tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42650823021407769322024-03-12T22:51:38.329-06:00Yates FamilyBecause you asked. Or maybe... you didn't. Either way.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.comBlogger169125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-5128960738820572272019-09-03T10:51:00.002-06:002019-09-03T10:52:20.057-06:00Hello, is it me you're looking for?You know, I almost forgot about this old blog. I haven't posted in 4 years! It's kind of freeing, knowing that no one will read this. The old blogging days are long gone, replaced by Instagram and those lovely Influencers that make us all feel so great about ourselves. So I'm just going to post! What the heck! I feel so alive all of a sudden. I don't even know what to do with myself.<br />
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Love,<br />
MeAnne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-75741423570192388262015-08-27T13:34:00.000-06:002015-08-27T13:43:12.403-06:00A turkey in the hand is worth two in the brush... to some people...As you may know, I am not a huge fan of dead animals. I support my husband's hunting mainly because I know it is good quality time for him to spend with the boys, and also to make him happy. I let him hunt, he's happy. I don't let him hunt, he laughs at me, and hunts anyway. So I just go with it, spend money on his debit card while he's gone, and silently pray that he doesn't actually kill anything. My prayers are not often answered in the way I would like. Not only does he kill stuff on a regular basis, now he has the kids actually being "successful".<br />
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Dallin, who is 12 and of legal hunting age in the great state of Utah, was lucky enough to get a turkey with his bow earlier this year. He was excited, so I was excited for him. Yay, that's so great! I'm so proud of you! Please, please, please don't bring it home...<br />
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Well, I guess it was a pretty good turkey, so Jason took it to his way-too-good-of-a-friend taxidermist to get stuffed. I was happy because that meant I had a few more months of animal-freeness, and then I forgot about it. Until the other day, when Jason sent me this picture from his phone. With one word: "Yes."<br />
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Yes, what? Yes, the turkey is done. Yes, it's huge. Yes, I'm bringing it home. Yes, it's wearing a seat belt.<br />
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Soooo.... that's great! It's really.... beautiful. I.... love it. I mean it looks so... real. I guess we are keeping it in the house?<br />
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Fortunately, the turkey is living in Dallin's room for the time being. I don't often go in there, but when I do I will be reminded of a happy boy and his very large accomplishment in the spring of 2015. And hope that it is his last accomplishment of the sort for quite some time.<br />
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Now, will you take a moment and review with me the thoughts that are going through Jason's mind in the above photo:<br />
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Man, this is cool.<br />
I'm driving with a turkey.<br />
This turkey is huge.<br />
Everyone looking in here thinks I'm so cool because I'm driving with a huge turkey.<br />
I need a picture of this.<br />
This is awesome.<br />
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It's not like I can read minds or anything, but yeah, sometimes I actually can.<br />
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<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-50098457927675668072014-10-23T09:18:00.002-06:002019-09-03T10:42:21.454-06:00Dear JuliaDear Julia,<br />
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Today is October 23. You've been gone one whole month now. It's Thursday, our favorite day. Remember how people thought we were so weird for loving Thursday? But what's not to love... it's the same in life as it was in school. You're past all the hard crap and have nothing but the freedom of the weekend to look forward to. And the disappointment of Friday night passing with no excitement hasn't hit yet... It's all just unfulfilled possibility. Thursday, the best day of the week. So obvious.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-69612134695144679452014-07-31T18:37:00.000-06:002014-07-31T20:18:00.631-06:00LP 14<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ezv9J_ZK6mJnJxYGooNjLkQa7hQ9PuP5Xx_d_JuZAgG00L86J2WtLic4aKCsB6lan5MhOoOKScQEhBXcX76Jm62JekY35DatQ9Q913pcFFStHIWQ-Dw7oboRRxQeJQ52J3jD_voYMVAU/s1600/LP_July14-346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ezv9J_ZK6mJnJxYGooNjLkQa7hQ9PuP5Xx_d_JuZAgG00L86J2WtLic4aKCsB6lan5MhOoOKScQEhBXcX76Jm62JekY35DatQ9Q913pcFFStHIWQ-Dw7oboRRxQeJQ52J3jD_voYMVAU/s1600/LP_July14-346.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a><br />
I always love Lake Powell, but for some reason this year was better than ever. Maybe it was because for the first time in hmmm, ever, I wasn't pregnant or nursing a baby. LP is just wayyyy better when you don't have to worry about things like babies crawling off the houseboat, or swollen ankles and heartburn.<br />
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It was also special because I got to bring my little Abby Lou Who. We usually don't take kids until they are 8 (besides the nursing babes, obvi) but due to an <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/uncategorized/unexpected-blogging-hiatus/" target="_blank">unfortunate accident</a> on the 4th of July, my sweet mother-in-law wasn't able to watch my 3 younger kids like we had planned (she is doing much better now, by the way, but it was really scary!!). My sister in law took over babysitting duties because she is the nicest person on the planet, so I was still able to go, but I decided to take the Abs with me even though she is a little shy of the usual deadline.<br />
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I'm so glad she was able to come. She has always been intimidated by water and I was worried she would be my little attachment the whole trip and also have a hard time with the heat. Instead, she loved it! We were lucky to park the houseboat in a spot where there was plenty of shallow water and a beachy area so she was free to float around as much as she wanted. It was great to see her overcome her fears and truly enjoy something that has always frightened her.</div>
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I never would have thought Abby would even consider putting her face in the water so I was shocked when Jason gave her a little snorkeling lesson, and she fell in love with it! She spent the rest of the trip pretty much under the water. It's a good thing for kids to have dads. They give kids a lot more credit than moms do sometimes.<br />
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Abby can be really reserved. I loved seeing my family members, especially the in laws, interact with her and make her feel comfortable and special. Her Uncle James was so nice to her and it was the cutest thing to watch her confidence grow as she became his little buddy.</div>
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It melts my heart to see my mom with Abby. My kids are blessed with incredible grandparents. Someday they will realize how lucky they are!</div>
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Another great part of the trip was seeing Luke in this hat. My mom bought it for my dad, who refused to wear it. I told Luke he wouldn't have to wear sunscreen on his face if he would wear the hat, and it was pretty much glued to his head for the rest of the trip.</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">He became quite the little fisherman in this kayak. It was adorable. Jason even helped him rig up an anchor so he could fish without floating away. </span><br />
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However, he also loved to fish from shore and it was not uncommon to look out the window and see what appeared to be The Hat floating through the water, fishing on its own, as he traveled from bank to bank. </div>
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He caught a lot of fish all by himself and couldn't have been prouder.</div>
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He and Dallin loved having their cousin Katelyn there for part of the time. She is a good sport and goes along with all the boys' crazy ideas. Including bow fishing.</div>
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I mean, bow fishing? Does it get any more redneck? Don't get me started.</div>
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Jason was in heaven with his own fishing boat this year. In previous years he has either had a piece of junk boat that kept dying or else he fished off the jet skis, which isn't easy. Each morning he was up before dawn, ready to track down the latest school of striped bass, or small mouth bass or catfish or walleye or whatever. He took everyone on multiple fishing trips and kept things exciting. </div>
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The official fish count of the trip was 130. That's a lotta fishies.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtnNUzixvn-gN8jqm_DEsqLZTYnDCZlOqD5njzNifE1iM0bXrnb6MhyYIR_Zsc1oOgWgc1ZYZUztZiaSjjIX0es9BnWi-QCLLF0ab2w44l5Lj1f-XMK5lcN1_8NcjLMGsVXwub9YF_HTW/s1600/IMG_8441-XL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbtnNUzixvn-gN8jqm_DEsqLZTYnDCZlOqD5njzNifE1iM0bXrnb6MhyYIR_Zsc1oOgWgc1ZYZUztZiaSjjIX0es9BnWi-QCLLF0ab2w44l5Lj1f-XMK5lcN1_8NcjLMGsVXwub9YF_HTW/s1600/IMG_8441-XL.jpg" height="427" width="640" /></a></div>
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This was my first time hiking to the arch. I'm always amazed at the beauty of Lake Powell!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrptmasH1dfXtcCiEHrVDo5vEwaUZWrGzCIrYQgOoQ2k5S6v-o_VR2dfsw7Ff0Qp-XAizjfD4hzeGN9yp3vCRN10lb-i42Jb9dGUVLa9xUS70QsMAHA0Xdvl4VmigO4lRXX7g1si6PdxQ/s1600/LP_July14-365.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBrptmasH1dfXtcCiEHrVDo5vEwaUZWrGzCIrYQgOoQ2k5S6v-o_VR2dfsw7Ff0Qp-XAizjfD4hzeGN9yp3vCRN10lb-i42Jb9dGUVLa9xUS70QsMAHA0Xdvl4VmigO4lRXX7g1si6PdxQ/s1600/LP_July14-365.JPG" height="427" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jason took the girls on a special fishing trip. We had fun harassing him and making him regret his decision to take us.</div>
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Thanks, Dad, for the best LP trip ever. I don't think I can wait a whole year to go back. I'm going to propose Christmas at Lake Powell this year. Who's with me?</div>
Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-28771266518783525952014-02-21T17:50:00.000-07:002014-02-21T17:54:39.323-07:00PB2 I love youIf I did Friday Favorites on this blog, which I don't, today would totally be about PB2. I've just been thinking about PB2 all day long. How much I love it, how I can't live without it, when I'm going to eat it next... If you have not had the pleasure of meeting my friend, powdered peanut butter, allow myself to introduce... myself. I mean you, to PB2.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgiAyWN6qjT9-tcLKmBYv3n05sTGpJ23NWVaICUIkmh4vE27kTHyr0DyFijjJWbkjBEFVYl0wijhyphenhyphenxdgqT2euAZEKHOAXyrriPFHIrnnUHrhU0e5-M_1J5jy-Dnd-cfM4Z0W3LHsOWoxFd/s1600/pb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgiAyWN6qjT9-tcLKmBYv3n05sTGpJ23NWVaICUIkmh4vE27kTHyr0DyFijjJWbkjBEFVYl0wijhyphenhyphenxdgqT2euAZEKHOAXyrriPFHIrnnUHrhU0e5-M_1J5jy-Dnd-cfM4Z0W3LHsOWoxFd/s1600/pb2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
Here she is, folks. The ultimate healthy substitution for peanut butter. I wouldn't say I am the biggest peanut butter fan in the world, maybe in the top hundred thousand out of 5 billion people in the world, so that's a pretty big fan, but not like the BIGGEST fan. I love peanut butter, just not in stuff like brownies and cookies. That is what chocolate is for. But I love myself a PB&J, or PB on toast or celery or on a knife straight out of the jar... But the fat, my friends, the fat. I just can't make myself eat straight up hardcore peanut butter most of the time.<br />
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Enter PB2. I know it sounds strange, but it is dehydrated peanuts. And you just add water. To the desired consistency. You can have it thick, you can have it runny, you can dip a banana straight in the jar if no one is around. The possibilities are endless, really. But first I think you need to have the facts.<br />
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A 2 tablespoon serving of regular peanut butter runs about 200 calories and has 16 grams of fat (according to my jar of Kirkland brand Natural Peanut Butter). That's... a lot. For 2 tablespoons of anything.<br />
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BUT, a 2 tablespoon serving of PB2 has only 45 calories and 1.5 grams of fat. And that is the straight powder, before it is rehydrated. How awesome is that? I know, SO awesome. You could eat what, like 7 cups of it before you approached the equivalent 2 tablespoons of the hard stuff. <br />
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One of my favorite things to do with PB2 is add a tablespoon to my green smoothie in the morning. Honestly, people, I don't know how you choke those things down without PB2. Just a tablespoon only contributes 27 1/2 calories (if we're being technical) and gives a smoothie such a great flavor. Not a peanut butter shake flavor or anything, it just kind of kills that spinach and kale business that is going on in a green smoothie. In my opinion the only other way to tone down a green smoothie is with tons of fruit and I don't want tons of fruit in it. I want to eat fruit all day long, I don't need ten extra servings in my smoothie. A half a banana, yes. Maybe a few chunks of frozen pineapple or mango, sure. But cups and cups of strawberries or blueberries or what have you, I'd rather enjoy noshing them around with my teeth in the mid afternoon noshing hour. PB2 just <i>adds </i>to a smoothie, trust me. When I used to drink protein shakes (which I don't anymore, and <a href="http://engine2diet.com/question/can-i-get-enough-protein-eating-a-plant-based-diet/" target="_blank">here's why</a>), adding PB2 was the only way I could manage drinking those beasts. It's just such a fun and useful product. You have to trust me on this.<br />
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Now the heavens have opened up and there is also chocolate PB2 available. It's amazing, obvi, but I am still heavily attached to the original as well. Here's a little visual of the chocolate so you don't have to overtax your imagination.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMm6nlIM-TGQvOjJBGZZTnvTy-hbkp5MKD5hquG9UeKMMn1T_7UuRm06sbT6hWHInd_GeTi3LSZJpoznhlNDqNALSAhMZY3OFkZGwBL9iVkT3lxpPXRrMH2irHRWerWWp8Ii-NMnMRcLC/s1600/chocpb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyMm6nlIM-TGQvOjJBGZZTnvTy-hbkp5MKD5hquG9UeKMMn1T_7UuRm06sbT6hWHInd_GeTi3LSZJpoznhlNDqNALSAhMZY3OFkZGwBL9iVkT3lxpPXRrMH2irHRWerWWp8Ii-NMnMRcLC/s1600/chocpb2.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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So where do you get PB2? Well, you can go straight to the Bell Plantation <a href="http://www.bellplantation.com/" target="_blank">web site</a>. Or <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_3?url=search-alias%3Dgrocery&field-keywords=pb2&sprefix=pb2%2Cstripbooks%2C286" target="_blank">Amazon</a>, like I usually do. I've seen it at a few Smith's here and there, and my sister swears she saw it recently at good old Wal Mart. She's the new face for <a href="http://www.limericki.com/" target="_blank">Lime Ricki Swimsuits</a>, so even if she's wrong, no one can be mad at her for long because she's just so dang cute. See:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDsaSz06H5xgNgjSW1ZRJmWV4MnNR3J4k3zvg5FbnTdCfTOTdkbf6gyHD5uciOSb4lb5S9ySuXBrUAzQgtxB5TW_rDp6L4ObGEVec-gCxJ8fkBpVL-OAECpyXKnc1UoBa7B9H0PCE7oiGN/s1600/shayna2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDsaSz06H5xgNgjSW1ZRJmWV4MnNR3J4k3zvg5FbnTdCfTOTdkbf6gyHD5uciOSb4lb5S9ySuXBrUAzQgtxB5TW_rDp6L4ObGEVec-gCxJ8fkBpVL-OAECpyXKnc1UoBa7B9H0PCE7oiGN/s1600/shayna2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAaMOvXJr1coGz1P9VKqs9VDznntYGehRGxGUxvAvPADnBGkjCaWWm6U2_WqfaHs9ZFz6BmYeYhCQxs41l0sdYd0ZzUoib2kKDkubm3ictUfeBnFnzvi5DWJssJ0chVZjA1HjwbIII82P/s1600/shayna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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That's my sister. </div>
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She's adorable. You can't be mad at her for something as dumb as peanut butter. </div>
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I swear, I am sounding more like an infomercial the more I get into this. I'm not getting paid by PB2 or Lime Ricky to say any of this! In fact, I can't remember the last time I was paid to do anything. I just love PB2 and I want you to know about it. So there you go. Now you know.</div>
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Now go get yourself a little jar of it and report back to me. And excuse my little Austin Powers reference in the first paragraph. I don't endorse him either. I swear!</div>
Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-55996255951319173202013-10-26T07:37:00.001-06:002014-11-19T17:46:14.976-07:00Dumb Goals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Am I the only one who does this? Sets some random goal, like completing 100 Sudoku puzzles for no reason, and then drives myself crazy until I accomplish it? Please tell me other people do this. Of all the goals I <i>should </i>have and all the things I <i>should </i>be doing with my days...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3s65JlvWjJdonPLz9PCndHuEBXYg7YudER_wO1ImeHpAXr3rtSRTVIqJsD66pilbSkihYTvGl8L-K2tmXQvsBoIJhoFW_u-DBPwY-4C658v8IC9S-a8c25aaRWxekX5826LvsP4lGm45/s1600/oct13-119.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx3s65JlvWjJdonPLz9PCndHuEBXYg7YudER_wO1ImeHpAXr3rtSRTVIqJsD66pilbSkihYTvGl8L-K2tmXQvsBoIJhoFW_u-DBPwY-4C658v8IC9S-a8c25aaRWxekX5826LvsP4lGm45/s640/oct13-119.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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It started last week at my in-laws' cabin (that almost <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/2013/08/25/cabin-fire/#more-8058" target="_blank">burned down</a> recently, see how pretty it is with all the new grass poking through?). We took the kids up there for fall break and I thought it would be super fun to play games (insert enthusiastic mom-voice here) as a family. We're not really game-playing people, and by that I mean, we never try. So I dug out a few brand new, dust-covered games and was determined to teach my kids to play something. It went great. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-KThKl-toj4uyvbNu6V2ZauheMmo8Y95-LuF2WIXSvi6qCSGfFhujxc4ZRwbH87pM2JBsEBrigFAcY0xVZ1Rne34_RnnfpI5QI_eEdNtTzBaSALqoSzHPcNtVqDHxV3mUMOTiaX6EBWy/s1600/oct13-143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhb-KThKl-toj4uyvbNu6V2ZauheMmo8Y95-LuF2WIXSvi6qCSGfFhujxc4ZRwbH87pM2JBsEBrigFAcY0xVZ1Rne34_RnnfpI5QI_eEdNtTzBaSALqoSzHPcNtVqDHxV3mUMOTiaX6EBWy/s640/oct13-143.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a></div>
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We started with Monopoly. The boys LOVED it. We had several all-out battles and they couldn't get enough. I felt so successful. We got so wrapped up in Monopoly we didn't even take a crack at the other games I brought.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYdzMWO1q31hKi91jqpO7VEeRmXrSplXUArFDT0DJZsERHTLapH0voj3pIG4h6yiP5VxFkHGOWxApeAYmFaOAKZL2k-ImjIMK7p2OO30-J_siveGfddr0H7b_R21IDWSazqPjE9TTGYiH/s1600/oct13-146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhYdzMWO1q31hKi91jqpO7VEeRmXrSplXUArFDT0DJZsERHTLapH0voj3pIG4h6yiP5VxFkHGOWxApeAYmFaOAKZL2k-ImjIMK7p2OO30-J_siveGfddr0H7b_R21IDWSazqPjE9TTGYiH/s640/oct13-146.JPG" height="426" width="640" /></a><br />
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Then one afternoon while the kids were out fishing with Jason and I had the place to myself (insert choirs of angels here), I decided to try my skills at our never-opened game of Sudoku. You will notice it spread out on the floor to the right of the crazy six-year-old who is NOT jumping on the couch (sorry Grandpa). The game is organized with puzzles from 1 to 100 from super easy to super hard. I learned how to do Sudoku puzzles years ago but well, I was a little rusty. I am "super worried" that my brain is atrophying as I age. What could be a more perfect brain exercise than number logic puzzles? </div>
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Except then I got addicted.</div>
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And I made it my goal to complete all 100 puzzles.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7qtAiVESpMAy1clVnU2yqyZktPXjSQlB8JFLiDW_D_tToMv3VNmEoKAaNgwNUCWFEKk1a0DzWAYetMEvwfdMgosGKhqOdC0YDMP0JxNo3XDcoLt-ktkOYlxlk3er3O0CKdq4xUx4-E5j/s1600/IMG_0178.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf7qtAiVESpMAy1clVnU2yqyZktPXjSQlB8JFLiDW_D_tToMv3VNmEoKAaNgwNUCWFEKk1a0DzWAYetMEvwfdMgosGKhqOdC0YDMP0JxNo3XDcoLt-ktkOYlxlk3er3O0CKdq4xUx4-E5j/s640/IMG_0178.JPG" height="478" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See the little spider hanging from his web, watching me play? I was so excited to have company! <br />
He's the only one who understands me.</td></tr>
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But it's so fun! I have it spread out on the dresser in my bedroom and it's perfect for a quick little diversion when I'm passing through. Or when I need to waste an hour or two and I should be doing something else.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5fZMP4bQTYnv4-eHNwN3lOQ1T9K3-_FUdObPUaB0_Ho8FE3OPC4b9PkvIxTKwFkAG4QIZo7ePICpEcYldJ2wX8JMR8r9cOwwLkoiRcENYqAZbTGJuw8UFTsDhrR6w_AmYJ4Cs3P4QabJ/s1600/IMG_0195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC5fZMP4bQTYnv4-eHNwN3lOQ1T9K3-_FUdObPUaB0_Ho8FE3OPC4b9PkvIxTKwFkAG4QIZo7ePICpEcYldJ2wX8JMR8r9cOwwLkoiRcENYqAZbTGJuw8UFTsDhrR6w_AmYJ4Cs3P4QabJ/s400/IMG_0195.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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Or when I have a mad baby on my hip who doesn't want to me to sit down and I'm tired of trying to do anything productive with only one arm. Liv-Town, seriously, how do you know when I'm sitting down or standing? I really wish babies weren't built with radar.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-pzRVHLEWOKf_31y6GtQBSfSn888HH5_6SlShGw9VK0Atg_ovYcabHwrIiLINqg465knnXG8Wwv_p42MqOvJSaT3ZKbUffYvIPMmH_iVlf3kzalijjo7CrOnFbQzBYwO8GbAvqLnaofi/s1600/IMG_0185.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-pzRVHLEWOKf_31y6GtQBSfSn888HH5_6SlShGw9VK0Atg_ovYcabHwrIiLINqg465knnXG8Wwv_p42MqOvJSaT3ZKbUffYvIPMmH_iVlf3kzalijjo7CrOnFbQzBYwO8GbAvqLnaofi/s320/IMG_0185.JPG" height="320" width="239" /></a></div>
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The other day I thought, "This is ridiculous. I'm only on puzzle 14. It's going to take me 14 years to get through all these. I'm just going to skip to #100 and be done." So I did. Puzzle 100 took me a while, but it wasn't THAT hard. I mean, I finished it... eventually. And I kind of loved it. I was too sad to give up my goal, so now I'm back on track, on puzzle 16 and I can't stop thinking about it. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfERo7lgDqffRL0jQRIAYtPCHLE2yuKhKqPKIPWbxZKagCiW2UO9OloEp8jhypmgWoLZvHpFM_icOaeH3w5ePru1-GvTDGLPYLNVwcUOENsj-KFf9INXAxDLsYwgWO-vJ2yjnOJef_SZV3/s1600/IMG_0196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfERo7lgDqffRL0jQRIAYtPCHLE2yuKhKqPKIPWbxZKagCiW2UO9OloEp8jhypmgWoLZvHpFM_icOaeH3w5ePru1-GvTDGLPYLNVwcUOENsj-KFf9INXAxDLsYwgWO-vJ2yjnOJef_SZV3/s320/IMG_0196.JPG" height="239" width="320" /></a></div>
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The thing about Sudoku is, after a while you get to the point where you can just look at a column and know, hey it needs a 7, without even counting through the numbers. Or glance at the whole thing and think, hey, almost every box has a 5, so it will be easy to find the last few fives. Kind of like when Solitaire was the only computer game and you got to the point where you could click through mindlessly for hours and know exactly what to do with out thinking. And you felt amazing when the cards started jumping around and you didn't even remember how you got there.</div>
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So maybe what I really need is just a mindless diversion. Hey, it's better than online shopping. This is free, convenient, and I feel like I'm getting smarter every time I play. It's like I'm doing math without actually doing math. Did I mention I hate math? So I can work with numbers and feel smart, while actually I'm just zoning and figuring out where things go.</div>
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Now I just wish I knew how to pronounce it (Su-do-KU? Su-DO-ku? Sud-OKU? Sudok-U?). Everything Asian confuses me. <span style="text-align: center;">For example, how are Asians so fashionable? Every time I see them walking around the mall in moon-shoes and totally rocking it, I feel so inadequate. How do they do that? And make it cool?</span></div>
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I think it confuses him, too.</div>
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Other dumb goals I have are keeping my house perfectly clean (ha ha), giving away everything I own (then I just keep buying new stuff), and only going to Costco once a week (good luck with that one, lady). See how all my goals contradict each other? And make no sense? Why can't I set some meaningful goals and stick to them, like exercising daily or becoming a better person. I don't know. My new goal is to set some meaningful goals. I will think about it while I work on puzzle 17.</div>
Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-44898301790404593582013-10-07T14:21:00.000-06:002013-10-07T14:21:05.250-06:00A birthday and a baptism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Last Saturday was a special day for our family. Sweet Abby turned 6 and Luke was baptized that same day. Luke was very serious about his decision to be <a href="http://www.lds.org/topics/baptism?lang=eng" target="_blank">baptized</a> into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and I couldn't have been prouder of him. Abby agreed to do most of her birthday celebrating the day before so we didn't have to squeeze two big events into one day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmOmBsxyhF0iuj2e9MKtjWsw_ZqVsBVLpAFNku2LUiE52joeCBWsMhYH3t3Bai6ASr4F7k7LvG3JQQ4I5UsUVTJ9pH2nIlgVIMd-pBNu7DyZ9T8DF2NueJ5MldoIk43Tx4wNAx6jpXLEq/s1600/sept13-163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmOmBsxyhF0iuj2e9MKtjWsw_ZqVsBVLpAFNku2LUiE52joeCBWsMhYH3t3Bai6ASr4F7k7LvG3JQQ4I5UsUVTJ9pH2nIlgVIMd-pBNu7DyZ9T8DF2NueJ5MldoIk43Tx4wNAx6jpXLEq/s640/sept13-163.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Abby loves her kindergarten class and had so much fun being in the spotlight. The kids got to ask her questions, which mainly consisted of, "What are you doing for your party?" and "Why wasn't I invited?" Being the resourceful mom that I am I told her she could do whatever she wanted. Then I suggested that she invite two friends and we could take them anywhere she wanted. Then I suggested the two friends, and that we could go swimming and to McDonald's. Her eyes lit up and she said, "Yeah!" so as long as she's happy, I don't feel too bad that she didn't get the friend party of her dreams again. That was <a href="http://yatesrgreat.blogspot.com/2012_09_01_archive.html" target="_blank">last year</a>. Sorry, 15 little girls in the neighborhood and 10 in her class. I just didn't feel up to it this year.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJEvI3VHCfkCMl9-SotB9KJHkJ5HthtJCsxpLRC46pX2UnzPPilmwrRI3XSn588IzTTi5Sc8rEbH93tqah3FWQYTtN0TY4gJ3vluUv7cjhp2n25N3lOad-5Up6eOZJe9OnHdLH_LtdhSX/s1600/sept13-164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxJEvI3VHCfkCMl9-SotB9KJHkJ5HthtJCsxpLRC46pX2UnzPPilmwrRI3XSn588IzTTi5Sc8rEbH93tqah3FWQYTtN0TY4gJ3vluUv7cjhp2n25N3lOad-5Up6eOZJe9OnHdLH_LtdhSX/s640/sept13-164.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Abby's teacher this year is Mrs. Mason. Abby LOVES her. So much in fact, that the only complaint Mrs. Mason had at parent teacher conference last week was that often Abby will want to sit and talk to her during recess instead of going out to play on the playground. I guess that is a good thing? Also, I brought in little ice creams for the kids, which you can see Abby holding hers, and it was a bad idea. I always do this for the older kids and it works great, but the kindergartners were a little deficient in being able to get the lids off, and when they did, they flung them every which way. Then they ended up taking the ice cream with them because they ran out of time, and I'm sure the drippy remains ended up on the bus floors and the bus drivers all hate my guts for ruining their day that lonely Friday afternoon. So then don't be a bus driver. It's not my fault.</div>
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After school I took these three little cuties to the Legacy Center to swim for an hour. I thought they would branch out and swim all over the kiddie area, but they just wanted to splash around right in front of me. It was really cute. It may have been the humidity of the enclosed pool, but I just felt so happy and warm. Then we headed over to McDonald's and met Jason and the rest of the kids. I tell ya, why do we do fancy things for our kids? Give them a happy meal and 40 minutes in the dirtiest play area in town and they think they've died and gone to heaven. Hopefully everyone's immunity was boosted just a little bit that day.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBzNRMQCDJamTx4ymR15xQ9UnGF6ZAko-lgUgpUxxdiImkXChozJb2MzLPGSwwyFH3eIC4LdsewMawMk1FPsUjJ5ReBwYVZ1yGsc2nOasG1sB4E0vusPGI7DB1ewq_ZIsVl6U-pTGvNJ5/s1600/sept13-168.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBzNRMQCDJamTx4ymR15xQ9UnGF6ZAko-lgUgpUxxdiImkXChozJb2MzLPGSwwyFH3eIC4LdsewMawMk1FPsUjJ5ReBwYVZ1yGsc2nOasG1sB4E0vusPGI7DB1ewq_ZIsVl6U-pTGvNJ5/s640/sept13-168.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Abby picked out this pink tiger striped cake at a grocery store and thought it was the greatest thing ever. She blew out the candles the second it was close enough to her face, so I don't think she made a wish, but I don't know if those things ever come true anyway. I'm still waiting for my million dollars to show up from the last 30 birthdays I've had. From my calculations, that should be about 30 million dollars. ANY DAY NOW...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfl5Sx7Rlw7pkeSoZH_zFyNtmon5xAkGLl5QCY_JKzsyMG0DkGuDn7XcQZpIWdla3DZvI3SKNCKpwMUEPaKDuSD-xgD3NnHsbEzGbX5sAjI7BwvRJoP4brV6c4CEhXOgLPsBK4dD9N1xY/s1600/sept13-169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTfl5Sx7Rlw7pkeSoZH_zFyNtmon5xAkGLl5QCY_JKzsyMG0DkGuDn7XcQZpIWdla3DZvI3SKNCKpwMUEPaKDuSD-xgD3NnHsbEzGbX5sAjI7BwvRJoP4brV6c4CEhXOgLPsBK4dD9N1xY/s640/sept13-169.JPG" width="425" /></a></div>
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Which brings us to Abby's actual birthday, Luke's baptism day. For such a sweet, happy kid, he sure hates to smile in pictures. And what the heck is up with my fuzzy camera lately? I can't seem to get a clear shot to save my life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8009tj6DSZu5-dofrf77pPapfHr1-2gC7BpZawVthNQEs408wms_j5wOt2xrkU5mCZT54vOH4NPv_pCk8C9y_f1O9ptrLuN3t6IPd9rbgtu57qZyUbWP5LEr6ghbcBhH1IyemubuUwPqD/s1600/sept13-170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8009tj6DSZu5-dofrf77pPapfHr1-2gC7BpZawVthNQEs408wms_j5wOt2xrkU5mCZT54vOH4NPv_pCk8C9y_f1O9ptrLuN3t6IPd9rbgtu57qZyUbWP5LEr6ghbcBhH1IyemubuUwPqD/s640/sept13-170.JPG" width="425" /></a></div>
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Oh whoa, wait a tick, he's smiling... a terrible smile! Just look natural, son. All dressed up in your white jumpsuit with your dad. I guess you're precious no matter what you do.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgY9UMX4EANxNTl9on5b5efiCcpV7AhlsIgL8gUy8ODlKi6yNjkJ1GqeW4bLf_5_xVV9lJrWKgwyBhMN6i45-Q81Agt6tIWp2pkoLf_84-l46rXY2DObNn2EhwtuLbO9XmRxkpijU86fp/s1600/sept13-171.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIgY9UMX4EANxNTl9on5b5efiCcpV7AhlsIgL8gUy8ODlKi6yNjkJ1GqeW4bLf_5_xVV9lJrWKgwyBhMN6i45-Q81Agt6tIWp2pkoLf_84-l46rXY2DObNn2EhwtuLbO9XmRxkpijU86fp/s640/sept13-171.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Here we are, the whole crew. All SEVEN of us! It's just so many people. I keep forgetting how many kids I have. There is a BATCH of them. And they are all nuts. How am I going to do this?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-jm25MmdJOg3LkP-4f_y96B_aHrsAmipLio9cUW8ou3NuIcvIhtMWETkDA9tTO6Zyw3g9yO4A6xVPycGOdVwZAeQ4Z4i23M7LIg0M3evr3Y77BEMa_EKMrWOhfgelD1SAa0lsPa4BAvN/s1600/sept13-173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC-jm25MmdJOg3LkP-4f_y96B_aHrsAmipLio9cUW8ou3NuIcvIhtMWETkDA9tTO6Zyw3g9yO4A6xVPycGOdVwZAeQ4Z4i23M7LIg0M3evr3Y77BEMa_EKMrWOhfgelD1SAa0lsPa4BAvN/s640/sept13-173.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Luke with his "Burley grandparents". My sweet mom and dad made the trip to be there for Luke's special day. Of course I couldn't have managed without my mom's help, and my dad spent the afternoon installing new headlights on Jason's truck. What fun for him! Thanks, dad!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXuGUBd3eLPxE-ZXmIbm_Z1sZb8ZjG2mpPtEhoZPQUKtD84jaQaTBeVoP_IuIEZqQf2JcCgLi0Yhl_C1ExQ8CBXbtZ9sn8Ex-EES4n9U31xGKm49lJbX4v_ak7yTV930jmZBam-sh30FD0/s1600/sept13-174.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXuGUBd3eLPxE-ZXmIbm_Z1sZb8ZjG2mpPtEhoZPQUKtD84jaQaTBeVoP_IuIEZqQf2JcCgLi0Yhl_C1ExQ8CBXbtZ9sn8Ex-EES4n9U31xGKm49lJbX4v_ak7yTV930jmZBam-sh30FD0/s640/sept13-174.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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I have a sneaking suspicion that Jason's dad, Grandpa Doug, hates pictures just as much as Luke does. I love this picture because he just looks TICKED. He's actually a really nice guy, right Dougie? You handsome fella, you.</div>
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Luke and his great grandpa Stevens (Jason's mom's dad). We love Grandpa Stevens. He lives in Pleasant Grove and it is fun to have him nearby. My kids are so lucky to know their great grandparents! Mine were old as the hills.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8W3BHmwL4jEopIp4cNiZBGaqAc1IftBNh3SNXeWVXNl1nBzA5XTXZBgv7sfgZX7O2RBdHhyL53APxhzzfYpOGdGsRnYpQ68eWipEdwHxt7u0su4OK9ARv8Fgfg-3kxeF4sn9FO-sAEs8/s1600/sept13-176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ8W3BHmwL4jEopIp4cNiZBGaqAc1IftBNh3SNXeWVXNl1nBzA5XTXZBgv7sfgZX7O2RBdHhyL53APxhzzfYpOGdGsRnYpQ68eWipEdwHxt7u0su4OK9ARv8Fgfg-3kxeF4sn9FO-sAEs8/s640/sept13-176.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Oh, for precious! I told you Doug is a character. He can be so mischievous.</div>
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Grandma Rita and Grandpa Doug, how cute can you be? If you are not familiar with my mother-in-law's amazing blog, <a href="http://www.pinkpolkadotcreations.com/">www.pinkpolkadotcreations.com</a>, you should take a gander. She is probably the most talented person I've ever met and she shares all her secrets on her blog. I should have taken a picture of the quilt she made Luke. Oh wait, <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/2013/09/30/minky-baptism-quilt/" target="_blank">here it is</a>. Now you can make one too! Seriously, amazing. And here are the quilts she made for Livi: <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/2013/06/07/minky-baby-blanket/" target="_blank">#1</a>, <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/2013/06/06/pink-baby-quilt/" target="_blank">#2</a>, <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/2013/06/25/baby-quilt/" target="_blank">#3</a>. Also, baby bib aprons, or shall we say, <a href="http://pinkpolkadotcreations.com/2013/05/20/baby-bib-aprons-baprons/" target="_blank">baprons</a>? Oh, the creativity.</div>
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This is Luke's great grandma Evelyn (Jason's dad's mom). We love living near Grandma Evelyn and appreciate her efforts to be a part of our lives. She is so kind to these kids and all of us. I also love this picture because of Jason's brother Lance and his wife Tess in the background. Lance loves to hold Livi, but only until she cries. I think secretly, he just likes babies, even when they cry. Lance and Tess are so great. </div>
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Here's a little better shot of the beautiful Tess. She makes everything fun. Jake is just bombing on through. Something about him just makes me want to squeeze him every chance I get. Also in attendance were Jason's sister Lacey and her kids, and my brother Ryan, his wife Christa and their kids. I didn't do a very good job of documenting all the guests! But I did appreciate their presence. We have such great family support and it means so much to me. It was a really special day and I can't believe my little Lukie is already eight years old! He was just a year old when we moved into this house and it seems like yesterday in many ways. But honestly, for all my sentimental talk of, "Oh, I"m so sad, how did my kids get so big!" I wouldn't go back. I wouldn't trade these days right now for anything. Each kid just seems so perfect at the age he or she is at. Not that my kids are perfect. We have a lot of time outs and way too much drama sometimes, but I really enjoy each of them right now. It amazes me that these individuals all came from the same place (me!), but then I remember, no, they really didn't. They came from my Heavenly Father and are all unique spirits with a unique mission on this earth. I am just grateful for the opportunity I get to be with them and I feel privileged and honored to be their mother. And hopefully I don't lead them too far astray in the process.</div>
Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-56652490438127378522013-09-30T12:05:00.000-06:002013-09-30T12:05:21.207-06:00Meet Alivia<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well, hello friends, it's been a while. I would like to introduce you to the reason I have been a little behind on the old blog. My sweet daughter Alivia Anne was born June 3, 2013. She was born four weeks early because of complications with placenta previa and acreta, but everything went well and she is a healthy beautiful baby.<br /></div>
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Alivia was 6 lbs. 12 oz. at birth. I don't think anyone bothered to measure her length. If they did, they didn't tell me about it. I had to deliver in the operating room, in a different hospital, with different doctors and all these big teams of specialists. They had to put me out, and when I came to, nobody cared... it was not the glamour-shot delivery I'm used to having. But apparently, the important thing is a healthy baby. So I am grateful for modern medicine and the fact that Alivia and I are both here to tell the story!</div>
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My little family was beyond excited to meet their new sister. I was so happy because the older boys immediately fell in love with her. When they found out I was having a girl they were not impressed but I was confident once she was actually here they would change their minds. And of course I was right.</div>
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How could you not love this little weasel?<br /><br /></div>
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<br />Luke was especially taken with her. He was so in awe of how tiny and perfect she was. He was kind of a baby hog in the beginning. And he still loves her, but he is more willing to share now.</div>
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I had to stay in the hospital for five days. That is a long time when there are four kids at home who need their mama! Jason stayed in the hospital with me most nights and it was fun to have the time with just the three of us.</div>
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This is the reason everything was able to go so smoothly. My lovely mama stayed with us for two weeks! She took care of everything while I was in the hospital, and then stuck around to take care of all of us once I got home. This is after she had just spent several weeks taking care of my <a href="http://yatesrgreat.blogspot.com/2013/05/a-tribute-to-one-of-greatest-mothers-i.html" target="_blank">Aunt Wilma</a> and had not been home in so long! I will always be grateful for her sacrifice and willingness to do whatever was needed. There is nothing like being taken care of by your own mother. I love her so much.</div>
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Livi was so tiny and sweet those first few weeks. I love that time with a newborn. There is nothing quite like it in all the world.</div>
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Ohhhhhh.... there are no words. </div>
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It was kind of a lame summer for the kids with me recovering from a c-section and trying to adapt to life with five. We did a lot of fishing and we even went to temple square on the fourth of July. I feel bad that we didn't have our usual fun summer of swimming and camping and Yellowstone, but we did alright. </div>
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Alivia was blessed on August 4. It was a very special day. I was really nervous to have #5 and it has been bittersweet because I know she is my last baby, and I'm trying to absorb every minute of it. In some ways I'm looking forward to kids getting older and more independent, but as my older kids grow I'm realizing that the joy of little kids is just the pure, unconditional love they give. It is always there, and even though it is time-consuming and sleep-depriving, there is nothing like a newborn. I adore this little girl and I can feel how special she is every time I look in her eyes and hold her close. It is humbling to be responsible for this little family of mine but I love them more than I ever thought it would be possible to love anything. </div>
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Add in one amazing husband that loves us all just as much as we love him, and life just couldn't be any better.</div>
<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-15035146635666495402013-05-18T14:52:00.000-06:002013-05-18T18:42:14.785-06:00A tribute to one of the greatest mothers I have ever known.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I wrote the post below on Mother's Day but couldn't bring myself to publish it all week. My Aunt Wilma passed away today, May 18, 2013 and I am filled with so many emotions. Sorrow that she is gone. Relief that she is free from suffering. Gratitude that I will see her again someday. She was such a special lady. I love her so much. She will be so missed.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wilma with baby Abby, October 2007.</td></tr>
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<b>May 12, 2013 - Mother's Day</b><br />
This is my Aunt Wilma. Today is a very bittersweet Mother's Day for me because yesterday I said good bye to her for the last time. Less than one month ago she was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was unbelievable because she is a marathon runner and has never smoked in her life. She was in great health, but the cancer progressed so quickly. Two days ago the doctors told her there was nothing else they could do and she was free to go home to spend her final days. She is my mother's sister, and our entire family is heartbroken. She has always been the center of the Crane family and a mother to all of us, even though she never had children of her own.<br />
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I visited her in the hospital just three weeks ago and she seemed completely fine to me. I was nervous going in, hoping it was a good time to visit, and it was perfect. I felt so good being there with her. I spent an hour talking to her and laughing and being reassured that this was just a bump in the road and she was going to be fine. I just knew everything was going to be okay.<br />
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But now it seems that "okay" is different than what I had envisioned. After visiting her yesterday, I know it's okay for her to go now. The change in her in this short amount of time is huge. It's like she's aged 20 years in just a few weeks. It's a blessing she won't have to suffer much longer. She still knew me and greeted me with open arms. "Oh, Anne Marie, Anne Marie!" Just the way she says my name is so loving. I must have hugged her ten times. It was so hard to walk away.<br />
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I have a little secret I'm not sure my other Crane cousins should know. It's that I think I'm her favorite. The thing is, they each think they are her favorite, too. Wilma has this way of loving so completely that you never doubt you have a special place in her heart. All nine of her siblings had many children of their own, and now all of us cousins are cranking out the grand kids like you wouldn't believe. She knows us all. Our spouses, our kids, what we are up to. It's nothing short of amazing. She has turned <i>our </i>lives into <i>her </i>life. I just can't imagine life without her.<br />
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I've never had the experience of talking to someone who knows they won't live much longer. Like always, she has a great attitude and acknowledges that this isn't the way she hoped things would go, but it's going to be okay.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">May 11, 2013</td></tr>
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I think one of things that makes Aunt Wilma unique is her genuine interest in others. I have always felt like she loves me and cares about what is going on in my life. When I was in college I spent some time in Europe with a room mate. When I returned, I spent the night at Aunt Wilma's in Salt Lake City before driving home to Idaho the next day. I had a boatload of pictures and I was so excited to share everything I had experienced. I remember Aunt Wilma sitting down with me and going through <i>every single picture</i>, asking questions and listening to my stories and wanting to hear every last detail. I loved sharing my experiences with her and I was just busting to go home and go through it all again with my parents. My parents, however, were like most people and hearing about someone else's trip for hours didn't exactly rank high on the radar. I don't think they ever even looked at my pictures. It has always meant a lot to me that Aunt Wilma did that for me, and even pretended like she liked it (and maybe she did!).</div>
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I lived with Aunt Wilma for about a month after I graduated from college. I was taking some computer classes in Salt Lake and my dad didn't want me driving too far each day, so I moved on in with Wilma. It was such a fun time. I'll never forget how each morning she would set out a glass of ice water with a straw for me, along with a cereal bowl and spoon. She had to leave earlier than I did and I loved coming upstairs to a little breakfast table set just for me. She would make dinner for me each night and listen to me talk about my day. After several years of being on my own, it felt so good to have someone take care of me. I will always cherish those days.</div>
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Each year my mom's family has a reunion in the hills above Bennington, Idaho, where my Grandpa Crane herded sheep. Aunt Wilma made stick horses for all the great-grandkids and would take them on a tour of the area and tell them lots of stories about our family history. It was one of the things my kids looked the most forward to each year. I hope we can keep the tradition going, but it won't be the same without Wilma. When I explained to five-year-old Abby that Wilma is sick and is not going to live much longer Abby asked, "But then who is going to lead the reunion?"</div>
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I guess the thing I am most grateful for about Wilma is her Christ-like example. Her testimony of the gospel never wavered and she truly loved others as Christ did. I never felt anything but love and acceptance from her. Her positive attitude and love for life touched everyone she met. I will always be grateful that I had the opportunity to know her in this life, and especially that I got to sit down with her one last time and tell her I love her and thank her for her influence. How grateful I am for the knowledge that families are forever and I will see her again. I love you, Aunt Wilma!Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-19163084720248477682013-04-01T14:57:00.000-06:002013-04-19T17:14:33.489-06:0036 Things About MeSo last week was my birthday. I used to hate birthdays. All through my twenties, I thought it was just terrible that I was growing old. But now that I'm in my thirties, I say, bring it on. I can't <i>wait </i>to get old. Like, old old. I hope I live to be 100. You can get away with anything when you're 100. And <i>no </i>expectations. Congratulations for being alive. That's all you get, every day. I wish someone would congratulate me for being alive every day at 36. Also, it doesn't bother me if you know I am 36. The only thing that would be better is if I were 63. Can't wait for that day.<br />
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Anyway, in the spirit of who-really-cares-anyway, here are 36 things you might or might not know about me. I know, these lists went out of style in 2007. But I'm bringing 'em back, baby! Who really cares anyway?<br />
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1. Well, I guess I just said this, but I'm excited to get old.<br />
2. Cause when you're old, anything goes.<br />
3. I'm hoping for a catheter.<br />
4. I'm the only person I know (besides a few of my sisters), who wants a catheter.<br />
5. One of my favorite things about being in the hospital having a baby is that I get to have a catheter. When the nurse comes to take it out afterward, I'm always like, "No, I'm good. Check back in a while." I try to put them off until the nurses change shifts and forget about it. I've gone a solid 24 hours without having to get up to use the bathroom in the hospital before.<br />
6. What could be better than never having to get up from your bed to use the bathroom? <br />
7. I don't understand why anyone <i>wouldn't</i> want a catheter. Makes no sense.<br />
8. My mom is going to be really embarrassed that I am writing about catheters on my blog.<br />
9. Switching topics, I really love to play the piano.<br />
10. My goal is to learn to play the organ and play in sacrament meeting by the time I'm 40 (that will redeem me in my mom's eyes).<br />
11. It terrifies me to play in front of people and I think that's why I want to do it so badly. I <i>have </i>to conquer this fear.<br />
12. I've been playing the piano in Primary for over a year now, and it is my favorite calling ever.<br />
13. I'm still not good at it, and I consider it a success if I can make it through the Hello song, which we sing every week, without too many mistakes.<br />
14. I'm really scared to have five kids.<br />
15. I keep telling myself if I can get through this next year with a new baby, I can do anything.<br />
16. I <i>love </i>newborns. I don't care about the sleepless nights or looking like death. Newborns are so precious to me.<br />
17. The age I struggle with most is the "newly mobile" stage, around seven to fifteen months. Please, for the love of humanity, just sit there for a few minutes and stop putting crap in your mouth.<br />
18. Although I'm sad my kids are getting older, I love going through all the new phases of life with them.<br />
19. I beg my kids to tell me who they have crushes on, because I remember all my grade school crushes, from kindergarten through jr. high. Every year I had at least one true love. I don't think a single one of them ever liked me back. Good thing, because I'm pretty sure half of them are in prison now. I guess I shouldn't say that, because maybe I could have done them some good in their lives. But most likely, I would just be in prison with them by now, had we ended up together.<br />
20. I love and support my husband in everything he does, even if I don't like it (I'm looking at you, hunting).<br />
21. But I'm glad my husband and boys have something that keeps them close and gives them something to do together. <br />
22. I think one of my greatest talents is making fun of hunting. It is
probably the thing that comes the easiest to me of everything I do.<br />
23. For one thing, there is a never-ending source of material.<br />
24. For another thing, it makes NO sense.<br />
25. It's not like I'm against it, really, I just don't understand it. I'm trying though... You want to kill an animal, why? Okay. Why not.<br />
26. I really admire my husband's drive and motivation for hunting. He does not give up on his goals. While his aspiration in life is to slay all 20-something species of big game animals with a bow, mine is simply to not have to get out of bed at night to use the bathroom. He will probably be successful. I won't. I really need to be more like him.<br />
27. I'm a pretty reserved person and I don't speak up as much as I should. Probably because I'm usually thinking about things like the ones on this list, and I know people will think I'm weird if I spout them off. <br />
28. Stuff stresses me out. I have an overwhelming urge to throw away everything in my house on a daily basis.<br />
29. I used to think I loved to organize. Now I realize the less stuff I have, the less I need to organize. It's easier to keep track of 2 things than 227 things. Duh!<br />
30. Yes, this does mean I need things I threw away last week.<br />
31. I don't care. I'm still happier without it.<br />
32. Of all the clean things I love, clean kids are my favorite. I love just-out-of-the-bath, squeaky clean kids. Even if it doesn't last very long.<br />
33. I think almost every bad mood can be cured by a good bath. <br />
34. I've always dreamed of driving an El Camino. Possibly living in one.<br />
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35. See how useful they are? Now I'm going to be thinking about El Caminos all day.<br />
36. Being old is going to be awesome. In the 2070s I'm totally going to be driving my El Camino around with all my grandkids in the back and telling them how I was born in the 1970s. I might even go as far as putting a camper shell on the back. Oh yeah, and don't forget the catheter. I'll never even have to pull over.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-7892417680178539172013-03-11T14:43:00.000-06:002013-03-11T16:11:47.936-06:00A few things Jason probably doesn't want you to knowIf you know my husband at all, you probably think of him as kind of a man's man. A big, tough hunter, a motivated businessman, a talented athlete.Yes, he is all of these things. But there is more to him than meets the eye, my friend. Let me introduce you to the softer side of Sears, or Jason, as the case may be.<br />
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Inside the rough and tough exterior and all the talk about shooting things and who could take who in a game of one-on-one is kind of, well, I was going to say a teenage girl, but that's not really accurate. More of someone a teenage girl could <i>relate </i>to. Which is great, because I'm kind of a teenage girl at heart myself.<br />
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Let's start with Jason's secret love of the <a href="http://abc.go.com/watch/the-bachelor/SH559030?CID=google_SEM_UU_1" target="_blank">Bachelor</a>. He will argue with this and say, "Whatever, you <i>made </i>me watch this season with you!" This is true. I decided that this year we should watch it together. Instead of him watching it late at night and waking me up every time someone's old boyfriend showed up on the set, or the most decent girl got sent home. I've watched a few seasons over the years, but I've never watched the <a href="http://abc.go.com/shows/the-bachelorette" target="_blank">Bachelorette</a>, which has been viewed for many seasons in our home but not by me. So he also loves the Bachelorette, in addition of course to the 433 hunting shows that are queued up on our DVR, so it all balances out his manliness in the end.<br />
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Watching the Bachelor this year with Jason has been one of the best decisions of my life. Not only do we laugh for a solid half hour <i>after </i>the show, in addition to the joy of critiquing every moment of the actual episode (which is usually 2 hours), I also have the opportunity to laugh at Jason the entire time and his in-depth knowledge of the show. After protesting watching the first episode with me, it only took about ten minutes into it until he was saying things like, "Are you kidding me, he is giving out the First Impression Rose already? What a joke! Come on, Sean!" As one who has never even heard of a First Impression Rose, I was very impressed, and I also died laughing. I especially love it when he tells me the rules of the game, like I am a huge idiot because who <i>doesn't </i>know that whichever girl doesn't get a rose on a 2-on-1 date is automatically sent home, and things like that (I don't know if that is an actual rule, I can't keep them straight, you'll have to ask Jason).<br />
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Anyway, watching the Bachelor with Jason has been one of the finer experiences in my life. I do realize that's not saying a lot. In any case, I am anticipating tonight's final episode, but also dreading it because then we have to wait until what, the fall, to watch Des fail to find love as the Bachelorette (because you know the Bachelorette is going to be Des). Because I'm pretty sure I'm going to watching it with Jason.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor Des with the crazy brother. She was so close to finding true love with an amazing man.</td></tr>
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Another teenage-girlish thing I love about Jason is that he is full of surprises, even when he is predictable. Every single night on his way home from work, he calls to update me on his life and everything that happened at work that day (predictable). I am usually busy in the kitchen, bustling away to get dinner prepared, so I put the phone on my shoulder and give him the opportunity to vent for his fifteen-minute drive home by inserting the appropriate "uh-huh, so true, you're absolutely right, what a jerk, etc." that he needs to hear to soothe his soul and satisfy his need to be understood before he walks in the door.<br />
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Well, the other night I was uh-huh-ing away, listening to how rates are bad, and title companies are idiots, and every person in the world is terrible, and then all of a sudden he was saying, "And then there's this horse! Every single day all he does is just stand there on the corner and look at me and wish to be with the other horses! I'm so sick of it. Why does he have to be all alone when there are a bunch of other horses right across the street that he could be with instead of cooped up all by himself all the time? I've had it. I'm just going to set him free!"<br />
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It took me a minute to realize that he was talking about the horse on the corner as you enter our neighborhood, who, yes, is all by himself, stands in the same place every day, and is without a doubt sad and lonely, but I don't think that gives Jason the right to turn him loose when he is only 10 yards from the highway. I tried to convince Jason of this, hoping he wasn't getting out of his truck at the time and messing with the fence. Hunters can be so unpredictable.<br />
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Fortunately, I heard the garage door going up in the middle of my argument, so I knew Jason hadn't taken any drastic measures. Yet. He still talks about that dang horse every time we drive by! The kids report to him every time they see the horse eating at the opposite end of his pasture because Jason doesn't believe the horse ever moves, and that justice needs to be done. I have to hear about it every time we leave the neighborhood, and every time he is on the phone with me and drives by the unfortunate animal.<br />
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Just yesterday we passed The Horse as we were driving up to my in-laws' and Jason talked about it for exactly half the trip. Words like "the poor thing!" and "it's not right!" were repeated over and over. I'm about ready to set the horse free myself, but I know the owners and I love them with all my heart so I can't do that to them. But I really wish they would get a friend for that horse.<br />
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I guess what I'm saying is, when you get married, there's really no way to know what you're getting into. Fortunately for me, I got a lot more than I bargained for in a good way. Yes, there is a lot more blood and fur than I anticipated, but there are also a lot more surprises and laughs than I could have imagined. Also, you better hurry and read this because Jason will probably make me take it down the first time someone at church says, "So, Jason, how's the Bachelor?" Work with me, people, and don't say anything. Just laugh as he walks by.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-46103064783127184972013-02-03T22:05:00.003-07:002013-02-03T22:51:51.251-07:00An Announcement and Dallin's Tenth BirthdayWell, I realize I've been missing from the blogging world for a while now. I have a good excuse. I'd like to take this opportunity to announce the impending arrival of our fifth child, and the cause of my retreat into the dark abyss of winter and anti-social behavior. I am so excited to have a new little nipper in the family, and also excited to finally be getting over the curse of morning sickness. My family is also very excited about that. Yay, mom is cooking again! Mom is moving again! It's a Christmas miracle. I promised myself this pregnancy would be better and I wouldn't let myself succumb to out-of-control hormones, but alas, I was lying to myself. What can I say, the first part of pregnancy is hard for me, but now it is over and I am ready to embrace life once again. The new little one will arrive at the end of June. We can't wait!!<br />
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It's crazy to think about a new little baby, because it seems like about ten minutes ago that my oldest, Dallin, was handed to me in the hospital. But that was ten <i>years</i> ago. TEN. Yesterday was Dallin's tenth birthday. I still can't believe it. He is such a great kid and he makes me proud every single day. Being a parent is tricky business, and I am far from perfect. I'm grateful to Dallin for being such a good sport as I fumble my way through day by day, using him as the guinea pig for just about everything. Being the oldest is hard work, but he does a great job of being a good example, and also being my favorite buddy. It's rewarding in a totally different way than having a newborn. I love that he gets my jokes now. I love his sense of humor. I love his passion and enthusiasm for every thing he does. He is motivated beyond belief and I rarely have to remind him to do homework. He is a great athlete and has a confidence I envy. Watching him play sports is incredibly stressful to me because I think, "If that were me out there, I would be dying under all that pressure!" But luckily he takes after his dad and has the ability to just <i>go for it</i>. Wow, he didn't get that from me!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEexNHcbi8SSIdTH1nHxn_PPUdrCTvv0Pj6_ZHA9TK3rpduSLk7cwrB1Q3fSZk4WbMGfMM9Ydhe074wTyLmMyyur7ybRBVX3pDtw3-1-lqrhdY6qqYserUuI9wy2JWvYiQx5puF_saSjU/s1600/feb13-134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEexNHcbi8SSIdTH1nHxn_PPUdrCTvv0Pj6_ZHA9TK3rpduSLk7cwrB1Q3fSZk4WbMGfMM9Ydhe074wTyLmMyyur7ybRBVX3pDtw3-1-lqrhdY6qqYserUuI9wy2JWvYiQx5puF_saSjU/s640/feb13-134.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The birthday boy after his Jr. Jazz game.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhstn3WjgT3kkEHYO2ZeAkPGdlX6tL6jQ5kf-VHMe3R0hocEvpN172blLIha_bDDdBCr9g_ydxGezVklFju7IXsKCM_3PSqwMlbxoEDgTmVsX1VIjWulCe1XML5ztX24LWJkvcy5jetc48/s1600/feb13-128.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhstn3WjgT3kkEHYO2ZeAkPGdlX6tL6jQ5kf-VHMe3R0hocEvpN172blLIha_bDDdBCr9g_ydxGezVklFju7IXsKCM_3PSqwMlbxoEDgTmVsX1VIjWulCe1XML5ztX24LWJkvcy5jetc48/s640/feb13-128.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The kids had so much fun playing football on the turf at <a href="http://www.xsifactory.com/" target="_blank">XSI Factory</a> at Dallin's friend party Friday night.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl60918cI7obhRxbz01yQ0u61qOjq8_-dxQsqiOcuCIRtJSFTzumi85l27PSPqlQLNVzOemW0hI44X2JeCcV7ykGWntQpnPdafEHUMHe31kgbqpMVD5ek6XT2VfG2ygzrqRnu4hAzukpQ/s1600/feb13-130.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl60918cI7obhRxbz01yQ0u61qOjq8_-dxQsqiOcuCIRtJSFTzumi85l27PSPqlQLNVzOemW0hI44X2JeCcV7ykGWntQpnPdafEHUMHe31kgbqpMVD5ek6XT2VfG2ygzrqRnu4hAzukpQ/s640/feb13-130.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luke played with them, but tended to get a little upset when things didn't go his way.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTVlqSGKn1VwWTwZ32piIKVkIOne-BPYtFagVrOxbv27NnvPR9pCgwklBAagEHjwUN59L7g5AkIW2N_gw17K1LBXqN0kkGMEPubhZV4SZ36kGkMxWQYW-TTBj98n_I953Wikz7rZBfPQ/s1600/feb13-133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbTVlqSGKn1VwWTwZ32piIKVkIOne-BPYtFagVrOxbv27NnvPR9pCgwklBAagEHjwUN59L7g5AkIW2N_gw17K1LBXqN0kkGMEPubhZV4SZ36kGkMxWQYW-TTBj98n_I953Wikz7rZBfPQ/s640/feb13-133.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason was the "coach" and I think he had more fun than the boys.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzE-yWRTVPVNyVzjoMyO5dhXt1uP3hdSNTvRpePokfL7hI3oa3T5tGyss5k2io8qkYVH7z7FC86qto3bixsy3hAMR2fF1U3nPiuShvc0Ny4cIZlk5jIgYBBFyGqo8ZxCNeHcczfmvnf0/s1600/feb13-131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEzE-yWRTVPVNyVzjoMyO5dhXt1uP3hdSNTvRpePokfL7hI3oa3T5tGyss5k2io8qkYVH7z7FC86qto3bixsy3hAMR2fF1U3nPiuShvc0Ny4cIZlk5jIgYBBFyGqo8ZxCNeHcczfmvnf0/s640/feb13-131.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">What good boys. A little wild and crazy maybe, but good kids.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopTcUanLHoV29iic1fNk2ZOj4BiWWNeXClZJDxvhNTG17o0iZeTinkT6cpPjVxhdDfpkoSmdFAp0hT_GFrxJfj4Ilw55etwiUmrhC0q-wiU-bM3AjEgnOm49_KiNPjZou_PXv1QswlJk/s1600/feb13-139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgopTcUanLHoV29iic1fNk2ZOj4BiWWNeXClZJDxvhNTG17o0iZeTinkT6cpPjVxhdDfpkoSmdFAp0hT_GFrxJfj4Ilw55etwiUmrhC0q-wiU-bM3AjEgnOm49_KiNPjZou_PXv1QswlJk/s400/feb13-139.JPG" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dallin begged for a Chicago Bears cake, so of course I delivered. Here I am thinking, "Dallin, you better not make lemur eyes at the camera," while Dallin makes lemur eyes at the camera. Makes me so mad!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfC9GmXUtRueXOh17QS6ffQIGsMSxVp5e6lrvJhjfKji3fk6VEMBgdslEEfK7YCv2Nf7mCUYab6Erx4OOvZhyphenhyphenXSeVqjQd8rFajVK90CEA37oGf7AfQ_L9J_IDtVXnJfyRxjEYcMngeocM/s1600/feb13-136.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfC9GmXUtRueXOh17QS6ffQIGsMSxVp5e6lrvJhjfKji3fk6VEMBgdslEEfK7YCv2Nf7mCUYab6Erx4OOvZhyphenhyphenXSeVqjQd8rFajVK90CEA37oGf7AfQ_L9J_IDtVXnJfyRxjEYcMngeocM/s640/feb13-136.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then he had to be a lemur for his "ten" shot, too. Ohhhh, I'm going to whip him. I didn't spend all that time figuring out how to make a Chicago Bears cake so he can look psychotic for posterity.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VbCRkLs7z7JgkYMDhlL4gqRMMF-LLHGUev36IhItnggIS6yZciA_H5KStC2Unh6ZVcPuwF643tNQwkT6_Dnj8OC01iOujY7N8ZzoMKtxHhSZCAS1ZFnjOBgpBSrvuRJEZf5fyBJ8bKc/s1600/feb13-135.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4VbCRkLs7z7JgkYMDhlL4gqRMMF-LLHGUev36IhItnggIS6yZciA_H5KStC2Unh6ZVcPuwF643tNQwkT6_Dnj8OC01iOujY7N8ZzoMKtxHhSZCAS1ZFnjOBgpBSrvuRJEZf5fyBJ8bKc/s640/feb13-135.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here we are, all looking a little psychotic in one way or another. Dallin is being decidedly anti-lemurish so we're just going to have to go for it. Another great birthday, another year gone by. I'm so grateful for this little family. I couldn't ask for anything more. Maybe a nap once in a while, but that's it. That's the only improvement I can think of right now.</span></td></tr>
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Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-50983461190831922342012-10-21T15:32:00.000-06:002012-10-21T15:49:14.016-06:00Dallin's Perfect Day <span style="text-align: center;">Kids are simple creatures. You can plan and save and make huge sacrifices so they will have fun and make memories, and all they do is complain. Then you have a normal, hectic Saturday going from one thing to another, and you feel like you are about to go crazy, yet at the end of the day, your nine-year-old tells you it was the best day he's ever had. That's what happened yesterday. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvEAPS6PYsZduCx9hSUZ38NN9jyZNxxkl2nefysBYnpX6ZJde5Pj9j-NfYOro54cT1FGpIKQCql03I8_YIo0o1cHCxHUH5Jpyc5hAZq2k3nAvRc564WFVLz2va9zw_YHFyHpwMUs_5z0/s1600/IMG_6177-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvEAPS6PYsZduCx9hSUZ38NN9jyZNxxkl2nefysBYnpX6ZJde5Pj9j-NfYOro54cT1FGpIKQCql03I8_YIo0o1cHCxHUH5Jpyc5hAZq2k3nAvRc564WFVLz2va9zw_YHFyHpwMUs_5z0/s640/IMG_6177-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">It started out with the boys' last flag football games of the season. Luke's game was first. His siblings were supportive, though slightly unenthusiastic.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2ZUtD2xYIgljFVTSLldSPTF746UAZSExPCWzaMuSR_v5PygHzKgrFPSEt-S2WC1gh3xEQ0rd8zw6R6e_jIBMPLPiLrM4jzYNBGZMWisXTSoiyZHTWQXl2f8pZsJ9x0hXlpYhWGVpEkM/s1600/IMG_6208-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2ZUtD2xYIgljFVTSLldSPTF746UAZSExPCWzaMuSR_v5PygHzKgrFPSEt-S2WC1gh3xEQ0rd8zw6R6e_jIBMPLPiLrM4jzYNBGZMWisXTSoiyZHTWQXl2f8pZsJ9x0hXlpYhWGVpEkM/s640/IMG_6208-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luke's friend Cooper's dad was the coach this year. They had such a fun year. Luke is a bit of a giant compared to the other boys, but that's okay. One of these years his effort is going to match his size and he is going to dominate, I'm sure of it. This year he tried hard... on games when he knew he would get $$ for each flag he pulled. The other games were a little more... relaxed.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs2KBFbqiVikyPrQUhqjLhUV8mkl-5t8tuu2t07jzRRtN4hLBZX2AB65IzxI9fBi9b4R1XPmy0E0Qol1a1JGZR0Sk65xMlSE4IJBunX_vlDpxY67PYogLXYvUpHK3av56tCb8kt7FnwJk/s1600/IMG_6193-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs2KBFbqiVikyPrQUhqjLhUV8mkl-5t8tuu2t07jzRRtN4hLBZX2AB65IzxI9fBi9b4R1XPmy0E0Qol1a1JGZR0Sk65xMlSE4IJBunX_vlDpxY67PYogLXYvUpHK3av56tCb8kt7FnwJk/s640/IMG_6193-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here he is kicking off. Just pretend the ball is way up there.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuN5JMAXdT0jVvwSCItLiUfGQo__ZQj5Kvv8_1oGwzj6TmhScF8xazlCyn4xJi50kzTC4bJrTHFRTAKfqAgJiT18nbhoQdUG-HMbk_nEo3hyphenhyphenks6Tg3oMDFxGM5eYlPOmVmk5rZfa76ESg/s1600/IMG_6197-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuN5JMAXdT0jVvwSCItLiUfGQo__ZQj5Kvv8_1oGwzj6TmhScF8xazlCyn4xJi50kzTC4bJrTHFRTAKfqAgJiT18nbhoQdUG-HMbk_nEo3hyphenhyphenks6Tg3oMDFxGM5eYlPOmVmk5rZfa76ESg/s640/IMG_6197-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't get me wrong, I love to watch my kids play sports. The problem is, I don't get to watch very much. I end up chasing the devil himself around for a few hours.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL2iQxy13g-dYqk_RjV14Ybwz0o-s2jiRSJhuUoK7jCy4DmlceSh-TnKTDM3NTbAGM8p3QoQE8O_D9xuDxK1q7CtSxTgQvmtOk65z6T9z22IQwtevIurA7zITrW6CUymTFk3CbLtTs0Q/s1600/IMG_6198-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFL2iQxy13g-dYqk_RjV14Ybwz0o-s2jiRSJhuUoK7jCy4DmlceSh-TnKTDM3NTbAGM8p3QoQE8O_D9xuDxK1q7CtSxTgQvmtOk65z6T9z22IQwtevIurA7zITrW6CUymTFk3CbLtTs0Q/s640/IMG_6198-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Don't let his innocent appearance deceive you. He never holds this still. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Hu6xSnZeI9teG4EmdrubYBuUim76_2Mh_gglYU2u7Xzh7Hl50ybfXdZCUWHYb4nswHw5paSzJMmVIFBEy-R6xWwWuym4u8uRBMzubTlMapinMoOCoAmX-soSQICBfjc9P4y5ru6WK_w/s1600/IMG_6196-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Hu6xSnZeI9teG4EmdrubYBuUim76_2Mh_gglYU2u7Xzh7Hl50ybfXdZCUWHYb4nswHw5paSzJMmVIFBEy-R6xWwWuym4u8uRBMzubTlMapinMoOCoAmX-soSQICBfjc9P4y5ru6WK_w/s640/IMG_6196-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">He likes to follow around every animal within a five mile radius.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZ-P6tuIx7vnXApfkhgWY1SwgapdImimKm6kfM5xBZd1HlZ-prYWvVyxU6IN1JF5btGoHrFf-PoYoL6bXTJTXPmPsszLM7Kj6xuDCPJ3QQVmgp0Zt4Kp203wPeOQFhob2aTW-oANdwKM/s1600/IMG_6211-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZ-P6tuIx7vnXApfkhgWY1SwgapdImimKm6kfM5xBZd1HlZ-prYWvVyxU6IN1JF5btGoHrFf-PoYoL6bXTJTXPmPsszLM7Kj6xuDCPJ3QQVmgp0Zt4Kp203wPeOQFhob2aTW-oANdwKM/s640/IMG_6211-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">And we also spend a lot of time dragging him off the playing field. Sigh. Good times.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkj8Q62hjTXV6-KZA43f-xi7dHqS3exl_zoMPGw0zqWbZc19uwkTJh3r3eZp4fjuvgA-2RrMhpEMUinxwDmq0TUOj1j-j_mQ2m1V5kfxSBHfHI9xyuKDpVbVdCIUI7Z6RHwhdCb1Y9ylc/s1600/IMG_6286-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkj8Q62hjTXV6-KZA43f-xi7dHqS3exl_zoMPGw0zqWbZc19uwkTJh3r3eZp4fjuvgA-2RrMhpEMUinxwDmq0TUOj1j-j_mQ2m1V5kfxSBHfHI9xyuKDpVbVdCIUI7Z6RHwhdCb1Y9ylc/s640/IMG_6286-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Then it was on to Dallin's game.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWe1ZR3Lx1pe1BHxRbyhsRfkD3hgOl6ajdAwsS4Z7MGI1_qXjRyNHLETSF7BunzdkY3bahBHvFwqEhVgGv8GaSISY-PW58H6f5fu8uFifEsn7oZBvZBMzfLgYwnLghQpmFEOSOLy-WQc/s1600/IMG_6287-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitWe1ZR3Lx1pe1BHxRbyhsRfkD3hgOl6ajdAwsS4Z7MGI1_qXjRyNHLETSF7BunzdkY3bahBHvFwqEhVgGv8GaSISY-PW58H6f5fu8uFifEsn7oZBvZBMzfLgYwnLghQpmFEOSOLy-WQc/s640/IMG_6287-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">He had a great game and loved every second. He requested that I call this play, "The Touchdown Throw" because he threw this for a touchdown. So here's The Touchdown Throw. Pretty proud of that old boy.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxd-5qddQre788oc0bIvXn01KLTXiOn-Hp7xglyvixLlZWkRTDDwOxUpXNidz5jPRfXh_VSfzOzHgnHhWrDcuVX9zmRDRKHN6MoTwm2UW-EYGIJpGi0yMlZN_0FPLaEsL56dOPUMv4QI/s1600/IMG_6302-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxd-5qddQre788oc0bIvXn01KLTXiOn-Hp7xglyvixLlZWkRTDDwOxUpXNidz5jPRfXh_VSfzOzHgnHhWrDcuVX9zmRDRKHN6MoTwm2UW-EYGIJpGi0yMlZN_0FPLaEsL56dOPUMv4QI/s640/IMG_6302-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason was hunting during the games, so that afternoon he decided to take the kids fishing to make it up to them. Boy, did that ever work. If there's anything Dallin loves as much as sports, it's fishing. Here is Dallin displaying a beautiful little blue gill. They were pulling them in on almost every cast.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38iEUbTSVMnEZgkPNOI4gJlJQP5YN37SKwKm1XUlmjJktUEnA3xHPD9rd-gqJAjDQz2AurT4itgIA3LLvkQ5qR_shOmHXIlFoHMs70SQ0-QbWp9iVIQNDPu0p5Okay_BM9j_1CJD3DsY/s1600/IMG_6311-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh38iEUbTSVMnEZgkPNOI4gJlJQP5YN37SKwKm1XUlmjJktUEnA3xHPD9rd-gqJAjDQz2AurT4itgIA3LLvkQ5qR_shOmHXIlFoHMs70SQ0-QbWp9iVIQNDPu0p5Okay_BM9j_1CJD3DsY/s640/IMG_6311-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason let each kid reel in numerous fish. Numerous times. They were in heaven.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkpZxR_6mIm17TY56EqNztLcbB-izR0ell1lhBRvwUUnUtd4E2HFCvkNAMPIm2_Z2lKaGTbTFLEaJXmcG3mX-laAtRZM7eviabEjCxF7_J_aqIF0uLfzZYVyuIYp0HRTmOXK-BfxYk1w/s1600/IMG_6313-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidkpZxR_6mIm17TY56EqNztLcbB-izR0ell1lhBRvwUUnUtd4E2HFCvkNAMPIm2_Z2lKaGTbTFLEaJXmcG3mX-laAtRZM7eviabEjCxF7_J_aqIF0uLfzZYVyuIYp0HRTmOXK-BfxYk1w/s640/IMG_6313-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luke found a bird.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOF46AxmJcBKQjjxDTY2_3u3ATSIns22zX46L4ONx9w9NyJgnNOn_0k6th8imICKGHV1PKaD8RE2pmvxzWGQZum9ZtTD3QixQxH4Eya_jUBJMRKwhYJllauYwRorl3bNEU45FL9m_zQ0/s1600/IMG_6326-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBOF46AxmJcBKQjjxDTY2_3u3ATSIns22zX46L4ONx9w9NyJgnNOn_0k6th8imICKGHV1PKaD8RE2pmvxzWGQZum9ZtTD3QixQxH4Eya_jUBJMRKwhYJllauYwRorl3bNEU45FL9m_zQ0/s640/IMG_6326-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Unfortunately, it was deceased at the time. If you know anything about Luke's soft heart, and his love for birds, you can imagine his sorrow. He spent a lot of time trying to dig a little grave for it in the rock hard ground.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZiaZI-wlMEsjWrdeWBlnhXhwlwAkIkwWNdmd5q2RPRIf8Mqf2GhA_gpobIwyVtil5r89rHvP_0D_D_IcbRwPpoxR7c2PLdUzJhaaVeASwe4ParzHppyixfZQi9UdHykEiixaNO6mwpQ/s1600/IMG_6331-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ZiaZI-wlMEsjWrdeWBlnhXhwlwAkIkwWNdmd5q2RPRIf8Mqf2GhA_gpobIwyVtil5r89rHvP_0D_D_IcbRwPpoxR7c2PLdUzJhaaVeASwe4ParzHppyixfZQi9UdHykEiixaNO6mwpQ/s640/IMG_6331-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Isn't this a pretty spot?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxj6pT6NurVuPvnkwo48QOOrK2hU5miN9SdTAjnV90ebnKdtbTZXor9uQs2_MqHwuNLuZI9O_1BLTEenkaD4E_R8SJM-ErZC8ATBio0gEKEymQ6YYgcgUw9_cqu-LeOz43_oHWcVD49nA/s1600/IMG_6323-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxj6pT6NurVuPvnkwo48QOOrK2hU5miN9SdTAjnV90ebnKdtbTZXor9uQs2_MqHwuNLuZI9O_1BLTEenkaD4E_R8SJM-ErZC8ATBio0gEKEymQ6YYgcgUw9_cqu-LeOz43_oHWcVD49nA/s640/IMG_6323-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You'd never know we were about 10 yards from a highway. It's a private place, but don't worry, we had permission. Jason knows a guy. A guy whose dad is rumored to own it. Jason swears the guy's dad won't prosecute.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CpMsfJRMX7EeHIaaTRsVIfe-Mpbnzc3f9B95SBIeVD-0oT4ADq1YMGDKmRwYWLD9LpI5ileTuyhVi6RBDm0RUw8R_M2LimecaxygDQ_65sIrH6AeAt7gSE0j_g9AdLqJYdOAqECJK8g/s1600/IMG_6292-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="428" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CpMsfJRMX7EeHIaaTRsVIfe-Mpbnzc3f9B95SBIeVD-0oT4ADq1YMGDKmRwYWLD9LpI5ileTuyhVi6RBDm0RUw8R_M2LimecaxygDQ_65sIrH6AeAt7gSE0j_g9AdLqJYdOAqECJK8g/s640/IMG_6292-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Because I mean, I'm sure <i>we </i>were welcome there. Those keep out messages were just meant for <i>other </i>people. Other people who don't know the son of the guy who probably owns the place.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVLY7QV8CUP6FoEkYcTyA_YEB1b2lYDq2F2CP5zT3GXMMkXbrAWFjajxuyXfSzdPSH1FGJumnhyzoo90FNX9mKldN-kqDOSdY7-jaJUcRIc1kg5ntHCUWMbUffDapSvLTLSK4lEJPgjA/s1600/IMG_6336-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfVLY7QV8CUP6FoEkYcTyA_YEB1b2lYDq2F2CP5zT3GXMMkXbrAWFjajxuyXfSzdPSH1FGJumnhyzoo90FNX9mKldN-kqDOSdY7-jaJUcRIc1kg5ntHCUWMbUffDapSvLTLSK4lEJPgjA/s640/IMG_6336-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jake had to be dragged out, but at least he had a smile on his face. Note to self: Jason's thumb is in a can of worms. Then he drove using keys that touched that thumb. Now those keys are sitting on my kitchen counter, about three feet away from me right this second. I will be disinfecting right after we are through here.</span></td></tr>
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Well, that was a pretty exhausting day, for me anyway. Jason took us out to dinner, and we let Dallin choose the place.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="sizzler home" src="http://www.sizzler.com/img/logo.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">He decided to channel his inner senior citizen and we ended up at Sizzler. Don't get me wrong, Sizzler is great. Just not on a Saturday night when every Mormon in Utah County has the same family-friendly idea. I was sitting at the table, shoveling food in five different directions, when Dallin turned to me and said, "Mom, this was the best day ever. Fishing, football and Sizzler." Then he gave me one of those smiles that let me know that despite everything else, it was all worth it. Non-washed fish hands and all.</span></td></tr>
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Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-10154197343786615972012-09-30T21:58:00.001-06:002013-02-03T22:06:47.318-07:00Abby is Five!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLAnbxQSQgRJ48Lqb2egxh9acVbJ3mduXs4fCfadz7knF0DvrgtUQU6FL0E8YPEeo19aPzm3k9MNdptkKdsaDd3tcrEZpO6F_wqodYQBrpqNR0TPqq12XQIgbzc4qAOtac3jAVgDcjzlc/s1600/IMG_6052-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLAnbxQSQgRJ48Lqb2egxh9acVbJ3mduXs4fCfadz7knF0DvrgtUQU6FL0E8YPEeo19aPzm3k9MNdptkKdsaDd3tcrEZpO6F_wqodYQBrpqNR0TPqq12XQIgbzc4qAOtac3jAVgDcjzlc/s640/IMG_6052-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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My sweet little Abby turned five on September 28. I don't know how it happened, because wasn't she just born <a href="http://yatesrgreat.blogspot.com/2007/10/abby-is-here.html" target="_blank">yesterday</a>? I kind of fought her birthday in my heart because I loved her so much as a four-year-old that I just couldn't handle the thought of her changing into a five-year-old. The good news is that not much has changed except for the amount of toys in her bedroom. She is just as sweet at five and two days as she was at four. Whew!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The day before her birthday she got to celebrate at preschool. The kids sang happy birthday to her while she had the honor of being the ONLY one jumping on the trampoline. She was thrilled.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEpHKeg5XszyrW99lLspyMoW9XFRT6IOUYjJ4yfQ5gL7O1TpJLCkR3XqjIuLuxA6OVcOOFbNiJtIUJXCVhyylt4Q-p7G-3IJFRYugKV-RmxTVoYzkS8NnVV_0DZ0O5tFgox2pnQE2FlE/s1600/IMG_6011-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmEpHKeg5XszyrW99lLspyMoW9XFRT6IOUYjJ4yfQ5gL7O1TpJLCkR3XqjIuLuxA6OVcOOFbNiJtIUJXCVhyylt4Q-p7G-3IJFRYugKV-RmxTVoYzkS8NnVV_0DZ0O5tFgox2pnQE2FlE/s640/IMG_6011-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I brought ice cream sandwiches for her treat and the kids made a cute little star while they ate.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvTNGX1OZU49ZXrq6RhkrX0OKfn5dvWpT9zWZGdiCout-IEFHYTWlVKInel8uvqUPJmoZhPozeBaGsMYWzc5IbP7SrKTpYinkZQ1uYhIhfz1kLOfOO7u4vGfxWW1b2u2mGuKXKv3OMqg/s1600/IMG_6013-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvTNGX1OZU49ZXrq6RhkrX0OKfn5dvWpT9zWZGdiCout-IEFHYTWlVKInel8uvqUPJmoZhPozeBaGsMYWzc5IbP7SrKTpYinkZQ1uYhIhfz1kLOfOO7u4vGfxWW1b2u2mGuKXKv3OMqg/s640/IMG_6013-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">On Friday I went against everything I stand for and actually had a friend party for her. The boys usually have parties, but that's because Jason does them. I don't know why I shut down mentally and physically at the thought of planning and executing a birthday party for five-year-olds, but I do. However, I bit the bullet and planned a Dora party and Abby was in heaven. Mission accomplished.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vwStfmbRnUuR3D99pdt5zKOR7ovkOrcD6ZrXWmuq4aJUrESn1-0BSXhCHi4KVSS44xLpPedxTP3q91iDETNfn6v6W0T4KnwD6hXGSAqZ5uiRQBWR1SxwhPcgkckvmMTrCYpDMmL3wXI/s1600/IMG_6023-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8vwStfmbRnUuR3D99pdt5zKOR7ovkOrcD6ZrXWmuq4aJUrESn1-0BSXhCHi4KVSS44xLpPedxTP3q91iDETNfn6v6W0T4KnwD6hXGSAqZ5uiRQBWR1SxwhPcgkckvmMTrCYpDMmL3wXI/s640/IMG_6023-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I took the kids on a little Dora adventure to find Boots, who got lost on his way to the party. I made a map and everything. I was so impressed with myself. Then Abby opened her presents. Luke was a lot of help for someone who hates Dora and all things girl.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHa3xu2gjD8Gu6bUJn_-_N9Y_M7ScXKBvJjyGBeZ_bP238UYjIz6dvYbYH_jY9xrWKu29G2esp_oeh8p6v8uJFgDCmAdZwy36-2BZ6Ba-NaYddlYnr7W2JvwoorIpiwruX53KR20PXAI/s1600/IMG_6029-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisHa3xu2gjD8Gu6bUJn_-_N9Y_M7ScXKBvJjyGBeZ_bP238UYjIz6dvYbYH_jY9xrWKu29G2esp_oeh8p6v8uJFgDCmAdZwy36-2BZ6Ba-NaYddlYnr7W2JvwoorIpiwruX53KR20PXAI/s640/IMG_6029-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here is a fuzzy picture of the whole adorable group. I don't know why half my pictures are turning out fuzzy lately. Maybe I'm looking through the sight hole with the wrong eye. I can never remember which eye is my good one. Anyway, aren't they cute?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjph9vjXqw0FPk9J06hmaLqcUtUkgQvn0s4VgqAiilZ_gOlpu3Xaf6GUg9dQjnhBg09nZ520xXb3wXJilev2syiZSCjAkSc8xUV7vFBf1V2L1u6FdiVGCLFJkPAD4rK2g2IdItsgTvv2Yg/s1600/IMG_6039-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjph9vjXqw0FPk9J06hmaLqcUtUkgQvn0s4VgqAiilZ_gOlpu3Xaf6GUg9dQjnhBg09nZ520xXb3wXJilev2syiZSCjAkSc8xUV7vFBf1V2L1u6FdiVGCLFJkPAD4rK2g2IdItsgTvv2Yg/s640/IMG_6039-001.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The kids decorated cupcakes and had a great time covering themselves with frosting and candy. Sounds good to me! </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_F28dNw-ghdLBHbRLE2H7hZDSeAOO2civDjzbRAdVxjXzBPM8G6DL-aysa4KwNQq6F0rdc7OC7SKqZ2jQlvf4Y84qyySUtwQL13OVCMutieusMtKGm1E8GPmWWOTci3nDA31kU0EvFk/s1600/IMG_6058-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP_F28dNw-ghdLBHbRLE2H7hZDSeAOO2civDjzbRAdVxjXzBPM8G6DL-aysa4KwNQq6F0rdc7OC7SKqZ2jQlvf4Y84qyySUtwQL13OVCMutieusMtKGm1E8GPmWWOTci3nDA31kU0EvFk/s640/IMG_6058-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jake made himself useful after the party and pushed crumbs around for a while with the broom. I was very proud of him for trying to help out. I was even tempted to forgive him for figuring out how to climb out of his crib.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmHH9XW441k5Nz8Uow1FLt-nNov3-PCtr3qbvKfnSqQqzMmxLiXKBPVAnYKmdNQkwU2DOyeL3lisSpMq8jI8NRavnfzA8VZp_WQB_-HU_Rlg7gByysiHBOir2ykvZ-Wt0tWjC5RHogwE/s1600/IMG_6063-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHmHH9XW441k5Nz8Uow1FLt-nNov3-PCtr3qbvKfnSqQqzMmxLiXKBPVAnYKmdNQkwU2DOyeL3lisSpMq8jI8NRavnfzA8VZp_WQB_-HU_Rlg7gByysiHBOir2ykvZ-Wt0tWjC5RHogwE/s640/IMG_6063-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I always try to take a family picture on my kids' birthdays. The pictures never turn out very well, but this is us in all our glory, on September 28, 2012. Although sometimes the days are long and it seems like I might never get a full night of sleep, this precious little family is growing up on me. The kids get a little bigger each time a birthday passes, we all get a little older and our adventures never seem to run out. There is a lump in my heart when I think of Abby not being a little girl anymore, but I love the person she is turning into. She seriously is the sweetest little friend I could ever ask for. I love my boys, but I'm so glad I got my girl! Happy Birthday, Abby, my little sweet sweet. </span></td></tr>
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<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-69395546623712896932012-08-26T16:35:00.000-06:002012-08-26T16:35:58.073-06:00Our Alaskan Adventure<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWdKi1yHoxZYy8QgDNvwNocbVpOP6QESilNMufWYeyRPhduDzrrb10FdAODF0boA0A936QlQ3o6rTYRwF4xzju5kDhSGRMmrBDEYMyzm675BLx6-MjafwkCNZAUhKYLWa2HOXwnVying/s1600/MEandAMpy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWdKi1yHoxZYy8QgDNvwNocbVpOP6QESilNMufWYeyRPhduDzrrb10FdAODF0boA0A936QlQ3o6rTYRwF4xzju5kDhSGRMmrBDEYMyzm675BLx6-MjafwkCNZAUhKYLWa2HOXwnVying/s640/MEandAMpy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jason and I recently took a little trip to Alaska. Jason has a goal to accomplish the "Super Slam," which is to take every North American big game animal (there are 29) with his bow. There are very few hunters who have accomplished it with a gun, and even fewer with a bow. We all know that Jason loves a good challenge, so it is not surprising that he is well on his way to, how do we put it delicately, <i>harvesting </i>all the required critters with his bow. Next on the list: Sitka blacktail deer, available only in Alaska and the west coast of British Columbia.</div>
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I love it when hunters say harvest. What, do they want us to think they planted the animal in the ground? Nice try.</div>
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When I heard about his plans to go to Alaska, fly to an island on a little float plane and camp for a few days, I thought, why do all Jason's little hunting buddies get to have all the fun? I like fun and I don't hate nature most of the time. So I signed up for the adventure. And what an adventure it was.</div>
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We flew into Ketchikan, Alaska on a Monday night, with plans to fly out to Prince of Wales Island the next morning. However, it was too windy that day to fly so we found ourselves with a day to explore the nice little town of Ketchikan. It was here that we saw our only bears of the trip. THANK HEAVENS.</div>
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The only thing I was really nervous about on the trip (besides having to eat Ramen noodles) was bears. Jason chose Prince of Wales Island because there are no grizzly bears there. Only regular bears and wolves. No biggie.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-2cxtcEu3r-CEQXds5QOdxDBGXDbd3Hrx_hcfAOvslaIy0Ogny4forRIeEFcmMWEI0PEbYPNg3NQ-s5AQ0CXUBTegTDN-ENAhyphenhyphenEFRz5Zt8Uf-RuVMQ1X-aq6049AkH0fNhNzOp9gMbw/s1600/Aug12-512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1-2cxtcEu3r-CEQXds5QOdxDBGXDbd3Hrx_hcfAOvslaIy0Ogny4forRIeEFcmMWEI0PEbYPNg3NQ-s5AQ0CXUBTegTDN-ENAhyphenhyphenEFRz5Zt8Uf-RuVMQ1X-aq6049AkH0fNhNzOp9gMbw/s640/Aug12-512.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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These bears were right by the side of the road, where a river emptied into the ocean. People were fishing about five feet away. I couldn't believe it! Here is a little video footage of the experience:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/MXF3l4Ho5co?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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It was kind of bad, though, because then I had bears on the brain for the rest of the trip. I was certain we were going to come across one (or many) around every bend, under every tree, and especially during each night. Luckily, I was with Jason, who had a gun, and if that didn't work, he's bigger than me and the most logical choice for a bear's lunch. So I tried not to worry too much.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpuF7a_0qfhNg5J2BY5lSDA8EL9l-d0hHeREdrj_Fw7ev53evg9f5BG3NX3DxnO0bKQZ0OHJ8Aki_B6LnCfOxpgGP3LJe9JTJqh9JBjmQD7rjOSiWvfF5dpDTgeIJdpGEvthpGMcl9vk/s1600/Aug12-538.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpuF7a_0qfhNg5J2BY5lSDA8EL9l-d0hHeREdrj_Fw7ev53evg9f5BG3NX3DxnO0bKQZ0OHJ8Aki_B6LnCfOxpgGP3LJe9JTJqh9JBjmQD7rjOSiWvfF5dpDTgeIJdpGEvthpGMcl9vk/s640/Aug12-538.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well, I can't lie, I was also nervous about flying in a tiny plane. I watched the float planes take off and land on the water in Ketchikan and I thought, holy cow. That's gonna be me. And soon it was.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0S8xQrZRmcTqLYkI8Sf7RcCHC-KwnO_qIQOxHzKOnt-VG86NiNbloerBLLfmITfhqFQguDagJrbRqcYiEIbyxLLxs7dr3XH4CYmXtu0PHKgpxncFMjTbdKak4IM9X2lzHKcBnKs7IhA/s1600/IMG_0261-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP0S8xQrZRmcTqLYkI8Sf7RcCHC-KwnO_qIQOxHzKOnt-VG86NiNbloerBLLfmITfhqFQguDagJrbRqcYiEIbyxLLxs7dr3XH4CYmXtu0PHKgpxncFMjTbdKak4IM9X2lzHKcBnKs7IhA/s640/IMG_0261-001.JPG" width="420" /></a></div>
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Yeah, it was a little scary stuffing myself in the back of the plane. The pilot wasn't very amused when Jason asked him how many times he had flown. I guess those kind of people don't like to be doubted. Here is some footage of me on the plane, trying to trust the little guy and not freak out:</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Rh70TZTK780?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
But as soon as we were in the air I was overwhelmed with the beauty of the ocean and the mountains. It was seriously incredible. I LOVED the flight! It was cool landing on the water. The pilot found a log to pull up to, so we stopped and unloaded all our gear, shimmying across a wet log to the shore. Adventure: begin!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTydEV0RS0wCciYwZIMo5JnRE8Mn0UrYtpoXuDQeh59lD91GhyYfiIqaYxgx1ZJSPJEsbnC10-KYdjN2oEdd1H7Skv5GWOq7wJEeni2isFF7SLuImeKypaYCPQZkCFF0Ca8yxocnr1hRc/s1600/IMG_0307-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTydEV0RS0wCciYwZIMo5JnRE8Mn0UrYtpoXuDQeh59lD91GhyYfiIqaYxgx1ZJSPJEsbnC10-KYdjN2oEdd1H7Skv5GWOq7wJEeni2isFF7SLuImeKypaYCPQZkCFF0Ca8yxocnr1hRc/s640/IMG_0307-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Pretty sure he was saying, "See you later, suckers!" as he dropped us off and paddled away, then flew back to civilization.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0aS8gbJ_uWmHd73UBxzuUUC0YJpWsANNUK8pLGAE4PhokGZX43q30ze1gxoAFdqUKgZ6t0Uuy3h7TUONuJTwJx2qWiufuaeCw1nfc9I_FHhhBL-RH3WX-rFHG5tWfPX32jHuzc40yWL8/s1600/Aug12-537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0aS8gbJ_uWmHd73UBxzuUUC0YJpWsANNUK8pLGAE4PhokGZX43q30ze1gxoAFdqUKgZ6t0Uuy3h7TUONuJTwJx2qWiufuaeCw1nfc9I_FHhhBL-RH3WX-rFHG5tWfPX32jHuzc40yWL8/s640/Aug12-537.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The first thing that struck me on the island was how <i>green </i>everything was. Like, vibrant green. So lush and beautiful. And wet! "How amusing," I thought, "Little droplets of water just hang in the air!" Little did I know, I would never be dry again.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitn-VfMc_U_vb_KJuMqNO3qZASQ_4ylEx5uZng3T7ncpF94NOV4YZaKqctZ3JeN3Pwl-RiAln3R_7VRAv1Q-o-gx07vM1o-n3a48E8eeW-nIT2n6JfKsK5nL_4uMHOGzHiPEQnlwayqZY/s1600/Aug12-510.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitn-VfMc_U_vb_KJuMqNO3qZASQ_4ylEx5uZng3T7ncpF94NOV4YZaKqctZ3JeN3Pwl-RiAln3R_7VRAv1Q-o-gx07vM1o-n3a48E8eeW-nIT2n6JfKsK5nL_4uMHOGzHiPEQnlwayqZY/s640/Aug12-510.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Even the spider webs were wet. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjmwRSiSPGG9E5H9p-AckFEXBnWawk3oPiWzShHeI8kr1z04MgJcAxZ5elJb1Qd_mYxmB2nB6FNJGSHLf8O521iMN1ShUrHkFlv5MNQk8lOvcRMbNcSZfh8ReqtxstYnEAd102FAirbc/s1600/Aug12-509.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPjmwRSiSPGG9E5H9p-AckFEXBnWawk3oPiWzShHeI8kr1z04MgJcAxZ5elJb1Qd_mYxmB2nB6FNJGSHLf8O521iMN1ShUrHkFlv5MNQk8lOvcRMbNcSZfh8ReqtxstYnEAd102FAirbc/s640/Aug12-509.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Our plan, which was carefully routed on Google Earth, was to fly into Aiken Lake (check!) and then hike a few thousand feet up to camp at a certain spot where the deer would likely be abounding.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWLNZvpxHbCICRYOCEfPA7fg6Nw7y1fMrtrBw9RBlDbV3DBKm-QSZa-rwT7ULuxXhFNVUR6OYpD0F4N1GsD0qpNZ2BRNx1X22-TRSkZduaHi-QShTcbOTN6HJGJAJKCQPGoh246-c6XA/s1600/Aug12-539.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNWLNZvpxHbCICRYOCEfPA7fg6Nw7y1fMrtrBw9RBlDbV3DBKm-QSZa-rwT7ULuxXhFNVUR6OYpD0F4N1GsD0qpNZ2BRNx1X22-TRSkZduaHi-QShTcbOTN6HJGJAJKCQPGoh246-c6XA/s640/Aug12-539.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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What we didn't know is that it is really hard to hike on steep, wet, mossy rocks and through thick, thick brush while trying to balance our backpacks, the two bows, rifle, tripod and everything else under the sun. We went as far as we could through the jungle, and as soon as we found a clearing we set up camp. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPw7sCoI32pvwV_AMg1q_tUtVJufi-6YjwymtbI7sHs1t3uWVm_NYJ-PefS3NFkpci_TiQmztoKJyV0nbdjYQE_bq_d5OGQi_FfEMxYI7tx46IFOJAm6tPiZ0IkJB8KxU3WLthdr3ejVc/s1600/Aug12-513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPw7sCoI32pvwV_AMg1q_tUtVJufi-6YjwymtbI7sHs1t3uWVm_NYJ-PefS3NFkpci_TiQmztoKJyV0nbdjYQE_bq_d5OGQi_FfEMxYI7tx46IFOJAm6tPiZ0IkJB8KxU3WLthdr3ejVc/s640/Aug12-513.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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The tent looks deceivingly large in this picture. It was actually about as high as my knee. Note to self for next time: a one man tent does not equal a one man and one woman tent. It was just big enough for the two of us to lie side by side, but not big enough to sit up fully. Gets to be awful crampy after a few days o' rain, my friend!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eI6l5nfCVn4NFCyYkvnRhuUhuNAbt07jaqG3r8mwf4ZfCQSIGhN3940t2OfwvYyeUT7yo9vSgbOmc77HhCTtHaCIFqTHJ8FQl_oKddebqo8URg1Dax23CrQYHvuqmaDCPFZUchgukx4/s1600/Aug12-541.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3eI6l5nfCVn4NFCyYkvnRhuUhuNAbt07jaqG3r8mwf4ZfCQSIGhN3940t2OfwvYyeUT7yo9vSgbOmc77HhCTtHaCIFqTHJ8FQl_oKddebqo8URg1Dax23CrQYHvuqmaDCPFZUchgukx4/s640/Aug12-541.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We decided to begin hunting right away. Jason had two tags for himself and one for me (not that I would have shot anything), so he wanted to hurry and get a deer to check off his list, and then hunt for a really good one. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhGMwOVkB9q_NjxGYlv4pXp5aNDgpR1BzHWEIkmFSH01i7PZBTTVmLNgJROkMlquITfj0RRu9gNQuQXiaFjv3zqtDsYvJLxaeUHe5eNz4kjxAXt785Dsn_7CyEC8LxIw-uRyN3twmcHY/s1600/Aug12-514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhGMwOVkB9q_NjxGYlv4pXp5aNDgpR1BzHWEIkmFSH01i7PZBTTVmLNgJROkMlquITfj0RRu9gNQuQXiaFjv3zqtDsYvJLxaeUHe5eNz4kjxAXt785Dsn_7CyEC8LxIw-uRyN3twmcHY/s640/Aug12-514.JPG" width="425" /></a></div>
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Hiking was amazing. It was easier not having ALL our gear, but still pretty slippy. I fell a few times and had some impressive bruises.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWySwrAfaaz2QvzHFmf3wfsv__Z-Ki1FZcjNlVCM0OlmAWtJOqGiROBuXm0ECqJSJh85gMTKiaXLW75UT1xP8nALDO-EehKGx5DMEGBq8YFdC-R0dGeofXG83lMswJIfoxClTCxxCwt8c/s1600/Aug12-515.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWySwrAfaaz2QvzHFmf3wfsv__Z-Ki1FZcjNlVCM0OlmAWtJOqGiROBuXm0ECqJSJh85gMTKiaXLW75UT1xP8nALDO-EehKGx5DMEGBq8YFdC-R0dGeofXG83lMswJIfoxClTCxxCwt8c/s640/Aug12-515.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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There were streams and crystal-clear lakes everywhere. Water! And hidden bears. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-xCTzCj4J462Jgg3LoQSbyiMzqfO4kY_xybjGtinUWtEc8HdZgmn4tXob6YofQBvAUdSUylOdzOPuImikBiux5uv4CK5dSWObLCOXr1GYinFI9wT3KueDE-F9qsSBgA0Qu1d6FYaS-Y/s1600/Aug12-540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4-xCTzCj4J462Jgg3LoQSbyiMzqfO4kY_xybjGtinUWtEc8HdZgmn4tXob6YofQBvAUdSUylOdzOPuImikBiux5uv4CK5dSWObLCOXr1GYinFI9wT3KueDE-F9qsSBgA0Qu1d6FYaS-Y/s640/Aug12-540.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I mean, if there are not five families of bears living under that tree, I'll give you a thousand dollars. I would get especially nervous when we would pass these strange and abundant caves because Jason was usually several yards ahead of me and I knew that </span><i style="text-align: left;">I</i><span style="text-align: left;"> would be lunch for the bears because I was bringing up the rear. Pretty sure Jason was banking on that, even though he didn't know my secret plan of feeding </span><i style="text-align: left;">him</i><span style="text-align: left;"> to the bears because he's bigger. I'm SO glad we were never in that situation, because how awkward would our marriage have been after that, both of us trying to shove the other toward the family of bears, then we somehow survive, and still have to spend the rest of our lives together. </span><i style="text-align: left;">Awk</i><span style="text-align: left;">-ward!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-eoGWbn8zJn_TUHA_MxB2PZGT1hDJA6aJoQsvjDx1odQ5C0TjXvDo1WVoYjy8lUCaZUmPEfQiaN_gv7-XmRIHfsx52scFSW83gcs_u8EmcPBsxcc41WXSp2ePQ4UOCc6ZMeEDewZhPA/s1600/Aug12-516.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv-eoGWbn8zJn_TUHA_MxB2PZGT1hDJA6aJoQsvjDx1odQ5C0TjXvDo1WVoYjy8lUCaZUmPEfQiaN_gv7-XmRIHfsx52scFSW83gcs_u8EmcPBsxcc41WXSp2ePQ4UOCc6ZMeEDewZhPA/s640/Aug12-516.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jason tried pretend like he didn't want me to get too far behind, but then I would look up and, oh great, he's clear up on top of that mountain! Now I have to scale the slimy thing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3wFGSTrlAkAS8xhprV8Lf8rNaO0FPohwoDJ7Py9SYp6rjJ_t0r18Jc6NTaKVMDTuspHR1Gke4jPsYULNdUgZy1Utqc8DoaPkURZjg9RMjJ55dPaf2uwcAOhRwXMYPsxvMm65Sd4w-cA/s1600/Aug12-517.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="422" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho3wFGSTrlAkAS8xhprV8Lf8rNaO0FPohwoDJ7Py9SYp6rjJ_t0r18Jc6NTaKVMDTuspHR1Gke4jPsYULNdUgZy1Utqc8DoaPkURZjg9RMjJ55dPaf2uwcAOhRwXMYPsxvMm65Sd4w-cA/s640/Aug12-517.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">Right up around here somewhere we saw our first real herd of deer. Jason took a shot while I tried to video, but I wasn't sure if I was on the right deer, so he didn't shoot right when he wanted to, and once he shot and all the deer ran away we found the arrow sticking in the ground with no blood. He was sure he had hit the deer he was aiming at, so that was disappointing. We hiked in the direction the deer went, but with little hope of finding them again.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DXwf3Yy44CCVgPeGAVtj8HOLJI92rpRxEIRNWp9XSVbwx5LHrCt5l_dQA_esbXeWu2IBWYrf1KPYihh4N401XoCOQxitk0s3i7hy1iZEJuEX5_L3hPBBTBhO6XwWREoliKSy9nGMdnY/s1600/waterfliter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3DXwf3Yy44CCVgPeGAVtj8HOLJI92rpRxEIRNWp9XSVbwx5LHrCt5l_dQA_esbXeWu2IBWYrf1KPYihh4N401XoCOQxitk0s3i7hy1iZEJuEX5_L3hPBBTBhO6XwWREoliKSy9nGMdnY/s640/waterfliter.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jason took a break to fill the water bladder. Can I just tell you how much I hate the word bladder, especially in reference to drinking water? Please, let us not refer to bladders when we are talking about water we will soon drink! It's so... unappetizing. We had a filter and everything, but still. I don't know if I'm made for the outdoors. </div>
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I was waiting patiently for Jason to fill the, ahem, bladder, when I looked down by my feet and saw.... blood! I was standing right by a big blood trail. My able husband had hit his deer after all. I will spare you the pictures, my sensitive viewers. I'll save the gore for the pictures of the actual dead animal. So brace yourself. Here's a scenic picture to help you get ready:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvUm4b9_ouJpVHFzlE42c49OQRDBtA0ujIY5L108xuIDaJTKijEagUpswWwn-6cujDEOYGEjJnfXf0eWVevUKwH6E-aQ9SY6Xf1Tn8-C-nH3g67YOG51hAmPY7Nh3aIAvRVmM7dx2E3M/s1600/Aug12-518.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNvUm4b9_ouJpVHFzlE42c49OQRDBtA0ujIY5L108xuIDaJTKijEagUpswWwn-6cujDEOYGEjJnfXf0eWVevUKwH6E-aQ9SY6Xf1Tn8-C-nH3g67YOG51hAmPY7Nh3aIAvRVmM7dx2E3M/s640/Aug12-518.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Now here's one of me having a really good attitude. I vowed I would not complain on this trip, and I didn't! I was, however, silent once in a while.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamu-GHYYehaU67-8syuoqDw0jLMuAXFCLR4nOXnNhrE-9OtfJNU9Kk21VjR_IntMpfQkoyi8fCGdUDpZ1389tDoLKVVrWG7AfQq5A4jY40RvRpZVqq9OPsEzv_R7aLF4UTkVUXbBX0uM/s1600/Aug12-519.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgamu-GHYYehaU67-8syuoqDw0jLMuAXFCLR4nOXnNhrE-9OtfJNU9Kk21VjR_IntMpfQkoyi8fCGdUDpZ1389tDoLKVVrWG7AfQq5A4jY40RvRpZVqq9OPsEzv_R7aLF4UTkVUXbBX0uM/s640/Aug12-519.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Now back to the chase. We followed the blood trail that <i>I</i> spotted and it led us to a quiet, lonely creature with a large wound. He was lying there, breathing his last. He was so cute, with great big eye lashes. I just wanted to take him home. And then I realized, oh yeah, I am taking him home. In my backpack. And then he didn't seem quite so appealing.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhky9k9By3TDxfzndpkaRH2AARz_2tOsBcui6oRKSmVHe_y3FiPFoTFOWiCirOOWaa1cMwT3Vh5dl5w1Mxbjlkc19Gi8kcsLs4ZZSLr8DtQI5VGGqgNxUV8T-NxArtNOwJl7R-4bBNiros/s1600/Sitka+Blacktail+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhky9k9By3TDxfzndpkaRH2AARz_2tOsBcui6oRKSmVHe_y3FiPFoTFOWiCirOOWaa1cMwT3Vh5dl5w1Mxbjlkc19Gi8kcsLs4ZZSLr8DtQI5VGGqgNxUV8T-NxArtNOwJl7R-4bBNiros/s640/Sitka+Blacktail+2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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Well, well, well, what do we have here? The mighty hunter with his Sitka Blacktail Deer. Now, if you are used to mule deer, this one must seem quite small. However, this particular brand of deer is very small, so this one is actually on the large side. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzMinapXYDG3kq9fHu7kJ6R5jQStotg_rbtP8pctNHOtvfOf_9YoOev8NJe3DDbH4-jgVb6KBo2wXA4UX2LY-Kw6n1VvPZmXZ0mYZ5yTv4HQQHZqmRB2iGNWiPEQbwGaAWqo_r-KNwKdU/s1600/Sitka+Blacktail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzMinapXYDG3kq9fHu7kJ6R5jQStotg_rbtP8pctNHOtvfOf_9YoOev8NJe3DDbH4-jgVb6KBo2wXA4UX2LY-Kw6n1VvPZmXZ0mYZ5yTv4HQQHZqmRB2iGNWiPEQbwGaAWqo_r-KNwKdU/s640/Sitka+Blacktail.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
I'm having two thoughts here: #1 - "Please don't let me fall off the edge of the earth," and #2 - "How long until I can wash my hands with soap?"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvvJ05zVAHkVXgYCU3Si65-RovU3dPn91OYhbIimUSKy2Q-d2Q_Cw7UW1zXMmQqnAU8Eh4crOEVfQzP-ro1PyJb4k9jWblXrRFjLpC0-pTCKxgMiGMLJuvlS-2V6BdjBdVS1JnAbgRgA/s1600/Aug12-521.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQvvJ05zVAHkVXgYCU3Si65-RovU3dPn91OYhbIimUSKy2Q-d2Q_Cw7UW1zXMmQqnAU8Eh4crOEVfQzP-ro1PyJb4k9jWblXrRFjLpC0-pTCKxgMiGMLJuvlS-2V6BdjBdVS1JnAbgRgA/s640/Aug12-521.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Jason doesn't really care about washing his hands with soap, which is fortunate, because he has the fun job of... dismantling the critter. Soon the job was done, our backpacks were full ("Deep breath, deep breath, it's only meat!") and we headed back down to camp.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1y7dOtvkKVUgwYS5EKKPGkzar83jISO24O929Kg8L5UW_Oj2K7ya8weFVQpL8ZTv3GbANdMGhoZz-xGuS6ohQOe3KaoTsiz-dWqtgte4tmU2Q_49S8QV7BduOszXEoVKhhMzw8i4_kSo/s1600/Aug12-523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1y7dOtvkKVUgwYS5EKKPGkzar83jISO24O929Kg8L5UW_Oj2K7ya8weFVQpL8ZTv3GbANdMGhoZz-xGuS6ohQOe3KaoTsiz-dWqtgte4tmU2Q_49S8QV7BduOszXEoVKhhMzw8i4_kSo/s640/Aug12-523.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Ah, camp. We got there right before dark. A slight drizzle was starting. The slight drizzle became more of a regular drizzle, and then a large drizzle, which continued for, oh, two days or so. <i>Without stopping!! </i>We had no idea how lucky we were to be able to hike and hunt on that first day, because we never again had the opportunity. The rain and fog settled in and didn't leave. Ever again.</div>
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We spent most of the remainder of the time in the tent. It wasn't so bad. I had my kindle and a large bag of candy. I read five books and I was pretty much living my dreams, as long as I could keep circulation going in all of my limbs. Trying to drown my bear worries in chocolate actually worked pretty well. Jason acted tough, but I could tell he was a little nervous, too, because every so often he would say, "I'm going to shoot the rifle out the door, just in case there are any bears around." And then he would wake me in the night and say, "I'm just going to shout for bears for a minute. They don't like that." Then he'd start yelling at the top of his lungs in a really mean voice, "Get away bears! Get out of here! Shoo!" and I would think, "Oh man, we are doomed." But either it worked, or the bears really were down fishing for salmon at the lower elevations like they were supposed to be at this time of year. Occasionally we had to leave the tent to get water, and we tried to go hiking a few times, but it was just too wet.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsn2_MHLqumWQeDxn3PbAyvq6cJYMEZxMFBTGEfujO3JFOwfqZCFliF5QC5OjoWlrSCCH1WTT2c4tOwXV2Gp3MTck4_vEUXt8NvvHqXXQ6qAI39y558YiuZ-mf_V-JnGo9i_ppHluhnY/s1600/Aug12-524.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSsn2_MHLqumWQeDxn3PbAyvq6cJYMEZxMFBTGEfujO3JFOwfqZCFliF5QC5OjoWlrSCCH1WTT2c4tOwXV2Gp3MTck4_vEUXt8NvvHqXXQ6qAI39y558YiuZ-mf_V-JnGo9i_ppHluhnY/s640/Aug12-524.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Nice bladder!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRKhH7Bcvzshkbn0_AqoxUJdS6h5OX8kmCLXVpBtvI3mCCv3ByqNsI04hiV7J_UcMOpEn6nUAiT7ObSzhw6d23GB7egeZ1-9w6h0I48nUkr6sDgPjnCnUyp8Eb9bJJy9-PlWDRzCH0RQ/s1600/Aug12-526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRKhH7Bcvzshkbn0_AqoxUJdS6h5OX8kmCLXVpBtvI3mCCv3ByqNsI04hiV7J_UcMOpEn6nUAiT7ObSzhw6d23GB7egeZ1-9w6h0I48nUkr6sDgPjnCnUyp8Eb9bJJy9-PlWDRzCH0RQ/s640/Aug12-526.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We were supposed to leave the island on Sunday. Let's see, if you do the math, we shot the deer on Wednesday, that's an awful lot of time to spend in a tiny wet tent! So we called on the satellite phone to see if the pilot could come get us a day early. He said he would try.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UnKPdP2FxbK6qEjATU6iZS95aAQkb72eYxZnRbmnDxMxZZdYeMKt0W_9FhQ29aI1zWtDk1fgs_XNbmtEuhSXqB3Llqp3ZW6qpBcS1-Rv5VYUd1k_UTZPXzrbrbz_HBlqdTexZS_YHpw/s1600/Aug12-527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0UnKPdP2FxbK6qEjATU6iZS95aAQkb72eYxZnRbmnDxMxZZdYeMKt0W_9FhQ29aI1zWtDk1fgs_XNbmtEuhSXqB3Llqp3ZW6qpBcS1-Rv5VYUd1k_UTZPXzrbrbz_HBlqdTexZS_YHpw/s640/Aug12-527.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Saturday morning we packed up all our sopping wet things and slid down to the lake to wait for our rescue. The sky wasn't looking so hot.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFcNHkWH4R5sNDnH0p9vlXycZEmNhK_D8XX1lZXkQenGohoPlUtqWi4mohXPEcmOnQ4aIP7bgIZz-VG28Cvs9eKTKmCaLqOAR8lz44fTOzVq0VmbxiszYMG9E6p9fHNRUvkLysabWGuo/s1600/Aug12-528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyFcNHkWH4R5sNDnH0p9vlXycZEmNhK_D8XX1lZXkQenGohoPlUtqWi4mohXPEcmOnQ4aIP7bgIZz-VG28Cvs9eKTKmCaLqOAR8lz44fTOzVq0VmbxiszYMG9E6p9fHNRUvkLysabWGuo/s640/Aug12-528.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Jason tried to fish for a while, but there were no fish to be caught. At 9:30 am, we heard a plane approaching. We heard it fly around for a long time. And then we heard it leave. I was sure we were destined to stay on this island forever. It really felt like we were on <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0411008/" target="_blank">LOST</a>, but with no fruit to sustain us. Just meat. And we all know how I hate to meet my meat. We waited and waited and finally at about 3 pm we heard... a plane! The sky didn't seem any clearer, but suddenly, there was Dave! Bursting through the clouds and headed straight for us! </div>
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He's probably never received such a warm welcome in his life. Then again, he's a bush pilot in Alaska... he probably has.</div>
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Flying away! Flying away!</div>
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Do I look happy? Because I am.</div>
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It was a pretty clear day once we got past Aiken Lake. I know why they call it that. Because if you aren't achin' when you get there, you will be by the time you leave.</div>
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Alaska is just breath taking. Most of the time I couldn't believe what I was seeing. And the nature! It just goes on and on and on. You can't get away from it!</div>
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It looks especially great from a plane after four days on a blessed little island. Don't get me wrong. Jason and I had a great time. The weather took us by surprise, for sure, but we had a lot of laughs and I'm so glad I got to experience all the craziness with him. I told Jason in the beginning that I just wanted to read and sleep on this trip, and man, did that ever come true! But we were also blessed with the hike of a lifetime, and a hunt we will never forget.</div>
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I'm just glad we finally got to leave, because a few too many days in the rain tends to make a person... slightly crazy. Take my word for it.</div>
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<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-90142459264911365682012-07-24T15:29:00.000-06:002012-07-25T08:47:20.864-06:00The night we were converted to bicycle helmets<div style="text-align: center;">
Last Saturday night I got the bright idea to go for a family bike ride.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwujSRFlpBs9e1LfUhoFj0pUpkHtTDvyd3ytWJfeZEkoSkSGxpwOoUX1tjmtLUhtJif5UBgA8DzlnEi2T9N0Q28SW14I2ivYEcDNL1c4Abdc3jV8EF_s_bDJwyPmNob5OBz7LpFdvhWU/s1600/july12-480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUwujSRFlpBs9e1LfUhoFj0pUpkHtTDvyd3ytWJfeZEkoSkSGxpwOoUX1tjmtLUhtJif5UBgA8DzlnEi2T9N0Q28SW14I2ivYEcDNL1c4Abdc3jV8EF_s_bDJwyPmNob5OBz7LpFdvhWU/s400/july12-480.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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Originally, the plan was to stay home and watch <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0374900/" target="_blank">Napolean Dynamite</a>. I was in the mood to watch it because my neighbors have this sweet bike ramp outside their house and I kept watching the neighborhood kids go over it and it reminded me that I haven't seen Napolean in... way too long. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTInut8_vmBd47O7phuPuOjp81-fBBaZkBBCtwxoYVkq97ZZtqZQsX_wX6idi_n23RQQL0auZhhz8-4IoKSiasCtjxh81Q0Mi-KiPRdoEGKrHaIQtfqT7S950IHtAvOOrtMEzbc5Ilsr0/s1600/july12-489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTInut8_vmBd47O7phuPuOjp81-fBBaZkBBCtwxoYVkq97ZZtqZQsX_wX6idi_n23RQQL0auZhhz8-4IoKSiasCtjxh81Q0Mi-KiPRdoEGKrHaIQtfqT7S950IHtAvOOrtMEzbc5Ilsr0/s400/july12-489.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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My good friend Jenna let me borrow the movie, and we were <i>so close</i> to just settling in and kicking back and watching it as a family. But then Jason was sighting in his bow in the garage, and the kids started riding their bikes around, and I thought, it's such a nice evening. Let's just go for a little bike ride first. I grabbed my new, life-changing iPhone and began to document the journey.</div>
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Here's Jason giving you a little taste of his bike skillz. Don't feel bad, he's had lots of training. You could probably do this too someday if you set your mind to it and practiced for hours a day.</div>
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We set off on our journey.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUTUYTS6h8ZsbtlWgzu3gx3VmsvwDc0ac9Qd6WlM-y0qsye_5HcCXnBG5v0dGaL7Zz1Q_suZUUaMjta22WRtsOk3veZTcb_yDms3eJpfc-cYFjPwiUAE6ESptKoPuQIATv3HLtSiMHcc/s1600/july12-481.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeUTUYTS6h8ZsbtlWgzu3gx3VmsvwDc0ac9Qd6WlM-y0qsye_5HcCXnBG5v0dGaL7Zz1Q_suZUUaMjta22WRtsOk3veZTcb_yDms3eJpfc-cYFjPwiUAE6ESptKoPuQIATv3HLtSiMHcc/s400/july12-481.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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My heart about stopped when I looked at these pictures later. This is Luke, right where he was destined to take a nasty spill on our way home later in the evening.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfraC7kJePgiQnENpHK1jrcvnb-mc8P3uPIbnXkrXA6Bl6MxruooOBRMzbsx6EJLbamRl7xnd7v8EdpNfqT7vbDh2XqPnW9xY9Cs1iwFTJz7DAICvN0pp0TXL6fXFHfcmKs4bwordg70/s1600/july12-479.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfraC7kJePgiQnENpHK1jrcvnb-mc8P3uPIbnXkrXA6Bl6MxruooOBRMzbsx6EJLbamRl7xnd7v8EdpNfqT7vbDh2XqPnW9xY9Cs1iwFTJz7DAICvN0pp0TXL6fXFHfcmKs4bwordg70/s400/july12-479.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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We have this certain road we like to take. It's freshly paved, quiet (usually), and we almost always see lots of critters. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbkGnb_xoQ6xch5p0JfYtmKDoNAwdar2nrVwyrvIdzUQ3AtHlMGxHHrnL0WdpsPGpH2hkdcruQFSiz4XUMFS1chpBA9ZBEM089wgAwdo6ODdNBTbtZu_qAod76Oc94VTMFT2T4EG1cWHo/s1600/july12-482.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbkGnb_xoQ6xch5p0JfYtmKDoNAwdar2nrVwyrvIdzUQ3AtHlMGxHHrnL0WdpsPGpH2hkdcruQFSiz4XUMFS1chpBA9ZBEM089wgAwdo6ODdNBTbtZu_qAod76Oc94VTMFT2T4EG1cWHo/s400/july12-482.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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These little critters weren't too impressed that I kept making them turn around for pictures, but it's not my fault I had to try out my new iPhone. Gosh!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1rwyR_8oXFVP-qCPh0mMc1ZP06QxS-VREENSJunlnBxfIxDI6woxZ7zatLDL7vkAZAk4Ncu5Wy2VRypHdswRTPjAdW0d3XaG8Tgwu07BlVSzcYgkYY9XF5tvg2avH36D-qpzQsNGifg0/s1600/july12-483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1rwyR_8oXFVP-qCPh0mMc1ZP06QxS-VREENSJunlnBxfIxDI6woxZ7zatLDL7vkAZAk4Ncu5Wy2VRypHdswRTPjAdW0d3XaG8Tgwu07BlVSzcYgkYY9XF5tvg2avH36D-qpzQsNGifg0/s400/july12-483.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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At one point we saw a chicken running around in the bushes. Luke got off his bike to chase it with a stick. Jason was fed up by this point and bailed.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4aQzYaUGAwc6igv_EmWD8KlZ7RqWa3oCKjVCEIlpnU_btDYfCnWvdtcIi3us7GiEWPM_ky1qFVQhCDgSfLABDtKdEBNFI_xN2RTuZTVVxrIed7WHaJnimJagF9LPEvXI8i-pcLFY8MA/s1600/july12-484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4aQzYaUGAwc6igv_EmWD8KlZ7RqWa3oCKjVCEIlpnU_btDYfCnWvdtcIi3us7GiEWPM_ky1qFVQhCDgSfLABDtKdEBNFI_xN2RTuZTVVxrIed7WHaJnimJagF9LPEvXI8i-pcLFY8MA/s400/july12-484.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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No chickens were injured in the making of this post.</div>
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Unfortunately, one little Luke was. We were about a quarter of a mile from home and Luke was riding in front of me. Abby started squawking in the bike trailer and I turned around to see Jake trying to escape from his straps. He was all twisted around and I was worried that the straps were around his neck. I yelled, of course being overly-dramatic, and quickly stopped my bike. Luke looked over his shoulder to see what all the commotion was. </div>
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He lost his balance, over-corrected, and went off the road. His bike tipped over and threw him right into this beautiful barbed wire fence.</div>
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I was fixing Jake at the time, but I was aware that Luke had crashed and I ran up there as fast as I could. Luke had jumped up and was walking toward me, bent over. I could see blood dripping from his face. A lot of blood. I lifted his chin to see if it was his nose and I about passed out. His cheek was ripped wide open right under his left eye, in addition to a large cut under his nose. It was one of the worst things I have ever seen.</div>
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What could I do? I had two barefoot kids in the bike trailer, I was too far away from home to carry Luke there, and even if I did, what would I do with Abby and Jake? I pressed Luke's shirt against his face and sent Dallin home at top speed to get Jason. </div>
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Those were some bad moments. I was trying to keep Luke's cheek closed and keep him calm at the same time. He wasn't in much pain, surprisingly, but he was scared. "Am I going to die, am I going to die?" "No, no, you're just fine. It's going to be fine."</div>
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When Jason arrived, he about freaked. <span style="text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Dallin had just told him that Luke scraped his face, so he was NOT prepared for the sight that greeted him.</span></span> Somehow we piled all the kids in the truck and drove home to switch into the van. </div>
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I just couldn't believe that our Napolean Dynamite night was turning into this. Why, why, why did I insist on a bike ride?</div>
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Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. We couldn't get anywhere fast enough. We didn't know where to go, first of all. An instacare? After-hours clinic? The ER? I had heard so many bad stories about the ER, I thought that should be our last resort. After driving to a closed instacare and frantically trying to figure out what to do, we drove to the hospital.</div>
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Of course there was construction. Of course every road we turned down was closed. It was horrible.</div>
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Finally, we arrived and Jason dropped me off at the door and I carried Luke in. Luke was clutching a damp white dish towel that was soaked in blood and we looked like we had been attacked. My worries about having to sit in the waiting room were put to rest as soon as we entered. The receptionist and nurses rushed over and helped us immediately.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is the part that is so touching to me. I expect that my friends and family members will be kind and show lots of compassion. They always do, and I am so grateful for it. I didn't expect it at the ER. To receive that kind of treatment from total strangers who see this kind of thing all the time is so humbling. Every single person we dealt with - the office people, the nurses, techs, doctors - were beyond kind and were so gentle with Luke. He had to go through a lot to finally get all stitched up, and it was so much more bearable to be working with people like that. For example, Luke was so proud of the hospital bracelet with his name on it, and when we were carrying him out to the car, one of the nurses (male, no less) came running out and said, "Wait, you can't leave yet!" We turned around, expecting to have to fill out more paperwork. "He dropped this!" and handed us the bracelet (Luke was fast asleep). So nice! It was the first thing Luke asked for when he woke up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">They gave Luke some kind of sedative through a nasal spray. Luke <span style="font-style: italic;">hated </span>it, but I'm pretty sure he would have been hating it a lot worse without it. It made him groggy and he fell asleep several times. He doesn't remember waking up several times and having to have us hold down his arms and legs and head, and then spray more junk up his nose. THANK HEAVENS.</span></div>
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<span id="yui_3_2_0_1_1343144595522900"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He ended up with 28 external stitches that will need to be removed on Friday, and a whole bunch of internal ones that will dissolve, mostly in the gash in his cheek. I can't even describe how deep that gash was. The most gory picture doesn't do it justice. But I have been impressed again and again that he was protected from worse injury. He could have lost his eye so easily. The cut under his nose was deep and could have taken the whole nose with it. I know that's graphic, but I just can't help but be so incredibly grateful that he was spared from more permanent damage. The cut in his cheek </span></span><span style="background-color: white;">is in the soft tissue on his face and </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">didn't reach the muscle. The doctor was so precise stitching him up and I know he did a great job. Luke might still have scars, but when I see them I will be forever reminded of how blessed I am and how each moment I have with my loved ones is a true gift.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was hard to see Luke lying there having to go through all that. I would have traded places with him in a second. But he did so well and was the bravest little boy ever. I am so proud of him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We have had an outpouring of love from everyone. It has been amazing. My in-laws picked up the other three kids at the hospital and took them home so we didn't have to worry about them. My sweet friend offered to play the piano for me in church so I could stay home with Luke. My sister-in-law made him yummy rice crispy treats. Lots of Luke's friends have showed up with treats and cards. One little boy even used his own money to buy Luke a pack of Pokemon cards. Thank you to each one of you for your prayers and concern. It really means so much. Sometimes when something major happens to someone else, I think, oh I shouldn't even bother to contact them, they are probably so overwhelmed with everyone else in the world reaching out to them. But seriously, every single person's efforts are so appreciated. I will try harder in the future to be more compassionate when others are going through hard things.</span></div>
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Putting Luke to bed that night was scary. The sedatives were still in effect and we couldn't wake him up, so we just had to hope that he was all right. Imagine my relief when I woke up Sunday morning to a happy little boy standing by my bed saying, "Mama, I'm okay!" He is doing so well and I can't shake the thought that even though it is unfortunate that he has had to go through this (and try to shake the thought that it was my fault), it could have been so much worse and he was very blessed and protected.<br />
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<b>A few thoughts about helmets</b></div>
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I've never thought much about putting bike helmets on my kids. They have them, but I never wore one growing up and my kids aren't reckless, so I have never bothered with them. But that was the first question the doctor asked us, and I was very ashamed to have to answer no.<br />
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I'm not sure if anything would have been different if Luke had been wearing a helmet. It's very likely that things would have been exactly the same. A helmet probably wouldn't have protected his face from the barbed wire. I don't know. But I think about how quickly that happened, and how unexpected that moment was, and I was <i>right there</i>. What if in the future it is a head to the concrete, or getting hit by a car, and I could have prevented at least some of the injury? One instant is all it takes. I will definitely be more careful in the future.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-88945403686731138022012-07-23T22:05:00.000-06:002012-07-23T22:05:34.238-06:00Quick Trip to Burley<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Last week my cute, fun little sister Kristen and her husband Nick made the journey to Idaho from their home in Wichita, so I packed up the kids and spent an amazing 28 hours in Burley. I know some people have attitudes about *Idaho* ("Ohhhh, you're from <i>Idaho</i>...") and to those people I want to say, yes, it is a terrible place, never go there. <i>We don't want you!! </i>As for me, I can't even look at these pictures without feeling a profound homesickness for my home state. I miss the open fields, the sprinklers clacking away in the distance, the crickets chirping in the night, the soft, luscious grass, and most of all, my family. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8iu_CamiEfBWkPN1vqpy4W1VqIdehAe2rAVSj6TdL3Eq5E7nhm_hpqLs4dea116AzlW__kHRhITofN7IwBMKYbrJlXCly9AWhtna6ZAgfXUc3Zh_6F9w_Lif_WZ9i_R37JttPk-6n2Fg/s1600/IMG_5497-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8iu_CamiEfBWkPN1vqpy4W1VqIdehAe2rAVSj6TdL3Eq5E7nhm_hpqLs4dea116AzlW__kHRhITofN7IwBMKYbrJlXCly9AWhtna6ZAgfXUc3Zh_6F9w_Lif_WZ9i_R37JttPk-6n2Fg/s640/IMG_5497-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">All ten of the little cousins made the trip to see Kristen and were treated to endless 4-wheeler rides by my Dad. My parents' lawn is so huge. I thought it was a curse when I was a kid because we had to mow the thing and then rake it! The whole thing! It took hours. But it taught me to work and turned me into the person I am today. So I guess I have that giant lawn to thank for many good things in my life, including fun times for my kids.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My mom has always had holly hocks. They just seem like home to me. Aaron, you can enter this picture into the fair if you want. Ha ha.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The action really gets going when Grandma gets on the golf cart and whips everyone around. I love how Dallin is dragging behind the sled, Katelyn is surfing, Taylor is running toward the action and Abby and Luke are just along for the ride on the 4-wheeler.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Here's Kristen and her cute little friends, Tank and Lucy. What is more perfect than this picture (minus the sniffing)? The green grass, the yellow wheat that matches the dogs, sprinklers in the distance, the church I grew up with, and my long-lost sister gracing the scene in her pink shirt. Love and miss.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The homestead in all its glory. Those were my windows that you see on the top.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Abby loved peeking out of the playhouse.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dallin of course brought his toy bow and spent a lot of time shooting straight up in the air at birds. I was surprised that he could actually hit them most of the time. Don't worry, the end of the arrow is a pencil eraser (but I'm sure the birds still got a good little shock when they got thwacked). I love how Dallin is looking up in the sky for an arrow to fall, Luke is hanging on the tree, and Katelyn is just basking in the grass. Nothing is really in focus except the tree leaves, but I think it kind of makes it look like heaven.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I know I often preach about Burley sunsets, but seriously people, can you beat this? Look at these two free birds out on the range. Kids were meant to stand on long green grass and gaze up into the sky on a summer's evening. That's just how it is.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is a scene of much action and I LOVE it! Dallin stepped on a bee, so Nick, who is a doctor, is removing the stinger. Katelyn is looking gorgeous, Kristen is making her classic face, Halli is peeking around the corner at her mom walking in holding Austin's hand, and Jake is chillin' with his hand down the back of his diaper. Wassup?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Of course we had to "fill the bump" as we call it. The huge grassy hill in my parents' yard has a hole on one side and my dad has it rigged up to fill with irrigation water with a big pipe (providing the sprinklers in the field are on). Luke and Katelyn are riding a kayak down the giant vinyl billboard sign that we use as a slip and slide and Dallin is lugging his kayak to the top. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoXnI7uK2G5Hw-Okd-iSRbN3xHqaTQEqSfbalE_N79XTARMdjRzYdVHpSv4-YhaF1WFZn8IGBTVqjDyVPHzWZ8Xa5ZToroXo6hG5Id2be44taK83c17uLQQGf69mhq9y3MUSxtGlw3XQ/s1600/IMG_5623-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghoXnI7uK2G5Hw-Okd-iSRbN3xHqaTQEqSfbalE_N79XTARMdjRzYdVHpSv4-YhaF1WFZn8IGBTVqjDyVPHzWZ8Xa5ZToroXo6hG5Id2be44taK83c17uLQQGf69mhq9y3MUSxtGlw3XQ/s640/IMG_5623-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Oh, good times, good times.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwE5pHYU5hOQZIbHxHIAPqjiX1fbyHrPruyBxAnYLMo1pF-aZrvdp4p3mQMJOyXgyVmfF5qK-gYZbdJqAM68yon-5X2-yqWLEIZY_tkV2tSPCLiKTCqIQhgNy7SBD-xPi0RMwYqJV8fQY/s1600/IMG_5651-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwE5pHYU5hOQZIbHxHIAPqjiX1fbyHrPruyBxAnYLMo1pF-aZrvdp4p3mQMJOyXgyVmfF5qK-gYZbdJqAM68yon-5X2-yqWLEIZY_tkV2tSPCLiKTCqIQhgNy7SBD-xPi0RMwYqJV8fQY/s640/IMG_5651-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luke just had to go for a little dip all by himself when the action has ceased. This picture is bittersweet to me because Luke took a bad spill on his bike later in the week into a barbed wire fence and had to have his face stitched up in a few places (post to follow). I see his perfect skin in this picture and my heart just breaks. But I'm so glad he's okay.</span></td></tr>
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So that's our trip to Burley. And yes, all my siblings who live far, far away, this was meant to make you homesick. Move back! Now! I'm not kidding. We need you.</div>
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<br /></div>Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-77616184304278597762012-07-09T17:18:00.000-06:002012-07-11T13:32:58.772-06:00Family Outings: Blessing or Curse?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Ah, summer. Three months of pure bliss with our perfect children, enjoying unstructured days of love, and of course, infamous family outings. Let's be honest for a minute here. Does anyone really <i>like </i>family outings? Is it ever really worth it to leave the house WITH the kids? No matter how adorable, charming and glorious they may appear on Facebook and blogs, I KNOW almost all family outings are actually exercises in torture in more ways than one. Do the few picture-perfect moments make them worth it? I am totally up in the air on this one. It's a good thing I have an adventurous, motivated, thrill-seeking husband who actually wants to experience life <i>with </i>the kids and makes the effort to see that it happens. Or I might never leave my house. Not joking.</div>
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Let's examine a recent little outing that had its fair share of ups and downs. I'm still trying to decide if the whole experience was worth the... effort.</div>
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It began as most of our outings tend to begin, with a hunting motivation in mind. Jason drew out for a deer tag out by Vernon, which is west of Lehi. Way west. What a perfect excuse to go on a little family picnic/fishing trip to Vernon Reservoir while scouting for deer and basking in our love for each other all at the same time. If you haven't been to the classy V.R. or heard of it, it's probably because you haven't gotten drunk, beat your kids and threw trash in a lake lately, because everyone we saw out there was doing all three of those things in random order. Also, public urination was involved in all three. And yes, there were two quite nice "porter potties" (as my kids call them) nearby. I'm assuming they were in such good condition because they never get used. Lucky for us.</div>
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Moving on. As we drove out through the lone and dreary desert on our way to the VR, we encountered an approaching train. A very long approaching train. We were in the middle of absolutely positively nowhere. I don't even know where the track came from. Suddenly it was just there in front of us, and there was a train on it. We were about two seconds too late to make it across, so we sat and merrily counted train cars. For a very long time. The train went and went and went. Until it stopped, never to move again. We couldn't see the end in either direction, which is saying a lot, because I'm sure we could almost see the north and south poles from our position in the vast wilderness. The husband was not impressed.</div>
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So, what does a huntin' man with an agenda do when he can't go over it, and he can't go under it or even through it? He must go <i>around </i>it. This, despite all obstacles, which include: a begging wife, frightened children, a sign that says, "DO NOT ENTER" and the absence of an actual road. "I'm sure we can get across somewhere," he says with bravado as he peels through the dirt onto the... <i>path </i>next to the train track. </div>
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Tense moments ensued. I had the thought, "This is some mighty fine blogging material, I should get out my camera," but the thought was quickly squelched by a glance at the determined and, shall we say, humorless husband across the truck from me. We continued on the path of terror for quite some time. It didn't get any better. In fact, it got significantly worse. After about 15 minutes/years, we passed the front of the train. Unfortunately, we were now separated by a large barbed wire fence and a steep incline to the track, both of which made passage impossible.</div>
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"There must be a crossing somewhere out here," came the grumbles, admist Mormon curse words (ie. "flippin' shiz-bitin' monkey-liver crap-headed train drivers", etc), from the driver's seat. Against my better judgement, I used the time to educate my children on why patience is a virtue and how if you simply wait and think positive thoughts, all the trains in your life will eventually move out of the way and let you through unscathed (not true, but that didn't stop me). What did stop me was the same thing that stopped the whole adventure: a sudden series of giant holes in the ground, impossible to see in front of us because of the six-foot high sage brush we were barreling through at near sonic speed. </div>
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Suddenly, the truck was leaping through the air, carrying six terrified passengers with it. There was a crash. A burst of light (not really). A shower of glass. Screaming (that was me). Then all was quiet in the jungle. What in the living heck just happened?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLg_rlAX8TdWXHbd3k1mxvdELIHD9nnNhOH68p1XkZl3he93ZnRaewZeZv7oTMHs3fK4EGHw2apoZallZjWKmJRdkAnM-54CjlwFesr25qR-j6utMZILXk1oqRBfHE6Tlnf79DBmUlaBk/s1600/june12-838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLg_rlAX8TdWXHbd3k1mxvdELIHD9nnNhOH68p1XkZl3he93ZnRaewZeZv7oTMHs3fK4EGHw2apoZallZjWKmJRdkAnM-54CjlwFesr25qR-j6utMZILXk1oqRBfHE6Tlnf79DBmUlaBk/s640/june12-838.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I guess the 4-wheeler in the back of the truck must have been feeling lonely and wanted to join in all the fun and love going on in the front of the truck, because it came right through the window and showered all of us in shards of glass, especially the three </span><span style="background-color: white;">frightened</span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;">little souls strapped into the back seat. That was a bad moment, I'm not gonna lie. </span></div>
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Jason and I jumped out of the steaming truck and tried to calm the kids while we unbuckled them and lifted them out of their glass blanket and onto the dusty, thorn-covered ground. Thanks to the design of modern vehicle glass and the mercy of heaven above, there was not a single cut on any of the kids. We swept out the truck the best we could with our bare hands and broke out the rest of the window to prevent further tragedy. </div>
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Now that we were stopped, we could read the sign that was looming a few yards ahead of us, which had been previously obstructed by the fact that we were in motion, sailing through the air toward it, aware only of a bright orange blur on the ground somewhere far beneath us.</div>
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It read, "Warning: Explosives Testing Ground. Do Not Enter." </div>
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<i>Ohhhhh.</i> So that's why we weren't supposed to enter. Got it.</div>
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It was during this time that the train passed us by, mocking our misfortune with each clack of its wheels. We tried not to make eye contact. </div>
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As we drove sheepishly back the way we came, <span style="background-color: white;">Abby said, "Look, Mom, mist!" I turned around to see the truck being filled with clouds of heavy, lung-sucking dust. All I could do was smile in my heart as I pulled the neck of my shirt up over my mouth to ensure oxygen. It only took</span><span style="background-color: white;"> a small amount of self-control to not say a word about being right, right, </span><i style="background-color: white;">right</i><span style="background-color: white;">. I was able to do this because I was so relieved that we could finally just head home. Wrong, wrong, <i>wrong</i>. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFVobNOK36LwMzHrOWRPKfBoyt-xedoxCrcp-WeyYNko9loqZ7dcJI7ku9CJUnVzp0WZKs74-U-jOJJOWSqWp3uHSlShsNj-1WuZXyU6-RBq-yqoNCcpBp3hyphenhyphen3UKbJGOYu02TqbVeYeE/s1600/june12-835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUFVobNOK36LwMzHrOWRPKfBoyt-xedoxCrcp-WeyYNko9loqZ7dcJI7ku9CJUnVzp0WZKs74-U-jOJJOWSqWp3uHSlShsNj-1WuZXyU6-RBq-yqoNCcpBp3hyphenhyphen3UKbJGOYu02TqbVeYeE/s640/june12-835.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Later, after the mist had settled.</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;">This didn't stop the family outing from coming. It came. Somehow or other, it came just the same. As we finally crossed the now-clear train track, I took a deep, dust-filled breath and prayed that we would someday cross this track again, on our way home, and that it would be sooner rather than later.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLZ01ChsbtLEsUhAMv2qYl5JvzGZ5wjzKbmeZD4_LjNnwh3Odw4Wz47K0X9f_ptorFxhHJqhiUBG8hyphenhyphenGW_9XFtRnl9dX8M-jFWecZLcb8Prnd_C6LRYjA1cKNjai8gILVEisWEMprxh8/s1600/june12-837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyLZ01ChsbtLEsUhAMv2qYl5JvzGZ5wjzKbmeZD4_LjNnwh3Odw4Wz47K0X9f_ptorFxhHJqhiUBG8hyphenhyphenGW_9XFtRnl9dX8M-jFWecZLcb8Prnd_C6LRYjA1cKNjai8gILVEisWEMprxh8/s640/june12-837.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We arrived at the VR, stepped over feces, cooked up our tin foil dinners, fished whole-heartedly (some of us), were insulted by fellow reservoir-dwellers, and called it good.</div>
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Now it was time to drive through the hills and look for deer. The evening became very pleasant and the roads weren't quite as dusty. We were in good spirits because #1, we were still alive, and #2, the truck was still running. There were a lot of attractive bucks roaming the hills (according to Jason) and it was actually kind of enjoyable. We drove and drove and drove.</div>
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And then I saw it. A humble, wise creature, perched atop a fence post. An <i>owl</i>. A real owl! There to bless our fortune and misfortune and make the whole trip (possibly) worth it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsavKkTgQOgJ4NFohfM6KhidP0z4jdufOcmjrsfx6-aFr7AiSjCDcOTfALxvGbii2g-jRmPVpposWrGRSsz1iz23imV5yB-AECs6IgL4YCu1zgL2MwmMx1saUFr4BWPvScUNtDevHBD4/s1600/june12-833.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRsavKkTgQOgJ4NFohfM6KhidP0z4jdufOcmjrsfx6-aFr7AiSjCDcOTfALxvGbii2g-jRmPVpposWrGRSsz1iz23imV5yB-AECs6IgL4YCu1zgL2MwmMx1saUFr4BWPvScUNtDevHBD4/s640/june12-833.JPG" width="640" /></a><br />
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I made Jason slam on the brakes, and as we skidded through gravel and dirt once again, I exclaimed, "Kids, do you know how rare this is? We have never seen an owl in the wild before! Ever! And now there is one right in front of us, just waiting for me to take his picture!" I snapped away as he looked at us with pity and respect. A moment later, he took flight, probably to go tell all his friends about us.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuTMkESJcDs9W5JgJTE3i9kbn8KSG0hX3zlY7s7Q9ESzHGuQVLsUCVR04Fl-W9JlzWlo65ydACrtJKS1GACMXRhXuYa666UitwPXHeGxFLqMYi8eKjGYHaNxQQppBwCB13F_w7P90j08/s1600/june12-834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiuTMkESJcDs9W5JgJTE3i9kbn8KSG0hX3zlY7s7Q9ESzHGuQVLsUCVR04Fl-W9JlzWlo65ydACrtJKS1GACMXRhXuYa666UitwPXHeGxFLqMYi8eKjGYHaNxQQppBwCB13F_w7P90j08/s640/june12-834.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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We drove away with reverence at what had just happened. But that wasn't the end of the owl sightings. Suddenly, the kids were yelling that there was another one! Then a few moments later, another one after that! How could this be? Were we being blessed in owls to make up for our abundant misfortune/lack of judgement on somebody's part that wasn't mine? In the end we saw a total of eleven owls. Eleven!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJ6VlJTe1mKZmgGLFMkfDbmtGspwgPXADBwfp0c0rpzwkLwzxgcuIEcGK1DoohbLb1RzoRhG6btTG6euPaNdhb-USKVj8zz1APQF4N2x4qNpCNvsx_1biKlbzsWjQakUPk_Afu8jGEUs/s1600/june12-836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHJ6VlJTe1mKZmgGLFMkfDbmtGspwgPXADBwfp0c0rpzwkLwzxgcuIEcGK1DoohbLb1RzoRhG6btTG6euPaNdhb-USKVj8zz1APQF4N2x4qNpCNvsx_1biKlbzsWjQakUPk_Afu8jGEUs/s640/june12-836.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">We drove home a</span>s the full moon settled over the desert and it was finally too dark to spot any more deer unless they bounded in the road in front of us. We had a fun little stop at the one and only store/gas station in the town of Vernon. It was closed, with a hand-written sign on the door that read, "Sorry, we are out of gas until Monday." I'm very grateful that we were not also out of gas; otherwise, we might still be there. I was about to snap a picture of the quaint little note, but the owner of the gas station suddenly appeared, probably startled and astonished by the presence of actual humans at his store. He let Jason in to buy each of us our very own ice cream bar. I didn't even worry about the sticky bath of goo that my children were creating in the dusty back seat as they worked on their ice cream. I was just grateful to be going home. In one piece.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5fkRUKIThA_FfcwzJZLWTmcjDR_dbJIw3mhHeFhKDOF23YGaR6taHv-HeTDA24pvB4PRnj5n5JbNv4nxQKYkgB65c6KmIRXQNBhnn6-KQM04NIqPBbmuAhPJO1Ue45bNFgb7DcGWLlo/s1600/june12-839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC5fkRUKIThA_FfcwzJZLWTmcjDR_dbJIw3mhHeFhKDOF23YGaR6taHv-HeTDA24pvB4PRnj5n5JbNv4nxQKYkgB65c6KmIRXQNBhnn6-KQM04NIqPBbmuAhPJO1Ue45bNFgb7DcGWLlo/s640/june12-839.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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If you've seen the movie <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0432283/" target="_blank">The Fantastic Mr. Fox</a>, which I highly recommend, you are familiar with the closing scene in which Mr. Fox points out some universal truths. One is that all foxes are slightly allergic to linoleum... but it's cool to the paw. And that they say their tree may never grow back... but someday something will. In the wisdom of Mr. Fox, family outings might be pain and torture... but they provide memories. It might cost $228 to repair the back window of a truck that an airborne 4-wheeler sailed through... but now the new window has a convenient sliding door. I guess good can come from all things. But I'm curious to know... do YOU think family outings are worth it? Please answer my question: Family Outings, Blessing or Curse? You may reply with a simple B or C. Dish away.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-47362763440463410282012-07-03T16:35:00.000-06:002012-07-03T17:27:18.361-06:00Summa Time and the Livin's Easy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
This summer feels like a time warp to me. I can't believe it's already July, but it seems like about 6 years since the school bus came and swallowed up my kids in the morning and provided me with a day of relative peace. I'm not wishing the summer away, by any means, I'm just amazed that we've made it this far. And we are still trucking along. Here are a few (thousand) of the summer's highlights.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbRFs8pWmVDdIIHFScdw0VfvlSZPAMBm8o04XMeDyh_UA-hl9Z60NPkn8QuwdqMzGrkoqB9EPHsZ__WrUE-IRQ1Yd9DxnpBW86e14ZNuvtMXMO5yFu7-OTTdXJIspXu968ygMD8TgGsY/s1600/june12-301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtbRFs8pWmVDdIIHFScdw0VfvlSZPAMBm8o04XMeDyh_UA-hl9Z60NPkn8QuwdqMzGrkoqB9EPHsZ__WrUE-IRQ1Yd9DxnpBW86e14ZNuvtMXMO5yFu7-OTTdXJIspXu968ygMD8TgGsY/s400/june12-301.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dallin participated in the Pinewood Derby. His car was called Angry Buck and included a set of horns that Jason sawed off one of Dallin's toy deer the night before the race. Dallin's car was voted Most Likely to Get Shot. The Scouting Program and Me is still an area I am working on loving. Right now, we like each other. Someday I will be a Great Scouting Mom and actually work on requirements during the week. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnaIZcfxwuPXoRlAVyUG4Xv4pGTz0PrXGdo-esfD1Xl9NeEzgkwETFI1qj35_-R2n6qHXyxiIYoGjhE30bFTnEkZ0cmdxVpPHGVORU6q-lfzq69YRVqQWPlaIGxSM9Qg-ar_sUZx0ZS1o/s1600/june12-424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnaIZcfxwuPXoRlAVyUG4Xv4pGTz0PrXGdo-esfD1Xl9NeEzgkwETFI1qj35_-R2n6qHXyxiIYoGjhE30bFTnEkZ0cmdxVpPHGVORU6q-lfzq69YRVqQWPlaIGxSM9Qg-ar_sUZx0ZS1o/s400/june12-424.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We have spent many, many hours at the ball park this year watching Dallin. He loves baseball and has done really well. I am proud of all his hard work and dedication. His team made it to the state tournament, which is yet to come, so our baseball days are far from over this season. I have enjoyed learning more about the sport of baseball (they really steal bases and don't get in trouble?) but I have not enjoyed wrestling Jake for hours on end. I am honestly considering a dog kennel for him, or at least some kind of portable fenced-in dog run.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkZ2qbGRv1D4VVwwuQmIDJt-_TRM6ksQVCDKBwT9M5xMzLNzreuWF_z6KcOt3ZRzei1Cx1lzzryMDjmNzOmR760nN29bwklgCJdgbuNZHXMfxthjlK_v4PPEXuPEJw01fa6975wHcMl8/s1600/june12-817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYkZ2qbGRv1D4VVwwuQmIDJt-_TRM6ksQVCDKBwT9M5xMzLNzreuWF_z6KcOt3ZRzei1Cx1lzzryMDjmNzOmR760nN29bwklgCJdgbuNZHXMfxthjlK_v4PPEXuPEJw01fa6975wHcMl8/s400/june12-817.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We've had several fun fishing trips. I'm grateful to have a husband who loves to take the kids fishing, even though I struggle with fishing because it seems like such a lose/lose situation to me. If the fish aren't biting, by darn we are going to sit there until they do. If the fish are biting, by darn we are going to sit there till the end of time because we can't waste such a golden opportunity. The worst is when a fish bites right at the beginning, and then never again. I sit and watch myself grow older.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-XQlkZsOyUEa0pwYAXBnJhDTMyvLul1pdKUvMHJ5V9NN0sMNLPRybI1ZTBKRL8TQRj-cgs7uBULKmKVMvYiL__qdjV0pk3vXPyQxFVQ_xe5A_M3ye0zlgg6L634M_94hlAx0a9sj_sQw/s1600/june12-814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-XQlkZsOyUEa0pwYAXBnJhDTMyvLul1pdKUvMHJ5V9NN0sMNLPRybI1ZTBKRL8TQRj-cgs7uBULKmKVMvYiL__qdjV0pk3vXPyQxFVQ_xe5A_M3ye0zlgg6L634M_94hlAx0a9sj_sQw/s400/june12-814.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yay, Luke got one! Now we can stay for six more hours.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwEtbZ4qm5sFtjFBoN131j-ZLhFoBEutXGoAw-AcjoAfX0YJfeBqC8IMPLpJvCe4bcF2X8rnZ2vwyiBAckTTimBZb_fpsB9EMFOoVn6vqZTAMTgTxwA1lyuBm8YHYrLoBLoTkTDh1o-g/s1600/june12-816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUwEtbZ4qm5sFtjFBoN131j-ZLhFoBEutXGoAw-AcjoAfX0YJfeBqC8IMPLpJvCe4bcF2X8rnZ2vwyiBAckTTimBZb_fpsB9EMFOoVn6vqZTAMTgTxwA1lyuBm8YHYrLoBLoTkTDh1o-g/s400/june12-816.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This was a fun camping trip at East Canyon Resort for Jason's mission reunion. It was nice because we could camp on grass! I loved the lack of dirt and rocks. It was also fun to meet a lot of people from Jason's mission and see his mission president again.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Wl90yQi5tI1B9DG6FaGEJO7pEr6TmI3GH50A_EsJFfakduJPVdcO6ftxCyffI2H6TOMLNKK9BFIKduALuQZ8G2elUP2TSd4sshUKSKqtkLl2sJ9Fo_fSJVR_CnATEx3hgc3n5AyVDxQ/s1600/june12-447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-Wl90yQi5tI1B9DG6FaGEJO7pEr6TmI3GH50A_EsJFfakduJPVdcO6ftxCyffI2H6TOMLNKK9BFIKduALuQZ8G2elUP2TSd4sshUKSKqtkLl2sJ9Fo_fSJVR_CnATEx3hgc3n5AyVDxQ/s400/june12-447.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The fire on the mountain by Saratoga Springs provided lots of excitement. We watched it burn down the mountain and cover the sun with smoke. I am so grateful to all those who helped get it under control and save so many homes!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzxQG5i0qk6zwQOBly81vBMzjetUAYILp45kdPE75AfBZt4l2Pxvhr0IUwzRNV_4ZT6fuxjWgHkMhUDiXhSIz9M-6NG1SB2_OGtm4_1QxtjUVUySB4JFHEV-4EZEfk-gyGmD3gxUUhzk/s1600/june12-532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdzxQG5i0qk6zwQOBly81vBMzjetUAYILp45kdPE75AfBZt4l2Pxvhr0IUwzRNV_4ZT6fuxjWgHkMhUDiXhSIz9M-6NG1SB2_OGtm4_1QxtjUVUySB4JFHEV-4EZEfk-gyGmD3gxUUhzk/s400/june12-532.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Yikes, the flames!!!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqLY220eLmKqupPkYS5UU3DGbjAp0ohWVDbVgZr7PHsbjUK1O4tg2mRbyOsZ21-3eBj1cpsjc4eNtcoLq3neNO44SqHuSfkyzyYFOpd4j_F5OcnMjWcCqFrSQPSjAKn00WjbVJetGTg8/s1600/june12-818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHqLY220eLmKqupPkYS5UU3DGbjAp0ohWVDbVgZr7PHsbjUK1O4tg2mRbyOsZ21-3eBj1cpsjc4eNtcoLq3neNO44SqHuSfkyzyYFOpd4j_F5OcnMjWcCqFrSQPSjAKn00WjbVJetGTg8/s400/june12-818.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We drove out and watched the helicopter filling up with water at Utah Lake and then fly over us in a blaze of glory to dump it on the fire. It gave me goosebumps to watch! I was so proud of the little helicopter guy. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJC2BYeoL-foxSJr6kQB3-rDk0_JKrf48XC4caFtB9ko1VqwztZTVlBjZSTJ11W4aiMnvBXF5Im_re4uCOFyonChHaPmrUXU_b2n6h3YeGelFfQ2lynQ8XlSScx-RA0f6AiYHrTn6F590/s1600/june12-535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJC2BYeoL-foxSJr6kQB3-rDk0_JKrf48XC4caFtB9ko1VqwztZTVlBjZSTJ11W4aiMnvBXF5Im_re4uCOFyonChHaPmrUXU_b2n6h3YeGelFfQ2lynQ8XlSScx-RA0f6AiYHrTn6F590/s400/june12-535.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We had a fun night at the Timpanogos Archery Range. It is so beautiful and cool up there and so close. The kids LOVE to go shoot bows and roam through the hills.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFRAF9NulETM3rOghyFSEcfRwTZWJJiS0dCKXfVtv_PV6MR9vXhV5LGJORrAZHOMTFwP0bExmGk1Ulr6Ru1WArWGXWeBnnELNTlKnVGaLdiCCw0bCpKMl-6cxhUeU6S3mw1ycG2ufhNg/s1600/june12-819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFRAF9NulETM3rOghyFSEcfRwTZWJJiS0dCKXfVtv_PV6MR9vXhV5LGJORrAZHOMTFwP0bExmGk1Ulr6Ru1WArWGXWeBnnELNTlKnVGaLdiCCw0bCpKMl-6cxhUeU6S3mw1ycG2ufhNg/s640/june12-819.JPG" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason walking with his little herd toward the shooting course. I just love to see that little pack of rats from behind. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2S2wZuQKXNbJY2xSDCusq4DdM2S848UbjtXN1jv1qE_Wa9Q7x-8OfPI2nCav15PVJ849ms7LaIMUcQklUqWyPRY9FIfPQaVldnMLrk2QcADZkLQ7OfQlYE7x4vLOcCzQIX2qsrxnyAnM/s1600/june12-820.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2S2wZuQKXNbJY2xSDCusq4DdM2S848UbjtXN1jv1qE_Wa9Q7x-8OfPI2nCav15PVJ849ms7LaIMUcQklUqWyPRY9FIfPQaVldnMLrk2QcADZkLQ7OfQlYE7x4vLOcCzQIX2qsrxnyAnM/s400/june12-820.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luke was in love with the huge weeds that you blow the little white thingies off of. I mean, what are those things? They aren't giant dandelions. Whatever they are, there are going to be a lot more of them now.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LTQvPT0P51tL1Ivb4fHTxUUV-bOaVFAbllWTFLBZqA7NxdYr6W6sFwJvdQZ12Yog9tDeYawu57lJA3cLCbI-OaCIPySk0jXY7zyM9z370AGSJryd0WDlX5Qlc6D6YBqPgJWfqAtJF18/s1600/june12-821.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LTQvPT0P51tL1Ivb4fHTxUUV-bOaVFAbllWTFLBZqA7NxdYr6W6sFwJvdQZ12Yog9tDeYawu57lJA3cLCbI-OaCIPySk0jXY7zyM9z370AGSJryd0WDlX5Qlc6D6YBqPgJWfqAtJF18/s400/june12-821.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jake fell in love with all the targets and I had a hard time dragging him away from all his new "puppies". He pretty much thinks all animals are puppies, especially horses. Except actual puppies, he calls those "dogs".</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtanRRDY5XN4USUWbfBh_9zgMuvrzmlBhSf_OkSiFK5VZHg0eiwJZTWBxLb-8Ru0MR80ICAaPzc_nmg_QYULslXEn0nrCX8NORgzZj74dks5SvIhSPyBhyphenhyphenUMTdZUS8w8YIJ-qen4FoAzc/s1600/june12-822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtanRRDY5XN4USUWbfBh_9zgMuvrzmlBhSf_OkSiFK5VZHg0eiwJZTWBxLb-8Ru0MR80ICAaPzc_nmg_QYULslXEn0nrCX8NORgzZj74dks5SvIhSPyBhyphenhyphenUMTdZUS8w8YIJ-qen4FoAzc/s400/june12-822.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Another beautiful puppy to love. Am I the only one who thinks hunting targets are freaky?</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8IHKqxLvjcDNnf_1_Dcdkyw0SoiLuwcboaClyMWHS4YZyTBtGhmCotDBv_e4sOfzDyvcoYSxoiT7g_m8mCMuLMKqXDkoL0zMBSDNsorwJkWZkx3rEhividvW2x0YcC_Za_FDOxO25nQ/s1600/june12-823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-8IHKqxLvjcDNnf_1_Dcdkyw0SoiLuwcboaClyMWHS4YZyTBtGhmCotDBv_e4sOfzDyvcoYSxoiT7g_m8mCMuLMKqXDkoL0zMBSDNsorwJkWZkx3rEhividvW2x0YcC_Za_FDOxO25nQ/s400/june12-823.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Luke LOVES birds. His whole life revolves around birds (and Pokemon cards). He has been looking forward to the bird show at the Hutchings Museum since last year during Lehi Roundup Days and he was so excited to go see all his fine feathered friends again. This is some kind of falcon. Luke's dream in life is to have a pet condor. For now he has to settle for watching all the turkey vultures that circle around Lehi with their cool red heads and hooked beaks.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ44GkGaRFDzObnrePGKzRvAhCItKuHndfjtay79wWo_5DpRapqBUpTGXFuEPqXQ8YHHPslFbO9cg-BTWMDZSZ2KohgM6syGiXs7C_eZ4YISu6886gKuNNIgNdtBp5SE9aIA6B7CRUMws/s1600/june12-824.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ44GkGaRFDzObnrePGKzRvAhCItKuHndfjtay79wWo_5DpRapqBUpTGXFuEPqXQ8YHHPslFbO9cg-BTWMDZSZ2KohgM6syGiXs7C_eZ4YISu6886gKuNNIgNdtBp5SE9aIA6B7CRUMws/s400/june12-824.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Abby loves owls and she was excited to get close to this little guy.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLOKKMSElcVTpUnJouLQWgcvkFZdWttn2VrhA3odi7pu9hyD5WAMmpGrJD8ETOY437ks7Pab0pZePtsfGXFpU5Km5MbSGeQNIHT7TBgcAfad6gYmZYILz1R8mHzhhUD0wEOWFBcxvoUk/s1600/june12-825.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijLOKKMSElcVTpUnJouLQWgcvkFZdWttn2VrhA3odi7pu9hyD5WAMmpGrJD8ETOY437ks7Pab0pZePtsfGXFpU5Km5MbSGeQNIHT7TBgcAfad6gYmZYILz1R8mHzhhUD0wEOWFBcxvoUk/s400/june12-825.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We found two frogs in our yard last week. One was alive and the other was... frozen. In time. I had to use all my restraint to keep from screaming when the "frozen" frog was brought into my house. He was all stretched out in a swimming position and hard as a rock. I mean, the look on his face... it still haunts my dreams. Shudder.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFEXzH5Son0Dz5i4z7MqTHY2yEA9j5lzBixqKlYGbuTLo7Hd2nMDG-Icrq19nhPXsXiruBDgw7gxMqILFaGsqTg57Vqw2ZqXZuQR9HwX0O3N-lsTQo9Y-fMi6SxsHZmFsqsIWaIYOZTY/s1600/june12-826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYFEXzH5Son0Dz5i4z7MqTHY2yEA9j5lzBixqKlYGbuTLo7Hd2nMDG-Icrq19nhPXsXiruBDgw7gxMqILFaGsqTg57Vqw2ZqXZuQR9HwX0O3N-lsTQo9Y-fMi6SxsHZmFsqsIWaIYOZTY/s400/june12-826.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I used to be just like this when I was a kid. All happy about a frog and willing to touch the slimy little thing for hours on end. What happened to me? Why can't I touch animals anymore? Or kids who have been touching animals, or anything that kids who have been touching animals have touched? I'm afraid the thing my kids will remember most about me is the question, "Have you washed your hands with soap?" Sad, I tell you. Sad.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jake wasn't so sure about the frog. Maybe I should put a guard frog by the front door to prevent this child from jumping ship since he has now learned to unlatch the deadbolt and open the door. I can officially <i>never </i>relax again.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXTalv01UXrR54SamI4pGMQVb8huDkpPQrgWRPQJwuXZcgoSgjZkhV9qkjJU0MF3M5gB10rGRhiqFkK9u5Il4SCfLBy1icY1cTFWX_Hzdb2n3bywZAJO88m9C6PrJO8mBfXWUVRwhvCA/s1600/june12-828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipXTalv01UXrR54SamI4pGMQVb8huDkpPQrgWRPQJwuXZcgoSgjZkhV9qkjJU0MF3M5gB10rGRhiqFkK9u5Il4SCfLBy1icY1cTFWX_Hzdb2n3bywZAJO88m9C6PrJO8mBfXWUVRwhvCA/s400/june12-828.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We went to the Horse Parade in Lehi and Jake was thrilled to see so many "puppies" at once. He yelled "Hi puppy! Hi puppy!" for about 45 minutes.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lots of fun cousins watching the parade.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSRVLeMJG3ZjVcoPDN4pDiAXjIA-rkU8Oqzuq2jCXBhiXUxODiN7eHrzOs3BhsAp6HKL7Un_Abj3rRmduswdS5L5O0edqARNZs4gpQhVdnfZ_jSqLYfKeccuGvWrHbUfinhmoZhHahl4/s1600/june12-808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmSRVLeMJG3ZjVcoPDN4pDiAXjIA-rkU8Oqzuq2jCXBhiXUxODiN7eHrzOs3BhsAp6HKL7Un_Abj3rRmduswdS5L5O0edqARNZs4gpQhVdnfZ_jSqLYfKeccuGvWrHbUfinhmoZhHahl4/s640/june12-808.JPG" width="426" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">We went to the annual Crane family reunion in Bennington, Idaho and had a great time. We camped in a tent the first night. The moon was so bright we didn't even need flashlights inside the tent! My parents brought their trailer so we had all the necessities. It was great.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pYKWfRqutjGFVv1skRJkjswgZU2rHmmaVkSb5BNEMxwwcfvZW9Lt1pJOPk6G8-z1GES1GYQgEw13dr8ujtZqmM6wtftlvVtIUPywrLQQa6xq3TeysZrNDGb7EJMElLgQKzV0IF-GolI/s1600/june12-811.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pYKWfRqutjGFVv1skRJkjswgZU2rHmmaVkSb5BNEMxwwcfvZW9Lt1pJOPk6G8-z1GES1GYQgEw13dr8ujtZqmM6wtftlvVtIUPywrLQQa6xq3TeysZrNDGb7EJMElLgQKzV0IF-GolI/s400/june12-811.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is my Grandma and Grandpa Crane's house where my mom grew up. I love this place and have so many memories here. I loved taking my kids there and showing them around.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2DIbzgdIhEqzhcG2-pKYR3jZFcjG2g8z8Nz5qxqkzgRR3YA6jYhkvtfpDTWHZvuENm6R-d6Vj7OJfvnNVTYXBiNHA1Sgd0j7P-KYHLFB3v2KDaPQIcey_svaqPrYJzXDAmNbVTQkvUk/s1600/june12-832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv2DIbzgdIhEqzhcG2-pKYR3jZFcjG2g8z8Nz5qxqkzgRR3YA6jYhkvtfpDTWHZvuENm6R-d6Vj7OJfvnNVTYXBiNHA1Sgd0j7P-KYHLFB3v2KDaPQIcey_svaqPrYJzXDAmNbVTQkvUk/s640/june12-832.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Abby and Luke had fun exploring my grandma's attic. Apparently there is a bat problem up there. My Aunt Wilma showed us the guano and everything. I wanted to stay and try to catch a bad so badly, but we didn't have time. I hope the bats are still there the next time I visit. Then I will get my pet bat for SURE!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxk4qS5DR7YoHDEYkBOrDvecu64dw4QNt9wiv7a3ZnY9iSagaxHI9R9S4EWcJJt422bzrC_6oP0s0_vg1S-2k97HJ0FjtMoK9hPQeZy0MzgNTjfadAnwBwlxk-ITo0LFORXTbLe9suZLY/s1600/june12-830.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxk4qS5DR7YoHDEYkBOrDvecu64dw4QNt9wiv7a3ZnY9iSagaxHI9R9S4EWcJJt422bzrC_6oP0s0_vg1S-2k97HJ0FjtMoK9hPQeZy0MzgNTjfadAnwBwlxk-ITo0LFORXTbLe9suZLY/s400/june12-830.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Abby was my little hiking partner. My relatives own this canyon and it is amazing to be there and think of my grandpa herding sheep in these very same hills so many years ago. It is so peaceful to me. I think it feels like holy ground.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuO-emFQTeO-QhK6idfYZmE2ESg7zqd45o-GpttMDG5dggyzjGVRDpNntL3NJpqswqax2knig_YmZqJOGlG9na7HHq9Gb6UZcaSBK6aZZYOn36iw7okart_c13XZxVG2hqM5GpikYnYYw/s1600/june12-831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuO-emFQTeO-QhK6idfYZmE2ESg7zqd45o-GpttMDG5dggyzjGVRDpNntL3NJpqswqax2knig_YmZqJOGlG9na7HHq9Gb6UZcaSBK6aZZYOn36iw7okart_c13XZxVG2hqM5GpikYnYYw/s400/june12-831.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption"><span style="font-size: small;">We always get a big breakfast with all the fixin's. Sometimes I look around and think, I can't believe I am related to all these people! But I am, and I am so grateful. My relatives are the BEST people on earth.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVsJ_JV5D9-IXJFAH-zQKGlhiPpklargFY6VFMTG_PREN7jBpOtcqJMUI4AbMPFocUvQy11yYTgcZRkESAhmLPlXC6sSV6e6AUC02nHBDOC4Nb8uYcZPzf0R5D3Evk5P_UE-Ue0PMU8qM/s1600/june12-810.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVsJ_JV5D9-IXJFAH-zQKGlhiPpklargFY6VFMTG_PREN7jBpOtcqJMUI4AbMPFocUvQy11yYTgcZRkESAhmLPlXC6sSV6e6AUC02nHBDOC4Nb8uYcZPzf0R5D3Evk5P_UE-Ue0PMU8qM/s400/june12-810.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The fun family pic up in the canyon. Dirty and stinky and having the time of our lives. Such is summer. Lack of soap and all.</span></td></tr>
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</div>Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-36866647731777647252012-06-10T21:27:00.000-06:002012-06-10T22:37:39.528-06:00Me, My Feet and the Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Kind of like I don't know why the old lady swallowed the fly, I don't know why I decided to do a marathon. It just kind of fell into my lap, so I went with it. A few months ago, my friend Cami needed a running partner for an early-morning ten mile run. I told her I would give it my best shot for five miles. I was so nervous the night before. I hadn't run in a long time and I had no idea if I would be able to keep up or finish the whole five miles. However, the next morning I felt great. When our friend Jen met us at mile 5, I decided to keep going. I have rarely run with other people and I was having so much fun it hardly felt like I was running at all. I surprised myself by finishing the ten miles and wanting to run more. Cami was training for the <a href="http://www.utahvalleymarathon.com/" target="_blank">Utah Valley Marathon</a> and I went with her on several morning runs before she said, "Look, you are already on pace to train for this marathon. Why don't you just do it?" The race was sold out, but my good friend <a href="http://www.aliciaruns.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Alicia</a> was registered for it and was injured, so in a crazy moment, I bought her entry. And the rest is history!!!</div>
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Three weeks before the marathon we did our 20-miler. I felt really good, but my knees were bothering me. I must have been running differently to compensate, because later the top of my right foot began to hurt. My knees were fine, but my foot got worse and worse. I finally got it x-rayed and it didn't show a stress fracture, but the doctor told me not to run until the marathon unless it felt completely better. So I didn't. I ran a few miles here and there, but as soon as it started bothering me I would stop (doctor's orders!). It's funny how up to this point I had been so nervous and panicked about running the marathon, but as soon as I thought I might actually not be able to do it, I was determined to run it and not let anything stop me. My biggest fear was that after all the training and work I wouldn't be able to run the race. And I wanted to run it more than anything.</div>
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On Friday night at 10 pm I found myself setting my alarm clock for 2:30 am and it hit me that I really am crazy. But there was no turning back. At 3 am, I hopped in the car with Cami and we headed to Provo. It was so strange to be getting on a bus in the middle of the night and heading up the canyon. It didn't seem real. The hardest part was huddling over a fire, waiting for over an hour for the race to begin. Finally, <i>finally </i>at 6 am, just as the sun began to rise over the mountain, the horn sounded and we were off! </div>
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It was a beautiful morning, windy but not too cold. The race course is mostly downhill, which is great... unless you have knee problems. At about mile 6, I realized I was in trouble. My knees started hurting, and then my foot joined in. I started going slower and slower, and finally told Cami to please go ahead of me. I know she had a really hard time leaving me behind, but I knew I had to take this one mile at a time and go at my own pace. There was never a question in my mind if I would finish or not, it was just a matter of enduring through the pain. Some people said the race had more uphill than they expected and it was harder than they thought it would be. To me, uphill was relief. It felt so good to be using different muscles and I felt great passing all those walkers. Then the downhill would hit. </div>
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It was a really interesting experience running the race by myself. I hadn't expected it at all, and I thought it would be hard. I love running with Cami and we have so much fun together. I didn't think it was possible for me to get through it without her. But once I was there, and it was just me, my feet and the road, I kind of felt like it was meant to be that way. She got me that far, and then I did it <i>on my own</i>. I loved every minute of it. </div>
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That sounds strange. I was in so much pain, but I never once thought of quitting, or even wanted to quit in the slightest. A few times ambulances went by with their sirens on. Other runners around me would joke about wishing they would stop and get them. I couldn't believe my ears. I wanted to say, "How dare you want to end this! This is <i>our race</i>! We are doing this!" Every step, every breath felt like a gift. As each mile passed, I would think, "Oh, no, only thirteen miles now. Only ten miles now. Only five..." and so on. </div>
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At each water station I would walk for a few steps and take a cup of Powerade and then water, then take a deep breath and keep running. It was slow going, but I never gave in and walked. At mile 23 I had the best pick-me-up I could ask for. My friend Karla, her little boy Anthony, and Alicia were standing at the sideline, holding balloons, cheering and waving. I was so happy to see them! I kissed Anthony on the top of his head. He's probably still in shock. </div>
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Alicia hopped right out on the road and ran with me for the next three, the <i>hardest three</i> miles. It was amazing to realize how much I needed her right then! For the first time in the race, exhaustion hit. My knees and feet seemed to go numb and I was so tired. My legs were heavy. I didn't know if I could pick up my feet one more time. But she talked me through it. She ran beside me, encouraged me, told me how proud she was, and I know she meant it. It was like she carried me to the end of the course. With just .2 miles left, she hopped back to the sideline and let me finish.</div>
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I know it was so hard for Alicia to not be running the race herself. She is an amazing runner and has been an inspiration to me ever since I met her. I'm so humbled that she would make the effort to be there for me and help me through it. When I bought her entry she was so excited for me. She told me, "Your first marathon is a life-changing experience." I didn't really understand what she meant until yesterday. </div>
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Just being there, just doing something that I never thought was possible, was powerful in a way I can't describe. I thought about life, about the obstacles I face and the people who support me. I thought about how when it comes right down to it, it is just me. Me, my feet and the road. Me, my determination and my path in life. Life is what I make of it. No matter what comes my way, I decide what I will do with it. What if I really <i>can </i>do anything? What do I really want in life? It is a very humbling thought.</div>
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As I approached the finisher's chute, I saw my family standing by the side of the road. They were cheering, taking pictures and going crazy. It was one of the best sights I have ever seen. My mom and dad, my brother Aaron, my brother Ryan and his kids, my sister Alison and her kids, and of course, Jason, Dallin, Luke, Abby and Jake. I don't know if I've ever felt so much love in my life. I know they had waited out there for a very long time and made great sacrifices to be there for me. <i>For me</i>. Me and my crazy idea to run a marathon. </div>
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I was very emotional as I entered the runner's chute and crossed the finish line. Cami was waiting for me and gave me a huge hug and held me up as I tried to process the fact that I had actually done it. I had finished a marathon and made one of the biggest accomplishments of my entire life. I never would have done it without her.</div>
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I wish I had more pictures of the people who were there to support me. I didn't get any pictures with Cami, Alicia or Karla, but I am so thankful for their support. I am also very grateful to my sister Kristen who ran the Boston Marathon this year and encouraged me through texts for much of the race. I would send her the mile number I was running past and I know she was living the race right along with me. I received so many good luck calls and messages before the race. My mother-in-law brought me a huge basket of pre-race goodies and pampering items a few nights before the race and it meant so much to me. Jason and my kids supported me from the first minute to the last. I know there were many prayers on my behalf as well. I am humbled by all the wonderful people in my life. I truly have the best friends and family anyone could ever ask for.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtUe3zaii5cw_FCHORyi-6N_1-7Pj1hKX7y03xu0gFcwljm4PwU6z_nmBPKAhyphenhyphenF_MHxs9-61QwJfGpoGMbu7jbhJUUm3DlnDz9rM_iG_ydwj8NFhc42qV6p0wCIfdgiyW_6ZKFYEFaew/s1600/june12-294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtUe3zaii5cw_FCHORyi-6N_1-7Pj1hKX7y03xu0gFcwljm4PwU6z_nmBPKAhyphenhyphenF_MHxs9-61QwJfGpoGMbu7jbhJUUm3DlnDz9rM_iG_ydwj8NFhc42qV6p0wCIfdgiyW_6ZKFYEFaew/s640/june12-294.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">A few of my little spectators.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63vAcNvHEwcV64RF_cWJcU0yR-hsSmypP0HhI26WLG9xIv0MZllEUwbcyeMakoT6hlt5Mwpw181EB7VXbSecacMfU9cPhjXjvbgg-RqMRGwdA4EXo0c1me0VabjiY_ViNWQxXEaG9UxI/s1600/june12-221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh63vAcNvHEwcV64RF_cWJcU0yR-hsSmypP0HhI26WLG9xIv0MZllEUwbcyeMakoT6hlt5Mwpw181EB7VXbSecacMfU9cPhjXjvbgg-RqMRGwdA4EXo0c1me0VabjiY_ViNWQxXEaG9UxI/s640/june12-221.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Final stretch!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3tayhB4pgUukmTpnS_8v62bcog47vYxnbMneJzTmvoLW5NZqvqD77alCJJSyQceDDPyOXuHbWjdiq1ypZCGzxTrUgEzb_HFkODSaQ30wK-ou85sD1Lh19r0zmtmeITkGA5MYWf9okWQ/s1600/june12-297.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT3tayhB4pgUukmTpnS_8v62bcog47vYxnbMneJzTmvoLW5NZqvqD77alCJJSyQceDDPyOXuHbWjdiq1ypZCGzxTrUgEzb_HFkODSaQ30wK-ou85sD1Lh19r0zmtmeITkGA5MYWf9okWQ/s640/june12-297.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">My cheering section. Oh, how I love them all!</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijneylxyAuM2Q2VmMRHidBlmUEXaEAe6mnPWoQyHE5T6BnTB4JvYiiOwNtdxDR1JvBzGJqXESnQ4Z9_jeS2jo82Bj1fD9zszsIJUyENAWiKhX3gA0Sm_7hsCE8z97xon59WSAWlx3X20I/s1600/june12-300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijneylxyAuM2Q2VmMRHidBlmUEXaEAe6mnPWoQyHE5T6BnTB4JvYiiOwNtdxDR1JvBzGJqXESnQ4Z9_jeS2jo82Bj1fD9zszsIJUyENAWiKhX3gA0Sm_7hsCE8z97xon59WSAWlx3X20I/s640/june12-300.JPG" width="424" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I did it, I did it, I really did it!!!</span></td></tr>
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<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-90426745250349099772012-06-10T21:26:00.000-06:002012-06-10T21:26:35.658-06:00My Epic Post-Marathon MealI guess it says something about me that I get almost as excited about the food I get to eat after the marathon as I am about the marathon itself. Yesterday I finished the race at around 11 am, and try as I might, I could not stomach any food until 8 pm. This is a big disappointment, people! I grabbed a Creamie Popsicle and a carton of chocolate milk in the finisher's box (or whatever they call it), and immediately regretted it. Way too sick. Too sick to eat at <a href="http://www.rumbi.com/" target="_blank">Rumbi</a> with my family on the way home. Too sick to even enjoy the famous <a href="http://theperfectchocolatechipcookie.com/instruct.php" target="_blank">Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookies</a> my friend Sierra brought over after the race. Then at about 7:30 pm, I was lying in my bed, writhing around, and I realized I didn't need to writhe anymore. In fact, I actually felt... hungry! <i>Yes!!! </i>All my hard work had finally paid off. But then a strange thing happened. I realized that for perhaps the first time in my entire life, I wasn't in the mood for anything sweet. Huh? Who is this person, I wondered, who finishes marathons and suddenly doesn't have the urge to bury her hand in a bag of chocolate chips? I went into the kitchen to find out. All my favorite healthy foods beckoned to me and I had to snap a picture before I dove into what was one of the best-tasting meals of my life. I decided to share this meal with you in case you ever find yourself in a similar situation.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFa6aNYVunUWj7QE8t4nOdu5Kk4_yOODuDXtRaZNUixFI4rYh9FZMB-VNG-1G2osc15O93B1fGbWQkTPUBy050dDEUrODSn41oC_td__368mjmTWGTEhtIj9z8hb1wYQXfQ2KmDzDDtY/s1600/june12-290.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFFa6aNYVunUWj7QE8t4nOdu5Kk4_yOODuDXtRaZNUixFI4rYh9FZMB-VNG-1G2osc15O93B1fGbWQkTPUBy050dDEUrODSn41oC_td__368mjmTWGTEhtIj9z8hb1wYQXfQ2KmDzDDtY/s400/june12-290.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I realize this isn't the most attractive picture, but trust me, it was astounding.</td></tr>
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<b>Item #1: My Famous Quinoa</b><br />
If you are not familiar with quinoa (pronounced keen-wa), you should be. It is one of the healthiest foods of all time, and is delicious. It is actually a seed, not a grain, and is a complete protein, rich in fiber, calcium, magnesium and iron. I just learned that on <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Quinoa" target="_blank">Wikipedia</a>. I buy it at Costco in a beautiful green bag, near its inferior cousin, rice.<br />
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To prepare, combine the following ingredients in a medium saucepan:<br />
* 2 cups water<br />
* 1 cup rinsed quinoa (just throw it in a fine-meshed strainer and run some water over it)<br />
* 1-2 tsp. chicken bouillon granules (you can also substitute a can of chicken broth for some of the water)<br />
* Some chopped onion. I use frozen.<br />
* 1 can of beans, rinsed. I usually use black beans, but today I used kidney beans and they were fabulous.<br />
<br />
Bring to a boil. Reduce heat to a simmer and cover for 15 minutes or so. The liquid will be absorbed when it is done.<br />
<br />
<b>Item #2: Salmon Patty</b><br />
If you are turned off by the term "salmon patty", I don't blame you. What is appealing about a fish <i>patty</i>? Well, obviously you have never tried the salmon burgers from Costco. Tsk, tsk. They are breath-taking. Every member of my family, from Jason down to Jake, can devour these in a matter of seconds. When I was eating my Perfect Meal, I had to defend my precious salmon patty from the legion of vultures, also known as my children, who suddenly appeared despite the fact that Jason had fixed each of them their own salmon patty merely an hour before.<br />
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<br />
To prepare the precious patty, just heat a non-stick skillet over medium-high heat. Throw on a frozen patty and sprinkle with dried dill and garlic salt. Flip over after a few minutes. You want each side nice and blackened, but not <i>too </i>blackened. You will know in your heart when it is done.<br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Item #3: Green Salad with BYU Ranch</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0oODSUOBYaIck9wBeTaJD182H7cBLIJ9Y-2mvfPermIg0ZOPqBiAhbY3kYlJ-bdTxL_TLuYO8HOCaWxqkwWHxUDSfhFbeAx1-gQsb_bbhdlB0aaEOGe_O_ttQbSk8EO8opKpJNx5Hkc/s1600/june12-292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0oODSUOBYaIck9wBeTaJD182H7cBLIJ9Y-2mvfPermIg0ZOPqBiAhbY3kYlJ-bdTxL_TLuYO8HOCaWxqkwWHxUDSfhFbeAx1-gQsb_bbhdlB0aaEOGe_O_ttQbSk8EO8opKpJNx5Hkc/s320/june12-292.JPG" width="250" /></a></div>
Let me be clear: I am not a huge fan of Ranch dressing. I AM a huge fan of Ranch dressing from the BYU creamery. It is smooth and creamy and not bitter in the least. It is also <i>light</i>, clocking in at only 50 calories per two tablespoon serving, which is a large enough serving to swim in, which you might want to do, and all my kids love salad because of it. The next time you are in Provo, swing by ye ole <a href="http://dining.byu.edu/creamery//" target="_blank">Creamery</a> and grab a few gallons. You will thank me, I promise. My salad this night consisted of a handful of greens from my trusty Costco, some sunflower seeds, feta cheese, and a few croutons because I can't be afraid of carbs on a day I run a marathon. Also some dried cranberries for color, but they still didn't improve the picture. But I don't care. It was perfect. I also used the Ranch as a dip for the salmon, and let's be honest, the quinoa.<br />
<br />
<b>Item #4: Dessert</b><br />
By the time I had polished off my meal and licked the platter clean, I was feeling more like myself and was <i>finally </i>in the mood for a little something sweet, so of course I reached for... <a href="http://theperfectchocolatechipcookie.com/" target="_blank">The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie</a>. It is called the Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookie for a reason. Not gonna lie.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfs6ZVqbCV9oGHWPkSXpXpypA0Ur6bigjzatM_4BLLTiwI47dBxNFzPsM1zEhE7GuRmcqwB3yNNUJDvj5tPTDL5CgRkzAgPqFuHdujINOSwG9N9KE9pDuxyaJOuAoPCztIAjtG3CuBiE/s1600/june12-288.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfs6ZVqbCV9oGHWPkSXpXpypA0Ur6bigjzatM_4BLLTiwI47dBxNFzPsM1zEhE7GuRmcqwB3yNNUJDvj5tPTDL5CgRkzAgPqFuHdujINOSwG9N9KE9pDuxyaJOuAoPCztIAjtG3CuBiE/s320/june12-288.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I had to make the decision of which to take first: a picture or a bite. Need I say more? I like how the cookie seems to be yawning, or perhaps singing. Probably to me, saying, "Good job on your marathon, Anne Marie! You deserve me and my five brothers whenever your little heart desires." Amen, brother, amen.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-57053982046105551442012-05-13T21:40:00.000-06:002012-05-13T21:41:17.903-06:00A Mother's Day to Remember. Or not.I had to laugh this morning at all the forces of the universe conspiring against me as I tried to accomplish a huge goal in my life - to play the piano in sacrament meeting. Yes, I was just accompanying the Primary kids singing <a href="http://www.lds.org/churchmusic/detailmusicPlayer/index.html?searchlanguage=1&searchcollection=2&searchseqstart=177&searchsubseqstart=%20&searchseqend=177&searchsubseqend=ZZZ" target="_blank">Teach Me to Walk in the Light</a>, but it was a BIG deal for me and I wasn't going to let anything get in my way. However, it almost didn't happen.<br />
<br />
I took the kids on a quick trip to Burley this weekend to see my brother Aaron perform his Senior Recital. I can't go to his graduation, so I was determined to go and be a part of this, even if I had to take the kids myself and be there less than 24 hours. We had a great time, and of course got a late start on the journey home Saturday night. But I had to be back to play the piano in our 9 am sacrament meeting, so staying wasn't an option.<br />
<br />
I packed up the kids and pulled out of my parents' driveway at about 7 pm. Luke had been complaining that he didn't feel good, but I was hoping he was just making it up. My mom sent him with a barf bag just to be sure. As we drove past the rest area near, well, nowhere, on I-84, Dallin yelled, "Mom, Luke is barfing all over everything and it's not in the bag!" It was true. Luke had barfed all over himself and the entire backseat and not a speck of it had gone in the bag. I pondered that mystery during the unpleasant 15 minutes to the gas station in Snowville, where I got him out and started to brush the contents of his stomach off his clothes. At this point I got a whiff of something else. Something worse.<br />
<br />
"Luke, did you....?" "No, Mom, I swear I didn't!" I checked his pants, and yes, he did. Poor little fellow didn't even realize that when he was throwing up, he was also...<i> throwing down</i>, as we like to put it delicately. Now that presents a problem when you are at a gas station with no other adult and three other kids. I've already given you more detail than perhaps I should have, so I will stop there and just say that I took him in to the bathroom with a pack of wet wipes and prayed that the other kids would not be victimized in any way by the rif raf in the parking lot of the greasiest Flying J in the nation. I considered taking them all in with me, but the bathroom is small and what would I do with Jake while I performed the necessary but horrific actions that would be required of me? We would end up with even more germs than we already had. It worked out in the end, and we continued on our journey without further incident, arriving home just after 11:30 pm. I unpacked the barf-filled vehicle and prayed that no one else would get sick.<br />
<br />
This morning I was up early, freshly showered and ready to practice the piano and conquer my fear of playing in sacrament meeting. Abby came in to my bathroom and sat on the potty. A moment later I could hear the choking and gagging noise that mothers know all too well. I grabbed her off the toilet and spun her around. She successfully barfed into the toilet and I congratulated myself on a job well done and further cleanup avoided. It was at this moment that I was aware of a warm sensation on my feet. You will remember that her pajamas were around her ankles at the time. I looked down and had a realization that would ruin any Mother's Day, I don't care who you are. While she was throwing up, she was also... throwing down. All over the floor and <i>my bare feet. </i>Shall I say it again? <i>All over my bare feet. </i>Less than an hour before I was to conquer my fears and become a new person, all on Mother's Day.<br />
<br />
I did the only thing I could do. I looked heavenward and called for help. My cry was answered by Jason, who came in, surveyed the scene, and asked in a horrified voice, "What do you want me to do?" I could only croak out a small, "I don't know." Then he left.<br />
<br />
I cleaned up the crime scene, disinfected my feet and went to church, unpracticed and unabashed. When the time came for the Primary children to sing I marched to the front, hid at the piano behind all the standing kids, and played the song. I didn't make any mistakes until the third verse when I started thinking, "Hey, this is fun! I'm really good at this! Why was I so scared?" and lost my place and played three wrong notes. I don't think anybody noticed because the kids and moms were all singing together and apparently getting emotional from the wonderfulness of it all. I'm proud to say I was a part of it and I didn't let nerves, barf or shiz get in my way.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-87029665499897287482012-05-10T15:06:00.000-06:002012-05-10T15:06:28.984-06:00"I let my 6 year old be lowered into a bear den by someone I met on the Internet."Now how many people can say that? I know of exactly one - my husband. Incidentally, there was a bear IN the den at the time. A mad bear, cornered by seven hound dogs. What a fun thing for a little boy to see. Let's lower him by his feet and hang him upside down five feet from a mad bear! Here, random friend I met on <a href="http://monstermuleys.com/" target="_blank">MonsterMuleys.com</a>, you take one leg, I'll take the other...<br />
<br />
That wasn't the only confession Jason made after returning from his bear hunt in southern Utah this weekend.<br />
<br />
"I also put the boys out on several ledges that were very dangerous."<br />
<br />
Maybe some things that you might not want to share with your wife if you ever want to spend unsupervised time with your children. Ever. Again. <br />
<br />
Just a thought.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Jason wants to spend time with the boys and take them hunting. I just sleep a lot better once they are home and safe. And I kind of wish they would keep all the details to themselves. Sheesh!<br />
<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-85281614921673525682012-04-27T18:00:00.000-06:002012-04-27T18:00:43.380-06:00PerspectiveThe other night was a typical, crazy evening going from one thing to the next. I was tired, frazzled and grouchy, but trying hard to get everything done and still stay a sane mama, one deep breath at at time. We had just arrived at Dallin's first baseball game of the season. I parked the van on the side of the busy street and proceeded to unload the kids. I noticed that Jake's diaper was about one ounce away from a major soak-through, so I instructed the other three to stay by the driver's door so I could hurry and change him. I specifically remember saying, "Abby, stand there and don't move." Then I turned my back.<br />
<br />
A minute later I was aware of a car going by way too fast. I glanced up to make sure Abby was still standing by my side. She was gone.<br />
<br />
I looked across the street and saw Jason carrying her, walking toward me, shaking his head. He was meeting us there and Abby had run to meet him as soon as she had seen him approaching.<br />
<br />
"She ran right out in front of that car! It's a miracle she wasn't hit! Why weren't you watching her?" Jason was upset with me, and he had every right to be. I tried to explain to him that I don't have enough hands, that I was trying my hardest, that I told her to stand there, all the reasons that were completely true, but could never justify the life of our child.<br />
<br />
"You need to watch her better!"<br />
<br />
"I know. I know."<br />
<br />
All I could think was, "She could have been killed. It would have been my fault. She could have been killed." All the emotions of the crazy day and the reality of what almost just happened overwhelmed me. I loaded Jake back into his car seat and told Jason to take Luke and Abby to watch the game. I felt bad missing Dallin's game, but I was too shaken to try to put on a happy face and sit/wrestle Jake for the next hour and a half.<br />
<br />
As I drove home through my tears, I prayed. I'm trying my hardest to be a good mom, to meet everyone's needs and be in every place I need to be, but sometimes it's just not enough. I can't do it all. It's too much. Four kids, four hundred places to be, I'm constantly being pulled in so many different directions. If I work hard at one thing, everything else suffers. There just isn't enough of me to go around. I can't do it all. What am I supposed to do?<br />
<br />
Later, I opened the April issue of the Ensign to Elder Bednar's article, <a href="http://www.lds.org/ensign/2012/04/the-atonement-and-the-journey-of-mortality?lang=eng" target="_blank">The Atonement and the Journey of Mortality</a>. It focuses on the power of grace and how Christ literally gives us his enabling power to do and to be more than we could ever be on our own. I could practically hear the answers to my prayers as I read.<br />
<br />
"Because He paid the ultimate price and bore that burden, He has perfect empathy and can extend to us His arm of mercy in so many phases of our life. He can reach out, touch, succor—literally run to us—and strengthen us to be more than we could ever be and help us to do that which we could never do through relying upon only our own power."<br /><br />
She might have been killed. <i>But she wasn't.<br /></i><br />
I can't do it all. <i>You don't have to.<br /></i><br />
What am I supposed to do?<i> Just what you can.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>I'm so grateful for the knowledge I have that I only have to do my best. It may not be perfect, or anywhere near, but as long as I am doing my best I can rely on the Savior to make up the difference. I know bad things will still happen. I know life will be hard. I'm just grateful that this time, my daughter was protected and I have the opportunity to start fresh and focus on what matters most.Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4265082302140776932.post-3765966264459870892012-04-10T10:35:00.000-06:002012-04-10T10:47:19.719-06:00Happy B-Day to Me<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I turned 35 a few weeks ago. To be honest, I have dreaded this birthday for 35 years. But now that it has come and gone, I have to wonder, what was I so worried about? 35 is great! I feel like a spring chicken. Young, full of life and possibility... not nearly as geriatric as I had imagined. So I've decided not to hide my age. Who really cares if younger people think I'm old? They are always going to be younger than me, just sitting in the background, getting older themselves at the same time they are judging me for being old. There are just as many people who are older and recognize my youth and vitality for what it is (<i>almost </i>gone, but not quite). I've still got a few good years left in me. I'll take what I can get. </div>
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I had a great birthday, minus the fact that our trampoline blew away at 8 am on my birthday morn. I just have to count it as a birthday present because now I don't have to move the thing every time I mow the lawn. Truly, I'm sad it's gone, but I listed it for free on <a href="http://www.ksl.com/index.php?nid=231&category=349">ksl.com</a> and had about 20 phone calls in 30 minutes from people who wanted a free, ruined trampoline. I think that is as popular as I have ever been in my life, so happy birthday to me. I kept taking phone calls long after it was committed to a happy individual because I was having so much fun answering the phone. Okay, so maybe being 35 is a little depressing if that's my idea of a good time these days.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtBe24LeRQBs1nd-mt2AgDogcJqfuxQ8XtIFsHW5FT35TBueESj1uy2by3sITIx0HNGY6huXuuU3jcChFDOqgi39tnZ0cIpeCmItPn03nXaIVFkHnaw6k9Y8spUhWlZWSHSS5ettHUvA/s1600/march12-110.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="465" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWtBe24LeRQBs1nd-mt2AgDogcJqfuxQ8XtIFsHW5FT35TBueESj1uy2by3sITIx0HNGY6huXuuU3jcChFDOqgi39tnZ0cIpeCmItPn03nXaIVFkHnaw6k9Y8spUhWlZWSHSS5ettHUvA/s640/march12-110.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">You may remember that my brother Ryan and I are the <a href="http://yatesrgreat.blogspot.com/2008/04/flashback-friday_11.html" target="_blank">same age for one day</a>. Every year we pose proudly with a sign that tells our age on my birthday. Now we include our posterity, so here we are with my four and his three. I think they are about as nutty as a group of kids can be.</span> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipomWir1da_l7Ahrcdfojm9z4gIl_U8FxM6t-2Ldz8SFO58u0rk7uhYShWrtNTnd_klihxIX6vMasuHuwxBuSwrVhwsa7dgOsl3wF5N2LT5C5Mt0DBWkQZ7-3WjC3yvAr-GcPG4jxBPYE/s1600/IMG_4014-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipomWir1da_l7Ahrcdfojm9z4gIl_U8FxM6t-2Ldz8SFO58u0rk7uhYShWrtNTnd_klihxIX6vMasuHuwxBuSwrVhwsa7dgOsl3wF5N2LT5C5Mt0DBWkQZ7-3WjC3yvAr-GcPG4jxBPYE/s640/IMG_4014-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">All I really wanted for my birthday was a break from cooking dinner for one night, so we went to one of my favorite places, <a href="http://www.bluelemon.com/" target="_blank">Blue Lemon</a>.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAqFFgl2_RXpf1AtzwT-CTOy5bOXhjwvR84aV9W36dMxP6RG_QhfIUJUBzDXkIhh8xHovWekAV-HwIvQKblQFJTOpGE1rfTovyQSm_LqIX-vqfaGo9Zst5Ulym_o46YO4VtbwyoT7QVU/s1600/IMG_4022-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaAqFFgl2_RXpf1AtzwT-CTOy5bOXhjwvR84aV9W36dMxP6RG_QhfIUJUBzDXkIhh8xHovWekAV-HwIvQKblQFJTOpGE1rfTovyQSm_LqIX-vqfaGo9Zst5Ulym_o46YO4VtbwyoT7QVU/s640/IMG_4022-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The traditional family birthday picture. I think we were a little more energetic than the old Blue Lemon was used to. Oh well, we had fun.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DPTFiYwQ19cq096pUXDVHKJ1zBjUSgpirUcf8XjzZTj7oKWCC32nPMcVcOvTW6kTeyGYyetSLeaPR0cLuWEOax8RmOxKdb_cI8yGIpsUr9DUk8JOXf6IXuOiapk0MEI4DpjTTEYzheE/s1600/IMG_4024-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DPTFiYwQ19cq096pUXDVHKJ1zBjUSgpirUcf8XjzZTj7oKWCC32nPMcVcOvTW6kTeyGYyetSLeaPR0cLuWEOax8RmOxKdb_cI8yGIpsUr9DUk8JOXf6IXuOiapk0MEI4DpjTTEYzheE/s640/IMG_4024-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">I always tell myself I am going to try something new but I change my mind at the last second and order my favorite, the <a href="http://www.bluelemon.com/menu/fresh-salads/" target="_blank">Pear and Gorgonzola Spinach Salad</a>. When it arrives at the table, I think, wow, this could feed a family of five. I'm definitely taking some home this time. Ten minutes later, as I finish the last bite and scrape the dressing off the plate with my fork, I think, wow, that was good.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFp1OCLXw-ySmRvJ9mZDIzCNzBfkUEPSIRuv-eUCc537KqjUEciM_ZY8nhBOAcpiQGYVP64N3s-m45iAPVKu8idwplE5m0izAmlUt6_-pRUrkmx_6ZNz5UaEQuXmrQS_J1PH5EmjL6Y4/s1600/IMG_4034-001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFp1OCLXw-ySmRvJ9mZDIzCNzBfkUEPSIRuv-eUCc537KqjUEciM_ZY8nhBOAcpiQGYVP64N3s-m45iAPVKu8idwplE5m0izAmlUt6_-pRUrkmx_6ZNz5UaEQuXmrQS_J1PH5EmjL6Y4/s640/IMG_4034-001.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jason hooked me up with some fabulous presents this year, as always. He took me out to lunch and then to <a href="http://runners-corner.com/" target="_blank">Runner's Corner</a> in Orem and waited patiently for me to get fitted with new running shoes by my new favorite person, <a href="http://runnerscorner.com/staff/hawk-harper/" target="_blank">Hawk</a>. I knew Hawk would be my new favorite person just by his name, and I was not disappointed. I felt like I got a personal training session along with the perfect pair of shoes. I also got some new running clothes, a few dance games for the Wii, and the immersion blender I have wanted since the beginning of time. <i>Yes!</i></span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqrd3_nIGDVGWoqVmR-k7F21X7vqPg5oCzBd8664wcTN7Q6XNi-fAnZS3s57lzZxgzyYbkUySyTet2s23p_5g9ZeJhvz5Js6HNLuzLRcXJmSbhZeVtXyZfUdYUzmdARdxdHqeUAZpuzo/s1600/Jasons+New+Camera+028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihqrd3_nIGDVGWoqVmR-k7F21X7vqPg5oCzBd8664wcTN7Q6XNi-fAnZS3s57lzZxgzyYbkUySyTet2s23p_5g9ZeJhvz5Js6HNLuzLRcXJmSbhZeVtXyZfUdYUzmdARdxdHqeUAZpuzo/s640/Jasons+New+Camera+028.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Good bye, my fair friend. Next time, we won't take the weights off your legs one week before a large wind storm. We promise.</span></td></tr>
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<br />Anne Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02898836384988009461noreply@blogger.com6