mom had to do was open the door to the rental house and say "Run!". So simple.<br />
<br />
I suppose it can't be avoided with three kids. Even if each is in one activity, that is three different practices, three different game schedules, three different places they need to be at THE SAME TIME. <br />
<br />
Did you see that last one? I know you moms out there are agreeing with me. It never fails that when you have multiple children in different activities, you will always have overlapping schedules. <br />
<br />
God Bless carpooling!<br />
<br />
I'm still a little frazzled...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8EXisMcgN3Ntl1wzIUyD8_JT0Tw4EpNGNHM4ia4i-0K9Pj59XYML_r6MQ5maHyKLsOSd9npPpJ7on_MxSEaqdF3kbapNhlSJZsvOsRixBXmRuaka3r1xoS8jkoJiqi9oHKDxH2x6AumN/s1600/images-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI8EXisMcgN3Ntl1wzIUyD8_JT0Tw4EpNGNHM4ia4i-0K9Pj59XYML_r6MQ5maHyKLsOSd9npPpJ7on_MxSEaqdF3kbapNhlSJZsvOsRixBXmRuaka3r1xoS8jkoJiqi9oHKDxH2x6AumN/s400/images-4.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
And....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJUgwfsM6Vk0npp4GCVMHzfGiouzqSPJIstICgJmtXa3H21XkFWNO-DS0CeNBrK0cVHcICl-NRRuRkREb1ZwZsD8eSe0TVdwtrU1tqQg81AldjugN97G2zOWKpo5j1ASR85dARrenXvoU/s1600/P1010644.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNJUgwfsM6Vk0npp4GCVMHzfGiouzqSPJIstICgJmtXa3H21XkFWNO-DS0CeNBrK0cVHcICl-NRRuRkREb1ZwZsD8eSe0TVdwtrU1tqQg81AldjugN97G2zOWKpo5j1ASR85dARrenXvoU/s400/P1010644.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
But I keep reminding myself that I only have my 12 year old for a few more years, that my little guy is now 5 (where did <i>that</i> time go?)<i> </i>and my 9 year old is more ready for adventure than I am. <br />
<br />
Here's to enjoying this crazy- wacked- out- oh- my- gosh -I -will -use -up- the -college- fund -in- gas schedule.<br />
<br />
And thanking God for the days of rest...even when I don't think I'll see one for a few years!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-17395407914405593512011-08-15T10:54:00.000-07:002011-08-15T10:54:05.793-07:00Tales of a Real *Real* Housewife<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I don't even know how to start this post other than to say I'm a huge fan of Real Housewives of New York and Real Housewives of New Jersey. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">(Hello Kelly Bensimon...I'm not a stalker, but I'd <i>love </i>to meet you!)</span><br />
Even if you haven't seen the show, unless you've been living under a rock, you get the basic premise...cameras follow these women around filming the trials and tribulations of their lives. And let me tell you, there are some trials and tribulations! But don't you wonder if their lives were filled with such angst before the cameras got there? <br />
<br />
I tell my husband I'd never make it as a Real Housewife. I've got no drama in my life --- unless you count my fall after school schedule with the kids --- but really, my life is pretty normal. <br />
<br />
Here's the life of a Real *Real* Housewife...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tivBYDeuhf8zHi2y4bsZKEo2nUoNEHKPPx9TScAG7IqH-cKQVXwEBj1TnDCmpSdhrA6BiKZ5PMIJkhOa_N5XPham2b1-rvKcVZoeLAdecU_-Xvdgp4irySXCc8MQJWxQp1sa2L28JtuT/s1600/carpool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3tivBYDeuhf8zHi2y4bsZKEo2nUoNEHKPPx9TScAG7IqH-cKQVXwEBj1TnDCmpSdhrA6BiKZ5PMIJkhOa_N5XPham2b1-rvKcVZoeLAdecU_-Xvdgp4irySXCc8MQJWxQp1sa2L28JtuT/s400/carpool.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Drop Off at school for all three kiddos. Boy, let me tell you that the alarm goes off a lot earlier than I think it should, but somehow I drag myself and the cherubs out the door and get everyone to school by 7:30am. What you don't see is me praying I don't see anyone I know since I <i>know </i>I've barely brushed my teeth.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSLuiWBupeQrmgs4Grd8FHYCgfcTe2SEA4vvW7SdexsDBrkoTLStygmtQI-UU7-S1FUB0FFWvz8bHhpIiCCBaAAlwGSXDdRAAK5-YjfnyhxbhhnII8qrZPFaQg51UJGD6gKXccqgRRSCA2/s1600/walk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSLuiWBupeQrmgs4Grd8FHYCgfcTe2SEA4vvW7SdexsDBrkoTLStygmtQI-UU7-S1FUB0FFWvz8bHhpIiCCBaAAlwGSXDdRAAK5-YjfnyhxbhhnII8qrZPFaQg51UJGD6gKXccqgRRSCA2/s400/walk.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>The starting point for the Death March I take our rambunctious dog on each morning. I started this 3.6 mile walk/jog with the pup in hopes it would help get some of her spastic energy out. So far it is working. Note here she is sitting patiently waiting to start. What you don't see is her taking off at a full run, dragging my flailing body behind her. All of this is going on while crazy teenagers on golf carts are trying to run us over in an effort to get to school. It's a good time.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMcV7e6oUhM4zp7hyoECh0SleVExV6-a2KNPAEOWIWX-5uq5yiNIBpAmGcYBfTWHHUXaWinZxN-gbbQ55-ry8PVhkZ8bkBlUSeT_kBhNhahBMXsfyufZcDijkDDsgbds9NrXFrVmV-8OS/s1600/walk2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxMcV7e6oUhM4zp7hyoECh0SleVExV6-a2KNPAEOWIWX-5uq5yiNIBpAmGcYBfTWHHUXaWinZxN-gbbQ55-ry8PVhkZ8bkBlUSeT_kBhNhahBMXsfyufZcDijkDDsgbds9NrXFrVmV-8OS/s400/walk2.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
After the walk, pup is plum wore out. She's enjoying the AC in the car. I'm just thankful I came away from the walk/jog with minimal road rash.<br />
<br />
So far my day is amazingly interesting, right? <br />
<br />
Riiiiight. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30RnhWYExHrlvuUkNJHuJIqHJdUX2P1_FmpI92LwTmbGb7pCbhIXrnYH8GI7xUUn-MQFEnQ6Ve19NB8nPZWFtsZ0ElvbZOU43V4507qRWC2YiLqzzr7nbKWDbQ1ljUs9F8ImXrVM-qHxG/s1600/mall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg30RnhWYExHrlvuUkNJHuJIqHJdUX2P1_FmpI92LwTmbGb7pCbhIXrnYH8GI7xUUn-MQFEnQ6Ve19NB8nPZWFtsZ0ElvbZOU43V4507qRWC2YiLqzzr7nbKWDbQ1ljUs9F8ImXrVM-qHxG/s400/mall.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
This day I had an errand at the mall. <br />
This is a sight rarely seen by those who are not young moms or moms with kids in school.....the empty mall. I love an empty mall. The only other people at the mall at this time of the morning are speed walkers and moms with babies in strollers who are looking to be anywhere other than at home and the mall seems as good an outing as any. (I've got 3 kids. I did my share of cruising the mall with baby in tow JUST to get out of my house. It's called sanity.)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5J37f6B0F3O33c60bItxc7FBmQmxePEc_CDKetavW0vSYtJBEhfbZtZmHTxnKdFZNDfhZJc7jra5v2cgFFrmgEkRGZV1DPO-gOOjsSS7Wrm0VznAXhJyyLN5F8lO42Uz2aMiVGIs8cRM6/s1600/traffic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5J37f6B0F3O33c60bItxc7FBmQmxePEc_CDKetavW0vSYtJBEhfbZtZmHTxnKdFZNDfhZJc7jra5v2cgFFrmgEkRGZV1DPO-gOOjsSS7Wrm0VznAXhJyyLN5F8lO42Uz2aMiVGIs8cRM6/s400/traffic.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Heading home. Look, lunch time and NO traffic. This is something to record on the calendar since the big city near my house has horrible traffic pretty much 24/7/365.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_htBDF0KUZ_FZjGbgt8BkvvIMdSKZbICxPz8D1zKd7I8iBHjcgygoAADf6xwOZaXY9pD_3CekvucXD6qVkpSYEIvrE3SD_HnS3EVvydkb0afHVrYD6GSCGNN32NFxuK3JkujIxChqwnIB/s1600/lunch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_htBDF0KUZ_FZjGbgt8BkvvIMdSKZbICxPz8D1zKd7I8iBHjcgygoAADf6xwOZaXY9pD_3CekvucXD6qVkpSYEIvrE3SD_HnS3EVvydkb0afHVrYD6GSCGNN32NFxuK3JkujIxChqwnIB/s400/lunch.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
Being a Real *Real* Housewife, I do lunch just like the tv girls do. It's just that my lunch comes from Sonic in a greasy paper bag and I drink a soda with it while reading my Pilates magazine. I think on this day I was hoping that by reading the healthy magazine I'd be off-setting my horrible lunch.<br />
<br />
That doesn't work, by the way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9pUIpovKiGsfdIVctp-424QGySdbw9oQjiCBEtqMco1bftJyvixbnpbezRUFrbSlSkEg9bcWkM1kB1xEbgqY5Fvuz9aShKmF5eTHjz4ng3Jus4PJiq2ZJtP90rRo1RRSxswCq2e_2BFu/s1600/snack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9pUIpovKiGsfdIVctp-424QGySdbw9oQjiCBEtqMco1bftJyvixbnpbezRUFrbSlSkEg9bcWkM1kB1xEbgqY5Fvuz9aShKmF5eTHjz4ng3Jus4PJiq2ZJtP90rRo1RRSxswCq2e_2BFu/s400/snack.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
Back to car pool for pick up. Pick up and drop off are like Groundhog's Day. This time, though, I've come with refreshments. Most days, when I pick up the younger two kids, we are headed straight from school to the tutor or tennis. This day it is tennis....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWeCsKkBeKZdEBDhmtp03xEcXhyioVRjSxUWBF5MK0UeCkqJKl-2QMfWhaMKQZ4U720KI61wlKbc_S_MICVrJcxGw0buhOALA1wWoq3jkfQ3Q2qcmoP-MjkZ89E8kDV3iFxuWbch8fn2Y/s1600/tennis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYWeCsKkBeKZdEBDhmtp03xEcXhyioVRjSxUWBF5MK0UeCkqJKl-2QMfWhaMKQZ4U720KI61wlKbc_S_MICVrJcxGw0buhOALA1wWoq3jkfQ3Q2qcmoP-MjkZ89E8kDV3iFxuWbch8fn2Y/s400/tennis.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Then there's traffic while I try to get my oldest from school while the 9yo is at tennis. I hate traffic and many days I wish most of these people would just stay off the road so I could get where I want to go without having to deal with them. That's not selfish, is it?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHaS-Ms8fhyphenhyphen2vBLuwMkRa7QlAxDFdM-m87iVi5OTt609aQnJ2cz8us4MVUsPeN9WpFE0NrN5oPKyTmKlS0eGe7W8bD4_D2mXbSKLHsITAdFjgqfYJ9pIxQi2NEHZ-30sMz4a0Okf-80j9/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzHaS-Ms8fhyphenhyphen2vBLuwMkRa7QlAxDFdM-m87iVi5OTt609aQnJ2cz8us4MVUsPeN9WpFE0NrN5oPKyTmKlS0eGe7W8bD4_D2mXbSKLHsITAdFjgqfYJ9pIxQi2NEHZ-30sMz4a0Okf-80j9/s400/1.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><br />
I mean, really. I never ever see the Real Housewives stuck in traffic. Maybe they are and it gets edited out. I'd like to edit out this traffic.<br />
<br />
Finally I get home and try to throw together dinner because I had forgotten all about dinner. Who really needs to eat?<br />
<br />
Cereal, anyone?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HE9r8heKGOe07ojaIPXBAP9fP77kLYQ4bbekSKV1EJ9Twjt-JWxUetmM3jL4fUEyYfS-jxQjbxj5yCqaMZ0b7cWj5JmMK95mkP4qrAMLTGAJ2PlUt1LVfYRWnBBd4zAZxxldSyCG6kvR/s1600/dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HE9r8heKGOe07ojaIPXBAP9fP77kLYQ4bbekSKV1EJ9Twjt-JWxUetmM3jL4fUEyYfS-jxQjbxj5yCqaMZ0b7cWj5JmMK95mkP4qrAMLTGAJ2PlUt1LVfYRWnBBd4zAZxxldSyCG6kvR/s400/dinner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Be amazed at my culinary skill...BBQ sauce and pork chops. Though you'd never know they were pork chops since it seems I drowned them in sauce. Sorry little chops. <br />
<br />
Then homework, then baths, then bed. <br />
<br />
All of this done with me not having had a shower in, oh, 2 days because I couldn't get everything in and something had to give.<br />
<br />
Evidently this week it was personal cleanliness. <br />
<br />
I plan on working on that one this week.<br />
<br />
Happy Monday to all the Real *Real* Housewives!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-56774299995528612732011-08-14T08:08:00.000-07:002011-08-14T08:08:31.344-07:00Cake In A PanThis past week I've been getting back into the swing of school and schedules. <br />
<br />
I just finished filling in the calendar with the practice times for my girls' sports, various doctor appointments, dentist appointments, vet appointments, yadda yadda yadda. <br />
<br />
To say my calendar looks overwhelming after only one week of school is an understatement. <br />
<br />
In order to keep myself sane, I decided to put my calendar out of my head for the day. I'll become an ostrich with my head in the sand, so to speak.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Okqfvo1foRKqHLQrTxWGKhbG_i3NF-4UD-_5CKSOyQfKrJsXRf_y7tTkot9wR_vQpsEOXmfVeRSMiEsTllCyasOwyoI1oGahbGE_h3P2rLIy2FOgFnV0GCzOPIWS3ASYn5yZpLfqMIy/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ4Okqfvo1foRKqHLQrTxWGKhbG_i3NF-4UD-_5CKSOyQfKrJsXRf_y7tTkot9wR_vQpsEOXmfVeRSMiEsTllCyasOwyoI1oGahbGE_h3P2rLIy2FOgFnV0GCzOPIWS3ASYn5yZpLfqMIy/s320/images-3.jpeg" width="241" /></a></div><br />
Today I decided to make a cake. I love cake. Actually, I love to bake. It is the one thing I'm pretty okay at doing in the kitchen. <br />
<br />
I decided to make <a href="http://tastykitchen.com/recipes/desserts/perfect-pound-cake/">Perfect Pound Cake from The Pioneer Woman</a>. <br />
<br />
It has 7-UP/Sprite/Sierra Mist in it and it is yummy. <br />
<br />
This is what I'm left with after cooking my cake.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsk_kRW57aPZvTZQRBWiCWveT8YsufmP28Raqis_VHS7r2TGVG4RL6V5WuEYqdGLVd1YSRhAr84dwWijYjW4afzn7AfXqrj9i_m29IrUG7mqyTjj5D9bpQPvhw0kOmcdMOXAlqCnVs8TfQ/s1600/cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsk_kRW57aPZvTZQRBWiCWveT8YsufmP28Raqis_VHS7r2TGVG4RL6V5WuEYqdGLVd1YSRhAr84dwWijYjW4afzn7AfXqrj9i_m29IrUG7mqyTjj5D9bpQPvhw0kOmcdMOXAlqCnVs8TfQ/s400/cake.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
My cake is hopelessly stuck in the pan. And I used cooking spray--to the Nth degree. <br />
Iron Man tried to help un-stick the cake to no avail. Look at him. He collapsed. <br />
<br />
Hope you all have a great and un-stuck weekend!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-41492286343758779602011-08-11T07:13:00.000-07:002011-08-11T07:13:45.506-07:00What IS that?I live in a Desperate Housewives-type neighborhood. <br />
<br />
No, we're not out stealing husbands or peeking in windows, but any new visitor to my house always makes the same comment...that I live on Wisteria Lane in real life.<br />
<br />
We've been in our house for 8 years now and a huge selling point when we were house hunting was the square that is steps from our front door. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbqm3sNEcU9E8KhoqfOkHvgHl2fq2V2LLtmzqoLVLqJ0oU2XhPGmYLYT6rErm9I-sB0-LgmmIYV8Cr3MVbNv7ZWcuK9jaspCogsWtrag2fK3luP5oaXftX_V9pVko0Fi1U_O_w1dVJnnb/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbqm3sNEcU9E8KhoqfOkHvgHl2fq2V2LLtmzqoLVLqJ0oU2XhPGmYLYT6rErm9I-sB0-LgmmIYV8Cr3MVbNv7ZWcuK9jaspCogsWtrag2fK3luP5oaXftX_V9pVko0Fi1U_O_w1dVJnnb/s400/photo.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
It is about the size of a football field.<br />
<br />
If you should choose to run around the square, say, four times, you'd have run a mile. <br />
<br />
That's pretty handy information to have if you like to run and sweat. I like to walk and relax.<br />
<br />
Recently the trees around the square have been trimmed up (in hopes the grass will start to grow again!) and you'll never guess what showed up soon after the tree trimmers left....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbnVLoYTyhL954nmZtrEM5krTngMKMwS7kUSVNCiVFdlBC5f8tVruMUb2jfc26CcbTAzi-qHofZdJL-3rubbHGq1Y_bl2jgWE3tNGX7Gk6fOI9eJDvDsjRRJ3S5njrTtKakJaUoRXZ81B/s1600/wasp1.0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigbnVLoYTyhL954nmZtrEM5krTngMKMwS7kUSVNCiVFdlBC5f8tVruMUb2jfc26CcbTAzi-qHofZdJL-3rubbHGq1Y_bl2jgWE3tNGX7Gk6fOI9eJDvDsjRRJ3S5njrTtKakJaUoRXZ81B/s400/wasp1.0.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I KNOW!<br />
What IS that thing?<br />
<br />
What we DO know is that it is seriously scary looking and even scarier sounding. <br />
<br />
They swarm around the freshly cut parts of the trees and if you get anywhere near them they fly around you. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqJxUC76OcWt8cPNrlKEIsK9Q2_92pHF2autO4NNg0NWihiCSqIRu1OW-HD5yXV0rATwuPrEgQsrLDkuoKG29o7-dvAXR5WSYQEi1kY5D2QBZNEeoDrbQTOpUWoOpD6_Mv2tPGvdbtDfO/s1600/wasp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzqJxUC76OcWt8cPNrlKEIsK9Q2_92pHF2autO4NNg0NWihiCSqIRu1OW-HD5yXV0rATwuPrEgQsrLDkuoKG29o7-dvAXR5WSYQEi1kY5D2QBZNEeoDrbQTOpUWoOpD6_Mv2tPGvdbtDfO/s400/wasp1.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
Well, I went out there with my zoom lens to snap the above pictures so my husband could try to google these crazy creatures. <br />
<br />
They are called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastern_cicada_killer">Eastern Cicada Killers</a>. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_qgnV4ZOtwohhrAFdMEY1eBwlz4J318B2fVsl3_1hIkW-yq9ogAvpM0qGzjIGUZC8rW8eT7OcEaDFQ8rhKJ8Y8Rpd3kxzFd70R7VqJHz4Ib0ZRNzs39KWJKy9pamAAz7eJSKAFPQgvVS/s1600/wasp2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_qgnV4ZOtwohhrAFdMEY1eBwlz4J318B2fVsl3_1hIkW-yq9ogAvpM0qGzjIGUZC8rW8eT7OcEaDFQ8rhKJ8Y8Rpd3kxzFd70R7VqJHz4Ib0ZRNzs39KWJKy9pamAAz7eJSKAFPQgvVS/s320/wasp2.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><br />
Seriously. I don't make this stuff up. <br />
<br />
Luckily it seems they don't go out trying to sting anyone, but they are some wicked looking guys.<br />
<br />
Now aren't you glad you popped by for a light read? You come away with new information. I'm helpful like that.Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-16611380274378030422011-08-08T17:25:00.000-07:002011-08-08T17:25:56.539-07:00Meet The TeacherWhen I was growing up, there was no "Meet The Teacher" Day, per se. I'd beg my mom and dad starting in the middle of July, to make a drive by school to see if the class rosters were taped to the front doors. <br />
<br />
The preceding weeks would find my best friends and me discussing possible teacher/student combinations and what the ramifications would be if *gasp* we were not all in the same class. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">They wouldn't actually separate us, would they? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
Now it is my turn to listen with my oh-so-impatient ears about the possibilities for the upcoming school year. I honestly don't know which is true...if I was as big a pain about teacher assignments as my kids are OR if I kept more stuff quiet and discussed it with my friends. Because if I was like my kids, I don't know how I didn't drive my mother to drink in the weeks leading up to a new school year. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtWL6y5LFGtBe7kSnQJbH1ZRBlqczWhkIgcqWQGuhQh0wJ4XJNxAhQnkSNPtSX0UmNDXOeAjlG7aiHOtovrldHL91Yg6WzKt7HtXuS03TwvC8g4ClPFQpDPgj74S3PAzqbGtV-33LhByW/s1600/school.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRtWL6y5LFGtBe7kSnQJbH1ZRBlqczWhkIgcqWQGuhQh0wJ4XJNxAhQnkSNPtSX0UmNDXOeAjlG7aiHOtovrldHL91Yg6WzKt7HtXuS03TwvC8g4ClPFQpDPgj74S3PAzqbGtV-33LhByW/s400/school.jpg" width="338" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First Day of School 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Today was my kids' day to meet their teachers for the 2011-2012 school year. (Doesn't that look odd? I mean, I remember writing 2000 and now we're all the way to 2011. Where does the time go?)<br />
<br />
Luckily our school has gone to almost everything online, so the majority of necessary forms were already filled out (in triplicate, of course, by yours truly) and the {send} button was pushed. I grabbed my two youngest kiddos and headed over to school.<br />
<br />
The church building our school meets in is undergoing renovations and because of the siding being put on the building, it looked like it was snowing when we arrived. Seriously. The little Styrofoam flakes (or whatever they were) were falling from the sky, collecting near the door in little drifts. This has nothing to do with our day, just funny to note.<br />
<br />
My little guy is in Kindergarten this year and has the same teacher as my 9 yo daughter and my nieces. She's the best--very gregarious and super organized. My quiet, play-by-himself little guy will really thrive with her.<br />
<br />
My 9 yo has a teacher new to our school this year. She's precious, highly organized and has long blonde hair. She looks like Cinderella. Or more accurately, Cinderella's much more fashionable younger sister.<br />
In the 3 seconds we had to talk to her, I was impressed.<br />
<br />
But let me ask you something. As a parent, do you ever feel like you're being interviewed at Meet the Teacher days? I do. I even changed clothes a few times to make sure my outfit was both "fun" and "no nonsense". No, I don't have a picture of it, just trust me that the right vibe was reached.<br />
<br />
As a former teacher, I used to HATE these days. I was horrible at speaking in front of adults. Give me a gym full of little kids and I was fine. Put a parent in the mix and I felt like I was being assessed on all levels.<br />
<br />
Was my hair ok? <br />
<br />
Were my clothes professional looking? Or did I have the dreaded "teacher" look going on? You know what I mean...theme sweaters, pencil necklaces, long skirts...I had it all...and none of it looked good. My wardrobe <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">screamed </span>elementary teacher. I realize that now.<br />
<br />
They say the first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem...<br />
<br />
<br />
Why yes, that is a sweatshirt with a ruler and various school-related items ironed on the front. Snazzy, right<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzGLaong3_AdrK09sOIigU8eZv5zj_H186L2vOkBBfZ3oxr9QvD5jtEY_b4rmEYVBgbgU6KvZTwIeldy7iIJDQJwMm8IRNgkX1epMWFI1h6JrRiBV25gKq7_0N3rouxd1yB_Fu2zRxMcD/s1600/mail-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzGLaong3_AdrK09sOIigU8eZv5zj_H186L2vOkBBfZ3oxr9QvD5jtEY_b4rmEYVBgbgU6KvZTwIeldy7iIJDQJwMm8IRNgkX1epMWFI1h6JrRiBV25gKq7_0N3rouxd1yB_Fu2zRxMcD/s320/mail-1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fuzzy picrture of me in "sweatshirt" with my first class.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Happy New School Year, Ya'll.Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-64061769940135749092011-08-03T15:53:00.000-07:002011-08-03T15:53:21.221-07:00Summer ReadsI love to read. I can remember when I was younger that I wanted to read the thick books with no pictures. I think I thought that carrying around a thick book would make me look older or smarter or both. Either way, reading the books didn't make me look older or smarter. It did, however, cement in me a true love for a great story. Those were the good 'ol days.<br />
These days are also good days, but I don't get to do much reading for pleasure. When those moments pop up when everyone in my family is settled and taken care of --- when no one is calling my name or asking for a snack or wondering why I haven't washed their favorite pair of shorts or generally asking me to come up with world peace -- when those fleeting minutes find me, I'm the one diving head first into a book. And if I get sucked into the story everyone had better be ready to eat PB&J for dinner because Mama isn't moving. Last night I was especially enthralled in a story. The kids were in bed, husband was busy with work and I decided to lay in the tub with my iPad and relax. I ended up laying in the tub for <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">3 hours</span>. I was reading as fast as I could because my iPad was running low on battery power and I wanted to get to the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> end of the story</span>!! I stayed in the tub so long that the water was cold, it was almost midnight, my husband was sound asleep and I was honestly contemplating yelling for him to go put a towel in the dryer so I could have something warm to wrap up in. Pitiful, I know. (I ended up just sucking it up and getting out of the freezing bathtub myself..I'm not that big a prima-donna!) But really, I love to read!<br />
<br />
Here's the list of my summer reads. Consider it a buffet of books. Some are light, some are heavy. All were enjoyed by me!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOxpgkZdZvKjLS5wuwLDnX8b4pbBZT3dp3GDHY9TZx0Uy_WtuW6jQpDSVOyihawGN0QEn0lqwIN4-at3wDICJIabZFQE5erGdmPl8V-8B5rouf_iJuIsESDaP79q2YaidMMhY8zWPdIL7/s1600/ForgottenFoundingFather_Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOxpgkZdZvKjLS5wuwLDnX8b4pbBZT3dp3GDHY9TZx0Uy_WtuW6jQpDSVOyihawGN0QEn0lqwIN4-at3wDICJIabZFQE5erGdmPl8V-8B5rouf_iJuIsESDaP79q2YaidMMhY8zWPdIL7/s320/ForgottenFoundingFather_Cover.png" width="224" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I guess I should have prefaced my post by telling you I really enjoy history. Our trip to Mt. Vernon was one of my favorite things we've done. I could have spent 2 or 3 days there. But back to our book. This book is about Noah Webster, the creator of Webster's Dictionary. He hung out with Benjamin Franklin and George Washington. And in addition to creating a spelling book for young children, he was the main guy behind our uniquely "American" culture. Really interesting read.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1XL470hYQvzFv2MtlE1DuYDEHsWiCgW_oNvy1O91-y6mNHjreYtjr1RQ5_kDBeQ9mm4QNnrf4C_6AaIRyFPWO3NB4foxrWx5NY58RlDD95f_-XuWdzA4zmUFn_2M395pR9H5wIHpo6ED/s1600/90350802.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI1XL470hYQvzFv2MtlE1DuYDEHsWiCgW_oNvy1O91-y6mNHjreYtjr1RQ5_kDBeQ9mm4QNnrf4C_6AaIRyFPWO3NB4foxrWx5NY58RlDD95f_-XuWdzA4zmUFn_2M395pR9H5wIHpo6ED/s1600/90350802.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok. Everyone and their brother has read this. I'm really late to the party on this one. I read it because I wanted to see the movie <i>after </i>I'd read the book and I really want to see the movie. For those who are even later to the party than me the book is set in Mississippi in the late '50's early '60s. It is all about the relationships between white middle class women and their black maids. It is a pretty good read, but for me the ending wasn't the greatest. I'm wondering if the movie will end differently.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHTTv2oofOvNMh59PPrvGG18p9psxxOWPUi753VF1784n4GWgr_OY8Q0pd0i56EVDBnDHWqiedUo8-jYxHBw_g0V3n3s6axs6FuShvfcWWt_KTQ7PPbfwJVi-OqzLFiaCQ7mVx-7riUxA/s1600/84754752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhHTTv2oofOvNMh59PPrvGG18p9psxxOWPUi753VF1784n4GWgr_OY8Q0pd0i56EVDBnDHWqiedUo8-jYxHBw_g0V3n3s6axs6FuShvfcWWt_KTQ7PPbfwJVi-OqzLFiaCQ7mVx-7riUxA/s1600/84754752.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>By far, my favorite book this summer. It is the story of a WWII army solider/Olympic track hopeful/POW. Amazing. Read it--now. I loved it so much that I'm having my 12 year old daughter read it. It provides great insight into World War II and since it is told from the standpoint of one solider it makes the information much easier to understand. Truly a great book. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbwPI0tPqlFYgKWW3DD11U9mpVjGztsjtWWGjd8WlSuzvaOw-h-yo5jGFmfZ_tvtq6PTkvlKOMj_Ey-WgE0Tj-BgLSX_nWSGOsYGCsJf8muZHONHAoKNCrZ3xP4X736RIvJwKWsyqWPIk/s1600/51KZ1Iz82BL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDbwPI0tPqlFYgKWW3DD11U9mpVjGztsjtWWGjd8WlSuzvaOw-h-yo5jGFmfZ_tvtq6PTkvlKOMj_Ey-WgE0Tj-BgLSX_nWSGOsYGCsJf8muZHONHAoKNCrZ3xP4X736RIvJwKWsyqWPIk/s320/51KZ1Iz82BL.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><br />
Mary Kay Andrews--the Queen of the quick summer read. This is the story of a group of girlfriends who rent a cottage on Nags Head. During the month they are there each of them comes to terms with crazy stuff going on in their lives. Typical chick-flick-summer read. Cute guy, bad guy, great girlfriends. Easy read. The End.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXMMbGRMIAiW9moYW1OgaZ2YMzqau8jWqNI6yahgZVvSMLul_NMSdRq-RbcE0bezLdzeuXUQDsZ_decTNN9seqGKGrAG8jQiyNNjiEx8hY6eJ65tb-Az5qWeHrPKNqT7GBJFg9nprZCvF/s1600/s-ROB-LOWE-BOOK-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXMMbGRMIAiW9moYW1OgaZ2YMzqau8jWqNI6yahgZVvSMLul_NMSdRq-RbcE0bezLdzeuXUQDsZ_decTNN9seqGKGrAG8jQiyNNjiEx8hY6eJ65tb-Az5qWeHrPKNqT7GBJFg9nprZCvF/s1600/s-ROB-LOWE-BOOK-large.jpg" /></a></div><br />
Ever since St. Elmo's fire, I've had a huge HUGE crush on Rob Lowe. Then he's in West Wing and I get a bigger crush on "Sam Seaborn". I <i>had</i> to get this book to read on the airplane. (Sorry honey, but I can't talk to you right now since I'm completely entrhalled in Rob.) I read this on the flight to Cannes. One way. Great stories of his start (did you know he hung out with Charlie Sheen, Martin Sheen and Emilio Esteves? He knew Tom Cruise waaaaay before he was the famous/crazy/weird guy he is today.) <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3y1rzDT4dY_QUe1mChgBlYqu5oGbkV2wJGVdDF4I5mF5UoUIyn1Ms2GOni-XSpWQlyxpEfKwLe15yLKP6beW8Vjh9XA4THiEEEXTl4m19hPRkLAMohEPL6e432A_XaKr8HzjVVhbVCUf/s1600/ImageServerDB.asp.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3y1rzDT4dY_QUe1mChgBlYqu5oGbkV2wJGVdDF4I5mF5UoUIyn1Ms2GOni-XSpWQlyxpEfKwLe15yLKP6beW8Vjh9XA4THiEEEXTl4m19hPRkLAMohEPL6e432A_XaKr8HzjVVhbVCUf/s1600/ImageServerDB.asp.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
I live in Georgia. As a resident of this state, I think I'm supposed to hate all things related to the University of Florida. Especially Tim Tebow. But really- he's so cute! And during his college seasons, he'd put Bible verses on the black under his eyes. And he's cute. (I'm so shallow.) I had heard a little about his upbringing (parents missionaries, his mom's pregnancy with him was difficult, etc). This book is a lot of football talk. LOTS OF FOOTBALL. So college football fans, you'll love this. I enjoyed the story of his family and his early years with his brothers. And I now I'm a bigger fan because of his standards. I'm hoping my girls find someone with his character. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUubxnfz3JboBxS87mQko9CA5P2N4EXZKK3YCyErUAgrxYDiCpd5gG_7hxjKax-RNhP_ExX0oGlJVTOFv5fYGu3Fqg3ZIL-0d4ICvRjif6FybGpFleAjApvFTWrfgW4xdIourNceoyStB/s1600/books-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdUubxnfz3JboBxS87mQko9CA5P2N4EXZKK3YCyErUAgrxYDiCpd5gG_7hxjKax-RNhP_ExX0oGlJVTOFv5fYGu3Fqg3ZIL-0d4ICvRjif6FybGpFleAjApvFTWrfgW4xdIourNceoyStB/s1600/books-1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
<u>The Real George Washington</u>. HUGE book. Don't be intimidated by this book. Our first President was quite the interesting man. Surveyor by age 16. Family deaths and living abroad with a brother who was ill. Meeting and marrying Martha Custis. He was the most reluctant public servant ever. He served for the good of the country- not for accolades or power, but for the good of our new country. He rocks and this book will make you want to shout it from the roof tops.<br />
<br />
Okay, friends, what have you been reading?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-64203804898452255322011-07-30T06:01:00.000-07:002011-07-30T06:06:50.590-07:00Birthdays - Southern Belle StyleI'm not a cook. And I don't play one on tv.<br />
<br />
I can bake, but cooking...that requires a bit of finesse and creativity that I haven't mastered yet.<br />
<br />
It comes to a head on birthdays and major holiday celebrations. You'd think being raised in the South would mean I had mastered all things "kitchen". Yeah...that is<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> so</span> not true. <br />
<br />
Being from the South, I'd also like to think that one day my birthday celebrations would look like the parties in Southern Living. I haven't reached that milestone yet, but I'm working on it! But first and foremost is the cooking. Oh, the cooking.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZs7QKF_z91Mg-VaTP-Oz_MSkn3BzE4fewHCRsEeShsNO9draz-nFgbfdy2lcG3OEm0cJL7tXX0Db76ghIceuFW5b3TiQLkYDolyrOzOJzNqSP7dJabMQnP6PyuCQHhg1jNOjpnLMLP17z/s1600/mommecheryl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZs7QKF_z91Mg-VaTP-Oz_MSkn3BzE4fewHCRsEeShsNO9draz-nFgbfdy2lcG3OEm0cJL7tXX0Db76ghIceuFW5b3TiQLkYDolyrOzOJzNqSP7dJabMQnP6PyuCQHhg1jNOjpnLMLP17z/s400/mommecheryl.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mom, me, my sister- flanked by the better cooks...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>My mom is a great cook. Her mom was a great cook. My dad's mom was a great cook. My sister is a great cook. That good cook gene skipped a relative. <br />
<br />
I'm a so-so cook. <br />
<br />
I have a battery of dishes that I can cook pretty well---but man can not live on chicken nuggets parmesan alone.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNOyeoo2oh5EnTnx30lU65G0wI5sfdaYFJqtg0isYobfnnqAb1o0pAojenx7DkX59Eu5oEdTe8d2Sby40zb_eGjgGyJbmCH-jieR6ozkAkefQWdenWFFuU-kvEW9R7Qs5C6u4TFZPmgED/s1600/scottandme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxNOyeoo2oh5EnTnx30lU65G0wI5sfdaYFJqtg0isYobfnnqAb1o0pAojenx7DkX59Eu5oEdTe8d2Sby40zb_eGjgGyJbmCH-jieR6ozkAkefQWdenWFFuU-kvEW9R7Qs5C6u4TFZPmgED/s400/scottandme.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Today is my husband's birthday. (Happy birthday, honey!)<br />
<br />
He's requested Beef Stroganoff and cheesecake. My so-so skills in the kitchen come shining through on days like this. <br />
<br />
I won't even go into the story about the ribs I creamated on the grill. Seriously--black smoke, ashes, pizza for dinner--cremated ribs. It was a first in the bbq world, I'm sure. Feel free to laugh. We <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">still</span> laugh about that one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0w17ojYSOlvFEDz2jrPylF6AI8xjsTHP3Kyg5iV9PX_RPUJXQuWBley2o86wUCBBVLob_Vgufs-wQ7hRxL8HCfy3twGDowcN0pMOeA9zd96PlmuEuYbJtEoxHA_PnZdgXzopxYDk14P5j/s1600/recipe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0w17ojYSOlvFEDz2jrPylF6AI8xjsTHP3Kyg5iV9PX_RPUJXQuWBley2o86wUCBBVLob_Vgufs-wQ7hRxL8HCfy3twGDowcN0pMOeA9zd96PlmuEuYbJtEoxHA_PnZdgXzopxYDk14P5j/s400/recipe.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<br />
The beef stroganoff recipe is from his mom. ( No pressure there, right?) My guy's parents are coming to dinner tonight. My parents are coming to dinner tonight. I'm hoping I can do it justice. And I'm hoping I can actually get it cooked since I haven't even purchased any ingredients yet.<br />
<br />
Good thing for me my guy wants a store-bought cheesecake. <br />
<br />
Thank you, Lord, for Fresh Market.Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-19760065489323269692011-07-26T11:59:00.000-07:002011-07-26T11:59:14.532-07:00Expectations and the First Stamp in the PassportHave you ever had a preconceived notion of someone or something that was completely blown out of the water in a matter of seconds? <br />
<div><br />
</div><div>I'm sure you all have. We ALL have. It seems more prominent when the preconceived notion is about the limitations of a child. </div><div><br />
</div><div>I love my children. Period. They are all practically perfect in every way. But when planning a vacation, I have to keep in mind the things that a 12 year old will find exciting are not necessarily the things a 9 year old and 5 year old will enjoy. And that, my friends was what I was thinking about when my husband and I decided Mexico would be our destination for Family Vacation 2011.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here is where the worries about my kids come into play. Our 9 year old is the wild woman. She is fearless and that is my most favorite trait of hers (most of the time). She would be good with whatever we threw at her. </div><div><br />
</div><div>The others? Well, let's just say their middle names should be "caution" and "wary"-- not that those are bad traits, but they could limit our activities south of the border.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We arrive to <a href="http://www.banyantree.com/en/mayakoba/overview">Banyan Tree Mayakoba</a> in Playa Del Carmen. Amazing. Wonderful. Calm. Perfect. </div><div>Waiting for us at reception is Laura, who takes us on a tour of the lobby area and presents us with a traditional Mayan bracelet of seeds and a flower, symbolizing harmony and peace. The kids were in awe.</div><div><br />
</div><div>We were then given the "green juice"--- cucumber, spinach, kiwi. Honestly, it looked like fancy algae water, but we all tried it. All of us. This was the first in many "firsts" for my kids and they were champs.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRK-SRj37wUWVdMPOYr1vMQNY-hlHF_mfPzxwYSYpknlI3Nsd3D_GKVE73WVA5dQtSCqF1vf4tZ5ihAGnQec2h1RjIddfBKMwmkO1CvWLCftGqcdChvwfcRBiFgWY78RMmG21ebfYdK4e/s1600/pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRK-SRj37wUWVdMPOYr1vMQNY-hlHF_mfPzxwYSYpknlI3Nsd3D_GKVE73WVA5dQtSCqF1vf4tZ5ihAGnQec2h1RjIddfBKMwmkO1CvWLCftGqcdChvwfcRBiFgWY78RMmG21ebfYdK4e/s400/pool.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>My husband and I didn't plan activities for every day of our trip. Instead we chose to do something off-property every other day. Our "off" days were spent at the resort, either in the pool at our room (we had a private pool) or at the pool by the beach. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Our "on" days were the days we fretted and talked about. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Would the kids enjoy themselves?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Was it worth the money to do these things if one of the kids got scared or decided to pitch a fit?</div><div><br />
</div><div>Turns out we didn't need to worry about anything. Our kids were up for anything!</div><div><br />
</div><div>Here is what we did as a family on our trip to Mexico. My kids are 12, 9 and 5 and they did everything...EVERYTHING... and enjoyed it all. In fact, they are ready to go back and repeat this vacation. To my husband and I, that is the ultimate Stamp of Approval!</div><div><br />
</div><div>1. Dolphin Experience: <a href="http://www.delphinusworld.com/xcaret-swim-with-dolphins">Delphinus</a> dolphin experience was top-notch. Our family was a "group", meaning we had lots of time and interaction with the dolphins. We did the typical "dolphin kiss" , "dolphin hug", etc. In addition, we had the chance to do the "foot push" where the dolphins push you out of the water by pushing the soles of your feet. I was worried my little guy wouldn't do this--dolphins are lots larger in person. SURPRISE! He swam right out there, laid in the right position the instructors told him and gave it a try! He didn't get it the first 2 times, but he was great when the instructor got out there to help him. We were all so proud and our little guy got a huge round of applause from the instructors and other groups who saw him. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALVELXGZPG1riXg6fyStBXFkMFSZM2OhkiKALZnCOEfetjSz-Mvsj-KV5q7hyphenhyphenFmPO8ODpS-tDU1rYHTd-NiiXYnQf0GTM4RV-Wbo41i2KQ7dx-Kqnd5cRaEEFZC3So-iYfbar36wVbK7Z/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhALVELXGZPG1riXg6fyStBXFkMFSZM2OhkiKALZnCOEfetjSz-Mvsj-KV5q7hyphenhyphenFmPO8ODpS-tDU1rYHTd-NiiXYnQf0GTM4RV-Wbo41i2KQ7dx-Kqnd5cRaEEFZC3So-iYfbar36wVbK7Z/s400/7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFt0WbtBSg6t-T9Evb_pEka4mIna_ucw0OOjasK-4oCjLv9jdkFv4kOEdFqxrI1BFbvpETv2t3GFmINkNX6Pm3Gqt6NbY9G_dg7Spe07AtYrX5eOa5aYOXX5DElzcQHT5UjWBcbwpJhcF0/s1600/17.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFt0WbtBSg6t-T9Evb_pEka4mIna_ucw0OOjasK-4oCjLv9jdkFv4kOEdFqxrI1BFbvpETv2t3GFmINkNX6Pm3Gqt6NbY9G_dg7Spe07AtYrX5eOa5aYOXX5DElzcQHT5UjWBcbwpJhcF0/s400/17.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2DlzQ0CQ07EuI2d8JMZP_rfDXBf4qkO3XWJTwQ5iNoq4wzXpMyAFo3-yK8s2ieI91p9LmuLkkkl6XWR3XlLzpflhLMHytQVFMKrbQ2CKTBQmp2Qh8tSz2R_9mGqOM0SSZCRt7UYXfeV4/s1600/78.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja2DlzQ0CQ07EuI2d8JMZP_rfDXBf4qkO3XWJTwQ5iNoq4wzXpMyAFo3-yK8s2ieI91p9LmuLkkkl6XWR3XlLzpflhLMHytQVFMKrbQ2CKTBQmp2Qh8tSz2R_9mGqOM0SSZCRt7UYXfeV4/s400/78.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>2. Mayan Ruins: If you are in Playa Del Carmen or Cancun, you will hear lots about the Mayan pyramids. Actually, there are ruins everywhere, but there are 3 main pyramids in the general area to see...Chizna Itza (the largest area and most "touristy" site, but still cool), Tulum ( on the coast- beautiful area) and Coba (about 1 1/2 hours from Playa Del Carmen and the only pyramid visitors can actually climb). We chose to visit Coba. My husband and I are history buffs and to have the chance to step where people stepped a thousand years ago was too good to pass up. We hired a private car and tour guide to take us. I highly recommend this since it makes the trip much more enjoyable and you get a lot more information from your guide. Plus, you can come and go as you please. The day we went to Coba, it was hot, humid and about to rain. This is typical July weather for the area. Our guide was amazing, telling us great tidbits of information that kept the kids engaged. The pyramid is about 1 1/2 miles from the entrance, so to get there most people rent bikes or take a trike-taxi.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5wSqAj69E37NgXMnsxcnAw4RY90v24rVHDtv-8zqAAd9Pam7jGbi4z1VGKezqhnE7sR3fm7isAVbU5iPKLn3-DRbhsezBJr1sz2AtYM2dJEYuNratfixc_SA-BjwXxnTvbuW0JCaLFawf/s1600/trike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5wSqAj69E37NgXMnsxcnAw4RY90v24rVHDtv-8zqAAd9Pam7jGbi4z1VGKezqhnE7sR3fm7isAVbU5iPKLn3-DRbhsezBJr1sz2AtYM2dJEYuNratfixc_SA-BjwXxnTvbuW0JCaLFawf/s400/trike.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trike-Taxi. Sweet. And no extra exertion for me. </td></tr>
</tbody></table> We took the taxi. Heck, we were going to climb a pyramid. No need to over exert ourselves! After stops at a game court and an observatory, we see the pyramid. Awesome. The kids practically sprinted up the 142 steps. The reward at the top of the pyramid was an amazing view of the forest. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQuhIeMP1FiXZHJHqqC9XifLCXT_ztIf328iW_LHeuHuWe0kcYj4s8wWgqjYp_lpPFuUJF_DCEyYXzhVii40YTq9kZurk6UwbSJ1og3BlisHfC6pprtMME65QMMnbkyN0IXccSWJPlL3o/s1600/momheidimaya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQuhIeMP1FiXZHJHqqC9XifLCXT_ztIf328iW_LHeuHuWe0kcYj4s8wWgqjYp_lpPFuUJF_DCEyYXzhVii40YTq9kZurk6UwbSJ1og3BlisHfC6pprtMME65QMMnbkyN0IXccSWJPlL3o/s400/momheidimaya.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8w3UrMJbSEUSkGVSfM0NN83_es92eP5wt7S9rOZK9ZVmV3LkQz-ImhcIlJbP1P3lds2gxwbBOGMWO8ltlxWRLe63ZFVhyy1rIBfUO4JTc_T1-3GmBIJY95sRucdLW-21i3XhXFqrBsDs/s1600/topofmaya.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU8w3UrMJbSEUSkGVSfM0NN83_es92eP5wt7S9rOZK9ZVmV3LkQz-ImhcIlJbP1P3lds2gxwbBOGMWO8ltlxWRLe63ZFVhyy1rIBfUO4JTc_T1-3GmBIJY95sRucdLW-21i3XhXFqrBsDs/s400/topofmaya.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sweaty, but at the top.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div>3. Swimming in a cenote and zip-lining: <a href="http://www.aktunchen.com/HOME_ing.htm">Aktun Chen</a>. This place was rustic, waaaaaay off the road and truly an experience. Again, thinking my kids, at least one if not two of them, would not want to snorkel or zip line, I was prepared to sit out one or both of these activities. We get there, head to the cenote and get fitted with our life jackets and snorkels. For the uninitiated, cenotescenote, seeing the amazing sites, before I had inched my way in. It would be another five minutes before I got the nerve to put my head under the water. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Zip lining was the final activity on our itinerary. For sure the 5 year old would be a little apprehensive. Or so I thought. He was suited up, ready to go and after I made the first run, he was right behind me not looking back. And his 9 year old sister? She was trying to mimic all the tricks our guides were doing--going upside down, trying to grab leaves to feed the deer on the ground, no hands. By far, this was the most popular thing we did. The kids were sad to have to leave and asked the guide if we could come back the next day.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKB5cMR7U9LJdBufjLNTBNwa-VnGZ5AROzoKWTLiT12NHYFWr6HugA9mkPglHnOxXr0HzeH8EiqPSXsYjbZ6bcmmWBpAARutwTkRZVOE8ZON8thLYndRmFLlVC3JVm_d-HFDHu98P53Wo/s1600/DSC_0044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKB5cMR7U9LJdBufjLNTBNwa-VnGZ5AROzoKWTLiT12NHYFWr6HugA9mkPglHnOxXr0HzeH8EiqPSXsYjbZ6bcmmWBpAARutwTkRZVOE8ZON8thLYndRmFLlVC3JVm_d-HFDHu98P53Wo/s400/DSC_0044.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm93BHVgN8xHt7949KI9VE0wvxTLp7ODexj7gIxLLz0kzAP4IdK-6mfVdjGNDu7zsisOX4jZ4RuDdeU7Zn38sd61Ftgz3gKJn8nhvUJk1qiYBda5yG7PUz2qWoCXbDsnIHXi14kSeK5s5p/s1600/DSC_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm93BHVgN8xHt7949KI9VE0wvxTLp7ODexj7gIxLLz0kzAP4IdK-6mfVdjGNDu7zsisOX4jZ4RuDdeU7Zn38sd61Ftgz3gKJn8nhvUJk1qiYBda5yG7PUz2qWoCXbDsnIHXi14kSeK5s5p/s400/DSC_0041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4WdadpjgRspAvjwk1xY0X4j0FX7wZQO7FyLxZJ9GUecOUBbKtweBTpxSzJ4Pq0AvZe3aqJjmfXIdA_rxLAWqH6tie9XF37F_DIU2zrdHgny68VjTw7GAczkVZWMw_Nilqy4XmWkVDagn/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis4WdadpjgRspAvjwk1xY0X4j0FX7wZQO7FyLxZJ9GUecOUBbKtweBTpxSzJ4Pq0AvZe3aqJjmfXIdA_rxLAWqH6tie9XF37F_DIU2zrdHgny68VjTw7GAczkVZWMw_Nilqy4XmWkVDagn/s400/DSC_0048.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
</div><div>I love that my kids are willing to try things. I don't know if I was so willing when I was younger. Seeing them get excited about things so outside their comfort level got my husband and I excited about the things we can do as a family--snorkeling in the Keys, rock climbing, surfing lessons. Who knows? What we do know is that their first passport stamp was from Mexico and they are ready to have more. </div><div><br />
</div><div><br />
</div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-886568317986135322011-07-23T18:05:00.000-07:002011-07-23T18:06:21.079-07:00HappyWe've had friends in from Germany this past week. They came up to our town from Miami after my husband's surprise party and we've had such a great time together.<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>Tomorrow they go home. (*sniff*)</div><div><br />
</div><div>I was trying to find things to make me happy, even though I'm a little sad to see "The Germans" go and I found <a href="http://colormekatie.blogspot.com/">this</a>. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Go ahead and click the link. It isn't a virus, an ugly video or anything bad. Seriously. I'm some sort of southern belle--I'm the sort that wouldn't lead you astray.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Go to <a href="http://colormekatie.blogspot.com/">Color Me Katie</a> and roam around a while. I'm sure you'll find yourself smiling at her blog. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Happy weekend, y'all.</div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-35358791908197456192011-07-20T18:35:00.000-07:002011-07-20T19:32:17.509-07:00*SURPRISE*<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Have you ever gotten an idea for a present that was so fantastic and amazing that you wanted to get it right then and there? That was me in January of this year. While celebrating my birthday (#39!), I started thinking about what I was going to do for my husband's big day in July...he hits 40 at the end of the month. </div><br />
His party had to be fun, original and I wanted him surrounded by his closest friends. <br />
<br />
I rattled off some ideas in my mind--murder mystery party, traditional cook out, party at our favorite restaurant---none of them seemed right. Then I thought about trying to surprise him. Yes. A surprise party for the guy who seems to know everything I do before I do it. This wouldn't be easy, but I was determined to do something great for the guy who does so much for me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHHTCKcu10oRHmiZyv-G9Tk1FJhisra01R2esSSH2d_pGx7Qf9hK643h8s0NhjLPmq5bY1KpA4noJ0CoskKTC7zztTYkCWwvYBOAMCZWlJ9H0zReBG2PswYa3P0QLiwzezF5Iry1zQlaW/s1600/miami.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFHHTCKcu10oRHmiZyv-G9Tk1FJhisra01R2esSSH2d_pGx7Qf9hK643h8s0NhjLPmq5bY1KpA4noJ0CoskKTC7zztTYkCWwvYBOAMCZWlJ9H0zReBG2PswYa3P0QLiwzezF5Iry1zQlaW/s400/miami.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br />
Step 1: Enlist some help. My guy's business partner and a friend in Miami were quickly called in to help. We figured out immediately that we didn't want the party to be in our town. That would be too easy for him to figure out. We chose Miami--cool city, fun restaurants and easy for the friends I was inviting to get to by airplane. Did I mention that most of the friends I was inviting are from Germany? This threw a huge kink in our plans and would force us to get started planning in late January-early February. I swear, by the time it was all done I felt like I'd planned a wedding reception for 14 people. Doesn't sound hard, but the planning was, in a word, stressful!<br />
<br />
Step 2: Getting the invites out. With the work schedules of people in Germany, July turns out to be one of the busiest months. This made picking a date difficult since we were working around 14 different schedules. Plus we didn't want to pick the actual date of my guy's birthday. That would be so predictable! July 15-17 was chosen to get around the schedules of all of our guests. Oh my. Booking of airline flights ensued and I was crossing fingers and praying that everyone could get the time off.<br />
<br />
Step 3: Have so many conversations with our Miami-based friend during the carpool drop-off line at school that I'm sure the teachers thought I was seeing someone on the side. More decisions were made before 8am than at any other time of the day. My husband wasn't in the car, I was alone with the kids and "Mr Miami" could call and not give anything away. My husband's business partner would always text first to see if I could talk, then we'd call. It was all very hush-hush and sneaky. It was kind of fun!<br />
<br />
Step 4: Planning the surprise moment...We picked a fantastic restaurant as the place for the surprise. Friday night dinner with Mr Miami would raise no flags with my husband since we'd always met for dinner when visiting. I highly recommend <a href="http://www.bartong.com/restaurant/">Barton G</a> for some amazing atmosphere and super fun food.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4D8Db0g551NY9HjkgwQV3u3ocuifpBtc8p8FaunQQLNd0UaaeGpgVqAbhD2qlV3MC5nTNtcK70_oTUYHb5lGQ_hQNrOyRNcWyltWkTq1hD3OoqPizp2xAkq_KXno3BHs3mka5dChrLu6N/s1600/shrimp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4D8Db0g551NY9HjkgwQV3u3ocuifpBtc8p8FaunQQLNd0UaaeGpgVqAbhD2qlV3MC5nTNtcK70_oTUYHb5lGQ_hQNrOyRNcWyltWkTq1hD3OoqPizp2xAkq_KXno3BHs3mka5dChrLu6N/s320/shrimp.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtU0DuYlH2r52Q5m56zkdmGwPDBz3-Y98NVmvSZ5ThyphenhyphenUSVRQn-Pls9xmr5E4xQJY0zzjtqbeJLi18WdG6g62v9QenGSjC4XRcD4gmOdglKnhs5YeFzxOy7LQKJ9vBQELgpXshE14ZOYd1K/s1600/chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtU0DuYlH2r52Q5m56zkdmGwPDBz3-Y98NVmvSZ5ThyphenhyphenUSVRQn-Pls9xmr5E4xQJY0zzjtqbeJLi18WdG6g62v9QenGSjC4XRcD4gmOdglKnhs5YeFzxOy7LQKJ9vBQELgpXshE14ZOYd1K/s320/chicken.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcUosuiOHfLbu68rs-tZ0pP07DlR4Hw0sZIVqTR6NEi35CX1t9zAJmnhTUkfJURioV_6AhgJzmX6hx6mohG6ssY4ztFn54ballTz8cBoP1cS_wiNX6WswszoZH6QZbWXtv8299LUt4F8d/s1600/cupcakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtcUosuiOHfLbu68rs-tZ0pP07DlR4Hw0sZIVqTR6NEi35CX1t9zAJmnhTUkfJURioV_6AhgJzmX6hx6mohG6ssY4ztFn54ballTz8cBoP1cS_wiNX6WswszoZH6QZbWXtv8299LUt4F8d/s320/cupcakes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVNM44wtKOrxF-xKRQNWPty2VuNpTsyQyIup3re3c3cB-u6W1vYv_pfXkAbql1fqvsxOZUjzSzUx9O1Rvg4MczIDVtzchfE-E3LXMHTW8YW0msT9h3rPn3y-hqtCPkTOq1sFSj8qpPPGf/s1600/funnelcake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyVNM44wtKOrxF-xKRQNWPty2VuNpTsyQyIup3re3c3cB-u6W1vYv_pfXkAbql1fqvsxOZUjzSzUx9O1Rvg4MczIDVtzchfE-E3LXMHTW8YW0msT9h3rPn3y-hqtCPkTOq1sFSj8qpPPGf/s320/funnelcake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Step 6: Stretch out the texting muscles. I think in these months of planning I've texted more than I ever have before. As a result, I'm almost as good at texting as my husband. That is quite a feat. While trying to avoid running into our friends at the hotel when we were checking in, I was texting like a mad woman--warning everyone to stay on the beach or get to their rooms. A big thanks to my friends Kim and Erica. I used you all as decoys and told my guy I was texting you all the whole time. He thought I was crazy but bought that little white lie. Yea me! And Yea for great girlfriends who, even though I wasn't texting you, it would seem realistic that I was. That says something. I don't know what it says, but it says something.<br />
<br />
Step 7: Don't have a stroke before the big day. I almost failed this.<br />
<br />
It was the longest 6 months of my life, but last weekend - last Friday to be exact- it all payed off.<br />
<br />
We walk into the restaurant, follow the hostess to our table and there are all of our friends--some of whom I've not seen in years-- most of whom my husband thought were other places. It was perfect. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZ8xBmyQzGvIN0Jd0mDZ8DrAuNaL3qdXvJzRKQwujodsEKE_fdDmz16UWMG-s-BSAwth0_GKoU-zzOI70PTW55DfpopVb80eDPk1C_FxFklk1IEwzxCu7cO8eUFAXcX8X8B6ICHN-pEtJ/s1600/table1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZ8xBmyQzGvIN0Jd0mDZ8DrAuNaL3qdXvJzRKQwujodsEKE_fdDmz16UWMG-s-BSAwth0_GKoU-zzOI70PTW55DfpopVb80eDPk1C_FxFklk1IEwzxCu7cO8eUFAXcX8X8B6ICHN-pEtJ/s320/table1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCBSR6XcD3JBKF1Sj_S92k52SsbIXIX18wVwCj9gxs2mCo4MBosLuCm9ZXojv1wkhu7Po7RtNohGpXSBlA0kyvs1H3iwt7r30Ln7QqdltgH8N2uyYr26fIFNEJh3ZFysHHKW3HD8il_aa/s1600/chad3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfCBSR6XcD3JBKF1Sj_S92k52SsbIXIX18wVwCj9gxs2mCo4MBosLuCm9ZXojv1wkhu7Po7RtNohGpXSBlA0kyvs1H3iwt7r30Ln7QqdltgH8N2uyYr26fIFNEJh3ZFysHHKW3HD8il_aa/s320/chad3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20BUVNrDWmj8tYbHQUYXITjdkAfAC1Dg4SRVRPriJWt0jC7BOzMXJ7LfuqvzDuil_qYXK-hB4n_x5JBl9JjndZ4iA4llOW3LmJVhQmc8_xuwweC9hH0No0WlpeEBHDxI27twMa4DT6F-m/s1600/mail.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj20BUVNrDWmj8tYbHQUYXITjdkAfAC1Dg4SRVRPriJWt0jC7BOzMXJ7LfuqvzDuil_qYXK-hB4n_x5JBl9JjndZ4iA4llOW3LmJVhQmc8_xuwweC9hH0No0WlpeEBHDxI27twMa4DT6F-m/s200/mail.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
He was surprised and delighted. That man is the hardest one to pull a joke on and we got him.<br />
<br />
We enjoyed a fantastic dinner at Barton G's. I highly recommend it if you're travelling to Miami. <br />
<br />
My suggestion if you go there is to go hungry or get appetizers and a dessert or just get one entree and share it with 12 of your closest friends.<br />
<br />
The next day our friend opened his home to us and all our motley crew for a day of boat rides on a Cigarette boat, floating in the pool, munching and listening to music. It was truly one of the most relaxing days I've spent in a long time. That sentiment was echoed by all our friends.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KoIvFwChkAViLPjgQw_zsNqVc_U_yB1fcVsx4k2ojiI3TeN63tstw861c9pP-b6y0DUP4t-Uw99YjSLa_FQhnJIFM0gcO74ezT1NvcKm7mvZwI3uJxEZ16EGB1pYs3lwBJd4XBBvfQ-Q/s1600/skip1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8KoIvFwChkAViLPjgQw_zsNqVc_U_yB1fcVsx4k2ojiI3TeN63tstw861c9pP-b6y0DUP4t-Uw99YjSLa_FQhnJIFM0gcO74ezT1NvcKm7mvZwI3uJxEZ16EGB1pYs3lwBJd4XBBvfQ-Q/s320/skip1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8EDE217QurJWuKKPVXzNsgGKGBZROBujM-F3qm8ytSNWpL3LBhyGub6ixBXaIjzOncE9OwRuF76RLn044udWS04j_NahcdEeJ5ouXF_pyaKtqyKoeSXqN1YcnVkSKybLCZmDiQ9OIzet/s1600/skip2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8EDE217QurJWuKKPVXzNsgGKGBZROBujM-F3qm8ytSNWpL3LBhyGub6ixBXaIjzOncE9OwRuF76RLn044udWS04j_NahcdEeJ5ouXF_pyaKtqyKoeSXqN1YcnVkSKybLCZmDiQ9OIzet/s320/skip2.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
How can you not be relaxed with a view like that and a seriously pimped outdoor kitchen with misters? That is my husband's back. Seriously, this is the most relaxed he's been in a while. <br />
<br />
All in all, a great birthday/anniversary weekend. <br />
<br />
I'm spent. I'm sure this surprise took a few years off my life, but it was soooo worth it.<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday to my Favorite Guy!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17aTuReTem2PdyHeX4ONG1p6YQ-VpcHunLjkZWLYigZkMqGrDzXQjC6XNR4Ozk84Rn1JI5E-tOmTKuf1TCZ1zNUdUNob6pibPiOfHcd_lwst1_u1GmDbkSPvSj02kT1Qnv9H1LuYq91r_/s1600/scottandme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg17aTuReTem2PdyHeX4ONG1p6YQ-VpcHunLjkZWLYigZkMqGrDzXQjC6XNR4Ozk84Rn1JI5E-tOmTKuf1TCZ1zNUdUNob6pibPiOfHcd_lwst1_u1GmDbkSPvSj02kT1Qnv9H1LuYq91r_/s400/scottandme.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-24093341228682745302011-07-07T14:16:00.000-07:002011-07-07T14:16:27.596-07:00Speed CleaningIf I leave for a trip, I like to leave my house clean. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_JQcpYc41AhjyH7tHbLZXGxLBSmw4JMLWZgXz1cPdiNRaSHXr-x3ZXQdtRRKhDzlEQ5UjoyRgQ29gDv379IoTE6d4tG1zsa_SQomeuBK9C8vt-dOXx7JKIau9cSW7ippcZtMGGFG3PA7/s1600/47344651_Ncw4Pj5w_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI_JQcpYc41AhjyH7tHbLZXGxLBSmw4JMLWZgXz1cPdiNRaSHXr-x3ZXQdtRRKhDzlEQ5UjoyRgQ29gDv379IoTE6d4tG1zsa_SQomeuBK9C8vt-dOXx7JKIau9cSW7ippcZtMGGFG3PA7/s400/47344651_Ncw4Pj5w_c.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.sallywheatinteriors.com/index2.php">Sally Wheat Interiors</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Isn't that pristine? Isn't it pretty? Wouldn't it be refreshing to walk in to a nice clean home after being away?<br />
<br />
Am I weird? I think my husband thinks I'm a bit on the odd side, but I'm of the opinion that coming home to a clean house is nice. Calming.<br />
<br />
My kids are out of the house and my speed cleaning is in full force. How do you clean? When I speed clean I'm doing one room at a time, as quickly as I can. <br />
<br />
My tools of choice?<br />
<br />
My trusty Shark Steam mop and my Orek vacuum. Simple. That's how I like stuff.<br />
<br />
I follow <a href="http://www.flylady.net/">Fly Lady</a> with her <i>swish and swipe</i> routine for bathrooms. Here is how I leave the brush to dry because I'm in such a hurry to do my speed cleaning...the best part is when I forget I've left the brush there and a guest actually has to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">use </span>the guest bathroom.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YxHTBT3lWIUUuIVkWKw08xcXlW0O6w2XxLktBv1cJILmx5nM1pU8GduhX9w-YWOvJQmmcYFDLbYMBjk8XUEafomW7JC0L4M3h0xCMb3tQV93kpy77j5QAYoIIajy-j2a37KR1iYPwxM6/s1600/DSC_0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3YxHTBT3lWIUUuIVkWKw08xcXlW0O6w2XxLktBv1cJILmx5nM1pU8GduhX9w-YWOvJQmmcYFDLbYMBjk8XUEafomW7JC0L4M3h0xCMb3tQV93kpy77j5QAYoIIajy-j2a37KR1iYPwxM6/s400/DSC_0470.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<i>I mean, the gall of some people to actually use my guest bath. Ugh. Some people have no manners. </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">hee hee! </span>I bet Martha Stewart has never forgotten a toilet bowl brush in her toilet. I'm sure she has someone who gets the brushes for her, but that's another conversation altogether.....<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLvoJiJdkq_hAdvR7LKz02qcOpUtXAiGLEOO4Y0Mnh1Ap1vnqSTGoHjS4Dy6xUbUc7zM4Y3kfRj2woscLjBsi8vNBFZQSAcrRvOlX8s-EuhTX8V-geRS4BtaF1W05VmBm4sNaUSBNArxT/s1600/msl_sep05_gray_bath_xl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLvoJiJdkq_hAdvR7LKz02qcOpUtXAiGLEOO4Y0Mnh1Ap1vnqSTGoHjS4Dy6xUbUc7zM4Y3kfRj2woscLjBsi8vNBFZQSAcrRvOlX8s-EuhTX8V-geRS4BtaF1W05VmBm4sNaUSBNArxT/s400/msl_sep05_gray_bath_xl.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Martha Stewart Images</td></tr>
</tbody></table>See? No toilet bowl brush. Man, she's good!<br />
<br />
I put laundry, toys, books, whatever else goes to my kids' rooms in a basket to take up to their rooms. Sometimes the basket actually gets emptied and sometimes I hide it in the tub and pull the shower curtain closed. If I can't see it then it isn't there. Right?<br />
<br />
I'm going for an overall clean <i>look</i>. It may not be super clean, but by darn it, it will <i>look</i> clean!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowaFgNujX8oWcPIKYiR6j7-Hai1iT9wJYgB8_ET14GlRxw-z9r0wifjMNKlbciRjfCAm6iUJHqAHKRSwTjwy8bXfVbdtZe5L04rBEk50x__Snzr0CfmO_gsfM9jGJLsbLNLqR6vq00qyi/s1600/IMG_1662.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiowaFgNujX8oWcPIKYiR6j7-Hai1iT9wJYgB8_ET14GlRxw-z9r0wifjMNKlbciRjfCAm6iUJHqAHKRSwTjwy8bXfVbdtZe5L04rBEk50x__Snzr0CfmO_gsfM9jGJLsbLNLqR6vq00qyi/s400/IMG_1662.PNG" width="266" /></a></div><br />
I play great music. If you peek in my windows while I'm speed cleaning you'll see me doing some version of an '80s dance. Lately Ke$ha has been my music of choice. I'm a tragic dancer.<br />
<br />
Usually my cleaning goes well until I hit a road block.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvtpfiVa15JnuxRe1K1z3OKUQ-Ntlg-TmGTTnbqR-RvXejgdWWBsa4hfvaY2o37AFsRPVzKjlutCHW9vFceGRj-bnOAEWG-jySNSRWFng8SwcOMgwer_Z6y6ZwqW-BU71bEo_4HkiKEPj/s1600/DSC_0481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyvtpfiVa15JnuxRe1K1z3OKUQ-Ntlg-TmGTTnbqR-RvXejgdWWBsa4hfvaY2o37AFsRPVzKjlutCHW9vFceGRj-bnOAEWG-jySNSRWFng8SwcOMgwer_Z6y6ZwqW-BU71bEo_4HkiKEPj/s400/DSC_0481.JPG" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<br />
It's a good thing she's cute.Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-24703149243914625742011-07-06T18:33:00.000-07:002011-07-07T06:44:43.056-07:00Independence Day in The Bubble**<i>My computer was acting up and I found some more pictures from our 4th of July parade and thought you'd enjoy them!**</i><br />
<br />
I live in a planned community in Georgia. After you've lived here a few years, you start referring to it as The Bubble. It is situated around 3 golf courses and we have over 90 miles of cart paths that criss cross through the city. I have a golf cart that seats 6 people...or 8 if the people are small. When I describe the location of my house in relation to my sister or parents I use both the street distance (about 5 minutes by car) AND the cart path distance (about 15 minutes by cart). <br />
<br />
Being so unique, our city's 4th of July parade is also unique. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EXFX-yEkZhhFEmxJyWGEx6l1miCfdK3fkNbAYS2IAyivO11xp1d6IaPjXS2JFNr-EM1zgxRvt-euXpCP7Ld0XDHWYmUwiF9ErfBRj-4PN2fUTuUAQdroPpK9i0ot_O9YZsBHDb0s1nfA/s1600/flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EXFX-yEkZhhFEmxJyWGEx6l1miCfdK3fkNbAYS2IAyivO11xp1d6IaPjXS2JFNr-EM1zgxRvt-euXpCP7Ld0XDHWYmUwiF9ErfBRj-4PN2fUTuUAQdroPpK9i0ot_O9YZsBHDb0s1nfA/s400/flag.jpg" width="356" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Not because of that.<br />
<br />
Because of this.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOKC758w-g8nz9hxiirKPSJKejPUW6XD_ifXRl2hE6nBzpSPqlKNWK3uGnXaPW56tWzIL1YELdoLtw2XhbPAQLtkUefTDr6ijhYgsX8SXvFsGAcORDXAJHX57WAA9oDjnvayGdRpFUQG0/s1600/parade3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYOKC758w-g8nz9hxiirKPSJKejPUW6XD_ifXRl2hE6nBzpSPqlKNWK3uGnXaPW56tWzIL1YELdoLtw2XhbPAQLtkUefTDr6ijhYgsX8SXvFsGAcORDXAJHX57WAA9oDjnvayGdRpFUQG0/s400/parade3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Thousands of golf carts, decked out with red, white and blue. We didn't go all out this year, but it is fun to see what everyone does to their carts. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiML0r-6hchyJKC8SkLZAibDx13aB8Xiy59KB3u7-OfDN14sROiflXxMEcNBVqkBkMJ9b4f7kKBxVTOrzWr1zf77F851LXnNbJzbihmtQ3MJBLjc2AuBtaVnHnxwzKlznZLBjI9ke8AjC2h/s1600/golf1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiML0r-6hchyJKC8SkLZAibDx13aB8Xiy59KB3u7-OfDN14sROiflXxMEcNBVqkBkMJ9b4f7kKBxVTOrzWr1zf77F851LXnNbJzbihmtQ3MJBLjc2AuBtaVnHnxwzKlznZLBjI9ke8AjC2h/s400/golf1.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitMB9k-wCOPYPINvRawLKOUNyVaHC2zcNyKec5jGlIyhgNlW4hhpAmucjZYZFqR_dEhoG_JrXO3eZh1lvuGi9jvgTef9mYMaoweHegzuWytCd-pw4HduocqPgP6GM-Y5VNM8JYMuEY-7JT/s1600/parade4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitMB9k-wCOPYPINvRawLKOUNyVaHC2zcNyKec5jGlIyhgNlW4hhpAmucjZYZFqR_dEhoG_JrXO3eZh1lvuGi9jvgTef9mYMaoweHegzuWytCd-pw4HduocqPgP6GM-Y5VNM8JYMuEY-7JT/s400/parade4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCnZbRv-BJ9x87oyKjE7LF_FJYqDVQbbQGaItNonLFXnWudVyjZaGXkpIL7ZYNUqKm22pL3-DBpr4y5vdK-tfBww_QXwskbY_bEyqsMo7a9Qx4EmZbX0a-Vf80hyqG6L8ffZQjqTaZ4AY/s1600/cart1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWCnZbRv-BJ9x87oyKjE7LF_FJYqDVQbbQGaItNonLFXnWudVyjZaGXkpIL7ZYNUqKm22pL3-DBpr4y5vdK-tfBww_QXwskbY_bEyqsMo7a9Qx4EmZbX0a-Vf80hyqG6L8ffZQjqTaZ4AY/s400/cart1.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqoAbpJYj9D1gsjwnJw3VkFD53xmFUOZbRXG_fy4-Oz0U3NcLigVqm6Yz4vX__ViHYv4yN7XEieg8ga20KRQQlx2wjngt_7Lw3sViqSJSwxlnXEDnkI7zvJh6wXzonENSLuWkE07n2Fui/s1600/cart2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpqoAbpJYj9D1gsjwnJw3VkFD53xmFUOZbRXG_fy4-Oz0U3NcLigVqm6Yz4vX__ViHYv4yN7XEieg8ga20KRQQlx2wjngt_7Lw3sViqSJSwxlnXEDnkI7zvJh6wXzonENSLuWkE07n2Fui/s400/cart2.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhYn9tXTu_voe8kMT__p4-JEm9mKzLyl3tClUDFYfEy1GI4O4TiFZBir-Ttr6Ib1Kj7jjv_EFhZATEOSibApX03kyAY9duaEPPBmcdqUDR0iFiZ1WHRu64Sx_dAAcF_eTsK-i8jjKpOxa/s1600/cart3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDhYn9tXTu_voe8kMT__p4-JEm9mKzLyl3tClUDFYfEy1GI4O4TiFZBir-Ttr6Ib1Kj7jjv_EFhZATEOSibApX03kyAY9duaEPPBmcdqUDR0iFiZ1WHRu64Sx_dAAcF_eTsK-i8jjKpOxa/s400/cart3.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
For one day the carts take over the roads on the parade route and traffic rules go out the window. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhqRv9mBFEg1C2MM8LqI2tFcgzcUJVjrWQZvA34dcnuy6X__Si7viHKG8aRUjWM3x0KI3CK-Zp47nbvAVc2BtLgeJno450PqqqSsaIXNpMP7NGc6f4LXR9pdcEWO-gQUWgmNJ27yeLZXr/s1600/Saigon_traffic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhqRv9mBFEg1C2MM8LqI2tFcgzcUJVjrWQZvA34dcnuy6X__Si7viHKG8aRUjWM3x0KI3CK-Zp47nbvAVc2BtLgeJno450PqqqSsaIXNpMP7NGc6f4LXR9pdcEWO-gQUWgmNJ27yeLZXr/s400/Saigon_traffic.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image via web</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Wait, that isn't my town. But it could be if you substituted golf carts in that picture. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZSMRhvJVD6VwZ7EpiWs1gyKctkzfWZuE9soy-479GRi7W8gL_XszGooBn5-oYc36GtutNVkWvlNcpzcJspzfskZWdRcJEdYScjytfY4MHSqkT_6mmkyEMJAR4JXrMcUs2w4BZyIJEY4Oq/s1600/cart4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZSMRhvJVD6VwZ7EpiWs1gyKctkzfWZuE9soy-479GRi7W8gL_XszGooBn5-oYc36GtutNVkWvlNcpzcJspzfskZWdRcJEdYScjytfY4MHSqkT_6mmkyEMJAR4JXrMcUs2w4BZyIJEY4Oq/s400/cart4.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br />
That IS my town after the 4th of July parade. Seriously. Take hold of small children, close your eyes, point the front of your cart where you want to go and push the acclerator. It's a miracle we all make it home for lunch! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">No, not really, but the huddled masses of golf carts is truly a sight to see.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFcVD8E9P_lYs4Bg2PgRlv6u1dlqhqm770wlRV6PspwIzrYDYis_bwCEMD6ffE9gl_Iyv4rrvmd1IC5EesBq-PXRoNSsygH4Rp3ZhCvJMp7v_fd_ZfwEzUSUmhGS-e7TUIQ0RScAY0Y28/s1600/parade2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBFcVD8E9P_lYs4Bg2PgRlv6u1dlqhqm770wlRV6PspwIzrYDYis_bwCEMD6ffE9gl_Iyv4rrvmd1IC5EesBq-PXRoNSsygH4Rp3ZhCvJMp7v_fd_ZfwEzUSUmhGS-e7TUIQ0RScAY0Y28/s400/parade2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This is the start of the parade. We have one motorcycle policeman, 2 ATVs, some biker police and a seriously pimped out police golf cart. It has lights and everything. I wonder if it goes faster than the 19 mph most golf carts can go. Hmm.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I haven't seen this but the police can pull you over on the cart path. That mostly happens when teenagers act normal and go crazy on the cart paths. BUT a few years ago we did have a city official who was ticketed for DUI on a golf cart. Classy, huh? There was another story of a man who knew he was too drunk to cart home so he had a friend drive him. Smart and responsible, right? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not so much. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Turns out the one driving was blind. It was all over the local tv news. Made our little town look really great.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So aside from the decorated golf carts, getting to throw traffic laws out the window for a day and celebrating America's birthday with thousands of our closest friends, do you want to know the best part of this Independence Day in The Bubble? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5mQQ1DupVW47og3pg1sGCgzl6ah1mKbLFgo_QwUpC9Ar7CBsFuC37Wmm_uBYMp2FyFodfzHGzhWARPohVEoQmwo5PBra40bm9KQHd8h181JydC_11NbQHwU53a-sZWIBoX7YJ_I6HvO_/s1600/parade.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX5mQQ1DupVW47og3pg1sGCgzl6ah1mKbLFgo_QwUpC9Ar7CBsFuC37Wmm_uBYMp2FyFodfzHGzhWARPohVEoQmwo5PBra40bm9KQHd8h181JydC_11NbQHwU53a-sZWIBoX7YJ_I6HvO_/s400/parade.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We are friends with the Grand Marshal of the parade! That makes us part of the court, right? Where else would that happen for some sort of southern belle like me? <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">BTW, he's practicing his "Royal Wave" with his kids AND video taping the parade!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Gotta love a small-ish town!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-721608906718133522011-07-05T18:13:00.000-07:002011-07-05T18:13:33.283-07:00Fabulous for TodayI'm in the middle of a post that isn't ready and I feel like I'm neglecting my blog! So I decided I would post a list of things I think are just fabulous RIGHT NOW. <br />
<br />
Ask me in a week and they may not be so fab...but for now, here they are in no particular order.<br />
<br />
The Duchess of Cambridge's travel attire----<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPPNQbyeTwyUNkUdniYNfDIikvZJt9etYlRQIVmybp7Qa7P4JJFDm5hir_rZI0mvXtK5JYYaOEio0ejgQF1I9iohebCJtu28Yu9ukZirMjlFT2vDI1BTauMC3BhQgl1q3DLWvG__33Wbk/s1600/118140054_10_gallery_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQPPNQbyeTwyUNkUdniYNfDIikvZJt9etYlRQIVmybp7Qa7P4JJFDm5hir_rZI0mvXtK5JYYaOEio0ejgQF1I9iohebCJtu28Yu9ukZirMjlFT2vDI1BTauMC3BhQgl1q3DLWvG__33Wbk/s320/118140054_10_gallery_main.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowFsnmwWnZ8ju7UwOhyphenhyphengH1hvxMtR4Ldoh4GZb8vc0bv2r8hRAFcKCxUzku8lXBQPFuqHZTj3YYfHwef4mkYvZPGnww9l2y5tpdBl-7THUnzBjzGohuMU3j50LUpheAF1A56nDtD1LBeK1/s1600/118171035_10_gallery_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjowFsnmwWnZ8ju7UwOhyphenhyphengH1hvxMtR4Ldoh4GZb8vc0bv2r8hRAFcKCxUzku8lXBQPFuqHZTj3YYfHwef4mkYvZPGnww9l2y5tpdBl-7THUnzBjzGohuMU3j50LUpheAF1A56nDtD1LBeK1/s320/118171035_10_gallery_main.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1d03gX6f2cVIx1EqzCRL2ZjF4Nu84iYgKl9xzg0qLMsPAZwKlflub2aj2r4yxiw2WR-F0I8cEnMROIqam5Zw13vCmlACsJLqDuaYY9Vo19jkXIG2cQ9fsJBWbPHfRtfEc588Uzz4LrFdR/s1600/118237468_gallery_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1d03gX6f2cVIx1EqzCRL2ZjF4Nu84iYgKl9xzg0qLMsPAZwKlflub2aj2r4yxiw2WR-F0I8cEnMROIqam5Zw13vCmlACsJLqDuaYY9Vo19jkXIG2cQ9fsJBWbPHfRtfEc588Uzz4LrFdR/s320/118237468_gallery_main.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
I know she travels with a staff, but I seriously love love love her outfits! Young, hip, fresh and attainable. Yes- I've jumped on the "Kate and Wills" bandwagon and I'm not ashamed to admit it!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3K7iDBB2Uuc28M8Q024MYojKFb4OAiM8sDlrQ-21cetzOh4Dajmcq7Jz1_wDlszWY2fBgnZbDmHzlMC49YdDmsi6pI1sHdrgrpVqhqkytu1uVGOiVsTKcCELVaiAJmjTRYcq0ZXRoxxB/s1600/300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt3K7iDBB2Uuc28M8Q024MYojKFb4OAiM8sDlrQ-21cetzOh4Dajmcq7Jz1_wDlszWY2fBgnZbDmHzlMC49YdDmsi6pI1sHdrgrpVqhqkytu1uVGOiVsTKcCELVaiAJmjTRYcq0ZXRoxxB/s1600/300.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Just about impossible to mess up, this cream isn't overpowering and doesn't make you look the least bit orange. A plus for those of us who are whiter than white. I've used it twice and it gives just a hint of color so I'm not blinding people in my general area.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEici4AEzfLT76BEJ6RPSQiVpIHDzMDx89gyyMd6qdEP_X4lUsCmbxlY7P9_mRyTfKU1Y_h1D1ReP-bSI7dOhxa0kkhbn5kiM_M1vZE0wf7fKCGsWRL2G0xC5Xi1xQivfyo59FzY2dRkqp0R/s1600/REE_2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEici4AEzfLT76BEJ6RPSQiVpIHDzMDx89gyyMd6qdEP_X4lUsCmbxlY7P9_mRyTfKU1Y_h1D1ReP-bSI7dOhxa0kkhbn5kiM_M1vZE0wf7fKCGsWRL2G0xC5Xi1xQivfyo59FzY2dRkqp0R/s320/REE_2521.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From Pioneer Woman</td></tr>
</tbody></table><a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2011/05/milky-way-cake/">Milky Way Cake</a> from The Pioneer Woman herself. This cake is the devil in a pan. I promise you'll gain many pounds just looking at it, so avert the eyes of the very young. It has around 12 Milky Way bars in it. TWELVE. Or maybe 11, but either way, there are a LOT of candy bars in this baby. I've found that if I eat just a sliver at a time, I can tolerate its richness. The sad thing is that I've eaten the same <i>quantity</i> of cake... it has just taken me <i>longer </i>to do it. *sigh*<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYhkX484orCZGpAlVdZh1RMbkVXy33zD3YURhRZmMaKCTxBAEmQWfskVO7S3lssqTpILoCzEViy9SW2ToV3iUnRWjBcaXTRahWIwkzgNwMgkgYffyDOlVkgV3w4muXGh3o9qY1MDbZwaYT/s1600/peachtree-city-pilates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYhkX484orCZGpAlVdZh1RMbkVXy33zD3YURhRZmMaKCTxBAEmQWfskVO7S3lssqTpILoCzEViy9SW2ToV3iUnRWjBcaXTRahWIwkzgNwMgkgYffyDOlVkgV3w4muXGh3o9qY1MDbZwaYT/s1600/peachtree-city-pilates.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peachtree City Pilates</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">Can I get a <i>WHOOP WHOOP!</i> for Pilates! I don't know how much of the Milky Way Cake will be burned off during a session, but you'll feel like you've burned off that one bite after a class. I've just discovered this as a part of some physical therapy and I am hooked. My instructor is fantastic and if I can learn to do all the things she can do, I'll be kickin' it! She had me try the move in the picture. Doesn't look too hard, right? Well, the flat black board moves up and back, so you are sliding your lower body over the bar and back, using just your arm/shoulder while maintaining the leg up/arm up. They needed two people to spot me when I did this. I'm pitiful. But yes, love pilates and if you can take a lesson at a studio with all the equipment, by all means, do it!</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAkXx-ymJNhBSyXQ7qUZkHNT2ovGsSE6I2T48jzvoaeHN-dnFFQPvBv8oLIqlFxb6jLhywcc4r1SraEry45_4UMi67s2pbdB4PlAbxtWS8hNp3DZzeNfXDmdnlXYTub32MkkTjRiTio8g/s1600/cat1676017.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAkXx-ymJNhBSyXQ7qUZkHNT2ovGsSE6I2T48jzvoaeHN-dnFFQPvBv8oLIqlFxb6jLhywcc4r1SraEry45_4UMi67s2pbdB4PlAbxtWS8hNp3DZzeNfXDmdnlXYTub32MkkTjRiTio8g/s320/cat1676017.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Restoration Hardware</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="text-align: left;">THE WARNER BED FROM RESTORATION HARDWARE! Sorry to yell, but this bed is now in my bedroom. I feel like I'm finally getting my grown-up master bedroom. I'd show you pictures, but I've still got a random pattern of paint colors on the wall and haven't made up my mind on the final choice. I'm hoping my room will end up as calm and pretty as the one in the picture.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://www.sothebyshomes.com/hamptons/sales/0035385">This home in Bridgehampton, NY</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg-k-3gS7BrDqGtNyxrjW16zjlML-9Es9HPjwLpjSPgaF4arwwFU4N8dpHZ0bUghZIwELca1wTKylVMyA13KqEzZnOW61hE1V9xOAi7ZdPkRguVkdFFdhiSyuJ2YunArUVeESNz-cO6XO/s1600/0035385-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNg-k-3gS7BrDqGtNyxrjW16zjlML-9Es9HPjwLpjSPgaF4arwwFU4N8dpHZ0bUghZIwELca1wTKylVMyA13KqEzZnOW61hE1V9xOAi7ZdPkRguVkdFFdhiSyuJ2YunArUVeESNz-cO6XO/s320/0035385-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sothebys Real Estate Online<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I have dreams of living in the Hamptons one day. Or is it cooler to "summer" in the Hamptons? I don't know, but either way, this is house is my idea of perfect. Click the link to see the photo tour of the home. Love.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">Those are some fabulous things I like right now. Today. Tonight...what things are you finding fabulous right now?<br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="goog_1795910829"></span><span id="goog_1795910830"></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-73239293643220545442011-07-02T16:08:00.000-07:002011-07-02T16:08:43.989-07:00What's Going On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A long absence from the blog--life has gotten busy once summer started! Here's what we have been up to lately.....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2I0TpOXqshNJcHTl25r_mlN54C2AXO7z9923f90pGL3fTEifjSKgc3wwhFCHCi1_yBGJgUBId8l02LKwfEQAThmHM-wZ0LgG7qOmMX5Csn48H5EOAa03-AnmclW-t_QsNg95CU8wZ_sV/s1600/camp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw2I0TpOXqshNJcHTl25r_mlN54C2AXO7z9923f90pGL3fTEifjSKgc3wwhFCHCi1_yBGJgUBId8l02LKwfEQAThmHM-wZ0LgG7qOmMX5Csn48H5EOAa03-AnmclW-t_QsNg95CU8wZ_sV/s320/camp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
2 weeks at camp for the girls. Fun for all and they are counting down the days till next summer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIrhyphenhyphen1RF8wVwtI6M1rZShb9znkCo9aIQNFACEqiaHASpKbr2fCBnClxMkZt_Fq3IfJf3B3z5eiHlKl3AkxpzmZQ8bhhJTdf_7GTBX1QlTY0r_AKNC0Hy62Jmer2bblhWq6NvImKsZXIz5/s1600/cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeIrhyphenhyphen1RF8wVwtI6M1rZShb9znkCo9aIQNFACEqiaHASpKbr2fCBnClxMkZt_Fq3IfJf3B3z5eiHlKl3AkxpzmZQ8bhhJTdf_7GTBX1QlTY0r_AKNC0Hy62Jmer2bblhWq6NvImKsZXIz5/s320/cake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Hipstamatic image of <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2011/05/milky-way-cake/">Milky Way Cake a la The Pioneer Woman</a>. This cake is so wrong in all the right ways.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7LuSMXms1N2rqoQohObSATeITIb9Ju0LAYn1tpVshP5uORPT1hVB0qI2UWFlDzwtZX40Ogvxm8CqCiJ4roFJ0eLf7YRE_pvc0K3IrcgyyOxzLnL-R4DCGFZT9yIOVLETSQbqVJBYEUQv/s1600/uno.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ7LuSMXms1N2rqoQohObSATeITIb9Ju0LAYn1tpVshP5uORPT1hVB0qI2UWFlDzwtZX40Ogvxm8CqCiJ4roFJ0eLf7YRE_pvc0K3IrcgyyOxzLnL-R4DCGFZT9yIOVLETSQbqVJBYEUQv/s320/uno.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Some vicious UNO games being played and won by Dad. I think he's cheating in some way.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEou61b8l5t2F1aSH72X2Qx0dIEou1n5ZpoJ2mNe1vZPgPsNf_45RZOks6SoQcwuSUTgdpmECSb9-mY0pHsvIl0avrbz44oluQtxl7LmvS_j0JlmGLOkfUwG2BUaduWJVekMKhmmJMnBV8/s1600/piper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEou61b8l5t2F1aSH72X2Qx0dIEou1n5ZpoJ2mNe1vZPgPsNf_45RZOks6SoQcwuSUTgdpmECSb9-mY0pHsvIl0avrbz44oluQtxl7LmvS_j0JlmGLOkfUwG2BUaduWJVekMKhmmJMnBV8/s320/piper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Our sweet puppy, Piper, looking dejected and neglected after being asked to leave the UNO playing area. Actually, this is her spot--right in front of the dishwasher and in the middle of everything.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSJ9XVRQM9L1IKLllP1qgqgaLymuo1c9DdWV4aJ6NwfSBrZFUfj7ExnFxqfYMqKQuKGqI-Fr5ol_IpfOYbqHj8yxb8dUJurJFJEUniEe7vL9O4HJD2Yp5JCrQaXJWOowDRukM0TpBZiEP/s1600/golfcart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLSJ9XVRQM9L1IKLllP1qgqgaLymuo1c9DdWV4aJ6NwfSBrZFUfj7ExnFxqfYMqKQuKGqI-Fr5ol_IpfOYbqHj8yxb8dUJurJFJEUniEe7vL9O4HJD2Yp5JCrQaXJWOowDRukM0TpBZiEP/s320/golfcart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Preparing the golf cart for the 4th of July parade in our city. Ours is okay this year--wait till I show you the pictures of the carts that are totally decked out. July 4th in our town is crazy fun.<br />
<br />
What are you all up to this weekend?Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-19461339513024301092011-06-25T11:45:00.000-07:002011-06-25T11:45:00.358-07:00Firsts....& LastsWhew! Busy few weeks here on the Square. Hope you all are enjoying your summer. Ours is hot. And humid. Lovely.<br />
<br />
I had the chance to do something last week that I've never done before--I went on a road trip by myself. <br />
<br />
Actually, the Boy came with, but I don't count the 5 year old watching videos in the back as a whole person yet, so the "by myself" phrase still totally applies.<br />
<br />
With my girls at camp for 2 weeks and the Husband on a business trip, I called my BFF and told her we were coming.<br />
<br />
10 hours and 4 states later, we arrived in Little Rock, Arkansas! Can I get an AMEN for satellite radio? Love it. Truly. <br />
<br />
Did you know that to get from Georgia to Arkansas, you drive through 4 states? I didn't realize that. Thank goodness for my car's navigation system. That lady in there and I became quite close on this trip.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_p8HPvGkM8mceEwcCDQgkV2MMhR09E6k9NxB1LBs8TkByogFXbIpuqNI1keRTSs9pvOJYaaVKxdplRejRqysdiPSgxUWPhOb-PGIDlPDIhhGdi8o212WkPDad5lh7GVgEwiEmqHXCNTP/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_p8HPvGkM8mceEwcCDQgkV2MMhR09E6k9NxB1LBs8TkByogFXbIpuqNI1keRTSs9pvOJYaaVKxdplRejRqysdiPSgxUWPhOb-PGIDlPDIhhGdi8o212WkPDad5lh7GVgEwiEmqHXCNTP/s400/2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
My BFF has 2 boys of her own and this was their first time to see the Boy since he was a baby. They loved that he could play real games with them. Evidently they had my Boy frozen in time as a 1 year old.<br />
This is the one picture I snagged of them together. My godson is peeking on the left side. <br />
<br />
A first for my son, he got to play "boy games" with the guys for 2 days straight. Running, yelling, Wii (the Boy's personal favorite), Star Wars. It was so great for him to be around all that guy stuff with not a Barbie in sight. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLdzxT5cbf1u-Yw6eGhfHCfDU3bt1xLsBMc1y5vGoxV8nXrkoNjICMuRxPK1QNA0Lmx36sXkiS0WnGZ3-lPUUx0uvwpJ877BNAvnqqzXG_IqBcVo6gzCgjsAuV1SFnM_97bLZd-Eu3PCj/s1600/vadar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLdzxT5cbf1u-Yw6eGhfHCfDU3bt1xLsBMc1y5vGoxV8nXrkoNjICMuRxPK1QNA0Lmx36sXkiS0WnGZ3-lPUUx0uvwpJ877BNAvnqqzXG_IqBcVo6gzCgjsAuV1SFnM_97bLZd-Eu3PCj/s400/vadar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
The Force was with us, though it was the dark side of The Force most days....<br />
<br />
A little tidbit about Little Rock--by the river is a park that has these huge boulders the kids can climb on, slide through and generally just play on. It was the neatest place. Plus, being next to the river made the scenery extra special. The day we went it was about 110 (not really, but it felt that hot!) and after the kids were good and sweaty we headed to a fountain the kids could jump around in. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRXYsgMfNp7EI5omnot23XD885t-0b_wvJi7_IkaPWknb5kHW8ijbi_pUpR-52FNpUOPHAZ7S_bZgDpM2NcrSbuZUO7bfE4GUGtlZP9jmFcV6xg6sDGwWstDvA6CghV7BVQtWplLV9yQ0/s1600/water.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsRXYsgMfNp7EI5omnot23XD885t-0b_wvJi7_IkaPWknb5kHW8ijbi_pUpR-52FNpUOPHAZ7S_bZgDpM2NcrSbuZUO7bfE4GUGtlZP9jmFcV6xg6sDGwWstDvA6CghV7BVQtWplLV9yQ0/s400/water.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I got this shot with my Hipstamatic app on my phone. See all the water shooting up? It shoots up for a minute or two, then turns off. To get it going again the kids have to push a huge button on another boulder. I love this idea--no swimming pool fear of kids falling in, yet the kids were having a super fun time getting wet and cooled off. And the area the sprinklers were going off was textured so the kids wouldn't slip. I'm sure that detail was thought of by a woman (who was probably also a mom).<br />
<br />
My trip went by way too fast. Isn't that the way it goes when you are having fun?<br />
<br />
Heading home I had to cross the Mississippi River---something I had never done in a car before. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMCumYuamD-AvvTNkXDoP8-yKMKoI4-bKysyRhW4CLkMwD3icG6hbDrQOrtL2zMX5_84gBFiPcthXOGB9hyvCKgwdDnOc-VVJ6Y6P0r3grqNV1HHOU86hWxKtI-nxU35c02ybnQyH4EVj/s1600/weather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMCumYuamD-AvvTNkXDoP8-yKMKoI4-bKysyRhW4CLkMwD3icG6hbDrQOrtL2zMX5_84gBFiPcthXOGB9hyvCKgwdDnOc-VVJ6Y6P0r3grqNV1HHOU86hWxKtI-nxU35c02ybnQyH4EVj/s400/weather.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I know, I know---a picture of a bridge with rain clouds in the distance---but I couldn't get a good shot of the river at all (darn railings on the bridge!) and I was driving and trying to take a picture at the same time. I'm sure that is against the law. Please don't tell....<br />
<br />
The river is huge. I'm sure at other points along the way it is wider, but boy, this was a long bridge and the river looked seriously wide at this point just outside of Memphis. It was really cool to see. <br />
<br />
I tried to tell the Boy about the Mississippi and how important it is, but he just nodded his head and went back to sleep. See why I didn't count him as an "entire" traveling companion?<br />
<br />
Now for a "last".....<br />
<br />
A dear dear friend is moving in just about a week and a half. With her job and packing and the schedules we both have in the summer with our families, it seems like the only time we'll be able to get together is to see each other instead of sleeping. <br />
<br />
She is one of those people I grew close to almost immediately, so to have her move away is sad for me. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UwPDBdhHCpcoxY7ik-HP1_YM_aXZuZmVOAxDZcXfVxRqTi07oJAO93yf9N8u5ctIcIe8Dyk9zXr2I8sh3LcD_wR5iDyQRikgk3wqPC3Zbxr5t_BGXzqJanRwQlWne_nYWohDlfZGZVZq/s1600/kimnme.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UwPDBdhHCpcoxY7ik-HP1_YM_aXZuZmVOAxDZcXfVxRqTi07oJAO93yf9N8u5ctIcIe8Dyk9zXr2I8sh3LcD_wR5iDyQRikgk3wqPC3Zbxr5t_BGXzqJanRwQlWne_nYWohDlfZGZVZq/s400/kimnme.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Kim is on the left. She always takes the BEST pictures! This was at a Luke Bryan/Jason Aldean concert in the fall. We had a blast and I'm hoping that her move will not prevent us from repeating that weekend next fall. <br />
<br />
Hug your friends and have a great weekend, y'all!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-3708849373060231942011-06-13T18:30:00.000-07:002011-06-13T18:30:50.931-07:00Indulge Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmupurmbuyY1QZDyE7sQfnvFAh4cTsHv8YHz5yT2Jg29l6tS3h3o2RbWx-0FMTla59TVuxOcf5qzj8ZjZkre7mZGK1LUIHsXDquSR6rRBqNhTqhivLsTTKLWA-ORnZmqD47Sz2Yo6GOK_5/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmupurmbuyY1QZDyE7sQfnvFAh4cTsHv8YHz5yT2Jg29l6tS3h3o2RbWx-0FMTla59TVuxOcf5qzj8ZjZkre7mZGK1LUIHsXDquSR6rRBqNhTqhivLsTTKLWA-ORnZmqD47Sz2Yo6GOK_5/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
I realize the Royal Wedding is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">old </span>news, but I must revisit it for just one reason...<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YCaVjX15ncqGGAyxUsYExFijnfHiu7JaDzE_w9LbAk7iFFJ2aFkppqunyTNvKzxWVhyphenhyphenMTTvfewVAm0M6rfKXZQ_zQ5Q40mAcrqF9gtzP5LxuzpMpdzjQh4sJbddqgZ1qcQRJNPibezXB/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-YCaVjX15ncqGGAyxUsYExFijnfHiu7JaDzE_w9LbAk7iFFJ2aFkppqunyTNvKzxWVhyphenhyphenMTTvfewVAm0M6rfKXZQ_zQ5Q40mAcrqF9gtzP5LxuzpMpdzjQh4sJbddqgZ1qcQRJNPibezXB/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
Pippa Middleton. Who could forget seeing her walk down the red carpet to help her sister out of the car? Who didn't think "I wonder if she has Spanx on under that dress?"<br />
<br />
Maybe I was the only one who thought that. I was thinking it from a place of sheer jealousy and awe. The dress was flawless on her and immediately I found myself on Team Pippa. <br />
<br />
Not that I don't like her sister, Kate, but seriously. Would <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">you </span>like to forever and ever be known as "Kate's sister"? I wonder if she is at all jealous? Because in any normal world this would ratchet up the sibling rivalry to a warp factor 10! <br />
<br />
But back to Pippa...<br />
<br />
I think I am kind of loving her right now because I feel like I could raid her closet and wear anything I found. <br />
<br />
Wait, I could raid her closet and <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">long for the clothes</span> because I know I couldn't fit even my big toe through the legs of her jeans! But that is another post altogether.<br />
<br />
She wears clothes in such a way as to seem effortless and I love that about her! <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzcpXj4W6pGZg3dh-gXpjQJPuOk6GzcItFz8ZRDGReCgoSkphAxO28bR8tY4ApTDSn_DFptNilsl9rqJBJK_dZm7b7h_S7UVyj80eMMo2SvnXEjesETo89TfWz7dC35tKul1YKyn4hCVV/s1600/images-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKzcpXj4W6pGZg3dh-gXpjQJPuOk6GzcItFz8ZRDGReCgoSkphAxO28bR8tY4ApTDSn_DFptNilsl9rqJBJK_dZm7b7h_S7UVyj80eMMo2SvnXEjesETo89TfWz7dC35tKul1YKyn4hCVV/s400/images-4.jpeg" width="266" /></a></div><br />
This dress is from a store called Zara. Sounds exotic, but actually it is a European store with cute clothes at really great prices! How great that the sister-in-law to a future king wears clothes from a store pretty much all of us can afford?<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwycjPxCW8Q7ubYtUQDHj3b2qSxxyJ_beTZJG-XLDBTqXKct12Jq8aN6tV67BP0PsMcB7nSfbT7J_HTXhBF17TN8E5xQk7GBRaQMIs8ydjwHcG9S2sDLggmPbyyxZqb9JXEdHgrewlCcy/s1600/images-3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwycjPxCW8Q7ubYtUQDHj3b2qSxxyJ_beTZJG-XLDBTqXKct12Jq8aN6tV67BP0PsMcB7nSfbT7J_HTXhBF17TN8E5xQk7GBRaQMIs8ydjwHcG9S2sDLggmPbyyxZqb9JXEdHgrewlCcy/s400/images-3.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Oh my. Tone on tone. I've only recently become enamored of this look and she, again, looks effortlessly chic. Like she jumped out of bed and just "happened" to put this on. Do you think she has a stylist? Because if she does, I can blame my lack of fashion expertise on the lack of a stylist and not my laziness.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUT9xxPCuJSd52UFOxRaYActeujEt7Oq70k7Knb-p4nVWg0sU3DUVBqDdRDw6bYIpA_0aFzU0NWcFryq9KlY46AHTxMx8XXhYFjY1FmCrgJPZnTi5xKdPDO823BCw-JLNQlkuzd3BTaOkK/s1600/images-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUT9xxPCuJSd52UFOxRaYActeujEt7Oq70k7Knb-p4nVWg0sU3DUVBqDdRDw6bYIpA_0aFzU0NWcFryq9KlY46AHTxMx8XXhYFjY1FmCrgJPZnTi5xKdPDO823BCw-JLNQlkuzd3BTaOkK/s400/images-5.jpeg" width="234" /></a></div><br />
By far, my favorite dress (besides the bridesmaid dress!) I've seen Pippa in. I love love love wrap dresses. They hide a multitude of sins, make it easy to wear Spanx underneath and give everyone a "figure"! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I added the Spanx comment for those of us in the *real* world...my goal is to not need spanx. Yeah. I know. Good luck with that, right? :)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9nUY4MfMN8prM0600ECNiIMcrtFMcvWKPrVAeIq8iwZ5A2ODOY9jwz9IcDaEogmPUJTg7vmURZYwQEVKKFGrA4s9WMP07xKRXEat53-bn7veBUi3odmEMKH16yHWjdJohmz0Z2kujFq2/s1600/images-6.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9nUY4MfMN8prM0600ECNiIMcrtFMcvWKPrVAeIq8iwZ5A2ODOY9jwz9IcDaEogmPUJTg7vmURZYwQEVKKFGrA4s9WMP07xKRXEat53-bn7veBUi3odmEMKH16yHWjdJohmz0Z2kujFq2/s400/images-6.jpeg" width="160" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
A maxi dress. Usually not my favorite if I was choosing for myself, but on her it looks glamorous and flowy. On me they look like a maternity dress. No woman who has had children wants to look pregnant when they aren't. Love the print, love the fabric, love her carefree attitude. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqghvOLt7cXmrXonxs38iVu0U9gc0pC4R-jbhvetBK73jcAZGZOILwDFKVeVNt74RzcNcQ3LC7IF6cT5MXvi5skYsg15CgmEHxPyqjk5UPJ810J8nKLmORGH7iOHL20TB4popKj7X28coB/s1600/images-7.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqghvOLt7cXmrXonxs38iVu0U9gc0pC4R-jbhvetBK73jcAZGZOILwDFKVeVNt74RzcNcQ3LC7IF6cT5MXvi5skYsg15CgmEHxPyqjk5UPJ810J8nKLmORGH7iOHL20TB4popKj7X28coB/s400/images-7.jpeg" width="286" /></a></div><br />
Out of all her outfits, this is the one I could actually see myself copying. Her expression says "I don't like being photographed at this particular moment" or "I'm going to do the smile thing with my mouth but I just can't get the rest of my face involved at the moment". Either way, this is something I could pull together and then actually leave my house. I know, I know...white pants, white shirt, colored blazer and a belt. Just call me Rachel Zoe! But baby steps, right? Right now my workout pants and holey t-shirts are the uniform of choice. <br />
Who knows what my husband and kids would say if one day I actually got up, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">took a shower, </span>and got dressed? <br />
<br />
I don't think they could handle it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4132360060833648420.post-65632740357338261492011-06-11T10:10:00.000-07:002011-06-11T10:10:52.670-07:00Decisions, DecisionsWhat are YOU doing this summer? <br />
I'm asking myself that question right now and I'm getting......<br />
I'm getting.....<br />
((chirping))<br />
Nothing. <br />
Zero.<br />
Nada.<br />
Silence.<br />
"Hello God, Are You There? It's Me, Margaret". <br />
I haven't resorted to asking God to figure out my summer vacation plans yet, but it is getting close.<br />
Last year we did a whirlwind trip to Las Vegas for the Grand Canyon, Hoover Dam and Valley of Fire State Park. Then we flew to San Francisco for...well, for everything that town has to offer.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVgmwJ6vq1UNPm53BhZvdr_DQYSzqXHcUckxiXvksS2PM2OSt9YNbK694NhlnO-7R0KJfDa4E3WDJPhetKNRtR20iyGLK8-FtDnaFairlfOYl8UL154GOVV4vulTNQue6JB6_mJsZ0mjs/s1600/firetruck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEVgmwJ6vq1UNPm53BhZvdr_DQYSzqXHcUckxiXvksS2PM2OSt9YNbK694NhlnO-7R0KJfDa4E3WDJPhetKNRtR20iyGLK8-FtDnaFairlfOYl8UL154GOVV4vulTNQue6JB6_mJsZ0mjs/s400/firetruck.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
This is us during the Fire Truck tour of San Francisco. Completely cheesy, but I highly recommend it, even if you don't have little kids with you. My kids were the only ones in our tour group and we ALL had a fantastic time. The guides sang, joked, rang the bell on the truck and we waved at everyone. Plus we learned a lot about San Francisco along the way. So if you go, seriously, do this tour. Really. It was so fun!<br />
<br />
The dilemma is that we had such a fun time on that trip that we are struggling to think of a destination that will be <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">as fun</span> as this one. Oh, and there's one thing about the planning I forgot to mention....<br />
<br />
I'd rather <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">NOT</span> be in a bathing suit. Like <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">not at all at any point in time </span>would I like to be in a bathing suit on my vacation. <br />
<br />
That is a whole lot of pressure, stress, and self-consciousness that I just don't need or want on vacation. <br />
<br />
That being said, it starts to limit our summer vacation destinations a little bit. <br />
<br />
Maybe Seattle? We could do some day trips to British Columbia, Canada? Or maybe we head to South Dakota to see Mt Rushmore? That one would require an RV (possibly) and I'm not sure I'm RV ready.<br />
<br />
We were thinking the Dominican Republic or Costa Rica, but I'm trying to stay away from those because of the bathing suit factor (BSF). The BSF is about a 10 on a scale of 1-10 in Costa Rica. Not good for me.<br />
<br />
So let me get back to surfing the web. <br />
<br />
Thank you for letting me vent. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">I know that this is super silly to worry about given the current state of the economy and that we are lucky to be even planning a vacation---but I am still consumed with this task at hand. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><br />
</span><br />
Y'all have a great weekend!Stacy P.http://www.blogger.com/profile/10095109749045996713noreply@blogger.com1