tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40256802924377489802024-03-13T20:40:06.416-07:00Amy's ParadigmUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger67125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-54317122458874868292015-01-26T17:15:00.001-08:002015-01-26T18:34:05.387-08:00We're Planting Today<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We're planting today. The feeling of permanence builds with each tree placed in the earth. John Tanner has an amazing essay entitle <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Notes-Amateur-Disciples-Life-Academy/dp/0842528016/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1422321357&sr=8-1&keywords=notes+from+an+amateur" target="_blank">"As For Years" </a>that mentions a verse in the LDS Doctrine and Covenants 51:17 that states "as for years" that resonates with me. At the time the revelation was recorded, there was a group of believers that were compelled to move to a new location. They were not sure how long they would be there and were looking for direction of how to proceed. The response was: </div>
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"I consecrate unto them this land for a little season, until I, the Lord, shall provide for them otherwise, and command them to go hence; the hour and the day is not given unto them, wherefore let them act upon this and as for years." </div>
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No council seems more applicable today to me and my family. I don't know how long we will be here--but I am going to act as if it will be years. I don't want to waste time getting started. I have so much less time now than the last time I was planting trees--and so we are planting today--or I should say my son is planting today. While I make phone calls for work, he is digging the soil. The trees are soaking preparing for the transplant. Soon, the orchards will be nearly complete. Navels, grapefruit, lemon, lime, and tangelo will be in the citrus orchard, and fig, Asian pear, peach, nectarine, and plum will round off the other orchard. </div>
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With each tree purchased and each hole dug, I feel more stable and secure. I am beginning to understand why this instruction was given to these people who would only actually stay for 6 months. The stability is built from creating the stable environment. No reason to ever waste time biding your time in boxes. Live life to the fullest today. Put down roots that someone else may enjoy after you leave. Create beauty today. The joy is in the creation. </div>
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So today I am living "as for years." </div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-5181292832022617342015-01-23T19:18:00.003-08:002015-01-23T19:18:54.291-08:00Thank you NieNieI sit with computer in hand, with no thoughts. I have spent the day fighting laziness. My usual hustle to complete my To-Do List never kicked in. A day a lethargic work. . .waiting to end. The numbness of shiftless neglect. Choosing the mind numbing tasks required in my job--the ones I usually save for after hours when I am by the t.v. Grey numbness. Cold in-spite of the beautiful sunshine out side. A never ending numbness <br />
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<a href="http://nieniedialogues.blogspot.com/2015/01/constant-movement.html" target="_blank">Until I read this:</a><br />
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I have so much I can do to bless my family. I have never sat in the Burn Unit and hope to be able to wash the dishes again. . . or button my child's shirt. I have so much to do. Now, an overwhelming sense of desire to bless my family with my efforts this weekend. The kitchen, the house, a trip up the mountain. . . and six new trees to plant. Ready. Set. Go!<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-39478049584333297152015-01-03T00:06:00.001-08:002015-01-03T00:06:07.250-08:00AZ SkiesI love this video of our AZ skies.<br />
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<a href="http://www.bbc.com/earth/story/20141021-spectacular-new-desert-time-lapse" target="_blank">Click Here to see Video</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-31463556841278069592015-01-02T23:24:00.001-08:002015-01-23T18:56:22.166-08:00Hello from Cowboy LandIt has been six months since I said good-bye to friends, associates, and neighbors. As I prepared to go I only could see what I was losing--rose gardens, grape vines, Boston Ivy encompassing my home and dear friends that have been with me through everything.<br />
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I thought I "knew" what I was moving to--Arizona desert, heat, and yellow grass. I remember distinctly moving away from AZ all those years ago thinking about how great it will be to have UT's four seasons, the cool evenings even in the summer, and gorgeous green grass. For more than a decade I have relished in these UT gifts and thought it would be nearly unbearable to leave. But in my rush to leave the Sonoran Desert, I forgot to notice what has overwhelmed me in my return.<br />
1. Arizona skies. They are huge and painted in sublimity. The sunrise blooms in pink, and orange hues until the blue awakens. It is as immense as the sea and often seems as powerful. The sunset completes the color explosion--echoing the morning glory but magnifying the richness of the colors as it fights to ward off the impending darkness. My husband will talk science with my boys about the dust causing such beauty--but I refuse to accept it. It is desert magic--an artist date every morning and night. I try to never miss it. I will often get up at 4:30 am to work before the family awakens so I can take the time at sunrise to be outside with the sky and my mountain.<br />
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2. The desert mountains have as much beauty as the Wastach Mountains--I just never took the time as a youth to discover it. In my hurry to perform in string groups, participate in student council, and other great activities, I forgot to slow down and discover the mountainside. Hiking has become a new passion. The fire was lit in the Holy Land this fall. I was overwhelmed with how much Galilee was like Queen Creek. I fell in love with both lands simultaneously. There is nothing like hiking with my family all together--the 21 year old carrying the 10 year old for miles. The laughing, the spontaneous need to climb the face of a particular peak. The quiet and the loss of cell phone service.<br />
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3. The Arizona friendliness greets me everywhere. The gal in the grocery line who shares her life with me as we wait. The openness and acceptance. It is a gift.<br />
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Ironically, I have fallen in love with the desert and the warmth of it all. I rarely notice the lack of grass and meticulous flower gardens because I am busy looking up. If Utah's beauty is built in the small details--the petunias and tulips--Arizona's beauty is built in large strokes of sky and desert scape. I find peace in greeting its greatness daily and I am grateful to be home.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-335233820537894322012-10-14T17:14:00.004-07:002012-10-27T20:10:02.502-07:00The End of the World as You Know It<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I grew up hearing 2012 is the end of the world--at least according to the Mayan calendar, but I never gave it much credence. But this year has been the end of the life I have known in many ways. I got hit emotionally today with the onslaught of these changes as I realized today would be the last day to enjoy my gardens. I went into the garden armed with my camera to capture the moment before it was gone, but for this tomato plant, it was already too late. And somehow, this Roma tomato plant became the visual representation of all that my life is right now. </div>
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I have been blessed with a full, bustling life. With six amazing children that are legally mine, and one more that I claim--my life is sometimes seemed hectic, but always full and complete. But somehow this summer, a new chapter has begun--even as I have been too busy to let myself notice. My husband's change in career has necessitated my going back into the work force, and I began to say goodbye to my grown children. Katy was the first to leave--to Romania to serve the people there. </div>
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Jeremy left just days later. I dropped him at the airport for an early flight to NY where he will play college lacrosse. Saying goodbye was incredibly sad and I thought my heart would break. But I had to be at work moments later not affording time to grieve. </div>
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I had several weeks before I said good-bye to Stephanie too. In that time, Tom received the priesthood in our church. . . </div>
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And Will got baptized. . . </div>
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and I spent many hours with the extended family enjoying the fountain Jeremy made before he left. I can't be out in the garden without appreciating the love offering of his time and effort to create the lovely focal point. </div>
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Autumn seemed to be held off for extra weeks. I enjoyed the garden and my family during my precious hours at home. But eventually, autumn would have to come and Stephanie would have to leave too. </div>
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Stephanie's farewell was wonderful. She did a great job, speaking with the power and conviction of her soul. And then on Wednesday, we said good-bye. The weather was warm and perfect. And we all felt God's peace. </div>
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Today was my first time since the the season of good-bye and change began that I had a quiet moment. . . .and I went to the garden for solace. I enjoyed the end of the roses and the beginning of the chrysanthemums. </div>
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I took time to enjoy the small flowers<br />
and the overabundance of the the entire flowerbeds. </div>
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The smell of the alyssum and petunia . . .</div>
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The taste of the grapes from the grapevine Jeremy planted last summer.<br />
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I spent time with the cosmos that reach the top of my 6' fence. </div>
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I enjoyed the beauty of the fruit still attempting to ripen.</div>
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And the beauty of my backyard roses. </div>
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I savored the blackberries that were originally given to me by a dear cousin </div>
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And stopped to visit the wild spots of the yard where my wild flowers still grow.</div>
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I even found a perfect strawberry ready for eating. (These plants were starts from another dear friend.)</div>
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I picked the watermelon, cantaloup and honeydew that were almost ripe. Even unripe, they were sweeter than any from the store. I had my fill of the fruit of my garden.</div>
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And I enjoyed the taste and smell of the parsley and mint. </div>
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It is true, the Roma tomatoes will probably not make it even though I will hang them in my garage. The summer was not long enough because I didn't plant in time. But there was so much more to be grateful for. I went out in the garden feeling my life was spent like this tomato plant, but with each gift of fruit and beauty I realized God has given me so much. My life and my yard is complete with all I could hope for. Each of my children have spent time with me in this yard that began a rock field full of clay. We created this beauty and bounty that mirror the love and beauty of home. </div>
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I lingered in my garden, noticing that I have different variations in plants I thought were the same and realized I can't give up on this glorious life. I have four amazing kids at home still. </div>
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Life is good.</div>
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I didn't notice any of the weeds today, the grass growing in my flowers only added beauty. I will pick the grass out another day, and focus on the problems that need to be addressed. But today, I am enjoying the beauty of my life. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-76338948773291475922012-07-01T21:59:00.002-07:002012-07-01T21:59:48.012-07:00Nephew's Wedding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My nephew got married this week-end to the perfect bride for him. The evening was perfect. Complete with chandeliers in the trees</div>
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and the prettiest bride ever riding the motorbike through the wedding. </div>
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And somehow life seems better because we all got to celebrate their love. Thanks L and C.</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-78870266750341196712012-06-25T22:09:00.002-07:002012-06-25T22:09:14.373-07:00Thank you for getting me re-addicted to BacheloretteSeveral seasons ago I secretly watched the Bachelor for the first time. I would finish my homework near midnight or even closer to one in the morning and turn on an episode promising myself (I will only watch until the first commercial break). I had a blogging friend who had perked my curiosity and somehow I chose the show over much needed sleep.<br />
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But the next seasons were a disappointed and I thought I had broken the bad habit--until I read "Home Court Haven.blogspot.com" description of the opening night of Emily Maynard's season. I was hooked before I had even seen the show.<br />
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Click here to read<br />
<a href="http://homecourthaven.blogspot.com/2012/05/rogues-gallery.html" target="_blank"><img height="320" src="http://www.usmagazine.com/uploads/assets/articles/52044-meet-emily-maynards-25-sexy-bachelorette-suitors/1335896321_emily-maynard-article.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="232" /></a><br />
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I know longer watch late at night. Tonight, my children all joined me in the voyeuristic viewing, and tomorrow, I will be looking for Home Court Haven's explication of the event. I hope next season will be terrible again so I can once again break this habit. But until then, please keep blogging Home Court.<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-5347069160535839112012-05-10T00:26:00.000-07:002012-05-10T00:26:02.849-07:00Eagle Scout<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Some moms are amazing scouters who push their boys through the scout program--helping them achieve the Eagle Award before they are fifteen. I am not that mom. I intended to be, but I never seemed to get on top of the program. So, this Eagle actually did the work on his own and with his troop and dad. It is true that I encouraged him through the last couple of merit badges and project--but he did it all and has set the standard for my three other sons. His Court of Honor will remain on my list of 'Best Days' for years to come. Thank you J.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-25612039536827833682012-05-10T00:15:00.001-07:002012-05-10T00:15:13.207-07:00One of my Favorite Jobs as a Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Finding a prom dress that is elegant and modest has proved impossible--so we find the perfect dress and then I get out my sewing machine and try to make it modest. I am always so proud of how the dress looks and how willing my daughters are to not sell them selves short. Thank you girls for showing the world you can be lovely and retain your dignity.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-13471110248074318172012-03-31T03:22:00.000-07:002012-03-31T03:22:27.868-07:00Crazy Love LetterI was invited to participate in a romantic call to sieze the day and write that crazy love letter. I received a huge envelope in the mail calling me to duty. I planned and plotted where a giant gesture would best be appreciated .<br />
Suddenly, I saw my town newly--the barrenness of my suburban town. Where can one call the town to action whene there is nowhere the community regularly meets? I tried to place the posters in the community rec center. Many stumble in and out of the center everyday. But the manager had no room for romantic gestures. I would have to take my love letters elsewhere.<br />
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We do have a grocery store, but the only place to post a poster is a bullentin board that is difficult to see. No giant gestures there. <br />
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My suburban town's streets are deserted. Sure, there are plenty of cars--but they are driving quickly by to there stucco homes and vinyl fences that block off any communication with the neighbors on the other side of the plastic. I began to feel lonely. <br />
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I finally decided that the high school--with its fertile ground for first love was my only hope for encouraging one to risk their heart and tell someone how they feel. <br />
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I posted the first poster in the school itself. I hoped to post it where the kids hang out everyday. But the administration said that my project was not allowed on their walls. <br />
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Instead, it was sterilized behind a piece of glass. It would stay pristine--as though it was never read nor seen. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nzgoMJouFKI/T3YlY2lw7fI/AAAAAAAAVl0/BEsfkX9Ytho/s1600/620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nzgoMJouFKI/T3YlY2lw7fI/AAAAAAAAVl0/BEsfkX9Ytho/s320/620.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But I was not to be detered. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
My next poster would hang on a chain link fence directly in front of the student traffic. Every student would be able to see it. I felt a thrill of excitement as I drove to hang the banner. But a storm had blown in and I struggled to even be able to hang the paper. The tape blew onto the poster prematurely and left it scarred and distorted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bd_sTxT361E/T3Ylb0PCpDI/AAAAAAAAVmA/QnHUiDNCBtE/s1600/622.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bd_sTxT361E/T3Ylb0PCpDI/AAAAAAAAVmA/QnHUiDNCBtE/s320/622.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But love is messy sometimes and we do get a little messed up from the adverse conditions we attempt to build a relationship in--so my call to love sat alone on a chain link fence surrounded by dead fields and blown with a winter wind. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was still nervous it may not be read. I wished the signs were 9 feet high and 20 feet long. Everything seemed too small--to insignificant. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5z1s1rWs9UA/T3YmJHRbgII/AAAAAAAAVnc/m4H0FleS97s/s1600/629.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5z1s1rWs9UA/T3YmJHRbgII/AAAAAAAAVnc/m4H0FleS97s/s320/629.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My next attempt was at the nearest light the high school. It is a three way stop and so everyone sees the fence when they stop at the light. All of our town drives by the intersection to drop off their kids at the school. There is only one road--it was perfect. Again I fought wind. It was crooked and a little off--but perhaps it would be noticed because of its quirkiness. My heart soared. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Every day of that week I fought the frigid winds to proclaim my </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7RJ9LBdVqkU/T3Ynr4KUSfI/AAAAAAAAVqA/AhkDZA2WiIU/s1600/632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7RJ9LBdVqkU/T3Ynr4KUSfI/AAAAAAAAVqA/AhkDZA2WiIU/s320/632.JPG" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
I tried to post on a cement wall--the wind tore it off and I ran through the muddy field trying to catch it. I ended up posting it on a p.v.c. pipe sticking out of the ground near the school. Next, I posted <br />
on the chainlink fence near the seminary building. The wind ripped the poster while I was tapping it, but it was easy to read and lots would walk by it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">An out of town trip made the final posters my teenage children's charge. I left strict instructions of when and where to post--but love, like posters can't be left for others. I finally found the last letter crumpled in the backseat of my car. Defeated. I was morose. I failed at the call for a giant romantic gesture. Love can defeat us if we will let it--but that hope and excitement of hanging the first posters reminded me of new love. The anticipation. We set out on a new adventure never knowing if it will culminate in an amazing declaration or if it will end in utter defeat, but the journey brings joy even if only for a while and brings purpose even to bitter cold days. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So, seize the day and take a risk on love. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-9940790546178144202012-03-28T22:34:00.000-07:002012-03-28T22:34:02.123-07:00HERA ConferenceThank you Dr. Call for all you did to make the HERA conference such a success. It was a wonderful event. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-40592911132468534122011-10-17T12:55:00.000-07:002011-10-17T12:55:56.554-07:00Daughter's of EveClick on the title of this post to see a great post about Eve. You may also enjoy many of his other posts--particularly "Getting Ready to Pop Question Read This."<br />
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<a href="http://mormonmonk.blogspot.com/2009/09/getting-ready-to-pop-question-read-this.html">http://mormonmonk.blogspot.com/2009/09/getting-ready-to-pop-question-read-this.html</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-8139239092299610902011-08-03T13:05:00.000-07:002011-08-03T13:05:11.743-07:00Enjoy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/80entLldZOg?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>The best "family history" video ever. Enjoy!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-48255041381515105912011-05-17T12:06:00.000-07:002011-05-17T12:06:58.897-07:00Dreams Do Come True<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPzgTPTSkhlL0LMNhShOShqyhhzWcfF68c5TIvA2JqUNUMxK6RNFbPkwD6V_EBLtmWvzckLGw8nAaVaWvoKjl6R7pemxPddbLhIBoPA2VYZa14quBhIA_fqlrK6twenIYzb2djzp_Bkh7/s1600/Redwood+forest+July+2010+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBPzgTPTSkhlL0LMNhShOShqyhhzWcfF68c5TIvA2JqUNUMxK6RNFbPkwD6V_EBLtmWvzckLGw8nAaVaWvoKjl6R7pemxPddbLhIBoPA2VYZa14quBhIA_fqlrK6twenIYzb2djzp_Bkh7/s320/Redwood+forest+July+2010+016.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1HB0vHDKJmUE737S2o_8ueSfQnQ75-O7S7YdiQgUTeKl4FjjwFNSBMyy_dnfX07Q3jGtjLtTzROkmTU-fpPc5nw4n63ghQA9npXTrHjP-C49QIyfQvoXU_4Le5_6lbfWcVHYixPSKG4u/s1600/Redwood+forest+July+2010+081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1HB0vHDKJmUE737S2o_8ueSfQnQ75-O7S7YdiQgUTeKl4FjjwFNSBMyy_dnfX07Q3jGtjLtTzROkmTU-fpPc5nw4n63ghQA9npXTrHjP-C49QIyfQvoXU_4Le5_6lbfWcVHYixPSKG4u/s320/Redwood+forest+July+2010+081.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Last summer, I jumped in the car after watching a midnight showing of a movie and went to visit Northern California and Oregon. The beauty of that green region overwhelmed me. For months I dreamed of moving. This spring Oregon's weather moved to me. I am sitting by my window, watching the rain water my flowerbeds. I have yet to turn on my sprinklers and I mowed yesterday quickly as a storm rolled in. Today I am grateful for the gray skies and green grass.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-66976030402524978352011-05-17T11:14:00.001-07:002012-03-28T22:39:27.762-07:00I love to Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctXjRi3g_ChwsOKSThPiG6PXn3G71iGaGKyx_g8JimxD8CyRNysAEvWtgg1-dBIYM6awFtbbpcpsJu-GrMZiu_06CIJM5kdVC-p88Ezacg8Rkr300NbaTozM9ifPAkYsQJV4YBcyhIyCw/s1600/Spring+2011+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhctXjRi3g_ChwsOKSThPiG6PXn3G71iGaGKyx_g8JimxD8CyRNysAEvWtgg1-dBIYM6awFtbbpcpsJu-GrMZiu_06CIJM5kdVC-p88Ezacg8Rkr300NbaTozM9ifPAkYsQJV4YBcyhIyCw/s320/Spring+2011+022.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>You cannot tell by driving by my front yard, but I love to garden. I often take long detours in order to drive by a yard with a particular flower in bloom. My children know to watch for cars and children during the spring because I may forget to watch the road. My distracted driving comes from flowers--not cell phones--I simply love gardens. All gardens.<br />
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But when you arrive at my house you will find a wild mess of flowers. You see, I love flowers so much I have trouble thinning them out--ever. I simply can’t kill them. This is problematic. A true gardener will religiously deadhead their flowers, even before the bloom is spent in order to create a better show next week.<br />
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Every year I vow, next season will be different. I will finally get rid of the wild flowers that have grown in my flower beds for seven years now. The first year I threw the seeds down because my checkbook had no money left for buying plants. We had bought topsoil and dug flowerbeds, put in sprinklers and had no money left for the actual plants. So a three dollar bottle of wild flowers became my “garden.” The new rich soil produced wild flowers taller then my neighbor’s six foot fence. The color was brilliant and my boys built a fort in the “wild flower jungle.” The blooms lasted until the weight of the snow killed them. It was too late to clean the beds until spring. The heap of wildness became the lattice to hold the Christmas lights that Christmas and when spring came I was busy in school and didn’t get the old flowers out quite soon enough. When I finally had a warm day, in March,I began to pull the long stalks of deadness from the earth, only to discover a tiny rainforest hiding underneath the death. I halted my cleanup efforts. How can I kill the baby alysum? Certainly the harsh winds would kill the tender starts that had grown in the hot house the old plants created. So my wildness sat a little longer. The plethora of daffodils and tulips pushed through the debris and I had the ugliest bed, and prettiest flowers on the block.<br />
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Somehow I seem to re-create this happy chaos each year.<br />
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It is a bit messy, but I love it. Somehow the wild, cheerful flowerbeds match my home. Mom of six, my house is always just shy of pandemonium. It is a controlled chaos, and somehow, my flowerbeds seem to tell the world of the glorious mess of a life that lives inside.<br />
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Every spring I walk the beds seeing the great grandchildren of my first garden’s flowers and every year I postpone killing them. I envision my flower beds planted in a formal rose garden. Something to rival the White House’s rose garden, or perhaps Mt. Vernon’s yards--but spring comes and I can’t bring myself to kill the small life pushing through.<br />
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Every fall I promise myself I will clean out the beds and start fresh next year, but how can I pull flowers out in full bloom? Somehow, I want a different garden, but can I kill other plants to do it? <br />
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This self-recognition has made me realize I must be a tree hugger after all. I have never considered myself as such, but who else values her wild flowers so much, that they live at the expense of her vegetable garden. Cucumber’s are forced to climb cosmos branches to finally see the sun. Once I even found a tomato plant hiding inside the cosmos near the end of fall. There was more than a hundred tomotoes climbing throughout that wild bed and I didn’t even know they were there. How can you not even know they are there? I hung the plant up in my garage before the first frost and I ate tomotoes from the garage for the next two months. <br />
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Any seeing my yard would be unimpressed with the mess. The daffodils and dandelions are both in bloom, but nestled under he mess of wild growth re-emerging, the strawberry plants are beginning to bloom and the blackberries look promising. So, I will keep one more season, this living metaphor for my life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-47364561467637750862011-04-11T10:19:00.000-07:002011-04-11T10:20:03.129-07:00Forgive MeSo I don't know who wrote this post and I know it appeals to everything that is wrong with me. But for others who struggle with social anxiety or ever have--enjoy this blog. Just click on the title "Forgive me" and enjoy "Social Entrapment."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-84538830029188246872011-04-05T00:01:00.000-07:002011-04-11T08:36:40.288-07:00Conference Week End<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I am now beginning my long six month wait for the next LDS General Conference. It is my favorite time of the year. My family travels from all parts of the United States to stay at "the grandma house". Originally, the house was owned by my grandparents. My great-grandpa lived there too after his wife passed away. Every summer I would go and spend time with them. I learned to love gardening at the house while helping my grandma plant petunias and I learned to trust God sitting at her beautiful dining room table discussing the things that mattered most to her and her father. The crystal chandelier caught not only light from the bulb, but the faith of my progenitors and the refractions hung in the air strengthening my resolve to live the life God intended for me. My grandparents have been gone for ages now--only my oldest kids ever met them; but as the family all surrounds that same table we all are strengthened and enlightened. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u387tvLuLsw/TaMfr7SradI/AAAAAAAAJls/oGcOw3s6c9M/s1600/PA010793.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u387tvLuLsw/TaMfr7SradI/AAAAAAAAJls/oGcOw3s6c9M/s320/PA010793.JPG" width="148" /></a></div>The LDS conference includes eight hours of general meetings where the entire membership of our faith can listen to our leaders. We get to sit and listen to a prophet of God. It is wonderful; the tabernacle choir always adds such faith and beauty to the meetings. Every year someone gives a talk that seems specifically for me. I sit with my family all around me--my mother, my sister, my children, my spouse. Often the cousins break into groups according to their age with the youngest always congregating in the basement where their noise will not bother the rest trying to listen. We listen intently and then discuss and debate about what we heard and what we will change in our lives. Every year someone in the family shares about how God is blessing them. We also always end up talking about how amazing it is how much we all love each other. We say no one can every understand how important cousins are; actually, I often slip and call my cousins "my niece" because that feels closer to the relationship I have with them. I am in awe of those beautiful women that I have watched grow up. They are so intelligent, beautiful, and capable.<br />
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We eat the best food--especially the rolls--we laugh, we cry, we hug, and we leave ready to stand firm in our faith.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Now everyone has headed home. The humdrum of everyday life must begin again--but the joy and laughter continues to refract in the crystal chandelier hanging in my own dining room and the determination I first felt as a child at my grandma's table continues to grow. I hope my children will remember not only the crystal shimmering above our table, but the warmth of faith we have shared while eating under its magical light.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-54580222822106544512011-03-28T20:02:00.000-07:002011-03-28T20:02:05.251-07:00Hamlet's Blackberry<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOGGER-youtube-video" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0" data-thumbnail-src="http://1.gvt0.com/vi/z--Lousa_u0/0.jpg"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/z--Lousa_u0&fs=1&source=uds" /><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF" /><embed width="320" height="266" src="http://www.youtube.com/v/z--Lousa_u0&fs=1&source=uds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"></embed></object></div>If any of you are like me, this will resonate with you. Thanking Roman philosophy to help us understand how to deal with our own technology. Now, how to best incorporate this into the family. Any ideas?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-81367912330049968512011-03-26T19:39:00.000-07:002011-03-26T19:39:46.866-07:00My new favorite site: 750 words (click this title if you want to go to the site)Any who know me, know that I intend to write three pages long-hand every morning before the kids are up and the whirlwind of the day begins. Any who know me really well, know that I actually only accomplish this when I have a writing deadline looming. <br />
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Thankfully, I started reading <i>The War of Art </i>by Steven Pressfield the same week my sister found the delightful site entitled "750 Words." Pressfield believes we all resist doing anything that is good for our soul's evolution. He even says this rule is so consistent that "we can use this resistance like a compass. We can navigate by Resistance, letting it guide us to that calling or action that we must follow before all others" (12). <br />
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I determined to do no writing--finally--no matter what.<br />
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I was thinking about this concept when my sister told me of the site--meant to inspire writers and creative souls to write their three pages on the site and the site will reward you with badges and congratulations when you achieve your goal. No one is actually reading what you write and yet, I find myself excited everyday to open the clean blue page (I hate white pages) and begin. I feel I have accomplished something when the little bubbles congratulates me for writing my 750 words and it continues to keep track of how many words I have actually written. After years of trying to write everyday, I am finally actually doing it. If any of you have ever tried to follow <i>The Artist's Way</i> and write everyday I hope you will check out the site.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-18770697273174385312011-03-21T10:00:00.000-07:002011-03-21T10:00:27.057-07:00Where You Can Find Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEZlbqSTOWuyFmPKyf0CYq6_9mikegMxNq6Dofuz1D9juuNkrWPtwIn3O13AR20e3G49qbzt68rngtohjUFeMyiifV43YPyD4K6GsjxxN17LNHP7Y5zvqM5azeoxv6n0HtzmdChdG9HMW/s1600/IMG_1019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHEZlbqSTOWuyFmPKyf0CYq6_9mikegMxNq6Dofuz1D9juuNkrWPtwIn3O13AR20e3G49qbzt68rngtohjUFeMyiifV43YPyD4K6GsjxxN17LNHP7Y5zvqM5azeoxv6n0HtzmdChdG9HMW/s320/IMG_1019.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>It is lacrosse season again and so you will find me sitting on the sidelines screaming my guts out and watching J. Is there anything better than this?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-54562964071278820312011-03-21T09:47:00.000-07:002011-03-21T09:50:22.062-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Pinewood Derby!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4f7fNz1tC1YFam38xVmu_H17q7VCH5x1ZWZklbBUKLs5PPH-aaO8OZwQdayE7RUsFTqkrLDbuq_7C6FDnm0wItcpDeLHhVDMAyBR_fGC08APGlJl8AA791g0a8HsjL542v0o7tUmYxk-D/s1600/IMG_1165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4f7fNz1tC1YFam38xVmu_H17q7VCH5x1ZWZklbBUKLs5PPH-aaO8OZwQdayE7RUsFTqkrLDbuq_7C6FDnm0wItcpDeLHhVDMAyBR_fGC08APGlJl8AA791g0a8HsjL542v0o7tUmYxk-D/s320/IMG_1165.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tom was happy to have won the Cub Scout Pinewood Derby Saturday.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HruZxbX80mhgYa9_BkpOv8s8wGqUhSUdklM3xI3rzqfrQzB2g54jCyVymyvGXMU7J494MijhF7Jw7aIXE11-UVLGYKy8GKmISutggBQqX2KcMx6ZNGRGCvtj2ywVKh2PSBcmL0yVmMHk/s1600/IMG_1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5HruZxbX80mhgYa9_BkpOv8s8wGqUhSUdklM3xI3rzqfrQzB2g54jCyVymyvGXMU7J494MijhF7Jw7aIXE11-UVLGYKy8GKmISutggBQqX2KcMx6ZNGRGCvtj2ywVKh2PSBcmL0yVmMHk/s320/IMG_1169.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Will was happy to win the complimentary Pinewood Derby.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZ2D81QHrkmA5Rq9C4l02bFrYgmPWtnFHT64XHGVIWyHUVNnqRHovkBaEg4LM5EXEIs7nwhKw9WT4zwRy3ijnAUhlgbB1uv-YaeY_kr0NyQ4DXxsUFQCdzoUatnadVwWyyrOiWoHQ4rg0/s1600/IMG_1144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZ2D81QHrkmA5Rq9C4l02bFrYgmPWtnFHT64XHGVIWyHUVNnqRHovkBaEg4LM5EXEIs7nwhKw9WT4zwRy3ijnAUhlgbB1uv-YaeY_kr0NyQ4DXxsUFQCdzoUatnadVwWyyrOiWoHQ4rg0/s320/IMG_1144.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Heck, Will was just happy to have a car to race. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After the race he turned to me, made that expression and squealed, "Mom, I did seriously well." </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-37960395849384301432011-03-16T12:03:00.000-07:002011-03-21T10:31:08.438-07:00Happy Birthday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4xbHKXDvCMIkZLViwLUA3XXv9NCtVTgg_jgQUNN-H13aF3iy2PKqSuapzj3NByuNrtkN5miGuZ5sBpRxmx89lGOc_M7fSMP3e7uFsOMIWSNXi5KQ62iKc8Rm4hejvFrdCUj8PJ4uvcr0/s1600/IMG_0948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy4xbHKXDvCMIkZLViwLUA3XXv9NCtVTgg_jgQUNN-H13aF3iy2PKqSuapzj3NByuNrtkN5miGuZ5sBpRxmx89lGOc_M7fSMP3e7uFsOMIWSNXi5KQ62iKc8Rm4hejvFrdCUj8PJ4uvcr0/s400/IMG_0948.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Well March 11 came and went and I never did see the new <em>Jane Eyre. </em>Friday morning I said good-bye to my Korean friend who spent a week with me for the first time in twenty-five years. My heart was happy, but my head hurt from trying to dig into its depths to find those Korean words that use to fill my mind. I climbed back into bed as the sun came up and at lunchtime, my children brought me breakfast in bed. <br />
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I would have needed to travel to California or NY to see <em>Jane Eyre, </em>but it didn't matter. I was perfectly content to be surrounded by my children and husband. The evening ended with me being certain that no one could be more content. Maybe next year I can buy the DVD for my birthday and watch it with all my children snuggled with me on the giant couch.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-61953636030230046052011-02-15T07:52:00.000-08:002011-02-15T07:52:57.287-08:00Jane Eyre - Official Trailer<iframe width="480" height="295" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8IFsdfk3mlk?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div>This opens on MY BIRTHDAY I will be going in celebration. Hope you can join me!</div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-40939945337986237822011-01-26T16:06:00.000-08:002011-03-21T09:54:03.063-07:00Why I Homeschool<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6anSY7Fvt9Zgi4tW0n7UdmXntjdXSOO6dLFdUSu36UgVNwjF4qYtvNUHeaKHj-COy8tyMB63YfvPuWxYcO5IJ6j2tBUwNpsTJTeDaAhyRX7hPxP6guNQ2WNvMHDXxHWrrrEU4RH8wYHi/s1600/IMG_1221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6anSY7Fvt9Zgi4tW0n7UdmXntjdXSOO6dLFdUSu36UgVNwjF4qYtvNUHeaKHj-COy8tyMB63YfvPuWxYcO5IJ6j2tBUwNpsTJTeDaAhyRX7hPxP6guNQ2WNvMHDXxHWrrrEU4RH8wYHi/s400/IMG_1221.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Today T- said to me, "Mom, do you remember the boy I was in third grade?" <br />
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I hesitated to comment not knowing where he was going. <br />
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<br />
"Yes," I noncommitedly replied.<br />
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"I am so proud of the boy I am now. I have learned so much about so many things." <br />
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My seventh grader Paul (who has been homeschooling for a month now) agreed and added,<br />
"Thanks mom."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4025680292437748980.post-61207102938560081932011-01-25T00:37:00.000-08:002011-03-21T11:03:10.597-07:00My Kindergartener is Doomed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABSsw0zQiWjZ3Ogx0wClSUvvK7SwyZyg65WakN3Qzicl6g36DNamlyfVAHyXnJc6z3rC45hyE8MWYCU64vY8ma6AVMPYbE0pgquBuncqjuAYvIlSODU9fKA_Nsr5KhQpNNfuDiSbQCbmC/s1600/IMG_1211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABSsw0zQiWjZ3Ogx0wClSUvvK7SwyZyg65WakN3Qzicl6g36DNamlyfVAHyXnJc6z3rC45hyE8MWYCU64vY8ma6AVMPYbE0pgquBuncqjuAYvIlSODU9fKA_Nsr5KhQpNNfuDiSbQCbmC/s320/IMG_1211.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>My dentist, not wanting to scare my youngest with all of his technology, took time to show W his "glasses." You know those dentist microscopes they wear on their eyes. <br />
The dentist said, "Do you want to see my funny glasses?" <br />
W's response, "They are not funny, they are lovely!" <br />
Later upon seeing the before mentioned eyewear on the dentist's face he changed his mind. . .<br />
"Actually, they are quite silly." <br />
<br />
How will an undersized boy ever survive grade school saying words like "lovely," and "actually." I have doomed him. My new resolve is to never tell him his painting is "lovely" again and I have been practicing words like "AWESOME," in the mirror to try to make them sound believable. What other words should a kindergartener know? I am looking for suggestions.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1