tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18542541057776179602023-11-16T11:19:14.125-05:00Tiaras and Trucksangelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.comBlogger655125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-52227799714988080282012-02-15T06:00:00.000-05:002012-02-15T06:00:09.729-05:00She Brightens My February<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgidlvJEenBCC0_xSNCmZlr0IpTN2YpXEH09YEnGzQAKO6F88brb-8boR-fpnDtxDi6WIWku3ZJ8vXIZIH_Fx8rx11ydCsP8w__FguQ2Xvd6BRrPCp6bBr4s2hnx4VouatGsWEX45K_Y/s1600/IMG_0411-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVgidlvJEenBCC0_xSNCmZlr0IpTN2YpXEH09YEnGzQAKO6F88brb-8boR-fpnDtxDi6WIWku3ZJ8vXIZIH_Fx8rx11ydCsP8w__FguQ2Xvd6BRrPCp6bBr4s2hnx4VouatGsWEX45K_Y/s400/IMG_0411-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>hanging out with the girls at Aunt Jessica's baby shower</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>(a cousin is coming so soon!)</em></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.mamawantsthis.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://www.mamawantsthis.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/MemoriesCaptured1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>linking up with </em></span><a href="http://www.mamawantsthis.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Alison</em></span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em> and </em></span><a href="http://www.theselittlewaves.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Galit</em></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>to celebrate Abbey's birthday month</em></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.taminginsanity.com/"><img alt="Taming Insanity" height="200" src="http://i1045.photobucket.com/albums/b452/TamingInsanity/PhotoJun2254521PM-5.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>and linking with </em></span><a href="http://www.taminginsanity.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Kristin</em></span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em> & </em></span><a href="http://www.bellebeanchicagodog.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Liz</em></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>because all my pictures are #iPPP these days</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-23601389893959548522012-02-13T06:00:00.000-05:002012-02-13T06:00:02.420-05:0011 Things Might Be Enough<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Natalie from Mommy of a Monster threw out a set of questions (</span><a href="http://mommyofamonster.com/2012/02/a-random-post-about-random-things-about-me.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">and her answers</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">) to the universe last week, and I thought it'd be a fun post to do the Monday after my girl turned four, since I just know the party on Saturday will consume a lot of the weekend. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanm6nM9nPxTDRSs_-p-KJyXioIEwRcvJztzv2V_v3_XSlovBFiSGS-awgcTA-rVjwIIi226wRtKu-fFjwOLAS3x2jYbE96HihD5wR780Qz5F1JXZmsNLU4TBpgpCXNgymoeuVvcDtoKc/s1600/BDay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjanm6nM9nPxTDRSs_-p-KJyXioIEwRcvJztzv2V_v3_XSlovBFiSGS-awgcTA-rVjwIIi226wRtKu-fFjwOLAS3x2jYbE96HihD5wR780Qz5F1JXZmsNLU4TBpgpCXNgymoeuVvcDtoKc/s320/BDay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">sharing their party</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">While this is not a typical Just.Be.Enough. post, it is a snapshot of my life right now. I'm trying to accept that some days I might need a little help and some weeks I might not be able to squeeze in the eighty-four items on my to-do list each day. So hopefully, today, this is enough.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>1: Wine…Red or White?</strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">White, a little on the sweet side.
Bubbly doesn't hurt either.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>2: What is your favorite wine or libation?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Prosecco’s my favorite wine, and flavored vodka’s my favorite libation of the moment.
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">3: Have you been to any wineries or wine tasting?
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We went to Sonoma for a day while visiting friends in San Jose many moons ago. My favorite was a delicious Moscato, and since my kids stole my brain I can’t remember any more than that.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>4: Favorite pair of shoes?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For date night – Neutral patent leather peep toe platforms
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For running errands with the kids – Brown knee-high riding boots
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For my sanity – Asics (either the 2100 series or the Gel Cumulus depending on the state of my knees)
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>5: What is your morning drink?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Copious amounts of coffee. I’ve ditched fake sugar and am slowly (very slowly) transitioning away from the deliciousness of flavored creamers.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>6: Tattoos, body piercings, or both…and where?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I used to have a belly ring, but I took it out a while ago. A long while, when I really think about it. I have a tattoo on my lower back/upper hip.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>7: Favorite dessert?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I go through stages, because I’ve never met a dessert I didn’t like. Right now I’m crushing on salted caramel and anything lemon (not together of course.)
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">8: What is your dream vacation…money is no object!</span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I have two, so let’s combine them into one hodge-podge of fabulousness. I’d do a mini-tour around Europe—Paris, Barcelona, London, Tuscany. Ryan and I did a month-long multi<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">-country European trip back in college after he studied in Germany for the summer--with</span> giant backpacks. I’d love to do it with the luxury of a human amount of clothing and a blow dryer this time, with the appropriate power converter of course. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After all of that walking and wine drinking and art gawking, we’d have to relax in the ultimate beauty of French Polynesia, floating in that gorgeous water off our over-water bungalow.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sigh…who’s funding this again? Oh, I see…
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>9: If you won the lottery…</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(please see question #8!) After that, I just want a bigger house in a better neighborhood, and I’d send our kids to the best schools I could find.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>10: Do you talk to yourself?</strong> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>If so, do you answer yourself too?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Not out loud, but I absolutely do it in my head.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>11: Would you ever sneak a giant metal rooster into your house?</strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Why not? This place is a zoo already.</span>
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<a href="http://justbeenough.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz223/easonnino/Beenoughme.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <strong>that the time has come to celebrate ourselves! </strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong><em><strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What gives you that “be enough” feeling?</span></strong></em></strong></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-57003872260722658362012-02-10T01:06:00.000-05:002012-02-10T01:06:47.043-05:00Blocking the Moon<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He propped himself up on one elbow, warm sand pressing dampness against the blanket though the forecasted storm was circling in the clouds hanging low above the water, the thunder miles away. He jerked awkwardly, trying to button his jeans with one hand and losing his balance. For a moment something like love shot through her indifference.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“I’m glad we came here tonight,” he spoke too soon, his familiar voice slicing through her affection and reminding her that high school was over.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Without artifice, she slid her arms into bra straps and reached around to fasten the airy lace, absently shrugging on her tank top and abandoning the matching scrap of a thong to the darkness beyond the blanket.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He reached out to touch her thigh, his thumb brushing sand from her skin, the pale glow a reminder that she rarely came to the beach before dusk.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With unwarranted cruelty, she met his eyes with a level glance and smoothed her skirt back to her knees, pushing his hand aside and looking to the sky as the moonlight darkened.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His hand hung in the air for a moment, snagged in the humidity between hope and hurt feelings, his eyes following hers to where clouds now blocked the moon.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lost in the twenty-seven day countdown between tonight and forever, she didn’t notice the nearness of the thunder until the first drops fell into the space between them, the summer rain dripping warm tears onto her skin.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He moved quickly and surely, grabbing his shirt to hold over her head, though it didn’t make a difference, lightning flashing as rain poured in rivulets around the island of their blanket.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Still, he held the shirt above her, the soaked cotton falling heavily against her hair.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She knew he wanted her to stay.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She knew he thought he loved her.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Without speaking, she finally met his eyes again, seeing the confusion there, the promises they’d made to each other since freshman year pleading with her.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It wasn’t love, but he would have to realize that on his own.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Finally he tossed the shirt aside, defeated, his eyes far away.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The almost-love washed over her and she embraced the tenderness, letting it speak for her as she touched his face, her palm tilting into the memorized planes of his jaw.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She felt his promises and hope in the urgency of his lips, and she closed her eyes, wondering if he could taste the goodbye in hers.</span>
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<a border="0" href="http://writeonedge.com/red-writing-hood/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/redWritingHoodButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the prompt:</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">lots of rules for this one, but basically I wrote about a <strong>recent high school graduate</strong>, at <strong>the lake</strong> during <strong>a thunderstorm</strong>, <strong>losing or finding something</strong></span></em></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-79157499853196952242012-02-09T00:23:00.000-05:002012-02-09T00:23:09.233-05:00Readers Will Love The Weird Sisters - A Book Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxeG8p6UvCj6LkfDqJHuUL3E8bm0u-mYNVvvoFUgF17PmTaNk8zGA5sS52RQG4CNv9rsNh1U3LPrBNoSFra7pWcP_NFzZr07DSUsyiAWnZYYaMcDbTW1M0122sdvtIZmK4ofjHqoZGJcg/s1600/IMG_0122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxeG8p6UvCj6LkfDqJHuUL3E8bm0u-mYNVvvoFUgF17PmTaNk8zGA5sS52RQG4CNv9rsNh1U3LPrBNoSFra7pWcP_NFzZr07DSUsyiAWnZYYaMcDbTW1M0122sdvtIZmK4ofjHqoZGJcg/s320/IMG_0122.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>I know she's going to love The Weird Sisters one day</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lists passed back and forth between us, name books scoured, possibilities scrawled onto paper to be tentatively approved or slashed out of existence by the other. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ryan and I had a difficult time choosing names, particularly with Dylan, making lists for both boys and girls and hoping we'd make an appropriate game-time decision when he was born.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">If our little troublemaker would have been a girl, the name at the top of our list was Miranda, chosen because of my love for <em>The Tempest</em> and agreed to by Ryan despite his disdain for the Miranda character on Sex and the City (do you see why we had issues?)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">In <em>The Weird Sisters</em>, Eleanor* Brown tells the story of three sisters, daughters of a Shakespeare scholar named for three of Shakespeare's female characters (Rosalind, Bianca, and Cordelia), returning home to help their mother through a bout with cancer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So many things about this book pulled me in from the beginning and sent me spiraling through its pages within two days, pulled into their lives both as women and as children of an academic in a small college town (which may or may not be one of my dream life scenarios). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I pondered the way Brown portrayed the sister relationship, without the typical, tightly woven threads that wind through so many stories about sisters.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I immediately related to their penchant for books of any kind, picked up from various surfaces and read at whim.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I simultaneously loved and wanted to scream at each of the sisters in turn. Character development is one of my favorite parts of a book, and Rosalind, Bean, and Cordy were endowed with some of the most beautifully realistic flaws and strengths I've read in a long time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Another strength of the novel was the narrative voice. Eleanor Brown expertly tells the story from the first person collective consciousness of the three sisters, using "we" and letting the reader truly delve into each of their stories, providing a balanced and rich perspective on the family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">At the heart of the book is a triangular coming-of-age tale, with each of the sisters finding her way through the mire of the expectations of her Shakespearean name, the expectations of her family, and the limitations bestowed upon herself. It's beautifully told without feeling contrived or forced, and my only problem with <em>The Weird Sisters</em> is I'm not sure to whom I should lend it first.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Read more about </span><a href="http://www.blogher.com/bookclub/now-reading-weird-sisters"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>The Weird Sisters</em> at the BlogHer Book Club</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This week we're </span><a href="http://www.blogher.com/bookclub/which-weird-sisters-are-you-most"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">discussing</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> which of the sisters we're most like.</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I received a copy of <u>The Weird Sisters</u> for the purpose of this review, as well as compensation for my time, courtesy of BlogHer and Penguin Books. The opinions expressed are thoroughly my own, including the one where I mention that whomever borrows this book needs to return it, because it will be one I pick up and read at random intervals.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><span style="font-size: x-small;">*Eleanor was another name on our list for girls. It's my Nan's name and just lovely.</span></em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-53086816502478301802012-02-08T06:00:00.000-05:002012-02-08T06:00:05.858-05:00Preschool Decisions and White Envelopes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5VzoAmLFUkemq32G4yxP8CyufU5H4jsls2I6r8OgelCjgEuSmnwU_6u58ufNTTy25jPZZsyKy8xvvnx5KWhY8VtG82lRCubeNxzBWObP6dgR7bz5qiUMot6vcIxYrCsqowpfQ4OvJBU/s1600/IMG_0368.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN5VzoAmLFUkemq32G4yxP8CyufU5H4jsls2I6r8OgelCjgEuSmnwU_6u58ufNTTy25jPZZsyKy8xvvnx5KWhY8VtG82lRCubeNxzBWObP6dgR7bz5qiUMot6vcIxYrCsqowpfQ4OvJBU/s400/IMG_0368.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>everyone needs to play in a box turned into a car once in a while</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Last year I </span><a href="http://tiaras-and-trucks.blogspot.com/2010/12/choices-and-stress.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">hyperventilated over choosing</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> a preschool for Abbey. I fretted and made comparison charts and found a school I believed to be a just-about-perfect fit for our girl and for our family. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And we lived happily ever after.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Until our school district (and likely our entire state) decided to move to mandatory all-day kindergarten, and conversation at preschool pick up shifted to kindergarten readiness and questions about whether or not Dylan would be attending the Tots program designed for under three year olds, which he'll obviously be in the fall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Happily ever after shifted back into worrying mode as opinions flew back and forth about developmental milestones and socialization and sending my cute, little, just-got-his-first-haircut baby to school, albiet for four hours a week.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My mind skipped back and forth daily, my mental checklist of pros and cons balanced and even and utterly useless. Ryan and I agreed and then didn't and basically couldn't decide, especially in conjunction with making a decision about whether to send Abbey for three or five days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">This morning I turned in our registration paperwork for next year, our decisions about both children sealed in a white envelope and handed over to the director of the preschool program while scooping Dylan away from the play kitchen in the classroom.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Advice echoed in my head all day, and I heard myself defend our decision to two different people.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">With the kids in bed and Ryan studying, I left the house in the darkness to retreat to the gym for a treadmill run. For one of the first times this winter, the air felt crisp and chilled, the full moon cutting silver streaks between the bare branches of the trees.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Thoughts of the white envelope flashed in my head, wind biting into my skin as I eased closed the car door, Dylan's window perilously close to the driveway.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Moonlight shone through the cold windshield, bright and unforgiving, the cold leather against my legs inviting me to feel the pangs of regret over the choice we had finally made Monday night.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">But instead of regret, I felt at peace with our decision.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">He will be staying home one more year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">It's the right decision for our boy and for our family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Because the zoo is more fun at 9:00 a.m. when the only ones acting like bears are the bears.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Because he is my baby, and I love our slow, coffee infused mornings and the way his eyes light up when I announce it's time to pick up Abbey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Because he is only two and has years of school in his future.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Because sending him would have meant that every morning one of them would have been at school but never at the same time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Because I want as many moments like this as possible:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1C2BcfZvRE1iPR5QIYdrub9A9Eklo1qfrSV6H-zD2dJHr-PyoqOKGQSziajwwON1OQ-HGO_RVZs1_fYZly1RjSuvD8uL9IgTkkw8D-NIcd1ZptTfrPSJut62447lVxLyu8uzw6v-TgiU/s1600/IMG_0369.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1C2BcfZvRE1iPR5QIYdrub9A9Eklo1qfrSV6H-zD2dJHr-PyoqOKGQSziajwwON1OQ-HGO_RVZs1_fYZly1RjSuvD8uL9IgTkkw8D-NIcd1ZptTfrPSJut62447lVxLyu8uzw6v-TgiU/s400/IMG_0369.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://thingsicantsay.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://thingsicantsay.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/pouryourheart1.png" /></a></div>
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linking up with <a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/">Shell</a>, of course!</div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-81035209256614919652012-02-06T06:00:00.000-05:002012-02-06T06:00:07.615-05:00Overpacking Intervention<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLlQv0vmKff5i-8_LgBf7cmxtKubRP0wPewLnLsUuWrpbUzHyZje-nqB1uj_S_hZCwLM6UMyfqQpcOCuVkIyLoGBRzo_Hdl-hEIiIdjHLiaTIJL8P2DFdLmLnzo390ygo10KjxdPeHiY/s1600/IMG_0341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTLlQv0vmKff5i-8_LgBf7cmxtKubRP0wPewLnLsUuWrpbUzHyZje-nqB1uj_S_hZCwLM6UMyfqQpcOCuVkIyLoGBRzo_Hdl-hEIiIdjHLiaTIJL8P2DFdLmLnzo390ygo10KjxdPeHiY/s320/IMG_0341.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>what I found after my shower one morning</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>perhaps I should implement a "no playing in Mommy's closet" rule</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My closet is woefully small. The only things keeping the tears at bay are that Ryan has his own (matching, woefully small) closet on the other side of our room, and my wardrobe is, unfortunately, fairly small itself.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Abbey doesn't see the deficiencies in my closet and insists on playing shoe store and clothes store during naptime lately, in addition to her old favorites, makeup store and jewelry store. Her ability to strip hangers and sweep shelves clean in record time make my mini-closet even more hazardous, especially when I'm in the midst of wardrobe evaluation.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I guess it's time to toss the maternity clothes, but I can't seem to part with my wedding shoes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Despite a mish-mash of clothing lacking in key pieces (how do I not yet own a cute blazer?), I'm cobbling together my packing list for Blissdom, and I'm once again aware of my need to learn to pack.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I haven't even added the things I'll need for the rest of our week-long jaunt to Nashville, and my list is reading like a Christmas song.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">12 Toiletry Products</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">11 Types of makeup</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">10 Pieces of jewelry</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">9 Workout items</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">8 Undergarments</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">7 Shirts and jeans</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">6 Pairs of shoes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">5 Makeup brushes</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">4 Cardigan sweaters</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">3 Casual dresses</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">2 Fancy dresses</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">1 Fully loaded tote bag</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">My nerves are gathering together in the packing section of my brain, compensating for my other worries about the trip by trying to guarantee I have choices about what to wear. I know it's not about the clothes, but I feel more comfortable when I feel pretty.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Hopefully by next week I'll have a better grasp on what I actually need and what I'm bringing as a security blanket. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">And I'll try to leave those things at home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">After all, I need room in my suitcase for the fabulousness of the Handmade Marketplace.</span></div>
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<a href="http://justbeenough.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz223/easonnino/Beenoughme.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong>Every MONDAY join us… </strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>Write, Post, Link-Up, share your story and your voice. </strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>Be part of carrying the weight of confidence, empowerment and share our mission to empower, inspire,<br />and remind </strong><strong>women, parents and children</strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>that the time has come to celebrate ourselves! </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong><em><strong>What gives you that “be enough” feeling?</strong></em></strong></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-14845168921535017002012-02-03T13:39:00.001-05:002012-02-03T13:39:14.395-05:00Recycled Crayon Art<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My kitchen's dry erase board houses a perpetual list of craft supplies. Wooden pictures frames, special glues, hanging wire, certain colors of spray paint all linger on the list, waiting to be purchased to craft away an afternoon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sometimes, though, a play date arises (or a Friday morning), and my eyes flit around the house for an easy craft that uses supplies I have readily available. Repurposing old crayons seemed like a great way to stretch my craft dollars.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Recently, I began eye-balling the crayon bag-a large plastic bag housing the millions of crayons ousted from their proper homes, boxes bent or torn beyond proper use. Lurking within the crayon bag are the misfits of coloring time, the remnants of crayons past their prime, broken, labels peeled, and frowned upon by my occasionally particular daughter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">You can recycle these crayons and make them the star of the show with a little help from waxed paper and an iron.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQ10FJXRkSOQNCUTOkZCjTOjLZLeYGff52WkxrGOWmGNty3NGXtzlUvwdHlXM4Ev3kEivJMOatdXo1a9G9_VeWM8HHRjC55-8PjrAjN08084DVyP57zzNAm1zaO871Wp1lqK5HYSPXxk/s1600/IMG_0376.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQ10FJXRkSOQNCUTOkZCjTOjLZLeYGff52WkxrGOWmGNty3NGXtzlUvwdHlXM4Ev3kEivJMOatdXo1a9G9_VeWM8HHRjC55-8PjrAjN08084DVyP57zzNAm1zaO871Wp1lqK5HYSPXxk/s400/IMG_0376.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>an iron</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>wax paper sheets (a roll works fine)</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>the crayon bag</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MyXYXBqqzMNtIE3FRMNU0BPBRYbKuKls6ZiWftsR3HptjO9z6W2PdJnM6jrFyG50in1NH0OzHt992BaXMhNkN81WzbtKTEEFkOmAKKgVErSYbekZCUINS_CQjitFsxZXmcXsO2Goork/s1600/IMG_0377-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9MyXYXBqqzMNtIE3FRMNU0BPBRYbKuKls6ZiWftsR3HptjO9z6W2PdJnM6jrFyG50in1NH0OzHt992BaXMhNkN81WzbtKTEEFkOmAKKgVErSYbekZCUINS_CQjitFsxZXmcXsO2Goork/s400/IMG_0377-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>separate misfit crayons</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>remove paper</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYk3tmc2Es65rP7sdeHimuLQhT3gmvAsCiscTlc2tcfoCi7Rk3B8zZP0VOTbxJYuFch8tquo4bavD9P4KuY6CQX5lPUWyZKTwbwVXdjO84L5g38PnzmZhZBWpWNGupoxZRek3z1IpuOE/s1600/IMG_0378.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpYk3tmc2Es65rP7sdeHimuLQhT3gmvAsCiscTlc2tcfoCi7Rk3B8zZP0VOTbxJYuFch8tquo4bavD9P4KuY6CQX5lPUWyZKTwbwVXdjO84L5g38PnzmZhZBWpWNGupoxZRek3z1IpuOE/s400/IMG_0378.JPG" width="400" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>divide into colors or color families</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>(we used plastic bags, but piles would work just as well)</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hxvj7M9y_4lPKes-XgQQnjpYH-YV8um6afUFKPOLrjYIHv_FMNryl0zqYkaZbrsBSgbP9lK82uc1GlyzQ5zBiT7h6kuWH7UQLtUdIOat7i0KixX3zQqD9HrY3f62EE6z3rs5V1MDydE/s1600/IMG_0379.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1hxvj7M9y_4lPKes-XgQQnjpYH-YV8um6afUFKPOLrjYIHv_FMNryl0zqYkaZbrsBSgbP9lK82uc1GlyzQ5zBiT7h6kuWH7UQLtUdIOat7i0KixX3zQqD9HrY3f62EE6z3rs5V1MDydE/s400/IMG_0379.JPG" width="300" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>let almost-four year old bash crayons into pieces</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>(I used my scrapbooking cutting mat to protect the table)</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxF3QNrvBPMUndTFd473KesgyMgNPWX3l1-iq8araf_cb-9nh_o5gkVphdTKJ6e3VStbZuaSASHyAdEpdMiAkXpgw4uwdOgj74MD7tUbBKsMQEJNWHbO5Bw0XLwWWeiWSNtgknrfL4t4/s1600/IMG_0381.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxF3QNrvBPMUndTFd473KesgyMgNPWX3l1-iq8araf_cb-9nh_o5gkVphdTKJ6e3VStbZuaSASHyAdEpdMiAkXpgw4uwdOgj74MD7tUbBKsMQEJNWHbO5Bw0XLwWWeiWSNtgknrfL4t4/s400/IMG_0381.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>divide crayon pieces into small bowls (or piles)</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>contemplate adding glitter</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>decide against glitter</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0mX83QMWw4k1giVnWlC-isLktO0rvYMh329y5507C_7jbJxsv5mV6KqxcKSY6xxiBWSLU79ZMcfYIILJsI8xUAUZsuUAbj0E2Y0DXLYX4JXr1h1QeW3E0FhNPluudeAiDz7AITWwh68/s1600/IMG_0387.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0mX83QMWw4k1giVnWlC-isLktO0rvYMh329y5507C_7jbJxsv5mV6KqxcKSY6xxiBWSLU79ZMcfYIILJsI8xUAUZsuUAbj0E2Y0DXLYX4JXr1h1QeW3E0FhNPluudeAiDz7AITWwh68/s400/IMG_0387.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>lay down a dish towel, then wax paper</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>make a pile of crayon pieces</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAcNJerQxaQ1s7ItwD9orkMLmF-HcPlqEvvmkYkSOBsT-_-qstwdLTF7fxmWqy0P6Upd4-Jiu3pPzkk6msEBAFv0d8AzHHKWLIG-ZL3OZir-u7B18t0GoP5jYhXQ9gp-WHmV0vaTU310/s1600/IMG_0388.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQAcNJerQxaQ1s7ItwD9orkMLmF-HcPlqEvvmkYkSOBsT-_-qstwdLTF7fxmWqy0P6Upd4-Jiu3pPzkk6msEBAFv0d8AzHHKWLIG-ZL3OZir-u7B18t0GoP5jYhXQ9gp-WHmV0vaTU310/s400/IMG_0388.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>cover with another sheet of wax paper</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPxAdAMwdBEUe_xpP0ZfYRx7DxWMZbMr4eP3pmMn2NNKQtlSPQ0yBvmO0dmFl-5mIUS2n0tItmg42O4TpfYivvHo1fKqdHYq0xdrBFsgfxjN1sHTVNqx-_eD8U2zR4NOKRshv8p7tojg/s1600/IMG_0389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPxAdAMwdBEUe_xpP0ZfYRx7DxWMZbMr4eP3pmMn2NNKQtlSPQ0yBvmO0dmFl-5mIUS2n0tItmg42O4TpfYivvHo1fKqdHYq0xdrBFsgfxjN1sHTVNqx-_eD8U2zR4NOKRshv8p7tojg/s400/IMG_0389.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>iron* (very low heat) until you see this:</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: x-small;">*I did this step, "supervised" by the kids</span></em></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxH-0NwKOvpxvAohGgeIfqtWd8Ooz0Dgf0mitV7dfhy2u1tC13Br_NUmVAK-8mAW-QtJUmiSGbKLOLHO2sPoigf7-QNR4bz_XLeDEc20R_d0B_jtKnL3koI71e5me1O2Rq-x9VpO22Co/s1600/IMG_0390.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVxH-0NwKOvpxvAohGgeIfqtWd8Ooz0Dgf0mitV7dfhy2u1tC13Br_NUmVAK-8mAW-QtJUmiSGbKLOLHO2sPoigf7-QNR4bz_XLeDEc20R_d0B_jtKnL3koI71e5me1O2Rq-x9VpO22Co/s400/IMG_0390.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>let cool (it only takes a few minutes)</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>peel from wax paper</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiz-CVhv04enZ6s42_31s3nOL6Yvayss2iOX4CFnmJ2BTVY3NPQYz_5_it9HR5o88_fvoltG7sTyjf6lbjdLn70qkDzDgudV1k7O_HlnxdFjiZUrNUVI7Rg_RVO0pN0VRlyKLxKhSKM1M/s1600/IMG_0393-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiz-CVhv04enZ6s42_31s3nOL6Yvayss2iOX4CFnmJ2BTVY3NPQYz_5_it9HR5o88_fvoltG7sTyjf6lbjdLn70qkDzDgudV1k7O_HlnxdFjiZUrNUVI7Rg_RVO0pN0VRlyKLxKhSKM1M/s400/IMG_0393-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>thread with ribbon</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>(I used a wooded skewer to make the holes)</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>hang from dining room light*</em></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: x-small;">*optional in the case of homes not decorated with preschooler artwork</span></em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><br /></em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCe6GvtGjz0DhgW5ThyphenhyphenWDf7_tl-yijz8ku0HtqbIhaPuLOBCLTIpoljvKk1ug-BT0cVleZHhlkZMkzbKXTAzBSDYAXBpEngbk7TbMxbem6FWdIW8jXeaxG21lmhyphenhyphenJgzuWFQAsKfcTc4w/s1600/IMG_0395-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBCe6GvtGjz0DhgW5ThyphenhyphenWDf7_tl-yijz8ku0HtqbIhaPuLOBCLTIpoljvKk1ug-BT0cVleZHhlkZMkzbKXTAzBSDYAXBpEngbk7TbMxbem6FWdIW8jXeaxG21lmhyphenhyphenJgzuWFQAsKfcTc4w/s400/IMG_0395-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Abbey and her friend loved this craft. Dylan and the friend's little sister kept trying to eat the crayon pieces. Bowls of pretzels were provided as substitutes for waxy snacks, and they were a great distraction during the ironing part of the project.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I might experiment with using cookie cutters next time, pressing into the cooling wax to make different shapes. Using similar, or lighter, colors seems to work best.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">We'll definitely be doing this again, because crayon scraps are always popping up around our house!</span></div>
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<br /></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-58595616144875534292012-02-02T23:20:00.000-05:002012-02-02T23:22:57.117-05:00Without Thinking<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Chilled wine slid from the golden bottle into her glass, more than a restaurant would call a pour but not enough to warm to room temperature before she was finished. Sipping on her way to the living room, she shrugged off her cardigan, letting it drop to the arm of the low couch as she sank into her favorite corner.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A well-worn paperback lay on the other side of the couch, and she flipped through it until she found a favorite passage, settling into the story of old friends. The din of her first grade classroom rolled from her shoulders into the silence of her apartment, the familiar words dancing in front of her eyes soothing her nerves more than the buttery sweetness of the wine.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her eyes drifted closed for a moment, and she congratulated herself on skipping her semi-regular happy hour date with a few colleagues.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Jarringly, her neighbors' dogs began to bark, and she felt knots returning to her shoulders. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Left alone behind the cellophane thin walls, they weren’t likely to stop their discordant symphony until they tired of their own noise, which seemed to take infinitely more time on the days Stella wished the most for silence.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A frown creased her forehead as she reached for the remote, flipping past Friday evening television to the music channels, needing something to balance the barking more than caring what seeped out of the speakers.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Resting her wine glass against the arm of the couch, she let the music fade into the background and tried to fall back into her book.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ten, twenty minutes passed, and the dogs stopped barking. The music suddenly seemed too loud against the silence.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She reached for the remote again as the harmony finally reached her consciousness.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Forgetting the remote, she reached for her phone instead, pressing the familiar name and trying to breathe.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her book fell open in her lap, wine gently trickling onto the pages, her mind on other words as she mentally pieced together glib opening lines.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He answered too quickly, his voice wary and unsure.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She searched for any vestige of hope in the “hello,” swallowing and reaching for something vaguely casual to say.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“I made a mistake,” tumbled out instead.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And the music filled the surprised silence between their breathing.</span>
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<a border="0" href="http://writeonedge.com/red-writing-hood/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/redWritingHoodButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>the prompt:</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>let your character be inspired by music</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-36899502679408870742012-02-01T06:00:00.000-05:002012-02-01T06:00:03.361-05:00Tucked in an Envelope<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5Q5ZZadzx_r9BowSve_WrYZ0HXTROsxecGi2t2Q0ZHBqJc21G7k0r_SkMD_6XILzVbI3QPm-8iiC4DvRDML8XQ2qSr2h1ZB8vnnkVVy22pgsnkuhD2I3o3R6FNIxDZJEGYiACM6M9Dc/s1600/IMG_0174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic5Q5ZZadzx_r9BowSve_WrYZ0HXTROsxecGi2t2Q0ZHBqJc21G7k0r_SkMD_6XILzVbI3QPm-8iiC4DvRDML8XQ2qSr2h1ZB8vnnkVVy22pgsnkuhD2I3o3R6FNIxDZJEGYiACM6M9Dc/s400/IMG_0174.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Dylan mid-January</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've been ignoring the rumbles and the side glances, twisting the curls around my fingers while pushing long strands out of his eyes. Unlike his sister, who was born with hair, his crept in slowly, silky strands that grew to curl at the base of his neck. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cutting it after it worked so hard to grow in seemed unfair.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Still, after a week's worth of pulling his hair out of seeping, weepy, pink-eyed, sinus-infected, sad blue eyes, I felt myself cave. (And who let these germs loose on our house, by the way?) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Snow was falling as the four of us piled into the car, Abbey excited about getting her hair cut, my heart inexplicably heavy, as though his very baby-ness was woven into the locks curling softly against his collar. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Reluctant to wear the cape, we coaxed it around his neck with a stuffed Mickey Mouse in one hand and a Peter Rabbit book in the other. Knowing our squirmy boy, I held him on my lap as golden strands of his first two years fell to the floor, a few safely tucked into an envelope, unsure if their magic was lost or expanded as they left his head.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He grew impatient by the end of the cut, whining and trying to pull off the cape. Unable to distract him with stories or pictures of elephants, we pulled out our trump card-the lollipop. Mollified, he gripped it without licking it, thankfully, as a hair-encrusted sucker doesn't sound at all appealing.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I never thought I would be a mom who cared too much about hair. Truly.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But this feels different than cutting hair. He's our baby, and now suddenly he looks like a little boy. I'm in love with this little man running around our house now, but it might be a few more days until I can admit to myself that we're slowly rounding the bend from having babies to having children.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Most moments, I'm excited about moving forward, about thoughts that we'll potty train this year and start taking family vacations that don't involve a pack and play.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But in the darkness, my head on my pillow, I think of the way they don't fit in my arms in quite the same way anymore. And I'm thankful I have a certain envelope on my bookshelf, for the day when I can't quite remember the way his hair curled.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjJAMPEZYhy-vsOxfRP1FxUuOaN2g8X4al1t6eqSO4quFnwijpx6zLcTdZL97AYLPpquqlxxOn50qC8UEByI4FQo3ybLrNMMBtwDa7YkfyGD2JiCoZjqWee2hHHVTsOjY7iPe71C_g_0/s1600/IMG_0297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivjJAMPEZYhy-vsOxfRP1FxUuOaN2g8X4al1t6eqSO4quFnwijpx6zLcTdZL97AYLPpquqlxxOn50qC8UEByI4FQo3ybLrNMMBtwDa7YkfyGD2JiCoZjqWee2hHHVTsOjY7iPe71C_g_0/s400/IMG_0297.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>Dylan this Saturday</em></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIgvogmdvJMW3OGJ9laztDwxYYP8Y-EFRkN21nZ66H3ORClLX-johAuzDShluogpHlmDiurrz8dQVjZOkJIjVUQoguOxTlBXcBqyZwkm-oTvWJAP0sJAug8n_LqxdswY8AlrFM0NLPMI/s1600/IMG_0303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnIgvogmdvJMW3OGJ9laztDwxYYP8Y-EFRkN21nZ66H3ORClLX-johAuzDShluogpHlmDiurrz8dQVjZOkJIjVUQoguOxTlBXcBqyZwkm-oTvWJAP0sJAug8n_LqxdswY8AlrFM0NLPMI/s400/IMG_0303.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">she wanted a hair cut, too</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">four inches for my almost-four year old</span></em></div>
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<a href="http://thingsicantsay.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://thingsicantsay.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/pouryourheart1.png" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">linking up with Shell</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">have you checked out her <a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/">new design</a>?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<a href="http://www.bellebeanchicagodog.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img alt="iPhone Photo Phun" border="0" src="http://i1015.photobucket.com/albums/af279/bellebeandog/iPhone-Photo-Phun-1.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">and with <a href="http://www.taminginsanity.com/">KLZ</a> and <a href="http://www.bellebeanchicagodog.com/">Liz</a></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com52tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-37368055662507003422012-01-30T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-30T06:00:15.422-05:00Losing the Shine<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinWiSxKYoKg8dJIOSes0yiygvXU99kebEh8QrtxlTFl_XrjUWAB5RxdijRcvRLkcy4lYt3e9zxxlagqzUSR8QJhQvpwQRAl9SyMa7ngOR0NCpzrUpa4LK3V09hCZp72dq2NtYOz44fG5g/s320/IMG_0248.JPG" width="304" /></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">my bissell steam and sweep*</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We pulled up the teal carpet with excitement, knowing the promise that hid beneath years of dust and the hazardous tack strips and carpet nails littering the scarred wooden floors.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Having our floors refinished was one of the first projects Ryan and I tackled in our house, though our version of tackling meant calling and hiring someone who wouldn't be likely to let the sander wear through the remaining layers of wood.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For days we wandered back and forth between the addition and the kitchen, moving between our two back doors to avoid the heavy drapes of plastic and untouchable varnish, spending time anywhere but home to breathe without gagging on the fumes.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Refinished and beautifully polished, they were a reminder of the potential lurking within the walls of our work-in-progress old house.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For years I worried about their shine, keeping a static mop in the closet for basic dust issues, a broom for sweeping, and Murphy's Oil Soap for periodic cleanings when I noticed some of the shine fading from their glossy darkness.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kids brought a whole new dimension to our floors.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A pulverized cheerio settles into the grooves of the floor, the varnish no longer impenatrable. Sippy cups thrown in gleeful games subtly mar the surface. Errant crayons smear waxy streaks near the dining room table.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The Murphy's Oil Soap sits neglected, the gleaming surface of my floors a memory like lazy weekend mornings when it didn't matter if a corkscrew was left at the edge of the kitchen counter from the night before.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've streamlined my cleaning routine: one little magic machine that picks up crumbs and steams the floors into a sanitized surface, warm and clean but lacking the reflective shine and slippery clean of my old stand-by. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There are moments I miss the shine. But then I see Dylan trailing behind the steamer, trying to figure out why my path is wet and a little hot and why one of the buttons makes a whirring sound and one does not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I remember that there's always more than one way to shine.</span><br />
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<a href="http://justbeenough.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz223/easonnino/Beenoughme.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong>Every MONDAY join us… </strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>Write, Post, Link-Up, share your story and your voice. </strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>Be part of carrying the weight of confidence, empowerment and share our mission to empower, inspire,<br />and remind </strong><strong>women, parents and children</strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>that the time has come to celebrate ourselves! </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><strong><em><strong>What gives you that “be enough” feeling?</strong></em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: maroon;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><strong><em>*This is NOT a sponsored post. Bissell has no idea who I am or that I'm writing this or that my mom bought me this lovely member of our household as a Christmas gift two years ago. I just love having sanitized floors in the amount of time it takes to sweep the room.</em></strong></span></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-31471486259970815772012-01-26T22:17:00.002-05:002012-01-26T22:17:41.105-05:00Hats<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Thank you!" Jane breathed, looking back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"You're welcome." His dad had talked so much about holding the door Tim could have gotten a doorman over at those new lofts on Seventh. Picturing himself in one of those red hats, he grinned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"What's so funny?" she whispered as his eyes searched the rows of wooden booths, making sure there were still seats with optimal viewing available.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Nothing," he answered. Doorman hats probably weren't her style.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"You never tell me what you're thinking," she pouted, pulling off her coat to reveal a faded Ohio State t-shirt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Confused, he tried to think of what he said to make her mad as the hostess began to place their menus on a table.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He gestured to the largest screen, "Hey, can we grab something closer?" </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The hostess shrugged, nodded. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Thanks. And a couple of beers. Beer's ok, right?" Tim smiled at Jane, suddenly remembering he'd said something wrong. Something about the door?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Actually, I want to see the drink menu," Jane said, sliding into her chair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Big game today," Tim said, checking to make sure he could see at least two of the games starting in thirty minutes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Silence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Giving her time to read through the menu, he leaned back and followed the closed captioning on the pre-game show looming large about her head. That loser should've been fired years ago, pulling that stupid mascot head from behind the desk, knowing exactly the reaction he was going to get.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She sighed</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Don't they have good drinks?" he asked, glancing at the menu.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I thought you wanted to hang out," she said, not meeting his eyes, which he knew meant a long conversation if he didn't do something fast.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I do." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And he had when he'd invited her to watch the game and have a few beers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"Really?" Her voice got higher. Was that better? "Oh good!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">His beer came, and Jane ordered one of her own.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">"I'm glad you think this is going somewhere," she said, whispering again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He might have nodded as he took a drink, glad to see the loser had the common sense to pull Brutus's Buckeye Head over his grey hair. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Brutus was better than a doorman's hat. He grinned and saw hers spread across her face, reminding him of why he'd asked her out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Plus she looked hotter than most twenty year olds in that t-shirt.</span><br />
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<a border="0" href="http://writeonedge.com/red-writing-hood/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/redWritingHoodButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>the prompt:</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>no subject restrictions</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>use a writing "tool" you think you need to polish</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I tried working a little more with dialogue and the male POV.</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-64572357851154133372012-01-26T22:00:00.000-05:002012-01-26T22:00:03.221-05:00Capturing Memories - Bellflower Books Giveaway Winner<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thank you so much to everyone who participated in my Bellflower Books giveaway!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Emmy, I know you are going to love your book :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Kerry from <a href="http://www.bellflowerbooks.com/">Bellflower Books</a> will be contacting you about how to redeem your coupon code! They are so helpful, and you can let me know if you have any questions, too. I think we're going to start one for my grandma soon :)</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhageMp-DQu8luxwjD238fh_o-q7QbAdLtKFcaK_m7sOEFVb6_AXBg8AVyyab7-ogem7mQFZU53PLO3HUPm3pSBXQDfYav0CS5v6U_pCOcFhJCX3MjSNGnkR_kFktWSozHxB7F-V2ceTe4/s1600/Giveaway+Winner.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhageMp-DQu8luxwjD238fh_o-q7QbAdLtKFcaK_m7sOEFVb6_AXBg8AVyyab7-ogem7mQFZU53PLO3HUPm3pSBXQDfYav0CS5v6U_pCOcFhJCX3MjSNGnkR_kFktWSozHxB7F-V2ceTe4/s640/Giveaway+Winner.png" width="640" /></a></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-70087311797422214682012-01-25T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-25T06:00:05.780-05:00Between Health and Weight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixWR9cXiD9NArwG0jkM4AIm59Tuinj9d6Vi-yjZYi9q8qeMEENgaj-lPBML6JcHUeP2Yw8wjvRrxIaEXlJzyDudDP9kSf-GWCuWlS4KUwOYzfhG8PKjIG2990OYyPr9hGWA1VBL3nEcQ/s1600/IMG_0257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiixWR9cXiD9NArwG0jkM4AIm59Tuinj9d6Vi-yjZYi9q8qeMEENgaj-lPBML6JcHUeP2Yw8wjvRrxIaEXlJzyDudDP9kSf-GWCuWlS4KUwOYzfhG8PKjIG2990OYyPr9hGWA1VBL3nEcQ/s320/IMG_0257.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>my favorite shoes, brand spankin' new</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sweat beads on my forehead, the whir of the treadmill belt muffled by The Black Eyed Peas pulsing in my ears. I’m finally getting accustomed to the monotony of my indoor runs. I use the time to get lost in my music and my thoughts; my eyes slightly glazed as they focus on the glowing yellow streetlights, halos in the sky through the condensation on the wall of windows.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My runs have been more sporadic than I’d like, mornings thwarted by sick kids interrupting sleep, coaxed back to bed with glasses of water and smoothed brows and curling up in our bed when nothing else works.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My legs tire more quickly than they should, growing heavy as my eyes are drawn again and again to the numbers on the display. Three miles feels longer than three miles.
Still, </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">running is one of my safe places, something that makes me feel strong and sure, even when I realistically look at my abilities and know I may never meet some of my secret goals.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I leave my running shoes by the back door so my kids grow up knowing that part of my life, seeing the routine modeled the same way we brush our teeth or read books before bed. I envision myself at seventy, standing around at the beginning of a race, people thinking I am there to cheer on my grandchildren until they see the numbers pinned to my chest.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But there’s another reason I run, a reason I don’t mention to Abbey when we talk about my new running shoes. A reason that’s been sitting in the forefront of my mind since the beginning of the year.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Running burns calories, and calories and I are having an intimate relationship, carefully chaperoned by my new drill sergeant, My Fitness Pal.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve hired (by that I mean signed up for free) My Fitness Pal to help me track my calorie intake. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I truly wish I could say I’m tracking those calories for my health or to set an example of healthy, clean eating for my family.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I cringe when I see my calorie logs some days, particularly on the days when I am under or at my calorie limit but my morning is filled with French Vanilla Creamer instead of a nutritious breakfast.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’m embarrassed to admit this, though it may not seem like a dramatic confession.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">One of the things I desperately want for Abbey is for her to grow up with a respect for good health and a safe and healthy body image, because I know how difficult it is to struggle with weight.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Punching numbers into a computer or my phone and mentally trading out meal calories for an extra cup of coffee with creamer for the sole reason of dropping a jean size isn’t the example I want to set for her.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Teetering between weight loss and a healthy example, I’m trying to find my balance.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And it’s so much more difficult than I expected it to be.</span><br />
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<a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/pouryourheartout.jpg" /></a>
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as always, thanks to <a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/">Shell </a>for inviting us to pour out our hearts</div>
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<br />angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-67956357703128197122012-01-23T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-23T06:00:01.518-05:00Redefining Sundays<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Vaguely, I recall Sunday mornings without Abbey and Dylan: long runs, hot showers, a nap in the middle of the day, cleaning the house to prepare for the upcoming week.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Responsibilities were cushioned with late brunches or nights wrapped around a warm mug of coffee at our favorite coffee shop.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kids change the concept of a lazy Sunday.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">After missing too many days at the gym, I hurried out this Sunday, throwing together a quick breakfast before leaving.
Ryan and I talked briefly as I poured my coffee, and he rushed out the door for his soccer game.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Games and toys and puzzles and what seemed like a million beads were pulled from cupboards and baskets to litter the floor as I tried to contain the hurricane of toys propelled by two young children still in their pajamas at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I realized my “safe” shelf in the downstairs linen closet was now reachable by Abbey’s growing arms when I came out of the shower to find Dylan playing his version of dress up.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRteIvXqZKOBQEJJ9u4yINdKFblRmlBITh6yf4DD2zDaLbLKKy5u_dGHdqBJKMq_QYxKakTeIdCw7bC1klhRYxbWEwGGbx4AaH3VH5fkOzs1_G9fBrRo9PywIvq0enZO5X815a-_S8q0/s1600/IMG_0251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuRteIvXqZKOBQEJJ9u4yINdKFblRmlBITh6yf4DD2zDaLbLKKy5u_dGHdqBJKMq_QYxKakTeIdCw7bC1klhRYxbWEwGGbx4AaH3VH5fkOzs1_G9fBrRo9PywIvq0enZO5X815a-_S8q0/s400/IMG_0251.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The wood floors I’d steamed the day before were already showing the crumbs of meals eaten half in and half out of chairs, Dylan finding hilarity in pushing himself an arm’s length away from the table, precariously gripping the edge until Abbey or I got up to push him back to his placemat.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A bird lost its way into our chimney, unable to find its way out, flapping against the fireplace screen, scaring Dylan and fascinating Abbey, both of them unwilling to move from the living room or talk about anything else until it calmed down.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Around one o’clock, I could feel their energy levels reaching the fever pitch of kids dangerously close to lunch and nap time.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">An image from Pinterest popped into my head, and I gambled that the novelty of hot dog octopuses would pique their interest and keep them at the dining room table for more than three minutes.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8uP62FPrWenTnbu36shEy780wSHU-oM9hvxNfZOXqjmpZ4sVNd9JHb4fJOacHxxTW07WTHsx0YZj34-9ABZUrZD-ioQEOJUReyspnpZ2ezUledkVzfBec3mBKpIFPok-suhF6V6V-ok/s1600/IMG_0252.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8uP62FPrWenTnbu36shEy780wSHU-oM9hvxNfZOXqjmpZ4sVNd9JHb4fJOacHxxTW07WTHsx0YZj34-9ABZUrZD-ioQEOJUReyspnpZ2ezUledkVzfBec3mBKpIFPok-suhF6V6V-ok/s320/IMG_0252.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">hot dogs and noodles-two favorites at our house</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Ryan walked through the door as the spaghetti softened in boiling water, diffusing their energy to balance between the two of us, making it easier to burst into laughter when Dylan’s excitement about octopus arms slid to a halt when he figured out he was supposed to eat them.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb_8rAGjV_debE4_ZsWT-BIi-oBYboaOJv9LyLuKvZoPy_TxA7brfsC75y68121mFA7m3YYGEpWTaIKV1mhMN3n4PmZoIHB_5R4NFWNqFiPtbdHWQ7j1AbWsSZZbqXKVLdtkkGsuLlZo/s1600/IMG_0253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsb_8rAGjV_debE4_ZsWT-BIi-oBYboaOJv9LyLuKvZoPy_TxA7brfsC75y68121mFA7m3YYGEpWTaIKV1mhMN3n4PmZoIHB_5R4NFWNqFiPtbdHWQ7j1AbWsSZZbqXKVLdtkkGsuLlZo/s320/IMG_0253.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">cut raw hot dogs into segments, stick spaghetti through dogs</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">cook in boiling water for 7-8 minutes</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Deftly, I slid food around plates, all of the octopuses on hers, all of the plain hot dogs on his.
Over an hour later, we finally got them both dressed and out running errands.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyq1jZeK9_Twm3D4cssPeCZMP8nMJI4KAK9QfO88UymqnoR1o6SDHKwn6m3MCgQQX-u3zvYOpaq2JauKolK_InNQsPKcpz_G0lkv9z-8pAAOTd5LEUb_hRdD1pps8SoQPlTPoKs3BYZM/s1600/IMG_0254.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpyq1jZeK9_Twm3D4cssPeCZMP8nMJI4KAK9QfO88UymqnoR1o6SDHKwn6m3MCgQQX-u3zvYOpaq2JauKolK_InNQsPKcpz_G0lkv9z-8pAAOTd5LEUb_hRdD1pps8SoQPlTPoKs3BYZM/s320/IMG_0254.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Lazy Sundays will resume in approximately ten years. Taking a nap in the middle of the day sounds lovely, but I might miss the octopuses.</span><br />
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<a href="http://justbeenough.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz223/easonnino/Beenoughme.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>Every MONDAY join us… </strong></span><br /><span style="color: #cc0000;"> <strong>Write, Post, Link-Up, share your story and your voice. </strong></span><br /><span style="color: #cc0000;"> <strong>Be part of carrying the weight of confidence, empowerment and share our mission to empower, inspire,<br />and remind </strong><strong>women, parents and children</strong></span><br /><span style="color: #cc0000;"> <strong>that the time has come to celebrate ourselves! </strong></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong><em><strong>What gives you that “be enough” feeling?</strong></em></strong></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-54983361327964163652012-01-19T23:14:00.000-05:002012-01-19T23:14:28.692-05:00Lies<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Numbers churned in front of her, shifting back and forth as she pushed her legs into a whir of motion.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">
She stared at the bars filling the stationary bike’s display, a ghostly replica of hills, focusing her eyes on everything but the unwieldy black brace encircling her right knee. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her doctor’s words echoed in her head:
“No running until we evaluate your progress in approximately three weeks. Maybe some easy cycling.”
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Numbers whirled in her head, calories ingested and calories burned. Nodding demurely in the office she had already shrugged off the directive; easy cycling would barely burn off the yogurt she had for breakfast, let alone the cupcakes she’d shoveled into her mouth in the closet after turning them down in front of the rest of the office.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pushing harder against the plastic pedals, feet almost numb from the pressure, she forced her eyes onto the flashing red numbers, refusing to look down at the brace or up at the treadmills lined against the windows dripping with condensation.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She ignored the twinge in her knee threatening to cross into a scream, concentrating instead on the calories burned, imagining the way she must look to the other gym-goers.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Were they disgusted by the sway of her thighs pumping faster and faster on the pedals?
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Were they motivated by the jiggle of her stomach against the thin, ribbed tank?
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">She pushed harder, struggling to force sweat to bead onto the surface of her forehead or the small of her back, affirming her movement. Accustomed to punishing ten-mile runs, her body refused to sweat; her frustration refused to melt away, expelling a scarfed pint of ice cream with it.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Giving up, tears filled her downturned eyes as she escaped past the wall of mirrors, not recognizing the skeletal reflection as her own.</span>
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<a border="0" href="http://writeonedge.com/red-writing-hood/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/redWritingHoodButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">the prompt:</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“The cure for anything is salt water….sweat, tears or the sea.”
~ Isak Dinesen, pseudonym of Baroness Karen von Blixen-Finecke</span></em></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com39tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-45740033097689325292012-01-19T09:33:00.000-05:002012-01-19T09:33:14.487-05:00Capturing January<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00xM7hUgFTinsZiJlKHStTZRkX86rOFlT9NPfJeI4Ph9fPK0spQHtzIavdNRr9gFOichr7OCx3TuR7BlRNDJzX8opkLt6R8Iy6b2XVpL35jnn8_I5lFmrxGnR8T-jWjGNlPBLyyjt5tk/s1600/IMG_0069-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh00xM7hUgFTinsZiJlKHStTZRkX86rOFlT9NPfJeI4Ph9fPK0spQHtzIavdNRr9gFOichr7OCx3TuR7BlRNDJzX8opkLt6R8Iy6b2XVpL35jnn8_I5lFmrxGnR8T-jWjGNlPBLyyjt5tk/s400/IMG_0069-1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>thrilled to be linking up with <a href="http://www.mamawantsthis.com/">Alison</a> and <a href="http://www.theselittlewaves.com/">Galit</a> for their new monthly feature</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>and thrilled to give one more birthday shout-out to my boy</em></span></div>
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<a href="http://www.theselittlewaves.com/" target="_blank"><img border="0" src="http://theselittlewaves.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/MemoriesCaptured1.jpg" /></a></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-6931711130458114532012-01-18T00:00:00.000-05:002012-01-18T00:00:07.229-05:00Floundering<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29NOGVyJzY49WdZanAz5Q-1vKSl3TouYWs71gmSlMWDwPA5tE33jbKhzlf7Y-O55JRWTfIo5cBjkyIzGkUVn2cOc-veJIODCkT423YEVr3jWAvhWoJsCZHHAy0H5jSJYI7pQFKMgNobc/s1600/IMG_0155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi29NOGVyJzY49WdZanAz5Q-1vKSl3TouYWs71gmSlMWDwPA5tE33jbKhzlf7Y-O55JRWTfIo5cBjkyIzGkUVn2cOc-veJIODCkT423YEVr3jWAvhWoJsCZHHAy0H5jSJYI7pQFKMgNobc/s400/IMG_0155.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Snow fell in Michigan Friday, sparkling flakes that blew in the wind and barely coated the ground, brittle grass peeking through the white afghan.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We made tracks briefly as we walked to the car in the morning, but Abbey kept floating to the window, asking when we could go play in the snow.
A simple request, especially considering it was the first real snow we’ve seen this year.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I dragged my heels, thinking of the pulling on of snow pants, the wrestling mittens onto Dylan’s unwilling hands, the way the cold would sneak through the loose knit of my grey cap.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Dylan resisted his nap, finally falling asleep an hour after I expected; I exhaled, calculating that darkness would be creeping into the sky by the time he awoke.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cloaked in guilt, my shoulders sagged.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I’ve been floundering lately, inexplicably on the verge of tears, feeling overwhelmed despite being more on top of my streamlined responsibilities than I have in months. Instead of appreciating the fifty-four items checked off my list, I’m focusing on the two stragglers that remain unfinished. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My patience is thin.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I avoided playing in the snow.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Abbey crawled in my lap to read a book, looking sadly at Dylan’s closed door, as though it was his fault that we weren’t bundled against the cold. Her weight on my legs surprises me lately, the way I have to strain around the soft hair that once fit so compactly against my chest.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">There won’t be many more Januaries where she and Dylan are home with me, excepting a few hours of preschool each week. There won’t be many more Januaries where they look to their snow pants with excitement and not disdain for such juvenile trappings.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pushing back my hesitation, I slid her off my lap, pulling jackets and snow pants and hats and mittens and gloves out of the closet, readying them for the moment Dylan began stirring in his room.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Gleefully, they played in the inch of snow, Abbey making snow angel after snow angel, not caring if she was on the grass or the driveway. Dylan shadowed her, cheeks reddening as dusk threatened to slide into darkness.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wish I could end with the fading light, our moments of laughter crowding out the anxiety hovering somewhere in my chest.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But Dylan’s tantrum on having to go inside was epic.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Our public school district is moving to all-day kindergarten, which doesn’t affect us now but may change our plans for next year.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I need new running shoes.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">All little bumps that shouldn’t add up to much stress at all.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My brain knows this.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But as rain turned to sleet outside my window today, tears pricked behind my eyes, reminding me that this feeling wasn’t so simply exorcised.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And I’m not sure why.</span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLDQmj33h2HMOi41hyphenhyphen4dpR1cn7G5neQeh2Fhuc9-3lvL47VgPkDVOK16uBsrr1GR-AGOHYnrh0WxaIDZLNEct4iVMk_aKvt6tdkbBpmnCtkCkQj6b3c1UfmsIV2jRoIdaWKLu3qvl65s/s1600/IMG_0146-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGLDQmj33h2HMOi41hyphenhyphen4dpR1cn7G5neQeh2Fhuc9-3lvL47VgPkDVOK16uBsrr1GR-AGOHYnrh0WxaIDZLNEct4iVMk_aKvt6tdkbBpmnCtkCkQj6b3c1UfmsIV2jRoIdaWKLu3qvl65s/s320/IMG_0146-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://i904.photobucket.com/albums/ac246/shellthings/pouryourheartout.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Thanks to </em></span><a href="http://www.thingsicantsay.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Shell</em></span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em> for Pour Your Heart Out.</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>I needed it this week.</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-80149280732277556902012-01-17T10:12:00.001-05:002012-01-17T10:15:56.316-05:00The Winding Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://www.sxc.hu/photo/1171697">image courtesy of stock.xchng</a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nineteen Ninety-Eight</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>MAC Lip Glass, Skipping Class, Getting Ass</em></span></div>
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<a href="http://writeonedge.com/remembered/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write on Edge: RemembeRED" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/remembeRedButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>the prompt:</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Imagine your life, or a part of your life, as a title and tagline.</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com51tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-65961652175915632082012-01-16T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-16T06:00:05.527-05:00Where Doubt & Bliss Collide<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.blissdomconference.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="This is my First Blissdom!" height="125" src="http://www.blissdomconference.com/2k12/buttons/BD12brown_FirstBliss.gif" width="125" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've traveled to Nashville countless times. I've made the journey playing with my Speak & Spell in the very back seat of my parents' minivan, napping on a plane, and driving down with our kids and hoping they wouldn't freak out in the middle of the night. My grandparents retired there years and years ago, and my Nan still lives there, along with an aunt, an uncle, and a cousin.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This February I'll be making the drive again, my kids strapped securely in their seats. We're already anticipating our visit with my grandma, and Abbey is talking about the pool, but this trip will be different.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For a few days, I'm taking a detour, only a few miles from where we've stayed so many times before. Abbey and Dylan will bask in the attention of my parents and Nan, without Mommy looking at her watch around naptime or rationing the juice, and I'll set up camp at the Gaylord Opryland for a few days of Bliss.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My first blog conference.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Writing sessions and Life Development sessions jump out at me from the screen; I'm motivated just reading about them. (And can't decide between all of them. Help!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Friends I've e-mailed and texted and chatted with on Twitter. People whose blogs I've read and people whose blogs I haven't. All of us gathered together to energize our blogs and ourselves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My first blog conference.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hundreds of bloggers and writers and photographers in one place. Bloggers I admire and writers who bring me to laughter and tears with their words. Photographers who create images I would be thrilled to frame and hang in my home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I am terrified.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Doubts nag at me as I think about business cards and packing lists and what in the world I am going to do when no one talks to me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Fear hides behind doubt, subtler and harder to face.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I'm afraid to walk into a room and call myself a writer, without the safety of my laptop to hide behind. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I've called myself a writer here. But I'm doing it from the safety of my house, with the power of the backspace key and the time to step back and edit and then, finally, put my heart out for the world to read.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This feels different, and I am afraid.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Dreams that are beautiful and possible and close enough to touch from the familiarity of my desk can seem to grow insurmountable in the dazzling light of day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've buried this dream before, this dream of making writing something more than a hobby. I've let my doubts and my fear crowd together, and I've stepped aside and taken other roads instead of facing my fear.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I don't want to live like that any longer.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I've taken baby steps back to this path, and now it's time to take a leap forward.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So I will pack my suitcase with my sparkly cardigan and my best attempt at comfy shoes, and I will walk into that conference with a (nervous) smile.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">(And I will do it with my wonderful friend </span><a href="http://www.thekircorner.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kir</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">. Because I've never had a single doubt about finally getting to meet her.)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWaVFC5ESI_kf11h6lBJVca6M2P6W6u_zr6uercy_s1184e8wlZ6LMfMmKneFHqIBKyrjhLLpiDZ1AmMpJ3rxEWVz0JsBRuy5u92-dhEzMJz0P9qyf3_yKYrGKmRey7pGeNfG_99K4hSI/s1600/IMG_0193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWaVFC5ESI_kf11h6lBJVca6M2P6W6u_zr6uercy_s1184e8wlZ6LMfMmKneFHqIBKyrjhLLpiDZ1AmMpJ3rxEWVz0JsBRuy5u92-dhEzMJz0P9qyf3_yKYrGKmRey7pGeNfG_99K4hSI/s320/IMG_0193.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">who wouldn't want to hang out with such a cool girl, right?</span></div>
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<a href="http://justbeenough.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz223/easonnino/Beenoughme.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="color: maroon;"><strong>Every MONDAY join us… </strong></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"> <strong>Write, post, link-up, share your story and your voice.</strong></span></span><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong>Be part of carrying the weight of confidence and share our mission<br />to empower, inspire, and remind </strong><strong>women, parents and children</strong></span></span><br /><span style="color: maroon;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> <strong>that the time has come to celebrate ourselves!</strong></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What gives you that “be enough” feeling?</span></h3>
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<span style="text-align: left;"></span>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-38742066717284292422012-01-15T22:28:00.000-05:002012-01-15T22:28:08.480-05:00Breaking the Blissdom Ice<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.creativekristi.com/" target="_blank"><img alt="Creative Kristi Designs" border="0" height="200" src="http://www.creativekristi.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Ice-Breaker-button.png" width="200" /></a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">1. My blog will have a new URL by Blissdom! So now you're at Tiaras & Trucks, but by Blissdom I'll just be Angela Amman. This could be confusing, except...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">2. ...I will NOT have a new face by Blissdom. I'll still look like this:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdgEs7wW_8-7eyzHVkKT3un6WVaFJbihuAvTNOCpTGxgPPpYcJo7UeaO_xAni6RkWUU_NdZE58dHQbxJrujAFO6nHnZuMSqDniFLZqRCuHY7zNKXWZK8cT22h7qDG3XUpMH1YEcwBUVA/s1600/DSCN1560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdgEs7wW_8-7eyzHVkKT3un6WVaFJbihuAvTNOCpTGxgPPpYcJo7UeaO_xAni6RkWUU_NdZE58dHQbxJrujAFO6nHnZuMSqDniFLZqRCuHY7zNKXWZK8cT22h7qDG3XUpMH1YEcwBUVA/s320/DSCN1560.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I might look <strong><u>a lot</u></strong> like this. I like that sweater.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">3. I'm rooming with the lovely <a href="http://www.thekircorner.com/" target="_blank">Kir</a>, so I am packing extra concealer. We are going to be chatting all night. Knock on our door if you want to join us!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">4. My blog is a <span style="color: #1d1d1d;">space where I can express my passion for writing and capture the humor and
beauty that weave together with the ordinary moments in our lives to create
something extraordinary. (That's from my <a href="http://tiaras-and-trucks.blogspot.com/p/meet-greet.html" target="_blank">About page</a>, but it's still the best way to say what happens here day-to-day!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d1d1d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">5. You can't tell in that picture, but I'm pretty short-even the majority of my comfortable shoes have heels.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d1d1d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">6. I love being organized, but I'm indecisive. That combination keeps me up at night trying to decide how to split my time between the Life Development and Writing Tracks. I'll be the one wandering around, checking my planner and STILL trying to make up my mind.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d1d1d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">7. Blissdom is my first conference, and I'm teetering between over-the-top excitement and over-the-top stress. What do I pack? What if no one talks to me? So please come and say hi, and I'll do the same. I can't wait to meet you! (yes, you!)</span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d1d1d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;">8*. I love writing, running, dancing, and laughing. I hope to do all of those during Blissdom. Want to join me? </span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d1d1d; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: x-small;"><em>*Eight's my favorite number, so I'm stopping at eight. I'll be hanging out on Twitter (@angelaamman) if you'd like to chat more!</em></span></div>
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<br /></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-15407178429104409812012-01-13T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-13T06:00:06.793-05:00Capturing Memories - A Bellflower Books Giveaway<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67QAql1auyL0PBIqFjuSxE5nKSfg_zoPpIV50dVA2FKSl3_Ll69qAiMns2PqHon32L9_wi60HJMmg6sbqNS4VKfmq33H0IhT9S11oXlUAnEekDV8XYh5jw0TT9uEslF7gMpnXrMBgDdo/s1600/IMG_0076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67QAql1auyL0PBIqFjuSxE5nKSfg_zoPpIV50dVA2FKSl3_Ll69qAiMns2PqHon32L9_wi60HJMmg6sbqNS4VKfmq33H0IhT9S11oXlUAnEekDV8XYh5jw0TT9uEslF7gMpnXrMBgDdo/s400/IMG_0076.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">dedication page</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">A Pandora bracelet rests on her wrist, growing crowded with charms mainly representing her children and grandchildren, her greatest treasures. A thin gold band encircles her fourth finger, her diamond engagement ring and band cushioned in a safety deposit box.
She wears no other jewelry.</span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">cover</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I wrote about my mom’s </span><a href="http://bellflowerbooks.blogspot.com/2011/07/guest-post-series-angela-of-tiaras-and.html"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Love Lessons</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> on the Bellflower Books blog, an unexpected gift to her, and when she retired (and had a birthday) this summer, there was only one gift I wanted to give to her.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For my mom, a women who cherishes and protects her family above all else, I knew a </span><a href="http://www.bellflowerbooks.com/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Bellflower Book</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> would bring a smile to her face in a way that another, less personal, gift couldn’t.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>my aunt and uncle wrote about a long-ago visit to Hawaii</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Their beautifully bound memory books weave photographs and written words together to create a personalized story for the book’s recipient. </span><a href="http://www.bellflowerbooks.com/designs-and-pricing/"><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Design options abound</span></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">; you can create a perfect book for any occasion, whether your tastes lean to simple lines and classic colors or whimsical patterns.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My mom would have appreciated a book made of construction paper, photographs glued to the pages by Abbey and Dylan, but that book would have housed only our appreciation, only a small part of our entire family.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The genius of Bellflower Books is that creating one of their memory books means being able to collect contributions from anyone you choose. You simply choose your design and add e-mail addresses for anyone you would like to share in the creation of the book. Bellflower e-mails the recipients with instructions and deadlines, so each person can upload their own photographs and letters for the book.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>one of her oldest friends scanned old autograph books & postcards</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">As the creator, I made the choice about when to stop accepting submissions. Because I know my family, including myself, I extended the deadline several times.
When I finally did collect all pages and do a final edit, Bellflower Books had the book delivered quickly.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I cried when I saw the final product.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My mom was overwhelmed.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>my letter and a picture from my baby shower</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">And days later was already talking about making one for my grandmother.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">If you need a reason above their stellar product, you should know that it's a company owned by childhood best friends who have been in business together since the age of six. Also, they generously partnered with Just.Be.Enough. to bring their beautiful keepsakes to women affected by breast cancer. It's truly a business I'm proud to support.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><strong>Is there someone you love who needs a Bellflower Book? I’ll be giving away $75 gift code to one lucky reader!!
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em><strong>To be entered for a chance to win, leave me a comment letting me know who would be the lucky recipient of your book (even if it’s yourself!) You can leave a comment each day through the end of the giveaway (next Sunday, January 22nd).</strong></em>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">For additional entries, do any (or all) of the following (and leave an additional comment letting me know):
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">• Follow <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/BellflowerBooks" target="_blank">Bellflower Books on Twitter</a>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">• Follow <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/angelaamman" target="_blank">me on Twitter</a>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">• Like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Bellflower-Books/492860390423" target="_blank">Bellflower Books on Facebook</a>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">• Like <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/TiarasAndTrucks" target="_blank">Tiaras and Trucks on Facebook</a>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">• Tweet out this giveaway</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Bellflower Books contacted me when I was in the process of creating my mom’s book to see if I would be interested in doing a review and giveaway. Mentioning that was important to me, because I was absolutely prepared to purchase the book without any incentive from the company, though I am thrilled to have the opportunity to work with them to promote their gorgeous books.</em></span><br />
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">*Disclosure: I was provided with a Bellflower Book to review, as well as the opportunity to give away a $75 gift code. All opinions are my own, as always!</span></em>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-55844495549148003592012-01-12T23:42:00.000-05:002012-01-12T23:42:04.741-05:00Tannins<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Let me get our coats,” Vaughn said, glancing back only once before leaning into the cold granite of the coat check counter.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Pulling a mirror and lip gloss from her purse, Carly quickly swiped away smeared mascara with her pinkie, attempting to transform her eyes from bleary to sultry. Her lip gloss tingled peppermint on her tongue as she licked her lips, the subtle sheen fading into insignificance over her cabernet-tinged pucker.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Trying to focus her glance, Carly blinked, the white tablecloth stabbing at her eyes. Was the almost-empty bottle on the table their second or third? She blinked again as Vaughn’s hand slid under her elbow, guiding her to the car waiting in front of the bar, leather seats unfriendly on her bare thighs.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He flung the car into gear, sliding carelessly around the corner before parking, letting the engine idle. Vaughn leaned in and pulled her close in one movement, his hand too heavy at Carly’s dangerously short hemline.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Intoxication encouraged her head to fall back at the insistence of his lips, enjoying the abandon of the kiss.
Taste buds sliding together, she recognized the oak and pepper of the wine they had shared, the salty bite of olives covering another, unwelcome taste.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her nose wrinkled as she broke the kiss, too drunk to read his eyes.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Why do you taste like cigarettes?”
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Silence, electric and cold.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“Do you smoke?”
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“No.”
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Her breath caught as she tried again to focus on his heavy-lidded eyes.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">“But my wife does.”
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The locks clicked loudly as his hand, still tangled in her hair, tightened at the base of her skull.</span>
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<a border="0" href="http://writeonedge.com/red-writing-hood/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write On Edge: Red-Writing-Hood" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/redWritingHoodButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>the prompt:</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>flavor</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-85638664853137024902012-01-11T06:00:00.001-05:002012-01-11T22:21:04.256-05:00Goodbye Splenda, Hello Butter - A Book Review<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikryQ3v3MLnfnk5q22UPSQu4Xfya1FtkpLwhtb-alx0mxBEwmtC1e610H4TmuVT0UVEt0jV3mh7uvoMMFyJCcslZsSA58yEAOJsrzCc0WUK0nUvAaPatZ4mjzbtu6o7hhBt7Yxi9DUMLw/s1600/GEDC1190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikryQ3v3MLnfnk5q22UPSQu4Xfya1FtkpLwhtb-alx0mxBEwmtC1e610H4TmuVT0UVEt0jV3mh7uvoMMFyJCcslZsSA58yEAOJsrzCc0WUK0nUvAaPatZ4mjzbtu6o7hhBt7Yxi9DUMLw/s320/GEDC1190.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>made with real butter, so feel free to indulge</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>...in moderation of course</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">My best friend and I were constantly chasing off the last five pounds during college, and diet pop (sorry! that’s what we call it in Michigan!) was one of our staples. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">We waited to see what was on sale bought it, in cans, by the twelve-pack; diet Pepsi, diet Coke, diet Sprite, diet Cherry 7-Up, diet Vernors, diet Cherry Coke, and more all saw themselves stacked and rotated in and out of our hall closet. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The amount we purchased wouldn’t fit in the refrigerator.
Nestled next to the chilled cans of chemically enhanced beverages were other staples: fat free sour cream, fat free cheese, sugar free Jello, sugar free popsicles.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">The amount of chemicals floating through our bodies was enough to keep us preserved until the ripe age of two hundred eleven, if my chemistry skills are correct. (They’re not; I don’t really think a steady diet of fake sugar will increase your life span.)
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Over the years I’ve read and tried The Zone, flirted with the Atkins Diet, discussed South Beach, and had a brief dalliance with Weight Watchers, a certain number hovering in my mind as an ideal goal weight. Through much trial and error, I’ve found that the old-fashioned equation of burning more calories than you eat works best, and I have the most personal success when I’m carefully tracking calories.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Calorie counting meant I could ingest diet pop and sugar free treats, like popsicles, at will, logging few (or zero) calories for my snacks and beverages.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Reading <em>Why Women Need Fat</em>, by William D. Lassek, M.D. and Steven J.C. Gaulin Ph.D., brought to light some things I’ve heard but liked to pretend didn’t matter too much, as long as I was watching the numbers being totaled up at the end of each day.
Lassek and Gaulin are talking about getting rid of processed foods (gasp! diet pop and fat free sour cream).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Reading nutrition books can be a little daunting; there’s often a lot of rhetoric, and obviously the numbers are presented in a way that makes the case the authors are promoting. (What can I say? Being married to an actuary has taught me that it’s healthy to be a little skeptical of statistics.)
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><em>Why Women Need Fat</em> does present statistics and studies and credible evidence talking about why we’re getting fatter, despite our nation’s attempt to modify our diets into submission by vilifying different types of fat.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What I took away from the book, more than anything, is that we need to shed the chemicals and the processing from our diets. We need to eat cleaner foods and worry more about nutrients and the way they fuel our body’s needs (go omega-3 fatty acids!) Fat, in its naturally occurring forms, doesn’t necessarily lurk in corners, ready to cling onto our thighs and stomachs.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Cleaner eating (good bye fake sugar and low-fat-replaced-by-strange-filler foods) was a concept that already interested me, and <em>Why Women Need Fat</em> helped me better understand why it might benefit my waistline as well as my health.
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<strong><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">What do you think? Do you use sugar substitutes or low-fat versions of food to help lose weight? Visit the <a href="http://www.blogher.com/bookclub/now-reading-why-women-need-fat">BlogHer Book Club</a> to read more about <em>Why Women Need Fat</em> or join the discussion about butter (mmmm, butter).</span></strong>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>This is a sponsored post, courtesy of BlogHer and Penguin Books. I received a copy of Why Women Need Fat to read and review and compensation for my time. All opinions, as always, are my own.</em></span></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-1615315550819541952012-01-11T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-11T06:00:05.744-05:00Knock Knock, Dylan Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He recently turned two, and he's decided to become a stand-up comedian.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/1f3ciGeeTCg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Tickets available for his first show soon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">He'll be charging a string cheese and small bowl of Multi-Grain cheerios.</span></div>
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<a href="http://www.bellebeanchicagodog.com/"><img alt="iPhone Photo Phun" border="0" src="http://i1015.photobucket.com/albums/af279/bellebeandog/iPhone-Photo-Phun-1.jpg" /></a>
</div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854254105777617960.post-35670184664383495962012-01-09T06:00:00.000-05:002012-01-09T06:00:10.160-05:00Three Hundred Sixty Seconds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhuBZS3edbKhi12XjV5-QDdrST-40qQ8P4UJdpm7I-XnQMHqHzobGRdeqy5YrWiA88uVGvlCNiBXY3dAqV-0OuKJwi0NGdoyz3tBxqovNQ2_q3IigPADKfUVWNUG_XZ9Aox0QUfzKZ4s/s1600/DSCN1625.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFhuBZS3edbKhi12XjV5-QDdrST-40qQ8P4UJdpm7I-XnQMHqHzobGRdeqy5YrWiA88uVGvlCNiBXY3dAqV-0OuKJwi0NGdoyz3tBxqovNQ2_q3IigPADKfUVWNUG_XZ9Aox0QUfzKZ4s/s400/DSCN1625.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>stolen moments on Christmas Eve</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>an extra long nap while conversation and love surrounded him</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I knew what I wanted.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Five or six minutes, somewhere between three hundred sixty seconds.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Motherhood steals time from expected places: nightly hours of sleep are chipped away to a series of catnaps, leaving the house is packing snacks and timing naps and realizing I need to do one more diaper change before walking out of the door.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It snatches time from unexpected moments as well: sitting down to read a book and flipping to the beginning three or five or ten times to twist my tongue around the rhymes of Dr. Seuss, opening the blinds in the morning and watching the recycling truck slowly moving down our street, separating yellow lids from green bins and sliding glass and paper into labeled chutes on the passenger side.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Stealing three hundred sixty seconds from a two hour run seemed reasonable, even simple, when I finished my half marathon in April and began to set my goal for my October run.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Sliding comfortably into a training plan I’d used before, my body tumbled into the routine, my feet moving through the motions and the miles I checked off on my calendar each night.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But my mind wandered.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Writing and motherhood and relationships gathered round, throwing balls into the air at a dizzying speed, daring you to juggle them all while chasing your laughing toddler away from the fireplace doors for the eighty-first time before ten in the morning.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hardly noticed when my training ball dropped, falling slowly out of rotation, runs missed and miles staring at me from the white page of my planner, yearning for the decorated highlighter of the miles actually completed.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">With my race looming, I shifted my thinking, trusting that my mental strength hadn’t lagged behind with my endurance building workouts.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">It hadn’t; I finished the half marathon with a smile, the time a respectable one for someone more closely aligned with the tortoise than the hare.
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">But I hadn’t stolen those minutes. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">I hadn’t met my goal time.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">So this past Tuesday, I crept into the gym and climbed onto the treadmill.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This Saturday, I let the unexpectedly warmth of forty degree sunshine beat onto my shoulders as my feet tentatively found their familiar loop.
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Saturday night, I registered for my fifth half marathon, three hundred sixty seconds pushing me towards October. Again.</span>
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<a href="http://writeonedge.com/remembered/" target="_blank"><img alt="Write on Edge: RemembeRED" src="http://writeonedge.com/wp-content/images/remembeRedButton.jpg" style="border: 0px currentColor;" /></a>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">This week we’d like you to write a memoir piece about an unfulfilled goal or a broken resolution, beginning with the words, “I knew what I wanted".</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">If you haven't read enough about my running today, I'm over at <a href="http://www.justbeenough.com/taking-satisfaction-in-finishing-a-run">Just.Be.Enough.</a>, hosting the weekly link-up and talking about <a href="http://www.justbeenough.com/taking-satisfaction-in-finishing-a-run">my first run of 2012</a>.</span></em></div>
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<a href="http://justbeenough.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://i830.photobucket.com/albums/zz223/easonnino/Beenoughme.jpg" /></a></div>angelahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14974137283220034062noreply@blogger.com41