tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61492216104534603132024-02-19T01:56:39.970-05:00Words For FriendsDorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-32715963551146377752015-05-22T17:39:00.001-04:002015-05-22T17:39:16.536-04:00Takes of the Quick KindI've finally remembered that I have a laptop and since I have a baby that pretty much refuses to sleep anywhere but on me, maybe I can actually get back into writing! That would be exciting. No guarantees. But maybe.<br />
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<i>(He knew I wanted to do something - he woke up as soon as I started writing. Nate took him and Rosie on a walk with the dog and Freddy is still napping, so huzzah!)</i><br />
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With Freddy's birthday falling on a Tuesday and Mother's Day falling on the previous Sunday, we celebrated his birthday this past weekend. The weather cooperated BEAUTIFULLY. First, we took him and his siblings to the zoo on Saturday - and I didn't take a single picture, so clearly it didn't happen. Nate did, but I don't have the shots, so...<br />
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The highlights for Freddy were probably the lions <i>(he actually tried to climb up the fencing on the outside of the enclosure - "Buddy, you're the reason they have fences in addition to the moat.")</i> and the seals and sea lions. Otherwise, he spent most of the time trying to wander around where he wanted to go and being very vocally against being in the stroller.<br />
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Also, those huge ugly thermal mugs you get from the hospital are perfect to hold grapes. Keeps them cool and prevents them from getting squished, holds a TON, and the handle makes it easy for kiddos to hold on to them.<br />
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Freddy and Rosie were VERY upset about leaving, but both of them passed out in the car on the way home.</div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">The next day, we had the families over for dinner and cake and presents. Freddy had previously licked his bowls clean on these one-pot meals my sister found, so I made them. As I was apologizing for how not-fancy this dinner was, Freddy burst out in a very loud, "YUMMY YUMMY YUMMY YUMMY YUMMY!!!!"</span><div style="text-align: justify;">
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<a href="http://www.number-2-pencil.com/2013/12/09/one-pan-enchilada-pasta/" target="_blank">Enchilada Pasta</a> (I doubled it. It's kind of on the salty side, so you might want to get low-sodium taco mix too)<br />
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<a href="http://damndelicious.net/2014/01/11/one-pot-cheeseburger-casserole/" target="_blank">Cheeseburger Casserole</a> (I keep meaning to try it with beef stock instead of chicken. That would make more sense, right?)<br />
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No fancy cake, but it was all eaten - zero leftovers. Just the recipe on the back of the Hershey's cocoa powder box. Still dang proud of myself though.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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My former students - babies that started out as sophomores my first year teaching - are graduating from COLLEGE. And getting ENGAGED. At least one of them has a BABY. It's CRAZY.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fK_LVrSIXwrlouOmCr7wRG6v02roYGbBuglzBrHFWPtl5GCpaT7i5ZhdOdadgqXn4_Q0hDcdEskYruWaNXilhNpdg3YZLaKgN01aMI6f1LJfTvb23a3xG075EJmKiZffci7E_V2R5xBL/s1600/DSCN2656.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-fK_LVrSIXwrlouOmCr7wRG6v02roYGbBuglzBrHFWPtl5GCpaT7i5ZhdOdadgqXn4_Q0hDcdEskYruWaNXilhNpdg3YZLaKgN01aMI6f1LJfTvb23a3xG075EJmKiZffci7E_V2R5xBL/s400/DSCN2656.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">None of these guys have babies, but at least one of them is engaged.</td></tr>
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I got pregnant with Rosie after their graduation and before they started school in the fall. That's a blink.<br /><br /></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt4"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
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I can't find my nail clippers, which wouldn't be such a big deal if the baby's nails didn't feel like this chick's:<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Agents of Shield</i> anyone?</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt5"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt5" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 5 ---</a></strong></div>
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I bought strawberry seedlings last year and was very disappointed to find that they wouldn't be producing any fruit that summer. I was really nervous when half of them died shortly after planting, and I wasn't sure they were going to make it through the winter, but...<br />
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Tada! Freddy keeps nicking them when we're out in the backyard, so this is the first harvest I was able to actually do myself. An admittedly small number (it would have been larger, but I fear I might have killed more of the plants when I transferred them from one part of the garden to another to group them together), but still! Fresh produce!</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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A slightly negative take:<br />
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I'm torn between being more proactive about getting Rosie to potty train and just letting her do her own thing, but when my MIL keeps making comments and pushing it...it's really getting under my skin. She had said a while back that once it came time to potty train, I was on my own (thanks?) because when her kids got old enough to potty train, she went back to work, so someone else did it. Yet on Sunday, she showed up with two packs of training pants and gave them to me while saying, "I have something that might make you annoyed with me..."<br />
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Why would you bring something that you were pretty sure wasn't going to be received well? Why would you keep pushing something you yourself said that you weren't going to have any hand in? Why would you then undermine it when Rosie asked to sit on the potty and you said you were going to use the bathroom first?! Gah.<br />
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At least no one reads this blog. :-)</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt7"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
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And just so we end on a super positive note - the newest Sorensen:<br />
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Meet John Logan, born February 27.</div>
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For more Quick Takes, go see <a href="http://thisaintthelyceum.org/sqt-favorite-takers-of-the-quick/" target="_blank">This Ain't the Lyceum!</a></div>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-20490603989852073582015-05-12T23:30:00.000-04:002015-05-13T01:25:57.366-04:00Freddy's Birth StoryThe last blog post I wrote was over a year ago, with the words, "Trying to get back on the blogging wheel." Haaaaaaaaaahahahahaha!<br />
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Clearly, I'm terrible at this, but in the past year, Freddy turned 1 (and now 2), I was a birth sherpa for my best friend, I got pregnant and gave birth to another child, and we dealt with all sorts of other stuff along the way (flooded basement, totaled van, Nate starting grad school...it's been crazy). However, I realized that I haven't written Freddy's labor story, and that needs to be rectified before it starts to fade (especially since I've got another kid in the collection!). So, here we gooo:<br />
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I got pregnant quite soon after I had Rosie. We hadn't taken the post-partum NFP class or ordered the book, plus I wasn't taking my temperatures or charting, so we were winging it and...well, clearly winging it isn't the best way to space your kids. I spent the last week of September into October feeling icky, and as each day passed I went from, "I must have come down with something, there's like a 5% chance I'm pregnant," to puking in the tub while taking a shower and telling Nate we needed to buy a pregnancy test.<br />
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I had a due date of May 25, 2013, exactly 1 year and 2 months after Rosie was born. Now, my older brother and I are a year and nine days apart, my dad and his brother are a year and a month apart, so this wasn't exactly uncharted territory for my family, but it was still a little terrifying seeing those lines show up when my first wasn't even 6 months old. I was in such denial that I went to the confirmation ultrasound (I was much further along when I figured out I was pregnant - 8 weeks I think?) asking my sister if it was bad that I was hoping the test was wrong. I ended up regretting I'd ever said that when at the next appointment it took literally 5 solid minutes to find the heartbeat.<br />
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It's funny how you start pleading with God to give you back something you didn't even think you wanted.<br />
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The pregnancy passed fairly uneventfully. I didn't have nearly as much morning sickness as I did with Rosie - I only really got sick when I took the progesterone and my nose wasn't as sensitive as before - and wasn't anywhere close to as exhausted, though whether that was because the pregnancy wasn't as tiring or because I was used to it or because Rosie would let me lounge or because I wasn't working and having to be up before the sun is anyone's guess. Because I wasn't as sick, I didn't lose weight and in fact gained in the first trimester and just kept gaining (which was a little dismaying). Because the pregnancy was back to back with my first, I felt the lovely pelvic girdle pain much sooner. One doctor said that I could probably expect the labor to be half as long as my first. Great news, as I was hoping to have a natural birth this time around. And really, those are the only things worth mentioning about it till I got closer to the end.<br />
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March, April, and May were going to be busy months. In addition to birthdays (so many birthdays), two of my cousins were getting married about 2 weeks apart, my little brother was becoming an Eagle Scout, I was co-hosting a bridal shower, and we were refinancing our house, plus Nate was working at a middle school and had concerts. Go big or go home, right? As I was in the third trimester with my second kid, I went big.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big.</td></tr>
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The first weekend in May, I headed to my cousin's wedding in Annapolis. Before the ceremony started, I took the opportunity to use the restroom...and found that I was losing my mucus plug. Lovely. Clearly, he stayed in, as this is not a story of how I gave birth on a dance floor. But at my 37 week appointment a few days later, the doctor (who, incidentally, had delivered Rosie) informed me that I was at 4 cm. What?? The doctor didn't send me to L&D right then and there, but he did proceed to tell me that if I thought I was in labor to call them. Any time. Really. Just call. Day or night. Call. Really.<br />
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I woke up around 5:30 am on Saturday, May 11, feeling a little funny and in a familiar-ish way. I started timing some things and, sure enough, contractions had started. I was able to go back to sleep, but I knew I wouldn't be spending another night in our house.<br />
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We spent the day just kind of waiting. We called up both my mom and sister and made arrangements for Rosie and the dog, and I called the doctor around lunch, saying that I was pretty sure I was in labor but didn't think I needed to go in yet, She said that if I was already at 4 cm, they weren't going to send me home, so I decided to stick it out at home for a little longer. We read to Rosie and my sister took a bunch of pictures of us as our last time as a family of three. Around 5:00 pm I decided it was about time to go to the hospital. In retrospect, I should have stayed home - my mom got there as we were getting to the car and I was more or less ok chatting with her in the parking lot. But, I was getting really antsy, so off to the hospital we went.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosie knows something's up.</td></tr>
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We showed up at L&D, got buzzed in, and who's working the nurse's station but a friend from college! Diana took me to triage and checked me out (I found out from her that the fake vagina and cervix they use for practice in nursing school is called Regina, which is my middle name, so there's that) and said that I'm at 6 cm and confidently declared that I was going to have that baby out by midnight!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Diana! My physical angel that day.</td></tr>
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I requested to have a room with a whirlpool bath if possible, and they took me to the same room that I delivered Rosie in, which was nice until we found out that the computers weren't working in that room, so we headed next door. Unfortunately for me, the whirlpool jets don't work in the bathtub in that room. Bummer. More unfortunate for me, my least-favorite doctor from the practice is on shift. Double bummer.<br />
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Hours passed. I snuck pretzels and pizza crusts when no one was looking. Diana's shift ended and she promised that when she's back the next day she'll go visit me in recovery. I ate a bunch of mostly melted popsicles we brought from home because the sugar free ones at the hospital are gross (lesson learned from last time). Contractions turned to back labor. I got more and more tired. I felt like I was being stabbed in the back through my lower spine and that my whole body was being yanked backwards. More hours pass. More contractions. Stronger, stronger, stronger,<br />
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About 12 hours after I checked in, I got a cervical check. 6 cm. Right where I was when I got there. Discouraged, exhausted (I'd been up for about 24 hours at that point), and in near-constant pain from contraction after contraction, I asked for the epidural.<br />
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We took a trip to London a few years ago. They have an exhibit about the effect of torture on prisoners in the Tower and they show two signatures of Guy Fawkes - <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guy_Fawkes#/media/File:Guy_fawkes_torture_signatures.jpg">a before and after</a> - to drive the point home. I'm fairly certain that if you look at my signatures on the consent forms for the anesthesia that you'd see very similar effects.<br />
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After the epidural kicked in (so many lovely and mixed feelings about that), I ended up taking a few hour nap to rest up for the delivery phase. Diana came back on shift and started watching over me and my procedures again. I am so thankful that she was there for me, because I woke up to said least-favorite doctor demanding to know why my water hadn't been broken yet. Diana took the brunt, saying that they didn't want to wake me to do it.<br />
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The actual delivery went smoothly. Diana told me that it only took 10 minutes of pushing. I don't know. All I know is that I was staring at the clock on the wall, which was reading exactly 8:30 am when Freddy came out, and they declared time of birth as 8:31. It was Sunday, May 12. Mother's Day.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Frederick Neil's very first picture.</td></tr>
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He came out screaming, pink, and strong. Nate and I sang "Happy Birthday" to all 7 pounds 14 ounces and 21 inches of him. I seem to remember him being a little fuzzier than Rosie since he didn't cook as long. He was holding his head up, just like his sister, and amazing the nurses, just like his sister.<br />
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Diana said I lost a lot of blood and they had to give me an extra shot. She got an Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion to come and give me the Eucharist while I was still in L&D, nursing Freddy for one of the first times. It was amazing. Sadly, I threw up shortly thereafter, along with half of the breakfast I ate. At least I got breakfast in bed for Mother's Day? Diana also hooked me up with an awesome room in the recovery wing - it was a former double room, with lovely (fake?) hardwood floors and a futon and natural light and a ton of space for our families. It fit everyone easily. My sister came with Rosie, who had looked so tiny the day before and was now monstrous in comparison to her newborn brother. All of their first meeting pictures are in that room. He got checked out and his first bath in that room. And then, after our families had mostly left, we had to get moved, as they were shutting down that part of the wing since there weren't that many of us, so we got put in one of the older, not as nice rooms.<br />
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I don't remember much of the stay. I spent most of my time sleeping, which was weird for me. There were a few doctors or nurses or other staff who came in and had conversations about presumably important things, but I was going in and out of consciousness and nodded off in more than one meeting. Freddy actually slept well in the bassinet, which Rosie didn't, and he continued to show his need for space afterwards as he also slept in the bouncer and cosleeper and even got moved to his crib at 7 months after a particularly frustrating evening and slept through the night with no complaint of being away from us.<br />
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I remember going home on the Fairfax County Parkway the very next afternoon. It was a beautiful day. Sunny, warm, breezy. We had the windows down and I could smell the honeysuckle. It was hard to believe that we now had two children. Not a child. Children. Plural. But somehow, this one helped me to know everything was possible. I started baking again. I baked more bread when he was a baby than I did when I was pregnant with him. I didn't feel as horribly inept, because I knew I'd been through it before.<br />
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That's not to say he's been easy (though he was a pretty darn good baby). On the contrary, he is constantly challenging us. He is stubborn, almost recklessly fearless, and probably too clever for his own good (he tried and succeeded opening the fridge before Rosie did, and he figured out that removing the plastic doodad on the doorknob means he can open it). He's ripped more pages of books than I can count, he is forever throwing things down and through the stairs, and he's not a particularly cuddly kid. But...he is strong, both in his body and will. He is healthy. He is curious. He is happy. When he is in the affectionate mood, he puts everything into it (and there's a lot of him to put into it - he's a tank!). He can be wonderfully gentle and funny and cute and sweet. He still takes naps! He's learning new words to communicate every day. He is a trouble maker and a problem solver, and he wouldn't be Freddy if he were any other way.<br />
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I love you, buddy boy. Thanks for being you.<br />
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<br />Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-25950526945001680852014-03-29T00:26:00.002-04:002014-03-29T00:49:17.123-04:007 Quick Takes - Birthday week!I don't know how quickly I ever really do these. But since I'm trying to get back on the blogging wheel...<br />
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<a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1387" src="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg" height="195" title="7_quick_takes_sm" width="290" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt1"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt1" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 1 ---</a></strong></div>
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Little Miss Rosie had a pretty phenomenal birthday. Fresh baked lemon-blueberry scones (that she refused to eat until the next day), poofy dress, the movie <i>Frozen</i>...and snow. Yes, for the second year in a row, there was frozen precipitation, and that makes every March 25 literally since the day she was born to have some kind of precipitation.</div>
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That sounds all snarky, but it really was a wonderful day. The only meltdown was over the scones, she had a great nap, she and Freddy played nicely and read tons of books, and her godmother came over and had dinner and watched a movie with us all. Really, a lovely birthday.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poofy dress courtesy of my mom. <i>Frozen</i> courtesy of Costco (and apparently cheaper at Target. Womp womp).</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSLfzk0dvzXgAmaEE9xq8zqUX7jPioQiTfYsAwjZsg1y26QLtWm0N_SEDKVZhSvqwuLImN5PxcIWuF5RtRfIVdDRWVdJLJMaULMrffavr6y6z780QHnuV57gDdcf1vNb1QJ7f8Ljzyq-q/s1600/1395756391215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSLfzk0dvzXgAmaEE9xq8zqUX7jPioQiTfYsAwjZsg1y26QLtWm0N_SEDKVZhSvqwuLImN5PxcIWuF5RtRfIVdDRWVdJLJMaULMrffavr6y6z780QHnuV57gDdcf1vNb1QJ7f8Ljzyq-q/s1600/1395756391215.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This might be false enthusiasm, but it's adorable.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0sgCBULL_T8hgZxLhr3wjks53blg7D9RFufDPD5-ddV9Jaew1jeDfNmEo_fmTXYcK4rpeM29Vh-Lxr9Bn96M2Ks-ywlCCcUocp_pBLt2Csd_ZEkxO8jjeMk6rlyGpjba0xGz_1mHJZhu/s1600/20140325_125708.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS0sgCBULL_T8hgZxLhr3wjks53blg7D9RFufDPD5-ddV9Jaew1jeDfNmEo_fmTXYcK4rpeM29Vh-Lxr9Bn96M2Ks-ywlCCcUocp_pBLt2Csd_ZEkxO8jjeMk6rlyGpjba0xGz_1mHJZhu/s1600/20140325_125708.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can't see it, but the sandbox she got for her birthday is covered in snow. She wanted to go out and play. Her godmother took her out briefly and built a snowman. Rosie ran in circles and asked to play in the sandbox.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt2"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 2 ---</a></strong></div>
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Those scones I baked were from a cookbook called <i>My Irish Table</i> that my dad got me for my birthday. If I'm honest, the recipe actually called for orange zest and currants, but as I'm not a huge fan of currants and don't recall seeing them stateside, I switched it up with lemon zest and blueberries. Still tasty!</div>
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The author is the owner of several restaurants in the Alexandria area, including a speakeasy (secret location and everything!), so I'm kind of intrigued now. Sadly, I think the fish and chips place is going to be the only one we can afford. But hey - it's Lent, so that works.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Irish-Table-Homeland-Restaurant/dp/1607744309/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1396063166&sr=1-1&keywords=my+irish+table">Noms.</a></td></tr>
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So far, I've made the potato and leek soup (delicious), batch bread (would probably have been better if I owned the type of pan he specified using), and the scones (twice, though I've not gotten them to rise properly yet). Even if those recipes turned out to be mediocre, the little notes of life growing up in Ireland and the proper ingredients are worth reading. For instance: why does shepherd's pie in the states use beef? Shepherds have access to sheep, not cows.</div>
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Cows do taste better, though...<br />
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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Dad was born in Philly to an Irish-born woman and an Irish-blooded American man. One of his prime grievances for St. Patrick's Day is the proliferation of corned beef. As he would say, "That's what they fed the Irish working on the railroads in the US. The Irish in Ireland couldn't afford beef." He and my siblings and I can claim Irish citizenship if we want, and frankly, I've been seriously thinking about it for a while. I don't get to travel overseas much, but there are some perks to having an EU passport that may be worth it. Plus, how am I going to compete in the Olympics otherwise?</div>
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I'm going to have to pick up a sport. I'm thinking archery.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt4"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
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Back to Rosie's birthday - there was one small issue that happened...</div>
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Rosie and Freddy share a room, and Rosie has been known to, um, share things. I've come in to see Freddy covered in every single article of clothing from the dresser tossed into his crib. On her birthday, Rosie decided to shove the bottle of leave-in hair conditioner through the slats to him. Oh, and she either unscrewed or loosened the top for him. Nate went up, saw the light on (Rosie also loves doing that), went in to turn it off, and saw Freddy covered in conditioner - including his mouth.</div>
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One phone call to poison control later <i>(after, actually, one call to his nurse mom, who then said, "Uh, you should be talking to poison control, not me.")</i> and we found out that it was probably going to act like a laxative and to keep an eye on him for 30 minutes. He ended up being totally unaffected, thankfully, so I can just shake my head.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Since we haven't seen him yet - hey, Fredders!</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He was a sleepier version of this while we waited for that half hour.</td></tr>
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PS - Poison control apparently makes follow-up phone calls. Who knew? However, sometimes their note-taking skills aren't the greatest....</div>
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<b>Nate: </b>Hello?</div>
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<b>PC: </b>Yes, this is poison control. We're just calling to check up on the child who got into the air conditioner?</div>
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<b>Nate:</b> ...HAIR conditioner. Like, shampoo.</div>
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<b>PC:</b> Oh! That makes a lot more sense.</div>
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PPS - My MIL said that she was on a first-name basis with poison control with one of my BILs. Crossing fingers for that not happening here.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt5"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt5" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 5 ---</a></strong></div>
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I was hoping that this extended cold would have two effects: </div>
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1. Limit the bug population. </div>
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2. Severely damage the Bradbury pear trees, preferably so much so that they would die or have to be taken down.</div>
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I'd heard that the bugs were suffering, in particular the stinkbugs <i>(which don't stink when you squish them, btw. They are stupid, easily catchable, and easily squishable - completely useless insects, frankly, since they aren't even serving as a food source for most critters around here). </i>However, saw one, very much alive, today in the kids' room. Also, we've had ants for a few days now. So 1 is sadly proving untrue.</div>
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As for the Bradbury pears - well, the ones behind our house seem to be fine and budding, so smelly trees will soon be here. At least they're pretty?</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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My best friend's due date is fast approaching. She's planning a homebirth with the same midwife that delivered her husband (!) and I get to be there as a gopher/extra encouragement. I'm pretty stoked, though I've only been on the actively laboring and birthing end of things. Even more fun - she isn't so sure she's going to be past her due date anymore because things seem to be starting to happen already. Yes!</div>
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Maybe I'll win the baby pool!</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="qt7"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
Gotta start and end with the birthday girl. Here's proof that my daughter is a bit of a freak:<br />
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<span style="text-align: justify;">For those unable to understand toddler or who are unfamiliar with children's literature, that would be Rosie reciting the end of </span><i style="text-align: justify;">Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?</i><span style="text-align: justify;">, which, frankly, is hard for me to keep track of sometimes. The very last page is the response to, "Children, children, what do you see?" and is a recitation of everything in the book: "We see a brown bear, a red bird, a yellow duck, a blue horse, a green frog, a purple cat, a white dog, a black sheep, a goldfish, and a teacher looking at us."</span><br />
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That's what we see!</div>
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For more Quick Takes, go see Jen and others at <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/">Conversion Diary!</a></div>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-88775330885018249312014-03-24T18:28:00.003-04:002014-03-24T23:15:35.419-04:00Rosie's Birth Story<div style="text-align: justify;">
My little girl is turning 2 tomorrow! I'm absolutely gobsmacked that I have a 2 year old. I just had her!</div>
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Part of the reason I got this blog was so I could actually record stuff like this, so here we go!</div>
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WARNING: THIS WILL HAVE ICKY OOZY STUFF. But no pictures of said icky ooze. Just adorableness.</div>
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<a name='more'></a>When Nate and I first got married, we'd planned on using NFP to give us about a year to sort out being married. The fact that we'd bought a short sale meant that we didn't close until we'd been married for over 2 months...and spent most of that time living with his parents in a guest room right next to theirs. That certainly "helped" with the abstinence phases. However, after a few months, we shrugged and went into "meh, whatever" mode and pretty much tossed charting out the window. A few months after that, we went into actively TTC mode and I, at least, got more and more frustrated with every month passing and not having a baby. Some of it was poor timing - Nate had a kidney stone that had to be surgically extracted during a fertile time - but most of it was just bad luck. It was right before our trip to Europe that we ended up conceiving, and it was on our one-year anniversary a day or two after our return that I got a positive pregnancy test.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRU7SmZ24K37mc-x9TLzRDGiL9d3xc2tSlR7HaV7lCQvdOpboxUsgRVLh1C8e9w3lxqmYnyu8IE8z0j39eYik4n5QB7EgplNXB54L9_Nvzg0pT1WNu3ihwuMsCo_EwJrbDM4QgXFP0dn3/s1600/IMG_20110723_055335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdRU7SmZ24K37mc-x9TLzRDGiL9d3xc2tSlR7HaV7lCQvdOpboxUsgRVLh1C8e9w3lxqmYnyu8IE8z0j39eYik4n5QB7EgplNXB54L9_Nvzg0pT1WNu3ihwuMsCo_EwJrbDM4QgXFP0dn3/s1600/IMG_20110723_055335.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Nate Nate Nate! I something to show you!" "Ugh, can you just tell me?" "No, you have to seeeeee it!" - real conversation at 5:30 am, July 23, 2011.</td></tr>
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Now, I've only been hungover once, and it was about 2 months before I got pregnant, and it was so awful that I swore I would never do it again. I kept that promise, but the first half, really, of the pregnancy was like being perpetually hungover. I lost weight from all the puking (every day at least once, sometimes twice); I was nauseated till about noon (on more than one occasion, I pulled a trash can over to me while I was teaching and said that I wasn't feeling well and that this would be for "just in case," half the time, the kids would scootch away, and since this was a 95% male class, I would giggle inside as I told them that I was very definitely not contagious); I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep and would actually pass out on the couch after dinner (which was usually something like frozen pizza because I had no energy to cook), wake up around midnight, drag myself upstairs, pee, and go back to sleep until my alarm went off, and then I'd wake up to do it all over again. Frankly, I felt like I was run over by a Mack truck all day, every day. I never really got the energy surge I was promised in the second trimester, and by the time I got to about 8 months I was done with pregnancy. I hate hate hated it.</div>
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I knew from all of my reading (I'm a research fanatic when it comes to new experiences - I REALLY don't like surprises) that, as a first timer, I would probably go past my due date. The one from the confirmation ultrasound was March 28, the conception date was March 27, and the 20w ultrasound was March 24, so I was psyching myself up for an April baby just to make sure that I didn't drive myself crazy if I passed all of them.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0AGwVjWDOfOv70QAnYf1Xmdp5eS8iX8wMyjjOVV2DOgB7gsIWuSgaYNRbNlkhkYOTqx72F5ow8cASVba5FIFe8Ls_M7o6NbPPgnkpqnXGUXEfOYkyq0p4H11ZUpvWhU60MCIhzJbv4SZ/s1600/IMG_20110819_090626.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw0AGwVjWDOfOv70QAnYf1Xmdp5eS8iX8wMyjjOVV2DOgB7gsIWuSgaYNRbNlkhkYOTqx72F5ow8cASVba5FIFe8Ls_M7o6NbPPgnkpqnXGUXEfOYkyq0p4H11ZUpvWhU60MCIhzJbv4SZ/s1600/IMG_20110819_090626.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">EDD: 3/28/2012. Also known as "we just shot a dart at a board and this was what we got."</td></tr>
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On March 23, I went to "Wind Lit Class" - really, a band director drinking group - and a fellow preggo told in utero Rosie to be nice to me and come out soon. I laughed and went home, not really thinking much of it, especially since my doctor's appointment that week hadn't revealed anything interesting (maybe 1 cm dilated?) and we'd gone walking around the Tidal Basin to see the cherry blossoms with zero issues. That night, I stayed up a little bit on my computer and Freya, instead of going upstairs with Nate like she usually did, stayed with me. It was a little weird, but I didn't think much of it.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2mH0HoG3lfjNPKMhNXJKvC5jd65UCAOtMk3IEMxmqL7YOyq-gEXxQ6fUuGvHBpHS9H-e_IqxaLrnRcU0qk9EIv08snCpPpwQgs74dZ9VRyTi0J9IyF7EQmGogr1JfOQO1awz6oHzY3oX/s1600/DSCN4664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv2mH0HoG3lfjNPKMhNXJKvC5jd65UCAOtMk3IEMxmqL7YOyq-gEXxQ6fUuGvHBpHS9H-e_IqxaLrnRcU0qk9EIv08snCpPpwQgs74dZ9VRyTi0J9IyF7EQmGogr1JfOQO1awz6oHzY3oX/s1600/DSCN4664.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So warm that month that the cherry blossoms were out in force on March 19 and a pregnant lady was wearing a tank top to walk around.</td></tr>
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I think she knew something I didn't, though, because at 5:30 the next morning, I woke up, went to the bathroom, and saw spotting and some watery discharge. I woke up Nate and told him we might have to call the doctor. After an hour of me kind of freaking out a bit, even though I felt zero contractions, I decided to make myself breakfast (scrambled egg and cheese sandwich on toast and chocolate milk) and call the doctor while he took Freya on a walk. Dr. Pereira was on call and after she heard my description, she said, "Well, the only way to know for sure is if you come in and we test it."</div>
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Hmm. "Well, ok. Can I take a shower first?"</div>
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"Of course!"</div>
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So I took a nice, long shower and took advantage of the opportunity to shave - if I WAS going to have to give birth, I was going to make sure I was at least presentable. Nate and I packed bags, even though I was almost positive we were just going to be sent home, and loaded up the car and headed to the hospital. We called our families and told them, "Hey, just to give you a heads up, we're heading to the hospital. We're probably going to be sent home, but we just wanted to let you know."</div>
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I don't necessarily remember what was on the radio while we drove over, but I do remember saying, "No! This song is awful! I don't want to remember driving to the hospital to have my baby with this song playing!"</div>
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We parked and started walking to the hospital. It was cloudy and starting to drizzle (it ended up storming later). We made our way to L&D, rang the buzzer, and when the nurse answered and asked why were there, I responded, "I might be in labor?" Clearly, we were going to be laughed at and sent home.</div>
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So I went into triage and the nurse came in, gave me a gown to change into, hooked me up to monitors, and checked me. She said that I was only about 2 cm dilated and about 90% effacted, but I was actually having contractions about seven minutes apart. Really?? I couldn't really feel them! This labor thing was going to be a breeze! She also took a swab for the test and left to take it to the lab.</div>
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Nate and I sat, twiddling our thumbs, until Dr. Fisk came in and said, "Well, the swab tested positive for amniotic fluid, which means you get a pass to stay." Wait, really? Hmm...</div>
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At this point, it was probably close to 9:30 and I was starting to get hungry and kicked myself for not eating on the way over. As we got set up in our new room, the nurses were saying that there were a few of us with leaks in, possibly because of the weather. We called our families back to tell them we were being admitted and could you please go get Freya and take her to your house? We also called or texted some friends.Throughout the day, my family, his parents, and my whole group of bridesmaids ended up coming and visiting, which was very nice. My sister did laps with me to try and get labor going faster, including a bizarre little dance at every other corner, and at 12:30 I was practically begging the doctor to let me go till 5:30 pm, the 12-hour mark, before having to go on Pitocin. I'd wanted a natural birth and I knew that the only reason there would be a risk of infection for ruptured membranes is if I kept getting checked, but since I'd been checked multiple times already, I was kind of between a rock and a hard place.</div>
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<table 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/AVvXsEhqUuX06WWRLxCnR85ePoPNgKA1xXGzO39OvYZkybXm0To8GUNfZ4p9mwRtGRuUIEKwYaG6HipBd9uVYkI9LyrwxCnvMTWm8SwWq1QgvzOMim7rDC68Dd0KuoF5rfc3_mgXCuKvUx699KL2/s1600/IMG_20120324_144138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqUuX06WWRLxCnR85ePoPNgKA1xXGzO39OvYZkybXm0To8GUNfZ4p9mwRtGRuUIEKwYaG6HipBd9uVYkI9LyrwxCnvMTWm8SwWq1QgvzOMim7rDC68Dd0KuoF5rfc3_mgXCuKvUx699KL2/s1600/IMG_20120324_144138.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nate was between a cranky pregnant woman and a mirror. And sleeping. Frequently.</td></tr>
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5:30 came. My contractions were no stronger and I was still at only 2 cm. Pitocin it was. I somehow managed to convince them to not crank it up as much as they were supposed to until there was a shift change, and the new nurse kept upping the dosage and told a horror story about how she was pretty much dying during the birth of her own kid and they had to bring in a crash cart. Thanks, lady. Just what I wanted to hear while in labor.</div>
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For some reason I didn't like March 24 as much as March 25, so when midnight rolled around, Nate and I watched the clock flip over and I was kind of happy that Rosie had held off coming, though still wasn't happy about having to deal with the Pitocin.</div>
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Of course, the contractions were getting stronger and closer together (thanks, artificial oxytocin!), but Nate was fading. On more than one occasion, I remember going through a contraction and practically slapping him awake. He also had to take off his ring because I was squeezing his hand in such a way that I was seriously hurting him. I had some pretty awful back labor- I felt like I was being stabbed right through my spine - and the nurse suggested I go into a position on all fours with my butt in the air to try and help. It didn't. By 3:30 am, I was only at 4-5 cm, and I couldn't take it anymore, but didn't want a full epidural, so they offered a drug to help take the edge off. It didn't dull the pain at all - it just made me hallucinate. I remember a contraction coming and thinking, "Oh, this is the cowboy one," and having some kind of weird correlated chart (like, 5 elephants, 6 clowns, 7 frogs, 8 cowboys - I'm telling you, that drug didn't help at all).</div>
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About 15 minutes later, my water broke. I was lying in the bed, Nate dozing off, when all of a sudden I felt like I'd popped a joint in my back and stuff just started GUSHING. I hit the call button.</div>
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"Yes?"</div>
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"Something's wrong! Something's gushing!"</div>
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So a nurse came in and said, "Oh, your water broke."</div>
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"I was told my water had already broken!"</div>
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"You probably just had a small leak and the baby's head plugged the hole. Now it's actually broken."</div>
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At this point, I was fed up and wishing I'd just kept my mouth shut and stayed home longer. I was tired and cranky and in pain so intense I'd thrown up twice (not that it was anything more than gross popsicles and apple juice). So I gave up and asked for an epidural. The anesthesiologist came in probably 30-45 minutes later and somehow managed to get the line in between my intense shaking.</div>
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I have to say, that epidural felt great. I was able to relax and take a nap, which was awesome since it had been about 24 hours since I'd slept. Nate was able to rest without a wife resenting him, too, so that's a bonus.</div>
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Around 6:15, I woke up. I rang the nurse.</div>
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"Yes?"</div>
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"I feel like I need to poo, which I'm pretty sure means I need to push."</div>
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"Ok, I'll be right there."</div>
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She came in and said, "All right, the next time you feel the urge to push, go ahead and push and we'll see if it's effective."</div>
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I didn't realize that would mean that she would stick a hand up the hoo-ha to check. Let me just say that having something going up there when you're trying to get a baby out is...unpleasant.</div>
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Good news was that the pushing was indeed effective, so she went to tell the doctor. Soon afterwards. Dr. Fisk came in and everyone started getting things set up for the actual birth part.</div>
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About an hour later, at 7:34 am on Sunday, March 25, 2012, roughly 26 hours after I woke up, little Theresa Rose came screaming into the world. Dr. Fisk actually started everyone singing "Happy Birthday."</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI8c8LgcuY9UBuz7gYA8D8ylEgV_ctzayyFouKHchb-1R1LkPbKY6qlkmg7rhmRUa-HKJV0dhLUUK6ukTNqAeRPGWnT0WL656NKJ75Gw1WiDYT_qwgBJ2-aXOYBqTonGWYwvCPUVUj7Yu/s1600/DSCN4696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrI8c8LgcuY9UBuz7gYA8D8ylEgV_ctzayyFouKHchb-1R1LkPbKY6qlkmg7rhmRUa-HKJV0dhLUUK6ukTNqAeRPGWnT0WL656NKJ75Gw1WiDYT_qwgBJ2-aXOYBqTonGWYwvCPUVUj7Yu/s1600/DSCN4696.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Very first picture of Rosie ever.</td></tr>
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There are more little bits from after the birth ("How many stitches are you putting in?" "Uh...we don't really count for things like this...") that were kind of funny or interesting, but this has been a long enough entry as it is.</div>
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Happy Birthday, baby girl.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrZn1hLg49Ngo2B_hh5Hu8JpYS7OrsqPKFqxvQx1bM1Phm4rQn4cOWS5essZInPc79YfdVSIMNLoKA79GWdGPCj0x-ivl6sprngXn38fCn9rwcbM0drDYz99RjMoq5XHOP1HQVlUgGP2G/s1600/DSCN4717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxrZn1hLg49Ngo2B_hh5Hu8JpYS7OrsqPKFqxvQx1bM1Phm4rQn4cOWS5essZInPc79YfdVSIMNLoKA79GWdGPCj0x-ivl6sprngXn38fCn9rwcbM0drDYz99RjMoq5XHOP1HQVlUgGP2G/s1600/DSCN4717.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6pARUbgr7TpIjgCEUaISWUjYDXenoX97SVR9NqKIlxkvBEBHgNagL9mpXaiVzE8fEVEfHxFOkcB0Y3AWnYlDt5PGiAs7KYU0gOnyj_f4YwO5PATy4S11uzuOTs3XTpS-x7R1HQku2JM6T/s1600/20140311_105205.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6pARUbgr7TpIjgCEUaISWUjYDXenoX97SVR9NqKIlxkvBEBHgNagL9mpXaiVzE8fEVEfHxFOkcB0Y3AWnYlDt5PGiAs7KYU0gOnyj_f4YwO5PATy4S11uzuOTs3XTpS-x7R1HQku2JM6T/s1600/20140311_105205.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-41188514255965993732014-02-26T02:07:00.002-05:002014-02-26T02:07:47.603-05:00God thinks I'm hilarious<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I am alive. I promise. But man, life is eating me alive!</div>
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You'd think with all the snow we've been having, I'd be blogging up a storm because there's nothing else to do. In reality, I'm still recovering from the holidays in terms of getting the house back in some semblance of order. Seriously. It's pathetic, I know, especially since we have less than 1000 sq ft in our little home, but it just feels like there's something that's been happening all the time, or at least not in the way we planned.</div>
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Take my best friend's baby shower last week. We'd decided back in December to shoot for President's Day Weekend Sunday (that totally made more sense in my head) because the long weekend would allow for recovery for everyone, plus Nonna-to-be would be able to come up and not take vacation days. One of the SIL/aunts found a carpool to hitch a ride back from college in Ohio, the two other planners/executors/friends D and K had their tasks lined up, and BFF's limited mobility grandmother was going to let us use her house to host so she could actually attend.</div>
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You know what they say about best-laid plans, right?</div>
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The snow wreaked havoc first. Friend D was stuck in Wisconsin - a business trip to Milwaukee that should have ended Wednesday was suddenly extended to Saturday afternoon due to canceled flights (plus, she learned things about her coworkers she had no need or desire to know). SIL's carpool canceled, leaving her in Ohio. Friend K's boss decided to tell her and her team at the last minute that they were all going to have to work the whole weekend. And finally, BFF's grandmother went to her cardiologist on Saturday, who told her that due to fluid build-up around her heart, she was going to have to lose 10 lbs over the weekend, so she backed out of hosting.</div>
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Clearly, no one is at fault for any of these things - weather happens, work happens, health problems happen - but the timing was remarkable.</div>
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It wasn't all bad - the weather forced Nate's wisdom teeth surgery to be moved, so he and his brother took the kids up to a friend's place to visit their new daughter while I made a banner (and got to use my sewing machine that I got for Christmas!). BFF's aunt, who had hosted the bridal shower, let us use her place at the last minute, and everyone who had said they would come was able to make it to the alternate location. My sister lives close by and was able to come over to help. Friend D's flight didn't have to get re-rescheduled, so she came over shortly after landing and we got everything done.</div>
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And nobody died. Winning!</div>
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How about some pictures?</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlemq9iSYJ1SIzkl6HB_KZyXNMn5XY4xceYFfMUuhJfA_Dp13ZQqWPPDKLLO3Zzi7JiWE3wvY8hbrD7jYkKwIdaH0duyaGjDmmEAhJNGQGufB9CPIIPyYajyrI5kS9Hyag8ERvuft8SZzg/w945-h709-no/20140214_182734.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlemq9iSYJ1SIzkl6HB_KZyXNMn5XY4xceYFfMUuhJfA_Dp13ZQqWPPDKLLO3Zzi7JiWE3wvY8hbrD7jYkKwIdaH0duyaGjDmmEAhJNGQGufB9CPIIPyYajyrI5kS9Hyag8ERvuft8SZzg/w945-h709-no/20140214_182734.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The banner! You'd never know I hadn't sewn in 15 years.</td></tr>
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About those cookies: I used the cookie recipe from <a href="http://www.sweetsugarbelle.com/2011/06/basic-sugar-cookie-recipe-2/" target="_blank">Sweet Sugarbelle</a>, plus her tips and tricks for icing, but used <a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/royal-icing-recipe.html" target="_blank">Alton Brown's royal icing recipe</a>. I bought the cookie cutters from Sur la Table, though there's a funny story about that onesie...</div>
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I went to Sur la Table (dangerous, dangerous store) with my mom to get specifically the bottle and carriage cutters, plus some other things for decorating, but felt that two cookies was odd and there needed to a third one. I'd seen a cute thing involving a baby foot being iced on a plain square or circle, but couldn't find a cheap circle that was, well, still a circle. So my mom went through and pulled out what she said is a t-shirt. I looked at it and noticed what it actually is, but figured it works. </div>
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I went to check out and plopped all my goodies on the counter. The cashier looked at everything - icing tips and couplers, bottles for royal icing, gel food coloring, cookie cutters - and remarked, "Looks like someone's going to be baking!"</div>
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"Yeah, my best friend's baby shower is this weekend, and we're doing cookie favors. I'm really excited!"</div>
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"I bet!" She picked up the onesie cutter and scanned it, looked at the screen, and raised an eyebrow. "That's an...interesting...choice."</div>
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I should tell you now that the "onesie" is actually a tombstone, just flipped upside down.</div>
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In fact, I would flip the picture to show you, but my husband saw all the onesies lined up getting decorated and thought they were male genitalia. "I know it's a baby boy, but don't you think that's a little...um..."</div>
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It's a onesie. And they were delicious.</div>
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Here, have a picture of a toddler in the snow for fun.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEy2jAUm706KI1MfZ_aX6GeGKywU1XTa3-X5TUSfjA2BF_ls_Cx8_R5Ex57Jk_pDygHOi7McAYu4dfVeECjK7oy6Uj2JvDwh_h1_1PkwZCGWdPI8lysZHv5TbayYjIUw3srQ5XIkJ8rS1/w532-h709-no/20140213_174347.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnEy2jAUm706KI1MfZ_aX6GeGKywU1XTa3-X5TUSfjA2BF_ls_Cx8_R5Ex57Jk_pDygHOi7McAYu4dfVeECjK7oy6Uj2JvDwh_h1_1PkwZCGWdPI8lysZHv5TbayYjIUw3srQ5XIkJ8rS1/w532-h709-no/20140213_174347.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There was a lot of convincing that had to be done to get her to do this.</td></tr>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-44168289858126827172014-01-16T01:52:00.001-05:002014-01-16T01:52:28.241-05:00Five Favorites: Our Area<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's no secret that we live in a tiny house. It's a townhouse with under 1000 square feet. It makes storage and cleaning a challenge, to be sure, and having more than two kids someday will be difficult with that little space and no yard. I have a habit of looking on Zillow every so often to try and keep an idea of prices in the area and...well, it's a little discouraging. Home values have increased, and while that means we have more value on our house, so does everyone else.</div>
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That said, there are some things about our area that will make us make do with our space for as long as possible, because we really, really love it. Here they are:</div>
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<b>1. Geography</b></div>
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Some of this has to do with being so close to so many outdoors options - lakes, rivers, mountains, beaches - with such a short drive. If I really wanted to, I could drive to some huge caves at Luray Caverns and still be home in time for dinner. But this has more to do with family location.</div>
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As I've said before, Nate and I were both military brats, so being able to see our grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins was a rare treat. Now, we live within about a half hour drive of both of them. That is heaven. It certainly came in handy last week when I was sick and able to call in some reinforcements to make it through the day. But we're at the point where both Rosie and Freddy recognize and willingly go to their grandparents and aunts and uncles because they see them on such a regular basis (Rosie would not let her uncle put her down tonight); if we were far away, I can imagine that there would be a lot more clinginess whenever we would visit. </div>
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<b>2. Education system</b></div>
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Yes, the education system is heading in some scary directions with Common Core and the non-stop standardized testing, but assuming we can get the pendulum swinging back towards teacher autonomy, we live in one of the best school districts in the country - and not just for those core subjects. The bands in this area are nationally recognized. Many of the high schools have earned the Sudler Flag of Honor (an award given to high schools who have a proven history of excellence), and three of them have earned it twice, which is super rare. It helps that we live within driving distance of the homes of 4 of the 5 main service bands (<a href="http://www.marineband.marines.mil/" target="_blank">President's Own</a>, <a href="http://www.usarmyband.com/" target="_blank">Pershing's Own</a>, <a href="http://www.usafband.af.mil/" target="_blank">Air Force Band</a>, and <a href="http://www.navyband.navy.mil/" target="_blank">Navy Band</a>). Which leads me to my next point...</div>
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<b>3. Culture (for free!)</b></div>
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There's two sides of this. First, there's Western culture, where you have the bands as I was talking about, plus all the Smithsonian museums in DC that are FREE FREE FREE, plus a number of performance venues that offer reasonable ticket prices (Millennium Stage at the Kennedy Center is free, too, every single day of the year) and colleges and universities in DC and Virginia. There are historical places within a stone's throw and you don't even need to leave the immediate area to visit - Mount Vernon, Gunston Hall, Arlington National Cemetery, etc. Wine making is huge in Virginia now and vineyards are popping up everywhere. </div>
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The other is that there's such a high influx of immigrants that the tastes of their culture come over as well, whether that's the Vietnamese Eden Center in Seven Corners, little Korea in Annandale, the Ethiopian enclave in Alexandria, any number of different Latino clusters (ever been to a Spanish Mass around the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe? It's a treat), the multitude of restaurants opened to cater to the different populations (you know it's a good Chinese restaurant when you're the only white people in there and the menu offers things like crispy fried pork intestine) - it really is a melting pot if you know where to go. I sat in the DMV closest to my house and I was one of I think 7 white people out of about 50 people total. It's nice to be exposed to people and food and customs and things that are different.</div>
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<b>4. Orthodoxy</b></div>
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We live in probably one of the more conservative dioceses in the US, and we attend one of the more conservative parishes. Our priests don't necessarily preach fire and brimstone, but as one priest-in-residence said in one of his homilies, "If you're expecting to go to Mass to hear a warm, fuzzy sermon, you're in the wrong place, especially here." I don't have to wonder if certain parts are illicit, I don't have to wonder if what I'm being told is good Catholic teaching, and I get to do it all in a prettier building with better music <i>(I came from an ugly church that had a giant, ripped, gold, LIVING Jesus on an acrylic cross - JeZeus on the resurrucifix - and had Hagen-Haas music, so really, anything is a step up from that. The Diocese of Arlington isn't exactly known for beautiful churches)</i>. Bonus: our church was built within the past 10 years, and some of the stained glass and statues came from my dad's old parish in Philly that had been closed.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And the quilts. Yeah. From this...</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ftn5krxu_9U/UZV3XM8Y18I/AAAAAAAAU4Q/LygsJI0Wqu0/s0/Emily%2526MarkWedding-131.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ftn5krxu_9U/UZV3XM8Y18I/AAAAAAAAU4Q/LygsJI0Wqu0/s0/Emily%2526MarkWedding-131.jpg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">...to this. Huge improvement.</td></tr>
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<b>5. It feels like home</b></div>
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Maybe it is because we moved around so much when we were little that it's nice to feel like there's someplace to really call home. Nate and I have tossed around the idea of teaching for the DoDDS schools overseas, and looking at housing prices has made me think that moving to someplace substantially farther away would be a prudent idea, but I will always think of Northern Virginia as home when anyone asks. It may be more expensive than other areas, more congested, more political, more fluid with population and building and the like, but I do think the pros outweigh the cons.</div>
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Now, if I were originally from Minnesota or Texas or Oregon, or if I went to college somewhere other than George Mason and planned on doing something other than teach, or if I hadn't met Nate and started a family, maybe I'd decide that it wasn't worth it and pick up and go somewhere else. Maybe I'd figure I was being called somewhere else (though having a good network of churches helps). Since none of that is the case, here we are, and here we'll stay.</div>
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I am curious to know what kinds of areas have 2, 3, and 4, which may lead to 5...</div>
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Check out more Five Favorites over at <a href="http://moxiewife.com/2014/01/five-favorites-vol-43/.html" target="_blank">Hallie's</a>!</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-53518223736874157562014-01-13T01:58:00.001-05:002014-01-13T01:58:05.200-05:00Post-Hiatus Post<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's only been a month since I last wrote. NBD, right? Yeah. Um...</div>
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To be fair, it was so insane that I haven't actually had a chance to even read the blogs I follow, much less write my own. In between December 15th and January 5, I'm pretty sure I was at home for a grand total of 4 days, and that's using the term lightly. I flew to Chicago to my very first Midwest Band and Orchestra Clinic (and stayed away from the kids for the first extended time - and Freddy the first time ever) to work the National Band Association booth. By the time we got home (Nate was able to come with me and probably had more fun, since he actually got to go to the clinics instead of stay in the exhibition hall), Nate's grandmother was in from Florida and his uncle and his family from New York as well, plus my older brother from Ohio and my aunt and uncle from New York, so we were spending every day somewhere else, including a day trip to Pennsylvania to visit my extended family. Then this week, there was Epiphany and Eastern Christmas, AND I came down with a nasty cold, which I may have caught from Rosie or vice-versa, and now Freddy has it as well, though neither have it as badly as I did. I'm still not over it - I sound like a career smoker - but everything is substantially calmer.</div>
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I know. Excuses.</div>
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I wish I had something more substantial to say about Chicago, but alas, I literally spent 95% of the conference hours at the NBA booth either signing people up for membership or waiting for someone to walk by (you could always tell when really good clinics were being run, because the hall would be dead). There were some high points. I got to either see in passing or actually meet <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LEp3_c6OyJY" target="_blank">Jan Van der Roost</a>*, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Swearingen" target="_blank">James Swearingen</a>, <a href="http://ostimusic.com/sounds/RedlineTokyo.m3u" target="_blank">John</a> <a href="http://ostimusic.com/audio/Aurora-UNT.m3u" target="_blank">Mackey</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HbkR_y_QMnw" target="_blank">Frank</a> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIIKdBYfmlo" target="_blank">Ticheli</a>, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IorOng9qUOo" target="_blank">Johan De Meij</a>, <a href="http://www.jwpepper.com/sheet-music/search.jsp?keywords=david+gorham" target="_blank">David Gorham</a>, Col. Shelburne (former U.S. Army Band conductor), and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10101335992477317" target="_blank">Col. John Bourgeois</a> (former U.S. Marine Band conductor). Some were literally seeing only - Mackey walked by the booth and waved, Ticheli stopped by the booth and I stood in awed silence while he talked to Emily Threinen, Van der Roost was checking in at the same time as me and we kept passing each other for days till I figured out who he was, and de Meij was napping on a couch the last day of conference. Others have better stories. </div>
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-Gorham was taking a shuttle to the airport with us and we were chatting casually until he said his name and Nate recognized it as he's had his kids play some of his stuff. He's super personable and totally humble, but kind of a huge deal - his band program in Oklahoma has earned both the Sudler Flag (concert band) and Shield (marching band), something only 14 bands have done. He's a member of the American Bandmasters Association, which is a sponsorship/voting in membership organization. His bands have performed at Midwest and BOA and probably every other major conference or clinic for his state, region, and country, and we didn't even know he was the person sitting behind us until Nate asked. Dang.</div>
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-Col. Shelburne is a member of the NBA and actually worked a shift at the booth with me. He's a sweet old man who led Pershing's Own while my friend's dad (and my sister's private teacher) was in the group (that's a little misleading - he's still in the band, but Shelburne retired). He actually said that that person was his wife's favorite saxophone player and his own personal favorite soloist because he's just so darn humble and laid-back.</div>
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-Col. Bourgeois is also a member of the NBA, but he is a past president, and that means that he was at the dinner that the Executive Board and past presidents get to go to. I was able to go because, well, I helped plan it, but it was almost nothing like what I expected, mostly because of Col. Bourgeois. He was something else. That link above takes you to the tamest of his limericks, and I only recorded three of them when he easily recited a dozen. He's also a bit of a BA - he was the director of the President's Own after being in it and being an arranger for it. His career for the Marine Band alone was almost 40 years, and that ended almost 20 years ago and he's still going strong.</div>
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-That dinner got me meeting so many different people in such a comfortable setting that the next day, when I was getting lunch, I made a bit of a faux-pas. I thought I recognized one of the friendlier past presidents that I walked up to him at the condiment station and said, rather loudly, "WELL, fancy seeing YOU here!" He turned...and I didn't know him...and his nametag read James Swearingen. Oy. He was fairly good-natured about it and responded with an awkward, "Ah, yes, well. Nice to see you. Lunch time!" and walked away. And that was on day 1 of the actual conference. Whoops.</div>
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So since that and the holidays and the crazy running from house to house are done, maybe I can clean my own. For real. I love Christmas, but man, it'll be nice to have the tree put away and the space back in this tiny house.</div>
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*that piece was actually commissioned by and composed for the Nagano Community Band BEFORE they hosted the Olympics - like, 6 years prior. A weird coincidence, but it reminds me that the Winter Games are coming soon! Woohoo!</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-90121704305883305202013-12-11T00:26:00.000-05:002013-12-11T00:26:00.646-05:00Five Favorites: Children's Books<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Rosie loves her some books. I have more pictures than I can count of her pretending to read or being read to because that's one of her absolute favorite things. People have given her books that are...well, tedious, but I have no problem reading some of these over and over again. Generally, the following books are beautifully illustrated and the words are carefully chosen so that they flow wonderfully. I love all of them. Just pretend that I say that before every single one of them.<br />
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Disclaimer: all book links and pics are from Amazon, but I don't get diddly squat out of it other than the satisfaction of introducing someone to something awesome.<br />
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1. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Saint-George-Dragon-Margaret-Hodges/dp/0316367958/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386736460&sr=1-1&keywords=st+george+and+the+dragon+by+margaret+hodges" target="_blank">Saint George and the Dragon</a> by Margaret Hodges and Trina Schart Hyman<br />
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It took a while for Rosie to actually sit still long enough for me to read through the whole thing - it's kind of wordy - but it's awesome. It's got enough adventure and action that my nephew took it to bed with him when we gave it to his for his birthday last year - I mean, c'mon, it's got a knight fighting a dragon and getting the girl. What's not to love? Oh, and the wedding scene gave me completely unrealistic expectations for wedding dresses. Dropped waist is a mistake on me.<br />
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2. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rumpelstiltskin-Paul-O-Zelinsky/dp/0140558640/ref=la_B000APO8B2_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386736400&sr=1-3" target="_blank">Rumpelstiltskin</a> by Paul O. Zelinsky<br />
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Fairy tales require a certain suspension of disbelief, and there are some serious issues that you can take with all of them (wait, the door opened and instead of running out, she stays and lets him extort her?), but this one is told and illustrated so well that you don't care. It's kind of fun, though, to go through the issues. In this case, you've got a lying dad, a jerk of a king, a kind of stupid damsel in distress, and some serious Stockholm syndrome. But if you DO decide to do that, it'll at least teach your girls what not to do, right?<br />
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3. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Town-Mouse-Country-Jan-Brett/dp/069811986X/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1386737317&sr=8-16&keywords=jan+brett" target="_blank">Town Mouse, Country Mouse</a> by Jan Brett<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61B18GVbUGL._SX258_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/61B18GVbUGL._SX258_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" /></a></div>
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Pretty much anything by Jan Brett is going to be a feast for the eyes. I was torn between this one and <u><a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Wild-Christmas-Reindeer-Brett/dp/0698116526/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1386737456&sr=8-4&keywords=jan+brett" target="_blank">The Wild Christmas Reindeer</a></u>, but went with this one for a year round favorite. It's your basic grass-is-greener tale, but the pictures (and the sheer detail and effort in each and every one of them) bump it up a notch. I actually took those books and the next one to show to my BIL, who graduated from The Kubert School, because of the illustrations.<br />
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4. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Great-Redwall-Feast-Brian-Jacques/dp/0399227075/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386737640&sr=8-1&keywords=redwall+feast" target="_blank">The Great Redwall Feast</a> by Brian Jacques and Christopher Denise<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51YWHHPEiIL._SY344_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51YWHHPEiIL._SY344_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="320" width="204" /></a></div>
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If you grew up reading the Redwall series like I did, this is just going to delight you. If you didn't, you might be less enchanted (who ARE all these characters, anyway?), especially since the cadence of the poems are a little wonky sometimes, but the pictures are adorable. Rosie isn't quite paying attention long enough for the whole book at a time, but she loves looking at the pictures and blabbering away about what's going on (I'm assuming. She could be saying how unrealistic is is that hedgehogs brew ales, but since she can't talk that much, I'm going with the former).<br />
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5. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Horton-Hatches-Egg-Dr-Seuss/dp/039480077X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386737919&sr=8-1&keywords=horton+hatches+the+egg" target="_blank">Horton Hatches the Egg</a> by Dr. Seuss<br />
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<a href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51KPiVNGYfL._SY344_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51KPiVNGYfL._SY344_PJlook-inside-v2,TopRight,1,0_SH20_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg" height="320" width="235" /></a></div>
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I was actually thinking that I didn't want to include any Seuss, as the entire English-speaking world knows of the good Doctor, but honestly, I have this book memorized and still enjoy <strike>reciting</strike> reading it to Rosie. Maybe I'm crazy, but if it were me, that awful bird Maisy would've stayed in her tree. I'm not nearly as much of a doormat as Horton.<br />
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<b>Honorable Mentions:</b><br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Complete-Tales-Winnie---Pooh/dp/0525457232/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&qid=1386738216&sr=8-3&keywords=winnie+the+pooh" target="_blank">The Complete Tales of Winnie the Pooh</a> by A.A. Milne and Ernest Shepard<br />
I think most people have only seen the Disney version and not read the books, and that's a shame when you have gems like this:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Pooh," said Rabbit kindly, "you haven't any brain."<br />"I know," said Pooh humbly.</blockquote>
Though I do wonder if British humor (humour) is still as under-appreciated as it used to be.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Beatrix-Potter-Complete-Tales-Rabbit/dp/072325804X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386738802&sr=8-1&keywords=beatrix+potter" target="_blank">The Complete Tales</a> of Beatrix Potter<br />
Again with the British snark. "This is a man with a gun." In a children's book. Seriously contemplating tweeting that one if it weren't for copyright laws.<br />
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Jolly-Postman-Allan-Ahlberg/dp/0316126446/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386738924&sr=8-1&keywords=the+jolly+postman" target="_blank">The Jolly Postman</a> by Janet and Allan Ahlberg<br />
And again with the Brit Lit. This isn't on the list for 2 reasons: 1) it's for older kids - it includes letters from various fairy tale characters to each other (Goldilocks writes an apology note to the Three Bears) and that just goes over young kids' heads, plus the letters themselves would either be destroyed or go missing, and 2) I don't actually have my copy here with me, so I haven't been able to enjoy it or introduce it to my own kids. It's on my ever-growing list of Things to Rescue From My Parents' House.<br />
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If you know and love all these books already, we should totally be friends. If you don't know them, check them out!<br />
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Seriously, what are you waiting for? You won't regret it!<br />
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Go see more favorites at <a href="http://moxiewife.com/2013/12/a-cornucopia-of-gift-ideas-for-husbands-aka-five-favorites-vol-40/.html" target="_blank">MoxieWife</a>!Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-33227804398012511492013-12-08T02:05:00.002-05:002013-12-08T02:23:26.036-05:007QT: Rollercoaster style<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1387" src="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg" height="195" title="7_quick_takes_sm" width="290" /></a>
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So, wow. I haven't written in a while. Things have been a little on the crazy side with holidays and life and stuff (I'm super articulate, too). What better way to get caught up than to just dump it all into some quick takes? In chronological order, though. Gotta keep the flow.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt1"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt1" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 1 ---</a></strong></div>
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My 10-year high school reunion was last week. I was kind of excited about going, not having seen a bunch of people for so long, but it was in a bar and I'm an old lady, so I ended up leaving earlier than I would have liked simply because I couldn't hear anyone at all. How am I supposed to catch up with peoples' lives when I'm trying to figure out if they were talking about human resources or racehorses?</div>
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<strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 2 ---</a></strong></div>
Rosie and Nate have a game where Nate will pretend to not see Rosie coming when he sits down to put on his shoes and Rosie will "sneak up" on him and attack.<br />
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With her tongue.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGZDpJzMGyFURhjCZ30xcEUY8qQt2dq2srCSj2_QgekxZeKAKP_GqTmbw0no5wAHig1SQuTFgP2kqfUtFVgSwyZjKJSTYVHF_0SXER46YGPuY8AA_760G2aAS8ZkH7Nf3gGmZdxLg6Dpq/s1600/20131123_130720.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVGZDpJzMGyFURhjCZ30xcEUY8qQt2dq2srCSj2_QgekxZeKAKP_GqTmbw0no5wAHig1SQuTFgP2kqfUtFVgSwyZjKJSTYVHF_0SXER46YGPuY8AA_760G2aAS8ZkH7Nf3gGmZdxLg6Dpq/s1600/20131123_130720.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-CL83RRc8r5jiG7J69a3mnMi2Ssd6O1UEbix6g7zr3LhqFWalECvOtcce0bS8iHH7YaO3gYL4pvLAM9t9VaWKn_TzESgATgNYbygGi0kAF-rcWiAahLd1Mjq3eslqPBlVMYEWdZ02SNl/s1600/20131123_130714.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-CL83RRc8r5jiG7J69a3mnMi2Ssd6O1UEbix6g7zr3LhqFWalECvOtcce0bS8iHH7YaO3gYL4pvLAM9t9VaWKn_TzESgATgNYbygGi0kAF-rcWiAahLd1Mjq3eslqPBlVMYEWdZ02SNl/s1600/20131123_130714.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's a darn good thing she's cute.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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Yesterday was one of the WORST mornings I've had in a long time. Freddy refused to nap, Rosie refused to be independent, and I desperately needed both of them to do and be those things so I could get myself and things ready to go. I was stressed and lost time and patience trying to deal with them, and when I finally (finally) got everything ready to get out to the car, it was pouring, plus I'd left my umbrella in the car. I was so frustrated that I actually slammed the front door closed hard enough that I'm pretty sure the neighbors a few doors down felt it. I take solace in knowing that both of them won't remember this.</div>
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After I left, I almost got in an accident when a tree fell in the road in front of a car next to me, who then almost hit me. It wasn't a large tree - only covered the turn lane and wasn't super wide - but it would have done enough damage. Then, as I was about to get on the highway, I realized that I'd left both the diaper bag and the milk for Freddy at home. I called my sister, ready to tell her that I was just going to forget it and stay home, but she talked me out of it and I collected myself and the stuff and embarked once again on my journey. This time, Miley Cyrus's "Wrecking Ball" came on the radio. Normally, I'd change the station, but all I could think of was the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W6DmHGYy_xk" target="_blank">Chatroulette version</a>.</div>
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Click only if you have a desire to see a ridiculous version of Miley's already absurd video. It's a little horrifying and definitely NSFW, but it made me laugh the entire time and put me in a much better mood, which was excellent, because...</div>
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<strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
One of my former college campus ministers got married yesterday! Woohoo! I didn't bring my camera, so phone pictures will have to do.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJXHBOZgAwJGwUHGQbd22w-4hIAS3wjBpqjtIWqv1HxAu6f0pPNmTQK-oopHgKCVULGJ_UQ-aa7l4fFQKSSwlIj2Fy2Bn8wzH2S7JAYZE1a888wdZATOTIxVqTOH0EXmFjxDH6bSYg-Ql/s1600/20131206_151210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVJXHBOZgAwJGwUHGQbd22w-4hIAS3wjBpqjtIWqv1HxAu6f0pPNmTQK-oopHgKCVULGJ_UQ-aa7l4fFQKSSwlIj2Fy2Bn8wzH2S7JAYZE1a888wdZATOTIxVqTOH0EXmFjxDH6bSYg-Ql/s1600/20131206_151210.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4XS_PLCyv_-KANvIWHljk4zriWhj3Jrvqx_5gy2rFGtBHa2QKpNNHEoTNvaWAexqIYcmYCA2sL1NYXxYo_RnIzpJg23NZkMA3mq_mQW9LE_9pnt4s61Bf-gRyqq5xKE3D5yQdBHxAd47/s1600/20131206_163207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc4XS_PLCyv_-KANvIWHljk4zriWhj3Jrvqx_5gy2rFGtBHa2QKpNNHEoTNvaWAexqIYcmYCA2sL1NYXxYo_RnIzpJg23NZkMA3mq_mQW9LE_9pnt4s61Bf-gRyqq5xKE3D5yQdBHxAd47/s1600/20131206_163207.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBfFUnuW0GTxY_yNRoQDJ1LRow81SXejc7v9uxP16HO3llJ4BcBn7S4DKFBX-EzBrcq98yrG_hWo6i5gsBwjLHJ5Q4P2t2PNvCShSrSecn8OnS-QsaYDbZJMnVvR7rT6rziLY3Y1qALNy/s1600/20131206_170414.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBBfFUnuW0GTxY_yNRoQDJ1LRow81SXejc7v9uxP16HO3llJ4BcBn7S4DKFBX-EzBrcq98yrG_hWo6i5gsBwjLHJ5Q4P2t2PNvCShSrSecn8OnS-QsaYDbZJMnVvR7rT6rziLY3Y1qALNy/s1600/20131206_170414.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">I desperately wish this was in focus.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywrOzIE4E7MdsiiEi_RGH0AWsuKz1ocIbHxKSGgllpXkG1_tj3fJah7pji95ciX4rbTqZ2BoMyUKuSD32v_GJIxMnPHVreQJbsNXm_-S6JTQFWkFhwgmp40TWYClujoyZz2f2bWH5ze-F/s1600/20131206_170530.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywrOzIE4E7MdsiiEi_RGH0AWsuKz1ocIbHxKSGgllpXkG1_tj3fJah7pji95ciX4rbTqZ2BoMyUKuSD32v_GJIxMnPHVreQJbsNXm_-S6JTQFWkFhwgmp40TWYClujoyZz2f2bWH5ze-F/s1600/20131206_170530.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0k9BEpNW1puTfSX9KcPY5WT6bJ7gVXvZmJ_MRpvRkHcoE5-Pze_g_5c4BuscT7JL2ECoVu4VsxIeMjpahaGi0QufhCQKfkl2thjhHiWlI1jLQilM6DNahuIfv7Q7NnggrKMslbMY4Fwg/s1600/20131206_170418.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi0k9BEpNW1puTfSX9KcPY5WT6bJ7gVXvZmJ_MRpvRkHcoE5-Pze_g_5c4BuscT7JL2ECoVu4VsxIeMjpahaGi0QufhCQKfkl2thjhHiWlI1jLQilM6DNahuIfv7Q7NnggrKMslbMY4Fwg/s1600/20131206_170418.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Glowing.</td></tr>
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I am so happy to see her so happy. She deserves someone as holy as he seems to be. I'm just shocked that there were more religious sisters (at least 7 from 2 different orders) than priests (4)! To be fair, one of her actual sisters is a Franciscan Sister of the Eucharist, so most of them were fellow FSEs, but still.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt5"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt5" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 5 ---</a></strong></div>
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Today was <a href="http://rosie-ablogformymom.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Rosie</a> (Hill, not mine) and <a href="http://www.piercedhands.com/blog/" target="_blank">Meg's</a> dad's funeral. I didn't know him, but I know them, and if there's anything I've learned over the years, it's, "You always go to the funeral." He sounds like he would have been a really neat person to know, though his legacy is most certainly living on (and on and on and on...).</div>
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Funerals are never what I'd call happy, but they can be beautiful. This was definitely that. Andrew, Rosie's husband, is in a schola, and they provided some absolutely heavenly music for the Mass. Meg delivered a wonderful tribute before the Mass that gave everyone a little taste of who he was - a condensed version of her blog post about him. John Paul helped screw the plate on the columbarium after the ashes were placed inside. And in a weird, sweet little twist I definitely didn't see coming, the main celebrant was our (mine, Meg, and Rosie's) former youth minister from that very parish.</div>
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I hope that there are some comforts taken in the small moments of sweetness when the ones of sorrow seem too large to overcome.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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Today was also my "little" brother's birthday! Really, "little" is probably the least accurate adjective possible - he's 6'3" and was over 200 lbs while playing football in high school (he's shed a little muscle bulk and therefore weight since graduation). It's hard to believe that this guy is 19.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-a-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/59_510102049397_3651_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://scontent-a-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-frc1/59_510102049397_3651_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Taken probably 6 or 7 years ago.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6dWS5__Db2qMRDtbhGj0IZK3py56Sb8TqZU7w0XVWcpfryxdmeaYldqjEtG1JTrymtig_t0izgxx6B-loi3vYr5CERCJclA81MjrnsfvyUUgbxB2rglZHi6F-LNoAewhNw1LNS3pcn6K/s1600/20131207_213527.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm6dWS5__Db2qMRDtbhGj0IZK3py56Sb8TqZU7w0XVWcpfryxdmeaYldqjEtG1JTrymtig_t0izgxx6B-loi3vYr5CERCJclA81MjrnsfvyUUgbxB2rglZHi6F-LNoAewhNw1LNS3pcn6K/s1600/20131207_213527.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SMILING. THERE'S PROOF.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZot-qKhVsw3EfYxWMuymVDYAlehqTsQOWAVNUl2qf9aI45EdqNiJos6tcLfCvR68wHDwCaVp8INT0jVWj9otGGC4CZObgpsHEFTc6fox12xQkCmqD-tJ54qNpuS26IoU8FvRHCNGboqEC/s1600/20131207_213533.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZot-qKhVsw3EfYxWMuymVDYAlehqTsQOWAVNUl2qf9aI45EdqNiJos6tcLfCvR68wHDwCaVp8INT0jVWj9otGGC4CZObgpsHEFTc6fox12xQkCmqD-tJ54qNpuS26IoU8FvRHCNGboqEC/s1600/20131207_213533.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There's almost 70 years between the two of them. You'll never guess which one's ridden the motorcycle.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt7"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
Finally, Freddy as my dad's version of a gangster.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5cpWO4OzGqc1QKm404xkBdmooOj77LXFDgGdqDVLAayUaR_Wz6AibC14EAlMrGWBaMLtDLcg2g4cpxmcMw_c5Y2TcLSZlUGvwz0ZMmOx7kksraRl5dMok0WJ2kIrwqQMVzu2QNJry3dT/s1600/20131206_190830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz5cpWO4OzGqc1QKm404xkBdmooOj77LXFDgGdqDVLAayUaR_Wz6AibC14EAlMrGWBaMLtDLcg2g4cpxmcMw_c5Y2TcLSZlUGvwz0ZMmOx7kksraRl5dMok0WJ2kIrwqQMVzu2QNJry3dT/s1600/20131206_190830.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's got his chains, his backwards hat, and his beer. In a goblet.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Time to hit the hay. No sleep makes Dorothy something something.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
For more Quick Takes, visit <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/">Conversion Diary!</a></div>
</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-90985540603854481092013-11-27T01:30:00.000-05:002013-11-27T01:30:00.889-05:00Wherein I blab about the weather and business suits<div style="text-align: justify;">
Rosie had her first honest-to-goodness cold. She's had sniffles before, but Monday she had a cough and that night she had a fever. She even did that thing where she was looking beyond you instead of at you - just kind of blank and unfocused. It was a bit unsettling. But she slept in and I guess got enough rest that her fever broke, though her cough was still here all day.</div>
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This makes me even happier that my mom was able to come over at the last minute to watch the kiddos Monday afternoon so I didn't have to take them out in the cold with me while I ran errands. It was 19 - one-nine - degrees when I checked at 9:30, and while I hate the cold, I hate taking small children out in it more.</div>
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I'd be the worst pioneer mom.</div>
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Who am I kidding, I'd be the worst pioneer. Full stop. The cold and I are not buds, and you'd better believe I would be less than thrilled at the prospect of not being able to fully thaw and get warm from October (or earlier) to April (or later).</div>
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Speaking of which...</div>
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Nate and I took a trip to Europe about 2 years ago. We visited Normandy, London, and a few different spots in Ireland in July. Granted, the US was in the midst of a heat spell and we left 90-100 degree weather, but the difference in the temperature was drastic. I found myself wearing layers to combat the chill, especially in the evenings.</div>
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Someone forgot to tell them, though.</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/AVvXsEh6hCdcakd6nC_orcJVlbM9H9lPNituSYxBzWK-iUL4I4Ew5bm6McUbwz2DhbBJKdeAjNGGaaAXvztlBtKQ7XnSzG-NGip27-4skQk6vjsosbuUj4fqphWfh1_T8sveo2it87CbsmLn9LZs/s1600/DSCN4218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6hCdcakd6nC_orcJVlbM9H9lPNituSYxBzWK-iUL4I4Ew5bm6McUbwz2DhbBJKdeAjNGGaaAXvztlBtKQ7XnSzG-NGip27-4skQk6vjsosbuUj4fqphWfh1_T8sveo2it87CbsmLn9LZs/s1600/DSCN4218.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"current hot weather" = high of 70</td></tr>
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Check out these temperature charts from worldweatheronline.com:</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/AVvXsEiHRvEuoDjhEVyQyFlPKQo7PXbqHwcXVrMHvKOEHddggih-S4d_BY-E_rt3E_jyJiziOykJA6ZORGtXfKiEi5OGDNTjlVySnOuwq22ZRYWXuARcnQNE_sGzTFkVbkhhktCmHKOR3EON5xzf/s1600/london+temps.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRvEuoDjhEVyQyFlPKQo7PXbqHwcXVrMHvKOEHddggih-S4d_BY-E_rt3E_jyJiziOykJA6ZORGtXfKiEi5OGDNTjlVySnOuwq22ZRYWXuARcnQNE_sGzTFkVbkhhktCmHKOR3EON5xzf/s1600/london+temps.jpeg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh, how lovely, yes. One lump or two?</td></tr>
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It was on this trip that I realized why business suits and hot tea year-round make sense. When you've got temperatures like that in the heat of the summer, multiple layers are completely logical. But it kind of sucks for people in, say, Virginia.</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/AVvXsEhJP6HBPKH3voiGWj7l7Ih2CcmLqdv_X-fptCt8_7a1ZLF5VswFleot7AKpIiodFABW_PmybkZu9owx7ibGo0Zhfk0EHfbi-1l77b7FW5GkNVjicNDw6NQ6ZAm9USXcUc74_iTnBdKgq4rR/s1600/dc+temps.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJP6HBPKH3voiGWj7l7Ih2CcmLqdv_X-fptCt8_7a1ZLF5VswFleot7AKpIiodFABW_PmybkZu9owx7ibGo0Zhfk0EHfbi-1l77b7FW5GkNVjicNDw6NQ6ZAm9USXcUc74_iTnBdKgq4rR/s1600/dc+temps.jpeg" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washington, D.C. Get it right, graph title!</td></tr>
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Look closely. They seem like they follow similar patterns, but if they were on the same graphs with the same gradation, the DC chart would be much steeper and further apart. There's practically no difference in temperature from November to March in London - a whopping 13 degree difference from the highest average high to the lowest average low. DC in the same time frame? 31 degree difference. And the span between high and low for individual months are also larger. January has a difference of 8 degrees for London, but 18 for DC; October sees a 10 degree difference in London, but 22 for DC. And overall, the average high yearly temperature to average low yearly temperature is separated by 34 degrees in London, but a whopping 61 in DC. </div>
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It's funnier for Louisburgh, my Irish grandmother's hometown. There's a total difference of 26 degrees. It's like living in an ever-so-slightly warmer, perpetual DC March.</div>
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Then you've got places like Minneapolis, where the span from average high to average low over the year is 73 degrees, or Albuquerque, where the average high and low for each month can regularly be 30 degrees or more. Our temperatures, in general, are practically bipolar compared to London. </div>
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I know that these graphs don't take into account the random outliers or heat waves or cold snaps, nor do they reflect the daily highs and lows that might be more reasonable than the monthly data, but I think it gives a fairly accurate idea as to just how different our climates are.</div>
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While I love my warmth and heat, I think it might be better for the sanity (and the wardrobe) if the weather was more stable than Sybil.</div>
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Ah well. Could be worse. Could be <a href="http://www.worldweatheronline.com/Fairbanks-weather-averages/Alaska/US.aspx" target="_blank">Fairbanks</a>.</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-87290284824549204062013-11-23T00:54:00.002-05:002013-11-23T01:42:59.426-05:00Quick takes Friday<div style="text-align: center;">
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I think I actually (finally) didn't take a ridiculously long time writing these!</div>
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<a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1387" height="195" src="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg" title="7_quick_takes_sm" width="290" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt1"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt1" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 1 ---</a></strong></div>
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My dad had a grandkid itch that needed scratching, so he came over to have some baby time while Nate and I got to see "Thor: The Dark World." I enjoyed it, though the movie seemed to drag until Loki (Tom Hiddleston) finally got more involved in the plot. And man, there is one GREAT cameo that would make rewatching the movie totally worth it.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt2"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;"></a></strong><br />
<a name='more'></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 2 ---</a></strong></div>
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Remember how I mentioned that I found out my grandfather kept a diary while on Corregidor? Well, I got a photocopy of it. I'm a little nervous. I've only scanned it so far, and it looks like it was only from the seige and not the POW camps - but it still wasn't exactly a walk in the park.</div>
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I'm considering posting his entries here or starting a new blog that roughly corresponds to the dates he was writing. In any case, I definitely want to transcribe it so that it's easier to read for future generations. It's a primary source document, and that's important.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I just realized I'm the same age he was when he was captured by the Japanese: 28.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 130%;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt4"></a></span><strong style="font-size: 130%;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong><br />
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Happy picture time: my grandparents on their wedding day, July 24, 1948. Pop-Pop was 34. Mom-Mom was 23.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU5xE8K9CefUfl23iPoAtSlob5wU6Q0RzCaJ7xXR1HzyhiEd61bPsWOqS3IzQZiX532_2NK32qgQnnkgKmxzPwGPAZZBbzRe6g_Zq14a39argwPbHd-9rsZbm7JIObvsDx4pY8O6PBCWm/s1600/20131117_202014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiU5xE8K9CefUfl23iPoAtSlob5wU6Q0RzCaJ7xXR1HzyhiEd61bPsWOqS3IzQZiX532_2NK32qgQnnkgKmxzPwGPAZZBbzRe6g_Zq14a39argwPbHd-9rsZbm7JIObvsDx4pY8O6PBCWm/s400/20131117_202014.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was probably extravagant for coal country.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt5"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt5" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 5 ---</a></strong></div>
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I made the PB and chocolate cake. It, uh, didn't quite turn out like the pictures on the original blog...</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/AVvXsEjhQ29AZBrmMCzMOyIyYsCmS6MfJzQjqopViA2Q55ekCeEW8ws05jgnI7vIQkvZxk9X4m5TnDl4AYdtmjLmK7hIUT_oviYF-zBm5z1jB2JQl8tSTba2FCLKuqP4uSZ9g1Ek35S9QidKo1jl/s1600/20131122_135420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhQ29AZBrmMCzMOyIyYsCmS6MfJzQjqopViA2Q55ekCeEW8ws05jgnI7vIQkvZxk9X4m5TnDl4AYdtmjLmK7hIUT_oviYF-zBm5z1jB2JQl8tSTba2FCLKuqP4uSZ9g1Ek35S9QidKo1jl/s400/20131122_135420.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You really don't want to know what it looks like post-ganache.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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Actually, that's a recurring issue I have. It doesn't matter if I grease the pan a lot, a little, with or without flour, wait until it's 100% cool, try when it's still warm - they never come out nicely. They still taste good, but the looks leave something to be desired.</div>
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Though I do think I learned that I need to let the ganache cool a little bit longer before I pour it over the cake, since most of it just ran down the sides and pooled on the plate.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt7"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
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Tomorrow: Doctor Who 50th Anniversary Special! SO EXCITED!!! A friend is bringing a mocktail called the Sonic Screwdriver and I'm pretty stoked.</div>
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Go see Jen at <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/">Conversion Diary</a> for more!</div>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-54368873995582714732013-11-22T00:28:00.001-05:002013-11-22T00:28:33.509-05:00Five Favorites: Pre-Baby Luxuries<div style="text-align: justify;">
Maybe I'm a little cranky because Freddy decided to wake up sca-REE-HEE-HEAming around 3 am this morning and then again at 7ish, but I spent a little bit thinking of all sorts of things I took for granted before I had kids.</div>
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<a href="http://moxiewife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/five-favorites-moxie-wife-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://moxiewife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/five-favorites-moxie-wife-1.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>1. Sleeping when I want for as long as I want</b></div>
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Forget just sleeping through the night - I miss being able to go to sleep late (night owl insomniac here) and sleep until I wake myself up, skip breakfast to keep sleeping, sleep sleep sleep. I lurve sleep.</div>
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<b>2. Showering regularly</b></div>
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I took a shower today. I think the last one I took was on Sunday.</div>
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Irony: I probably need showers more now than I did before.</div>
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<b>3. Eating a meal leisurely, especially at a restaurant</b></div>
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I can do this if I leave the kids home, but Freya (the dog) is a terrible babysitter. Otherwise, I usually eat coldish food or spend the entire time eating as quickly as possible while keeping an eye on one and hoping I can finish before the other wants to eat.</div>
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<b>4. Running a quick errand</b></div>
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If I need to grab a gallon of milk, I can't just run in and get it in 5 minutes. In that time, I have probably gotten one baby out of his or her carseat. I have actually forgone doing something while I was already out and getting it over with because I didn't want to have to deal with the unloading and the reloading and the hauling. If the weather is nasty, forget it. We'll have dry cereal for dinner if we need to.</div>
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<b>5. Buying clothes</b></div>
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I'm not talking about the ability to try things on <i>(though that is part of it. Rosie decided she was going to figure out how to crawl under a door the first time I took her into a dressing room with me)</i>. I'm talking being able to buy whatever style of clothes you want in whatever fabrics you want. I am forever making sure that I have easy boob access, which is kind of the opposite of my high school and college girl fashion advice. Forget silk or dry-clean only - stuff that can be tossed in the wash immediately and frequently is the only option. Being able to wear it while the body is in flux is a must, not the least of which is because it gets really tedious to wear the same dang stuff over and over again in that last trimester when you already had to wear it in the other ones because you outgrew your normal clothes too fast.</div>
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I can't tell you how many things are in my closet that don't fit at all (not just the belly - I went from a B to an F cup), don't fit correctly, or are impractical (most dresses), but that I don't want to get rid of because they might work again eventually and it's sadly frowned upon to wear maternity pants when you're not pregnant. That's a shame, by the way, because they're the most comfortable, best-fitting pants I've ever had. I wish I were joking. I also kind of wish I hadn't lent all of my maternity pants out since Thanksgiving is coming up. No need to loosen the belt if there's an elastic panel!</div>
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And yet, with all these now luxuries that I don't get to experience, I wouldn't trade my kids or future kids for it. Getting woken up by a scream sucks, but a baby who is sporting a flirty grin while rolling around in his cosleeper is priceless. Seeing a little face peeking out from around the corner as she "sneaks" up on you is worth the yowls from teething. Watching a baby give kisses to a baby because it makes them both happy outweighs the kicked ribs, squished internal organs, and heartburn.</div>
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I don't know if I ever really understood the concept of God creating humans out of (giving) love instead of for (receiving) love before I had kids. I mean, I got that He didn't <i>need</i> our love, but it seemed a little weird that that was essentially our purpose - to love Him and worship Him. But helping create that little life, building that tiny person - I get it. I didn't have a baby so that I could BE loved by her - I (we) had a baby because we already HAD love and wanted to shower it on a new someone else. It's great that they love us back (for now), but their purpose is not to love us - our purpose is to love them.</div>
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Even when they prevent us from getting showered and gussied up, wearing a fitted, non-nursing-friendly dress to a dinner that we can savor, popping in to grab a dozen donuts for breakfast tomorrow morning, and having said donuts for lunch instead because we woke up at 11.</div>
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Speaking of love, check out the last favorite of Hallie's over at <a href="http://moxiewife.com/2013/11/five-favorites-vol-38/.html" target="_blank">MoxieWife</a>! Grrrrowl. Reminds me of an Albert Einstein quote: "Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves."</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-9490900732535689612013-11-19T23:45:00.000-05:002013-11-23T01:44:47.613-05:00I like big bundts and I cannot lie<div style="text-align: justify;">
I couldn't resist.</div>
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Anyway, I found a few cake recipes that I want to remember to try at some point, and if I put them on people's walls on facebook (or even post them directly to mine) I'm never going to find them again.</div>
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So.</div>
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<a href="http://www.foodiewithfamily.com/2012/09/18/pumpkin-cake-with-maple-frosting-and-apple-cider-caramel/" target="_blank">Pumpkin Cake with Maple Frosting and Apple Cider Caramel</a></div>
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I actually have NO idea why I want to try this one so badly - I don't have a huge affinity for pumpkin or maple flavors. But something about it screams fall and I just want my house to smell like that. I asked my BIL if he'd be my guinea pig since Nate isn't a pumpkin fan, either. Perhaps I should make it to take down to my in-laws on Saturday when we go watch the 50th anniversary Doctor Who special since we don't have cable.</div>
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<a href="http://www.marthastewart.com/318085/maple-bundt-cake?czone=food%2Fcake-center%2Ffavorite-cake-recipes&gallery=274977&slide=318085&center=276954" target="_blank">Maple Bundt Cake</a></div>
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Another one of the "this just seems like something that should be baked now" cakes.</div>
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<a href="http://butterlustblog.com/2013/10/01/nutella-swirl-bundt-cake-fluffy-cream-cheese-frosting/" target="_blank">Nutella Swirl with Cream Cheese Frosting</a></div>
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I would be the only one in our house eating this (Nate and his family don't really like Nutella and they lived in Germany - HOW DOES THAT EVEN HAPPEN?), but my family would quickly devour it.</div>
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<a href="http://hungryrabbitnyc.com/2013/09/citrus-blueberry-thyme-cake/" target="_blank">Citrus Blueberry Thyme Cake</a></div>
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This is almost the complete opposite in my arbitrary flavor world. Where the previous cakes conjure images and feelings of autumn and heaviness and cooler temperatures, this one seems light and summery and that it should be paired with a cold drink instead of hot coffee or tea.</div>
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<a href="http://betsylife.com/2013/08/12/chocolate-peanut-butter-swirl-bundt-cake/" target="_blank">Chocolate Peanut Butter Swirl</a></div>
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Nate loves Reese's. It's easily his favorite candy. He likes sugar in most forms, really (my Easter candy when we were engaged took a terrible blow), but he's partial to peanut butter cups. Our 5-year <a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/11/googly-eyed-storytime-how-we-started.html" target="_blank">dating anniversary</a> (totally a thing to celebrate, right?) is coming up and I think I might make this for him.</div>
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While we're on the topic of foodstuffs...</div>
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Freddy turned 6 months old last week, which means introduction to solids time! First up: sweet potato puree. Rosie LOVED this when she was his age, but he was less than enthused. Granted, she was also <a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/10/it-sometimes-literally-takes-village.html" target="_blank">literally starving</a>, but she just wolfed it down. Freddy made the funniest faces and actively fought eating it. Since his weight gain STILL isn't where the pediatrician wants it (he's up to 13 lbs 11 oz, which is a little over a pound from his last check), he definitely needs to get the extra calories SOMEwhere, and even though breastmilk is one of the most calorie-dense and efficient foods - some calories are better than no calories.<br />
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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/AVvXsEhKriIfGWtSUzexswbGOkCSOd4U6Mkh11u4zh3hMyrd2aEH77FcDKxoXgzyAytn-zA0hyrlikjOfQxIc24yyP8yCv8lUFGHRCUhmSEiahptLKZ2PTo6ESvnnTdc4bnsTxW6rDiDYayW9PtG/s1600/20131112_184252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKriIfGWtSUzexswbGOkCSOd4U6Mkh11u4zh3hMyrd2aEH77FcDKxoXgzyAytn-zA0hyrlikjOfQxIc24yyP8yCv8lUFGHRCUhmSEiahptLKZ2PTo6ESvnnTdc4bnsTxW6rDiDYayW9PtG/s400/20131112_184252.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No thanks, I'm good.</td></tr>
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Since sweet potatoes were still <i>cibis non grata</i> after another day, we switched to bananas (more calories than breastmilk to boot) and all of a sudden solids were ok. But when I didn't take extra milk to feed him after I went shopping with my mom and sister, we were scrambling to find something for him at my parents' house. We found applesauce. "That'll work. He hasn't had it yet, but he's gotta try it soon anyway."</div>
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It wasn't until he was almost done with his first helping that my mom read the ingredient label. "Apples, corn syrup, high fructose corn syrup..." So...a sugar bomb. I would describe his reaction, but what I really want to do is show you. Unfortunately, I can't, because the dang video won't load. adsfghjkl. So just imagine lots of squealing, arm flailing, and baby versions of bouncing off the walls.</div>
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Luckily, I'd recently bought eight pounds of apples, so I was able to take six of them (apples, not pounds) and make some just-apples-applesauce the next day. Mix that in with some sweet potato and you've successfully tricked an infant into eating something he doesn't want. Yes, I tricked a baby that has no powers of reasoning and I'm proud of that. For the record, 6 apples made about 16 baby servings of applesauce, so it's lasting a while. Next up: acorn squash. Or peas. Or maybe avocado. Right now we're in orange and beige land and the squash would just add to that instead of diversify.<br />
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Time to post this sucker - I've been slowly adding to it over the past few days (waiting for a dang video to get added didn't help) and have missed a few link-ups as a result. Gotta get back on track.</div>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-46092648976383446692013-11-14T01:43:00.000-05:002013-11-14T01:43:06.485-05:00Five Favorites: The Zoo!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://moxiewife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/five-favorites-moxie-wife-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://moxiewife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/five-favorites-moxie-wife-1.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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I took Freddy and Rosie to the zoo for the first time on Monday. Since it was Veteran's Day, both my dad and my FIL had the day off, so they, plus my mom, MIL, BIL, and SIL, were able to come. We would have taken advantage of the sequester to take them before it got cooler, but, well, the zoo got closed then, too. Luckily, the day was sunny and clear, even if it was chilly.</div>
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I have to say, I enjoyed the zoo much more as a parent than I have in the past as a teenager or childless adult. I mean, I've always liked seeing the animals and learning about them, but seeing the wonderment of a child is kind of awesome. That said, here are some of my favorite parts of the trip.</div>
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<b>1. Orangutans</b></div>
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If you've ever been to the National Zoo in Washington, D.C., you may have noticed that there are tall towers with two thick ropes stretching between. Called the "O Line," these are a way for the apes to travel between the Great Ape House and the Think Tank, where you can compare animal brains and do puzzles and see differences in animal intelligence. For whatever reason, the orangutans were all about traveling the lines that day - we must have seen them climb and cross at least 3 times.</div>
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<table 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/AVvXsEiIdgj8e54Lm_Ew2rT7yofi5NHa-Qu-oDEjl0w9bXnpyfgpRce00YPSvh42_koA4bk3P3guhqOoCuQNP-THOEiYMb7nO3r0nEhkUTb0kARjwN5TrgCL9b1_JwYfY3nfG8CgiNHAOTjgo7YV/s1600/DSCN5042+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIdgj8e54Lm_Ew2rT7yofi5NHa-Qu-oDEjl0w9bXnpyfgpRce00YPSvh42_koA4bk3P3guhqOoCuQNP-THOEiYMb7nO3r0nEhkUTb0kARjwN5TrgCL9b1_JwYfY3nfG8CgiNHAOTjgo7YV/s1600/DSCN5042+-+Copy.JPG" height="400" width="286" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Up, up, and away! From the Think Tank to the Great Ape House.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuwH0wz4IkoyZDUpjtSNqb0X2bH8LhsXgwWCqGsb7pOjpCCG0EESmqIKEp0hyojCreCfFPVzNF6hKV_61BxtCAWSqbdNqfa5sBg5bEVB6OidjgFFZoH_YfkOrUi66RdL14SaXhZXN-BTa/s1600/DSC04352.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQuwH0wz4IkoyZDUpjtSNqb0X2bH8LhsXgwWCqGsb7pOjpCCG0EESmqIKEp0hyojCreCfFPVzNF6hKV_61BxtCAWSqbdNqfa5sBg5bEVB6OidjgFFZoH_YfkOrUi66RdL14SaXhZXN-BTa/s1600/DSC04352.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And back to the Think Tank. Note: no nets. No falls yet!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4reLtK6VtkUrsBo9S25CAO3-Fq9tYnefbN5X1SmQaloWGzfmqk9cXKH8GPRiJ4PkNCEeNv8X1-__RCvKWAzkqjvh0YZcIaE6Zck0p6iU7r_a-i-fuIHhsyiTaJEtILQyy_2-E2s3NwiP/s1600/DSC04351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk4reLtK6VtkUrsBo9S25CAO3-Fq9tYnefbN5X1SmQaloWGzfmqk9cXKH8GPRiJ4PkNCEeNv8X1-__RCvKWAzkqjvh0YZcIaE6Zck0p6iU7r_a-i-fuIHhsyiTaJEtILQyy_2-E2s3NwiP/s1600/DSC04351.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rosie watching the orangs about 50 feet in the air.</td></tr>
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<b>2. Lions</b></div>
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I would have put "big cats," but the tigers weren't out and we didn't make it to the cheetahs, so lions it is. I was sorely tempted to put Rosie in her <a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/10/7qt-media-edition.html" target="_blank">Halloween</a> <a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/11/wiws.html" target="_blank">costume</a>, but decided against it simply because it's impractical and kind of itchy after a while. She was fascinated, though I'm sure part of that had to do with the fact that one of the females was in heat. Nothing she hasn't seen before!</div>
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Put on a big cat documentary to occupy 1yo while I made a phone call. Came back to see lions mating. D'oh. <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23fb&src=hash">#fb</a></div>
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— Dorothy Sorensen (@MamaDLoSo) <a href="https://twitter.com/MamaDLoSo/statuses/395573575958429697">October 30, 2013</a></div>
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Bonus: we did get to hear some roaring. </div>
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That sounds way dirtier than I thought it would. I'm just trying to say that there was very vocal, "All right, I'm done, go away."</div>
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I don't think I can win this one.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJi-cZ3iua3ovFAjpdr0fBL6q2CarksPW_LBm3SLwaW3nrCwKyk6Z_doVpf028mSBPArkh83lt0qv1-tWHWQ9vpNckQi6Nzh1IM0-emrHydZsBq6WuESUz9v67Qf31it-rc1gcfuevr-E/s1600/DSCN5043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihJi-cZ3iua3ovFAjpdr0fBL6q2CarksPW_LBm3SLwaW3nrCwKyk6Z_doVpf028mSBPArkh83lt0qv1-tWHWQ9vpNckQi6Nzh1IM0-emrHydZsBq6WuESUz9v67Qf31it-rc1gcfuevr-E/s1600/DSCN5043.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The lioness on the right is the one in heat. The other one is her older sister. #awkward</td></tr>
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Fun fact: big cats only ovulate after stimulation, so the first couple dozen tries aren't even going to be, er, penetrative.</div>
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Fun fact 2: When I say couple dozen tries, I'm low-balling. According to the documentary, every lion cub is the result of, on average, 3000 attempts. They go at it every 20-30 minutes when in heat.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bqq4fRXaQgRZMZlpgFaSvcuUxXMgu_6p9rBhr_VYWMzqzmVp5qF4ohKBfOM3rbz2B3O8YivKfjaxgePtdMKSAExCCCiU7-D7FGgg4wUAU9CcMJ0eXJBOM_clFm6Tksb-ZgNp4fHW18At/s1600/DSCN5048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bqq4fRXaQgRZMZlpgFaSvcuUxXMgu_6p9rBhr_VYWMzqzmVp5qF4ohKBfOM3rbz2B3O8YivKfjaxgePtdMKSAExCCCiU7-D7FGgg4wUAU9CcMJ0eXJBOM_clFm6Tksb-ZgNp4fHW18At/s1600/DSCN5048.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'd be sleeping, too.</td></tr>
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<b>3. Giant Panda</b></div>
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Since Mei Xiang recently gave birth to a cub, she and the cub were both inside, away from the crowds (<a href="http://www.smithsonianmag.com/specialreports/name-the-panda/" target="_blank">go vote</a> for the baby panda's name!). Tian Tian, on the other hand, was hanging out and eating bamboo.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVrNWH7RFGegaTM7eNVN6ev6SJhr-IdbXGt9FeJ8WSMrQWZZzKZaeKQbE1vI0HQVexF3AE97FPFd0X108c6WMwWHASxJbKJWdBr5J0vMR-uqb9NICQmFXlAoudkKG9A09jRhDWWK0j-b1/s1600/DSC04354.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZVrNWH7RFGegaTM7eNVN6ev6SJhr-IdbXGt9FeJ8WSMrQWZZzKZaeKQbE1vI0HQVexF3AE97FPFd0X108c6WMwWHASxJbKJWdBr5J0vMR-uqb9NICQmFXlAoudkKG9A09jRhDWWK0j-b1/s1600/DSC04354.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heeeey!</td></tr>
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I can't say that Rosie was super excited about him - he was easy to see from further away, but since he was further away, Rosie was less interested, and when we were closer, all she wanted to do was play with the metal binoculars attached to a pole. I, on the other hand, was plenty happy to see that he was awake, as pretty much every other time I've gone to the zoo they have been furry black-and-white lumps. 19-month-olds. Sheesh.</div>
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<b>4. Elephant</b></div>
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Two of the elephants were outside, but hard to see, while the one that was inside was swaying from side to side with her back to the people. Rosie was just excited that there was a giant book.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDon3mv-hnHJk2hEbOuRmUhi-y_tvL_-vgybxOmwu-pWCWvzFWHcIpXgp3rb5OqSx8FWbdoz_kRykV6k2bJG2z_LW14qs-l97xB-Z4qsJez9iE_43V89Y-V1ek7XKjyISsyMzW7Apch5mq/s1600/DSCN5054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDon3mv-hnHJk2hEbOuRmUhi-y_tvL_-vgybxOmwu-pWCWvzFWHcIpXgp3rb5OqSx8FWbdoz_kRykV6k2bJG2z_LW14qs-l97xB-Z4qsJez9iE_43V89Y-V1ek7XKjyISsyMzW7Apch5mq/s1600/DSCN5054.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">19-month-olds.</td></tr>
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We tried engaging her in some of the other parts of the exhibit. We found that Rosie, my mom, FIL, and I still don't quite weigh as much together as a 4-month-old (I think) elephant. That's a small consolation for the fact that the scale also said that I weigh 35 pounds more than I did in high school, which is 10 pounds more than my scale at home says and 25 pounds more than when I got pregnant with Rosie.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwljpIQs6MtbEnNKwy-FeErgtSqeZR2DcBGon0r-OlaJA5PfoHQ8VCnrNA2-AIfcrhtamcIf4Z1M2E0TtBEv2f2BtxV3m17WIZAkvYN-_ZcFqoYH-dHymyht7VQbrGxUnYBO4EVxnhDruo/s1600/DSCN5052.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwljpIQs6MtbEnNKwy-FeErgtSqeZR2DcBGon0r-OlaJA5PfoHQ8VCnrNA2-AIfcrhtamcIf4Z1M2E0TtBEv2f2BtxV3m17WIZAkvYN-_ZcFqoYH-dHymyht7VQbrGxUnYBO4EVxnhDruo/s1600/DSCN5052.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She was unimpressed with Baba's discovery.</td></tr>
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At this point, Rosie needed a nap, but there were so many more animals I wanted her to see. We didn't have a chance to see the zebras, giraffes, cheetahs, Przewalski's horse (who has a foal!), or any of the reptiles, invertebrates, or small mammals; we didn't even come close to seeing the bears, seals, sea lions, or otters (my personal favorite). That's what next time is for, I guess.</div>
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But I still have one more favorite! That goes to...</div>
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<b>5. Company</b></div>
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I asked Nate MANY times if he was ok with missing the kids' first zoo trip. He said, "Dad's camera is going to be going so frequently I'll just be able to flip through his pictures like a movie." That may not have happened, but it was awesome that so many of them came out to join us.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0j8yfklF1Dd4EBfKLpueEexqMJ8C6oQ71cPVuShF85Z3Cx5tCSWAZqn56uFasLGhxt7v7sw8Il3LvaMtLSfO_d0VJ2ASoarQLEzCEgQp0GIoNLM2jaT6Zp5vDWC-aZGl04snGQT57BDuH/s1600/DSC04340_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0j8yfklF1Dd4EBfKLpueEexqMJ8C6oQ71cPVuShF85Z3Cx5tCSWAZqn56uFasLGhxt7v7sw8Il3LvaMtLSfO_d0VJ2ASoarQLEzCEgQp0GIoNLM2jaT6Zp5vDWC-aZGl04snGQT57BDuH/s1600/DSC04340_2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She caught on pretty quickly that digging her heels in and leaning back was a way to tell us she wanted to do it again. SIL on the left is enjoying Rosie's enjoyment.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNMVitd1tC9ocWu24gbFE9CvDmevBryQC8wG5Y9p7oKDrEkPMEFc0VMIIvXWOXJlq5BBJeNyY4q9J499jR21F2fT3QQ22Cu86NHRbFVCpy5P-BYFH__zfE7yFTxjmEm_OffA-xgEs7Lev1/s1600/DSCN5051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNMVitd1tC9ocWu24gbFE9CvDmevBryQC8wG5Y9p7oKDrEkPMEFc0VMIIvXWOXJlq5BBJeNyY4q9J499jR21F2fT3QQ22Cu86NHRbFVCpy5P-BYFH__zfE7yFTxjmEm_OffA-xgEs7Lev1/s1600/DSCN5051.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dude, I have no idea where we are. I just woke up in a new place.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1zZcERKvAlj82P9s4Z6qmljkf8qWSJf3AYFx5p47cKa894-Io5xYgrf4gn8_7a2ITmLQhybtcfUFi_tF5bXrMdA_cBdU2vLO37Geq6PVFvo1vRdbAHy1bQs0KOEJWooKlEw46X0peU6i-/s1600/DSC04346_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1zZcERKvAlj82P9s4Z6qmljkf8qWSJf3AYFx5p47cKa894-Io5xYgrf4gn8_7a2ITmLQhybtcfUFi_tF5bXrMdA_cBdU2vLO37Geq6PVFvo1vRdbAHy1bQs0KOEJWooKlEw46X0peU6i-/s1600/DSC04346_2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I just like that they have the same expressions. BIL actually carried him for a pretty good long time.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtNLdND_uxWukc9vYFqisc8psgApdtfkrLx52yG0ZQL4aGDdcNVABuEXfI1USLMXRusTKzoMhzv2GifSTYa-ShYEHRTgrOBa_G4SCxDu9wZJvYwK1MgLZ5KBBZVZtJV2Hf2kqcY8vf9_K/s1600/DSC04350_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZtNLdND_uxWukc9vYFqisc8psgApdtfkrLx52yG0ZQL4aGDdcNVABuEXfI1USLMXRusTKzoMhzv2GifSTYa-ShYEHRTgrOBa_G4SCxDu9wZJvYwK1MgLZ5KBBZVZtJV2Hf2kqcY8vf9_K/s1600/DSC04350_2.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hi, Grandma!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ilJS2S3_CZfnqqy_6MmIOnlfQqIt4F_nbQrIWgzBRiwHD9O97tf7OTH_ydtatsB6zjH8VeEMH7PGOa_aHXli8ANaMT8Y-ENnxxHaiQ7YUe0XguvrcmTPHxbbRk3bo-Bv7As3NMO7XvZV/s640/20131111_134835.jpg" height="400" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="300" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Freddy and two of the veterans on Veterans Day.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2ilJS2S3_CZfnqqy_6MmIOnlfQqIt4F_nbQrIWgzBRiwHD9O97tf7OTH_ydtatsB6zjH8VeEMH7PGOa_aHXli8ANaMT8Y-ENnxxHaiQ7YUe0XguvrcmTPHxbbRk3bo-Bv7As3NMO7XvZV/s1600/20131111_134835.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a> </div>
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So that was their first trip to the zoo! I can't wait to take them again to see the things we missed. Based on how Rosie acts when we go to the international grocery store, she's really going to enjoy the fish and swimming mammals.</div>
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Go see <a href="http://moxiewife.com/2013/11/five-favorites-the-conferencegatheringparty-edition/.html" target="_blank">MoxieWife</a> for more favorites and try not to gloat if you can make it to Austin for their Catholic Mama <strike>Drinking Party</strike> Conference!</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-28871597910077589502013-11-11T23:00:00.000-05:002013-11-12T04:13:36.365-05:00Veterans Day 2013<div style="text-align: justify;">
We took advantage of the day off today to take a trip to the zoo, but I want to write about something a little different on this day.</div>
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I come from a military family. I know that to most people, that means that you have a parent in one of the branches, but our family takes it to an extreme. For that matter, so does my husband's. Between the two of them, we have 11 service members that I just thought of off the top of my head, 5 of whom are either parents or siblings. Whenever we go to military concerts and the service song medley is played, I stand pretty much the whole time (I get to sit during "Semper Paratus" and, since my aunt and uncle divorced, "Anchors Aweigh"). Some are still active duty - my oldest BIL just came home in July after a yearlong deployment to Afghanistan - but all have sacrificed. My maternal grandfather sacrificed more than most.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="more"></a><br />
<a name='more'></a>Pop-Pop was born in 1914 in a tiny coal town in Pennsylvania. He was the oldest of 12 kids (some didn't live very long) born to a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lemkos" target="_blank">Lemko</a> immigrant family. He was actually born Vasily Gyorgy Troyanosky, but they changed it to William George to become "real" Americans (though Basil would have been a more accurate switch). I was told that once the Depression hit, he started riding the rails looking for work and ended up getting caught. He was given a choice: go to jail or join the Army. So join the Army he did. Of course, once Pearl Harbor happened and America went to war with the Japanese, it seemed that perhaps joining the Army was the worse choice, because he was sent to the Philippines.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilme5IPbpn5ltl1TWFKRDw_0sbzYPqF061UDIewGdc_28rMiScrAnQqs6vnuF7cOzXHy53SubSwIq8wlMT3WXC0OhxEVyTZl03bnqVuFQoX_siYG-eiEQmKyj5fV6cmu6Px860YkzZ78A/s1600/corregidor_tunnel_1942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilme5IPbpn5ltl1TWFKRDw_0sbzYPqF061UDIewGdc_28rMiScrAnQqs6vnuF7cOzXHy53SubSwIq8wlMT3WXC0OhxEVyTZl03bnqVuFQoX_siYG-eiEQmKyj5fV6cmu6Px860YkzZ78A/s1600/corregidor_tunnel_1942.jpg" height="282" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charming.</td></tr>
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Specifically, he was sent to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Corregidor" target="_blank">Corregidor</a>. After a 5 month seige <i>(during which he apparently kept a diary - need to contact the MacArthur Memorial Archives to see if I can get a copy)</i>, the Allied troops surrendered and were taken prisoner by the Japanese. They spent the next 40 months in captivity, and in my grandfather's case, that meant working in copper mines, eating small portions of rice and supplementing it with whatever rats or mice they could catch so they didn't starve, trying not to get any number of deadly diseases, and enduring the absolute brutality of the Japanese military guards. After he and the others were freed, he still bore scarred lungs from the mines and probably PTSD from the battle and the POW camps (my mom remembers hearing yelling while he was sleeping).</div>
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And yet, Pop-Pop didn't take his Purple Heart and peace out. He could have decided that he'd given enough - his health, his freedom, his time. Instead, he stayed in for almost 20 more years before retiring from active duty, and stayed for another 20 after that at the Pentagon doing who knows what before completely stopping working.</div>
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In an interesting turn of events, we were stationed in Japan during the mid/late '80s and my sister was born there. My mom's parents of course wanted to go to visit their new granddaughter and provide support to their daughter while she recovered, but Pop-Pop's previous experiences made it...difficult, shall we say, to make the decision to go. He finally decided that he could handle making the trip and filled out the application for a visa. When answering "reason for previous visit," he wrote "guest of the emperor."</div>
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They approved the visa.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtBPCHgDt5msOJIUC7t7U6cKZOdRdp9CAjGNvgUW1qHRE51EW-reGXm7dwE4POPR7Uq3H-DOtOt2ykJIylNpMO6Iqx_L2sdeoAAlX-q0qDjM2q0NPY8X-6PbVrnCalcFOZXFhUBC3aLnA/s640/20131111_232818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQtBPCHgDt5msOJIUC7t7U6cKZOdRdp9CAjGNvgUW1qHRE51EW-reGXm7dwE4POPR7Uq3H-DOtOt2ykJIylNpMO6Iqx_L2sdeoAAlX-q0qDjM2q0NPY8X-6PbVrnCalcFOZXFhUBC3aLnA/s640/20131111_232818.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A picture of a picture of my brother, my grandfather, and myself in Japan when he came to visit.</td></tr>
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When he got to Japan for the first time in over 40 years, my grandparents were surprised to find that the older Japanese gentleman working customs just ushered them through, and the older Japanese woman at the hotel desk just kept her head lowered while the younger one helped them. It wasn't until they were about to finish checking in that my grandmother realized Pop-Pop was wearing his bolo tie with the "Defenders of Bataan and Corregidor" crest. Whoops.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z84/PhilbertDesanex/ADBC-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://i191.photobucket.com/albums/z84/PhilbertDesanex/ADBC-1.jpg" height="400" width="340" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure if they immediately understood, but I'd be pretty embarrassed if I were in their shoes, too.</td></tr>
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I always hated WWII units in history because the Pacific theater is woefully neglected. I understand that there's a lot of material to get through, but it seems like everyone is focused on Hitler and Nazi Germany and the Holocaust at the expense of the fighting on the other side of the world. Most of the time, it was a bomb to bomb jump - Pearl Harbor to Hiroshima with pretty much nothing in between. My high school kids just looked at me blankly when I mentioned the Bataan Death March one day. It made (and makes) me angry that men like my grandfather and their sacrifices and experiences were practically ignored or erased.</div>
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So I make it my goal to make sure that people know about his service and the service of his fallen brothers in arms. A student looked up the Death March the evening after I mentioned it and he was horrified at what he read. People need to be shocked by these tales, because if they are numb to them, we risk becoming just as bad. I can only hope that an entire half of the war isn't forgotten, because the veterans who served are very quickly disappearing. That defenders group I mentioned earlier doesn't exist anymore because of the rate of survivors dying. It's now a descendants group.</div>
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Pop-Pop rests in Arlington, buried with honors and surrounded by others with the same. While no one can live forever, at least the consequences of their actions can. I mentioned to a native Filipina coworker that my grandfather fought at Corregidor and she gave me a hug and almost burst into tears. If everyone was as appreciative of our vets, the world would be a better place.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-a-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/59_510102104287_93_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://scontent-a-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/59_510102104287_93_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He probably would have lived a lot longer had he not been a POW - his closest sister lived to be 92.</td></tr>
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And appreciate the people who are in now. Even if you don't agree with any of the reasons our military might be involved in anything, support THEM. Support their families. Give them a smile if they're out in uniform (if you think they have time, thank them, but not glaring at them is nice, too). Invite them over if they've recently PCSed (moved) into your neighborhood and they have to start over again with friends. Offer to take the kids off the hands of a spouse of a deployed soldier's hands for a night so s/he can get a break from being a single parent. Try not to drop by without calling first - an unexpected knock at the door puts a pit in the stomach of every spouse or parent of a deployed person. Don't ask about their deployments if you think they either can't or won't want to talk about it (do not ask if they've killed anyone!!!). And pray, pray, pray for them. The stress of frequent moves and being apart from friends and family puts a huge strain on their relationships. It takes its toll on the best of marital relationships. And this is saying nothing of the physical safety and psychological health of a deployed service member.</div>
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So, to the members of our armed forces: Go Army, Fly-Fight-Win, Semper Fi, Semper Paratus, and Fair Winds and Following Seas. We are here for you because you are there for us.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even if you have an Afghanistache. Heyyyy, brother.</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.finelinenandpurple.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/newbutton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://www.finelinenandpurple.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/newbutton.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg"><img alt="" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-1387" height="195" src="http://www.conversiondiary.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/7_quick_takes_sm1.jpg" title="7_quick_takes_sm" width="290" /></a>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt1"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt1" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 1 ---</a></strong></div>
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My former roommate got married yesterday! Forget "What I Wore Sunday," how about "What She Wore Saturday??"</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISZBME3c_WIkmN5y4cBqFzL4k9nsWnsaTW2dG53kExJtLM7bhz4XPy3_KKMv6C_Y6WFNov3BeCUu9dlTNLGwJuRKj5qcMx0yuY8sPcnqIaZHGrYqM7JEsqI76uXGKoAPrFUJsfXpmml-j/s1600/DSCN5036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISZBME3c_WIkmN5y4cBqFzL4k9nsWnsaTW2dG53kExJtLM7bhz4XPy3_KKMv6C_Y6WFNov3BeCUu9dlTNLGwJuRKj5qcMx0yuY8sPcnqIaZHGrYqM7JEsqI76uXGKoAPrFUJsfXpmml-j/s1600/DSCN5036.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The deacon she's hugging actually baptized her. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2wU-4hI2CGmgnf7EdVkT7OUhcNGp_g9tZfJ0Oi81QM0yZ8CCda8M4cUU8NjPc_m2DW4otogUPK_j67PGhr0-4S5woABmBnAe65bWAdJa04QkzfXt9kFzIJm-Nkv-ZmYwjxiwvMvabjmt/s1600/DSCN5040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg2wU-4hI2CGmgnf7EdVkT7OUhcNGp_g9tZfJ0Oi81QM0yZ8CCda8M4cUU8NjPc_m2DW4otogUPK_j67PGhr0-4S5woABmBnAe65bWAdJa04QkzfXt9kFzIJm-Nkv-ZmYwjxiwvMvabjmt/s1600/DSCN5040.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Priest on the left is our college chaplain. There was actually supposed to be one more, but he didn't make it for some reason.</td></tr>
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Seriously, she looked AMAZING. The dress was simultaneously not at all what I was expecting and absolutely 100% perfect. It was a beautiful wedding, and I wish I'd seen and participated a lot more of it - I spent a good amount of time either bouncing a baby or chasing a toddler. When two people meet at a 5 am holy hour, it's going to be a prayerful Mass.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt2"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;"></a></strong><br />
<a name='more'></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 2 ---</a></strong></div>
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Speaking of Saturday wear, her mom looked fabulous, too. I'm starting to think that perhaps we should have a party where we wear our wedding dresses or MOH/MOB/whatever attire and have a little dinner party. Maybe something like this...</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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My husband's coworker and friend said that we've been to more weddings recently than he's been to his whole life. Honestly, we've had a whole slew of engagements and weddings of close friends and family. We had two within two weeks of each other right before Freddy was born and then my best friend and then my old roommate and soon a former college minister. It's wonderful to celebrate these, though! I know that later on, it's going to be more funerals (though I've been to more of those than I have wanted recently, too), so I'm going to enjoy to the fullest the weddings and births and baptisms while I can. "Oh no, not another wedding," is not a phrase in my repertoire. Not unless I'm friends with a 1970s Elizabeth Taylor.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt4"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
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And babies! My best friend FINALLY announced on facebook that she's having a baby, so I don't have to watch what I say anymore, which is a relief. It's just as well that they did before this weekend, because she is most definitely showing. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://scontent-b-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1464095_10101268592342727_1981760652_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://scontent-b-iad.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn2/1464095_10101268592342727_1981760652_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She's the cute preggo on the left with the fuchsia shawl. Hurray for wedding group photos!</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt5"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt5" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 5 ---</a></strong></div>
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There are a ton of ladies who have these adorable bumps and made these cute costumes for Halloween. One went as a Magic 8 ball and she was maybe 16 weeks along. And my best friend isn't quite 20 weeks along and looks definitely pregnant. I just looked chubby.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJthXQLG8TSO63AoLUBbDRcttlF2t6wAueayU_-K_MxKTPAEZ4sH97OYHUEK53l76E-Cpqisk4JJSrg0P_x-quEPj8qY965DCqaGYQaB1n71KJJZHGLZYyitTJOKzMs1ZxDg7F2SkD58I/s1600/DSCN4581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkJthXQLG8TSO63AoLUBbDRcttlF2t6wAueayU_-K_MxKTPAEZ4sH97OYHUEK53l76E-Cpqisk4JJSrg0P_x-quEPj8qY965DCqaGYQaB1n71KJJZHGLZYyitTJOKzMs1ZxDg7F2SkD58I/s1600/DSCN4581.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This was me at 23 weeks with Rosie. No cute basketball. Just looks like I need to put down the sandwich. Or like me now almost 6 months post-partum with Freddy. #wompwomp</td></tr>
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The above picture was actually the first bump picture we bothered taking because it was the first time it looked remotely like a bump instead of pudge. It was a blessing and a curse. On one hand, I didn't have a ton of people rushing up to me and getting all handsy, but on the other, I was very self-conscious about doing things like having a milkshake. And then when I was pregnant with Freddy while still having a pretty young Rosie, I was worried about people being all, "Mmm, someone hasn't lost the baby weight. Lazy!" since there's an (unhealthy) obsession about post-baby bodies and how women should just pop right back. If you've watched "How I Met Your Mother," you'll actually see Allyson Hannigan going through not just one, but two pregnancies and post-partum periods, and it's refreshing to see that she actually gave her body time to recover.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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I've been trying to plan meals on a weekly basis so I just buy what I need for that and then don't have to worry about either not having what I need on hand for what I want to make or having things go bad because I don't use them. Hypothetically, this is supposed to save us money, but last month we were horribly over. Granted, we bought some things that count in our grocery budget that we usually don't (like a pack of razors for Nate that will supposedly last him over a year), but I'm hoping that this month works out better. Strike against us already: renewing our Costco membership. Oops.</div>
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<strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
So how about WIWS? Here we go:<br />
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Fk49dOeoB2NH1ZDPac0VzwVvl3vqIre7KodDwEUbElxNLLwc4mRyJ42UHCKmcbfKXPanSo3Ti2qZ7hOPkOsKN-h_MxDE-q2PM_YS0f7Hm6DexZ8Iciu9swpncya7UASvMOT3rwAFmDtP/s640/20131110_164033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1Fk49dOeoB2NH1ZDPac0VzwVvl3vqIre7KodDwEUbElxNLLwc4mRyJ42UHCKmcbfKXPanSo3Ti2qZ7hOPkOsKN-h_MxDE-q2PM_YS0f7Hm6DexZ8Iciu9swpncya7UASvMOT3rwAFmDtP/s640/20131110_164033.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Definitely need to find a better angle. That, or I just don't look quite like I think I do.</td></tr>
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<tr><td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupYHSpWoZ0k1RYNri1XmDGhuEkHlFUejYs83hJU_4q5lRowr4AtnF8OrJb6BCr29BcfoWOA-eTCwgf62dfu9Ow5aYGM_bOgZzokwYYICrbOmbs2cFu4pStSXC3r8DMc9jvzXt2VGYhydS/s640/20131110_164119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiupYHSpWoZ0k1RYNri1XmDGhuEkHlFUejYs83hJU_4q5lRowr4AtnF8OrJb6BCr29BcfoWOA-eTCwgf62dfu9Ow5aYGM_bOgZzokwYYICrbOmbs2cFu4pStSXC3r8DMc9jvzXt2VGYhydS/s640/20131110_164119.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Note the baby in the background. Ignore the mess.</td></tr>
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Top: New York and Co. years ago<br />
Skirt: St. John's Bay from JC Penney 2 years ago<br />
Boots: Payless (the ones I wore last week that you couldn't see)<br />
Jacket: Target years ago<br />
Necklace: present from SIL and nephew (it's super long, I just loop it around)<br />
Bracelet: one of a 3 pack of bamboo-inspired bracelets from NY&Co</blockquote>
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And for Rosie:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioS5QKh7f7RZTpUv2nqk5sQeJEZXhjWKBWD3fHkGcYIldOTHjjjgwH6g5ulsmWHtSqm_kBd7cgWEOtNq3L5c1_IL8jRYq_-H8KEe_a9xMwTQf8ANer8Cwm13KZZvguCYaVLByaYUdzI8DW/s640/20131110_093613.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioS5QKh7f7RZTpUv2nqk5sQeJEZXhjWKBWD3fHkGcYIldOTHjjjgwH6g5ulsmWHtSqm_kBd7cgWEOtNq3L5c1_IL8jRYq_-H8KEe_a9xMwTQf8ANer8Cwm13KZZvguCYaVLByaYUdzI8DW/s640/20131110_093613.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Top: long-sleeved Koala Kids that I got as a present at my baby shower, though since it's a 6-9mo size, it's more like a half/three-quarter sleeve<br />
Jumper: consignment store clearance!</blockquote>
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I suppose I could feature the gents, but let's face it - they're not nearly as fun to dress, and Freddy usually ends up covered in some kind of bodily fluid (usually his own, though I'm not going to discount anything from happening).</div>
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All right, I think that's it from me for now. Go check out <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/" style="text-align: center;" target="_blank">Conversion Diary</a> for more Quick Takes and <a href="http://www.finelinenandpurple.com/2013/11/10/what-i-wore-sunday-volume-56/" target="_blank">Fine Linen and Purple</a> for more WIWS!</div>
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Gotta do this quick, because I don't know how much longer the babies will be down and I still need to make pizza dough for tonight so it can rise, so here's a few things off the top of my head that I'm enjoying.</div>
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<b>1. NEW PHONE!!!!</b><br />
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I had been having trouble with my old phone, and since we were well past the 2 year upgrade point, Nate had been looking around to see if there were any good deals for decent phones and, lo and behold, Best Buy was offering Samsung Galaxy S IIIs for a buck (with a 2 year contract with a phone company we already use). And it is AMAZING. It's a huge world of difference. I'm still getting used to their interface (layout, buttons locations, Android updates), but man. I'm in love.</div>
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<b>2. <a href="http://simplynoise.com/">http://simplynoise.com/</a></b><br />
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Specifically, the brown noise setting on high oscillation. Knocks Freddy right out. And it's FREE-NINETY-FREE (as <a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1556046118"></span>Dwija<span id="goog_1556046119"></span></a> would say).</div>
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<b>3. These leaves!</b><br />
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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/AVvXsEg5Agy4LZel-WefBL-D-FHvc0jhU7vV53feqcu6jOQ55Z0-d-e0C-3sPJg6CB00KgYC0yPsOX020AHE-0mAgEQzqMFdEYZdNadpiJW1Ugf86GnsKheZWFnRquG0RhwJFXsj8IyVrwsMSLnl/s640/20131106_153808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Agy4LZel-WefBL-D-FHvc0jhU7vV53feqcu6jOQ55Z0-d-e0C-3sPJg6CB00KgYC0yPsOX020AHE-0mAgEQzqMFdEYZdNadpiJW1Ugf86GnsKheZWFnRquG0RhwJFXsj8IyVrwsMSLnl/s640/20131106_153808.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I literally got up, took the picture from my bedroom window, downloaded the Blogger app on my sexy phone, and put it in the post. Less than 5 minutes. TECHNOLOGY.</td></tr>
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Rosie had a blast crunching around in my former roommate's backyard, and then fussed about going inside when we got home because I swept the leaves from our sidewalk into a bit of a pile and she wanted to keep playing.</div>
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<b>4. NO MORE POLITICAL ADS</b><br />
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I hate the fall merely because I can't escape politics (local, state, federal - IT'S EVERYWHERE), and our newly elected governor ran a particularly nasty campaign. However, now that election day has come and gone, I don't have to worry about seeing political ads for at least another 6 months. Hallelujah!</div>
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<b>5. New babies!!!<br /></b></div>
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Remember <a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/10/five-favorites-facebook.html" target="_blank">last week's favorites</a> with Facebook? There have been about 3 births and 4 pregnancy announcements since then, plus my former roommate is getting MARRIED ON SATURDAY!!! And marriage makes babies. There's space for 12 of them in her family bible her parents gave her. :-)<br />
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So hurrah for all these things! Go see some more over at <a href="http://moxiewife.com/2013/11/five-favorites-vol-36/.html" target="_blank">MoxieWife</a>! </div>
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I figure we can safely say that we've moved past "met" and can get into things like "relationships." No, I'm not hitting on you - I'm talking about Nate and I.</div>
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We left off previously with Nate<a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/10/googly-eyed-storytime-how-we-met-pt-2.html" target="_blank"> practically proposing to me</a> after knowing me for about a month and me sitting there anxiously trying to figure out how to get this guy out of my car so I could deal with all sorts of confusing feelings (feeeeeeeelings!), namely that this dude was nuts but that maybe it could work. Caught up? Good.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>So how exactly DID I deal with this? In retrospect: not great. I pretty much cut off contact. There were some other things that complicated that - spring trip, my grandfather going in and out of the hospital and ultimately dying, graduation, job hunting. In fact, a job opened in Chesapeake and getting it would have meant moving about 200 miles away. That's right: part of my possible solution (unintentionally) involved running away and never seeing him again.<br />
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I would call him up or email him or write on his wall (wall, not timeline, get it right, FACEBOOK) on occasion, but not anywhere close to the same frequency as before. We hung out casually a few times: he came out to celebrate my getting a job, he came down to visit my school, and I invited him to a Halloween party that I co-hosted, but we (read: I) generally kept it very infrequent and definitely platonic. Heck, at said-Halloween party, a guy that I was gauging interest in was there, too. Nate likes to say that every time there was a long enough gap that he started to think about asking out someone else, I'd suddenly call and get him all worked up again. It was uncanny.</div>
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All that changed with a voicemail from his mom.</div>
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I need to back up and tell two side-stories here that I promise are relevant. The first isn't quite as necessary, but it's funny and will provide some context.</div>
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C., the immediate past boyfriend, and I were still on friendly terms<i> (while every relationship ending was hard in different ways, only one has ever left a sour taste in my mouth)</i>. We lived in dorms that shared a parking lot, and one spring day, after he had given me a lift, he said, "My mom wants to call you."</div>
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I was taken aback. "What? Why?"</div>
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"I don't know. But I told her that I would give you her phone number so that if YOU wanted to call her, you could, but that I wasn't going to give her your phone number."</div>
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"You don't have to give me her phone number. I'm not going to call her. That's weird."</div>
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"I figured you wouldn't, and that's fine, but I'm just holding up my end of the arrangement."</div>
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"Fine, whatever. I'm just going to toss it in the trash. Now, what movie did you want me to watch?"</div>
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So we headed up to my dorm and popped in a movie. After a bit, I heard my phone ringing from my room (we had swanky-swank apartment-style dorms). It was a number that was both unknown and slightly familiar. </div>
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"Do you know this number? It's a 337, and that's your area code." </div>
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He looked it up, and his face darkened. "That's my mom's cell. This isn't the first time she's done this, either. She probably looked at the phone bill, figured out who I was talking to the most, and figured it was you. I'm really sorry."</div>
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Well, since she had called me, I couldn't just completely ignore her, so I purposely called her back when I knew I had only a small window to talk. Within the first five minutes she asked me, point blank, "So, why did you and C. break up?"</div>
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Awkward.</div>
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The second story is that Nate had <a href="http://heartdisease.about.com/od/palpitationsarrhythmias/a/Supraventricular-Tachycardia-Svt.htm" target="_blank">a heart condition</a> <i>(I'm not sure if that link is exactly it, but it sounds about right)</i>. Basically, he had an extra pacemaker that would just turn on randomly and shoot his heart rate up past 200 bpm. The first doctor they ever saw for it couldn't find anything. He rather accurately stated that while he didn't doubt that there was something going on, they likely wouldn't be able to figure out what it was unless Nate just happened to be hooked up to a heart monitor while it happened. Over the next TEN YEARS, Nate would see cardiologists and do various tests, but nothing was ever caught. In fact, the reason he came down to visit my school was because he was already in the area to see a different cardiologist.</div>
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So when I was walking between sessions at the VMEA conference that fall and saw that I had a voicemail from Nate, I didn't think too much of it. When I started listening to the voicemail and heard that it was his mom, I was kind of panicking that I'd gotten yet another crazy lady stalking me because of her son. What I heard next made my knees go weak and forced me to lean against a wall.</div>
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<b>"Nate wanted me to call you to let you know that he had emergency heart surgery."</b></blockquote>
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I just about ran back to my hotel room and called my best friend to have her pray for him. I started saying a rosary, then called Nate's phone and chatted with both him and his mom briefly. I was relieved to hear that he was in good spirits and seemed to be doing ok, that they'd finally figured out what it was and that he had answers and hopefully never had to worry about it again. Over the remaining days of the conference, I would call him to check on him and chat, and on my way home, I asked if he wanted me to visit and bring him a pie. There are two right answers to the question, "What kind of pie would you like?" and he gave one of them: apple. So after driving for 4 hours, I dropped off my stuff, changed, and hopped back in the car to get a pie and drive the 45 minutes to his parents' house, where he was recuperating. </div>
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His roommate brother, coworker friend, and his friend's wife were all visiting and playing Risk with him when I showed up. They started a new game when I got there, but it didn't last long. Nate and his brother told me later that while the friend's wife is ruthlessly good at Risk, they purposely finished up quickly so they could leave Nate and I alone. They also spent a good chunk of time standing outside the house debating whether or not they should actually leave because it was either going to go well and take a while or go poorly rather quickly.</div>
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So Nate and I were alone to talk, and boy did we ever. I believe I said something about how when he told me in my car that he could see us together, I could too, but I was scared because it had only been a month and that's insane but the heart surgery really brought into focus how much he actually meant to me. He pulled me from the couch to a clear spot on the carpet and said, "Wait here." At this point, I started thinking, "Crap, I was right, he's going to go get a ring that he already has for some reason and propose <i>(who thinks like that?!?! The answer is me) </i>because he's crazy." Instead, he had gone to get his ipod or computer and put on "The King and Queen's Waltz/So Close" from <u>Enchanted</u> so we could dance. That's right - slow dance in his parents' living room. It's super cheesy, but super sweet, which kind of sums him up perfectly.</div>
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We kissed and kept speaking and laughing freely until I went home at some ridiculous hour. He met me for church the next evening (thank goodness for college kid Mass times!) and, while calling over the cars in the parking lot, we solidified that we were, in fact, dating, in maybe the least romantic, anti-climactic way after the previous evening/morning. It was November 23, 2008. He told me he loved me the beginning of December, and I reciprocated right before Christmas after going to say hi to Jesus at the perpetual adoration chapel at the church near his apartment.</div>
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And we lived happily ever after.</div>
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Almost.</div>
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We've hit our share of bumps in the road<i> (like, I don't know, him having heart surgery AGAIN 2 months later because they didn't quite fix it the first time. If you want a good idea as to what it was like, my friend Mary's 2-year-old daughter recently <a href="http://happilyahousewife.blogspot.com/2013/11/recovery.html" target="_blank">had a similar procedure</a> - you should totally go say hi and send some love their way!)</i>, but we're not done. Our story has only just begun, and I really can't wait to see what comes next (and meet even more new characters!). So until the final chapters have been written....</div>
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Almost.</div>
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<i><b>Next time: the engagement story!</b></i></div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-60946257816128258482013-11-03T22:24:00.001-05:002013-11-03T22:29:54.647-05:00WIWS Take 1!<div style="text-align: justify;">
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You know how you can guarantee awful behavior at Mass? Brag about how well they did last time.</div>
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Today was rough. The time change did a number on Freddy. By the time we hit 12:15 Mass, he was way overtired and refused to fall asleep until about 5 minutes before the final blessing. He spent most of Mass in my arms screaming or arching or otherwise making life difficult, so please don't quiz me on the readings or the homily, because I missed all of them. Rosie was a peach, though, and even though she might not have been super quiet and demure, she was at least adorable (dancing and clapping in Nate's lap during the hymns, occasionally singing and chatting in a little voice).</div>
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And since the kids were up a little earlier than normal, Nate took them on his walk with Freya so I had time to ::gasp:: take a shower and pick an outfit without any kiddos around! And, even more shocking...I kind of felt cute! What the what. So hey, why don't I actually try to take a picture for "What I Wore Sunday" link-ups?<br />
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<table 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/AVvXsEiwQP5XbwJ6NXExxBU7OpVJv4ZWTn9mcLCAnMYdM8QXg05lOHiLGfJt0tWH9DvYsa7-CPePJirP0lQUd33IG6r-HI8VuBggFeDar-X-yytLw398MYSi44-GQmJ-yBgFZH1tkOj7qT5N87kV/s1600/DSCN5007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwQP5XbwJ6NXExxBU7OpVJv4ZWTn9mcLCAnMYdM8QXg05lOHiLGfJt0tWH9DvYsa7-CPePJirP0lQUd33IG6r-HI8VuBggFeDar-X-yytLw398MYSi44-GQmJ-yBgFZH1tkOj7qT5N87kV/s1600/DSCN5007.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I felt cuter than this picture looks. :-/ I actually had Nate take about 4 of them and joked that I would use the first one. Guess what? This is the first one.</td></tr>
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Dress: Liz Lange Maternity <i>(no, I'm not pregnant, but it's pretty much the only maxi dress I've ever found that's long enough)</i> from Target</div>
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Shirt: Land's End</div>
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Jacket: Mossimo from Target (YEARS ago)</div>
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Boots: <a href="http://www.payless.com/store/product/detail.jsp?catId=cat10088&subCatId=cat10045&skuId=098959080&productId=71953&lotId=098959&category=&catdisplayName=Womens" target="_blank">Lower East Side from Payless</a> <i>(not that you can see them, but I LOVE them)</i></div>
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Necklace: present from my SIL and nephew</div>
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And since we're showing off what people were wearing...<br />
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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/AVvXsEhRfXUUm5oRUUlqkhTAwjRH7hOJAy81qYgl7P3nkJtqVQEN8xhJ4tm-olVd3YV6yhqvsinDh2_m0XiuOh08uTSAKlwu60Srwcm9me_18qCyNV-kuXGKMOjPPBBiagojGToW6p8CTxxpO9N5/s1600/DSCN5013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRfXUUm5oRUUlqkhTAwjRH7hOJAy81qYgl7P3nkJtqVQEN8xhJ4tm-olVd3YV6yhqvsinDh2_m0XiuOh08uTSAKlwu60Srwcm9me_18qCyNV-kuXGKMOjPPBBiagojGToW6p8CTxxpO9N5/s1600/DSCN5013.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">LOOK AT THAT FAAAACE!</td></tr>
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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/AVvXsEhYzudVTJR8_ntYJtzlOaJjd8NpyDol6QP49dDKSDWsDEPUBbkhfmCRV0rPxTsuETxa92-8FhSFzxuQAVDMmD8I1ix2hJtmL12NfW0bSiC9HPRxvBu729NsOlkMxIxy7i0MMBcX-AHamNlD/s1600/DSCN5014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYzudVTJR8_ntYJtzlOaJjd8NpyDol6QP49dDKSDWsDEPUBbkhfmCRV0rPxTsuETxa92-8FhSFzxuQAVDMmD8I1ix2hJtmL12NfW0bSiC9HPRxvBu729NsOlkMxIxy7i0MMBcX-AHamNlD/s1600/DSCN5014.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have a much more terrifying picture of her in the air.</td></tr>
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And even MORE of what people were wearing...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJSEnmgVS-JF25VIaWSZyyTBqZtDPuVdpU1vYZ4sESWKR3cqir7d3ETmagfWd1FO1yzG0sdcO1BylU64JcZQEIcf13lKO2LKzHhwTLB5fEgd9fpWyTDlSpW8vw5H49IvFMU6LtegCnRVb/s1600/DSCN4993.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwJSEnmgVS-JF25VIaWSZyyTBqZtDPuVdpU1vYZ4sESWKR3cqir7d3ETmagfWd1FO1yzG0sdcO1BylU64JcZQEIcf13lKO2LKzHhwTLB5fEgd9fpWyTDlSpW8vw5H49IvFMU6LtegCnRVb/s1600/DSCN4993.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/11/7qt-today-all-day.html" target="_blank">As I mentioned earlier</a>, we took the kids up to my parents' house yesterday to show off their Halloween costumes, and I got some really nice shots.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_0mNGbo_B9NqniurqcFn0nmHsRqtvXKYvE6Nx4lTTFrZrqo3LaK6a_qwr4vH7XqHd7PYXYXIzcIVbwgCx3z4n-4A7k45ky_0FIYQpRs-96OxxWHYJbdw_Iw5uZG9C09oNUj4QImXQDDi/s1600/DSCN4995.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9_0mNGbo_B9NqniurqcFn0nmHsRqtvXKYvE6Nx4lTTFrZrqo3LaK6a_qwr4vH7XqHd7PYXYXIzcIVbwgCx3z4n-4A7k45ky_0FIYQpRs-96OxxWHYJbdw_Iw5uZG9C09oNUj4QImXQDDi/s1600/DSCN4995.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></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/AVvXsEigTjFB_dVA6iHR3OkWtuP-PlV8YG9_AZjdaeDIreaAjorSEFuIrnVFTeGdM5CDpMPZVB5xUg2tSMiYHC3BXYvpS5HYV0jO1sQYGlAEuvogBuPP6_aciP1mslbyb_QvdjIUTpBkZSSf9juC/s1600/DSCN4998.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigTjFB_dVA6iHR3OkWtuP-PlV8YG9_AZjdaeDIreaAjorSEFuIrnVFTeGdM5CDpMPZVB5xUg2tSMiYHC3BXYvpS5HYV0jO1sQYGlAEuvogBuPP6_aciP1mslbyb_QvdjIUTpBkZSSf9juC/s1600/DSCN4998.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm pretty sure he's worn it about three times as much as Rosie did.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUUdJXvag7bhsmc75n3gnqT-HmkOrQMlsd3xO4WpBN7ojBdVpyq2JeXOrtJRvLGengAJxCor-6-C_UoimB8G18NYeU_vGs_tzneBdzFgrbwgWM7cpjBWytDNlobYJVLDHsTkyJNt0XUpz/s1600/DSCN5001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjUUdJXvag7bhsmc75n3gnqT-HmkOrQMlsd3xO4WpBN7ojBdVpyq2JeXOrtJRvLGengAJxCor-6-C_UoimB8G18NYeU_vGs_tzneBdzFgrbwgWM7cpjBWytDNlobYJVLDHsTkyJNt0XUpz/s1600/DSCN5001.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnh3gnM7T1xr8Al6T1Itc7BIYls8C6-HZx5pcWM7wPuPReuJ4NerqF97-YHXS70ySmPBO8fPxGRPfSDcQDzihAZhccJRr2aADSjeWuCKYmSYin-br_sYO8hFt0YhEU9DhD1YMGtKJmZJZy/s1600/DSCN5005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnh3gnM7T1xr8Al6T1Itc7BIYls8C6-HZx5pcWM7wPuPReuJ4NerqF97-YHXS70ySmPBO8fPxGRPfSDcQDzihAZhccJRr2aADSjeWuCKYmSYin-br_sYO8hFt0YhEU9DhD1YMGtKJmZJZy/s1600/DSCN5005.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
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And by "really nice shots," I mean "Freddy eating his hand and Rosie with a blank stare because she hasn't learned to smile on command yet." Clearly.<br />
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Linking up with the ladies of <a href="http://www.finelinenandpurple.com/2013/11/03/what-i-wore-sunday-volume-55/" target="_blank">Fine Linen and Purple</a>! I'm going to go and get some ideas, because it looks like I definitely need some.Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-53043671478946422782013-11-01T23:43:00.000-04:002013-11-01T23:43:37.357-04:007QT: Today, all day!<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm sure that I could be more creative with this title, but honestly, my brain is a little fried, and it's somehow both already and only 11:00 pm. So let's get this party started!</div>
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You know what today is? All Saints' Day, aka a holy day of obligation. Because I wanted to go out with some people later, that meant taking the kiddos by my lonesome to Mass at noon. And you know what? They did pretty darn well. We got there a little late due to some toddler dawdling (it's not like she understands the concepts of time and lateness) and I learned how long it takes to walk with a toddler while carrying a heavy carseat. She was chatty and a little squirmy, but cute, and while Freddy should have slept, he was at least quiet. Thank God they were pleasant. I don't even know what I would have done if they'd been on a terrible day. Cry? Leave early? I don't know.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt2"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt2" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 2 ---</a></strong></div>
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Yesterday, we lost Rosie's last pacifier. I don't know when, but it was missing by bedtime and that meant that she cried and yelled for about 45 minutes to an hour before finally giving up and going to sleep. I still didn't know where it was when her naptime rolled around, so she spent almost 3 hours in her room in the dark in her crib talking and playing and occasionally yelling about it. I finally caved and got her and kind of dreaded taking her to Wind Lit Class (read: drinking while talking about music and teaching).</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt3"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt3" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 3 ---</a></strong></div>
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I think all the saints were pulling for me, because even though neither Rosie nor Freddy got any sleep, they were CHAMPS at Dogfish. Like, pulling-out-all-the-stops, what's-that-ticking-sound-oh-that's-the-biological-clock-of-every-woman-in-the-place adorable. Rosie was friendly to strangers (to her - I at least knew them!) and allowed them to walk her around the restaurant and play with her so I could eat and socialize, and Freddy snuggled with a female friend pretty much the entire time before passing out in her arms. No tantrums or meltdowns or anything. Huzzah! And I know it's just luck, because I've seen them have their fits in restaurants (like for SIL's birthday on Sunday), so it's definitely not because I'm Super Mom.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt4"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
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Got home in time for Rosie's bath and bedtime and as I reached into my purse to get my phone, what should I find but her pacifier! I don't know when it got there, and I don't know why I didn't check it yesterday or how I didn't find it earlier at any of the times I had my purse and reached into it, but there it was! Looks like I'll have to break her of that habit another day. Procrastination, yes.</div>
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That's actually one of two things I'm not looking forward to when it comes to kid sleep. She's generally ok without the pacifier during the day, but napping and bed it is most needed/wanted. The other is having two kids in one room for bedtime. I mean, hallelujah, no kid in our room, excited about that, but getting them both to go to sleep in the same room and not keep the other one up is kind of panic-inducing to think about.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt5"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt5" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 5 ---</a></strong></div>
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Halloween! Right. Yesterday wasn't Rosie's first, but it was the first time she went trick-or-treating. I dressed her and Freddy up in their costumes and went to the local high school (my sister and Nate help out with the marching band over there, though "local" could mean any one of about 5) just in time for rehearsal to end. After we got home, Nate took Rosie out and she hit maybe 10 houses in her lion costume. I didn't take any pictures of either of them (bad Mama), but I think I'll try and get some tomorrow. The band is performing their final time at VBODA (Virginia Band and Orchestra Directors Association) Assessment, and their site is fairly close to my parents' house. Apparently my dad was hoping that Rosie and Freddy were going to be coming up - he asked my mom and sister, "So, are we going to be having any special visitors?" and was disappointed that they weren't. So I want to take them over and show them off and take advantage of the lack of rain and snap some picture with a real camera.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt6"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt6" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 6 ---</a></strong></div>
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I got all spreadsheet-y and analytical and did a cost analysis for Wednesday pizza nights. Because of how I shop and what I buy, it costs $3.14 to make a pepperoni pizza. Not per slice or per serving - PER PIZZA. It ranged from $2.30 for a plain cheese pizza to a whopping $4.66 for a "supreme" - cheese, pepperoni, bacon, sausage, green pepper, and mushroom. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.</div>
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Actually, don't do that. It's probably way better to eat it.</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt7"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt7" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 7 ---</a></strong></div>
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As I said, it's only 11, but Nate has been asleep since probably 9:30. I guess it was a rough day. But I got a sleeptalking bit out of him!</div>
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Nate: [laughs]</div>
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me: What's so funny?</div>
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Nate: Nothing.</div>
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me: Why aren't you sharing?</div>
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Nate: Because I'm too busy drowning.</div>
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Not sure why that's funny to him, but it was definitely funny to me.</div>
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I have to say, it was a really great kid day for the most part. I wish Nate had come out so he could have also experienced the awesomeness that was them, but alas. There's always next time. <strike>Music</strike> teachers love to drink.</div>
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For more Quick Takes, visit <a href="http://www.conversiondiary.com/">Conversion Diary!</a></div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-16036655208125945492013-10-31T01:50:00.001-04:002013-10-31T01:50:53.434-04:00Googly-Eyed Storytime: How We Met pt. 2<div style="text-align: justify;">
So, in our <a href="http://words-for-friends.blogspot.com/2013/10/googly-eyed-storytime-how-we-met.html" target="_blank">previous installment</a>, I met my future husband in a band room, exchanged phone numbers, and then turned him down when he called me to ask me out because, in a twist no one saw coming <i>(unless you, I don't know, already know the story or were around when it happened)</i>, I was dating someone else at the time. Let's continue, shall we?</div>
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After I had called Nate back to reject his date proposal and explain that I was seeing someone, I started feeling guilty. I thought back to the band room and wondered if I was being too friendly or if I should have said something, but at the time I didn't want to seem presumptuous and assume that he was interested when he wasn't and I couldn't find a way to subtly mention that I had a boyfriend <i>(I actually just asked Nate about this, and he said that there was a connection, and whether it was romantic or not, he wanted to get to know me better, so he might still have called me up if he had known I was dating someone)</i>. If Nate hadn't been Catholic, it would have been much easier to simply put him out of my mind, but he was (I think I had mentioned something about it being Lent), and he was a musician, and I definitely found him attractive, so I had hit this trifecta that wouldn't stop niggling me.</div>
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I went to the boyfriend's dorm room to hang out, and I had to clear my conscience. "C., I have a confession to make. I went to Falls Church and there was this guy who was a band director in the county and I exchanged numbers to network and he called me up and asked me out and I just feel like maybe I was leading him on and...well, I just thought I should tell you."</div>
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C. looked at me. "Well, did you say yes?"</div>
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"No, of course not."</div>
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"Well, why not?"</div>
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::blink blink:: </div>
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"...because we're dating?"</div>
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"That means you can't go on dates with other people?"</div>
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"Uh, I thought so..."</div>
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And so started the beginning of the end of that relationship. We didn't break up right then, but I was miffed and relieved enough that I called Nate again and asked if he wanted to go, as friends, to see Falls Church and Stuart perform at District Festival on Friday (we'd both been planning to go anyway).</div>
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I saw Nate the next evening at the pyramid concert and worked out that we would meet at a library near one of my schools so we could carpool. However, Friday was rainy, and in rush hour weekend traffic it took us over an hour to drive about 10 miles. To be stuck in a tiny space for an hour with a person you're trying to forget you like is kind of torturous.</div>
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We ended up missing Stuart's performance entirely, but got there just as Falls Church was getting off the bus and stayed long enough to hear at least one other group and see the ratings get posted. We were famished afterwards and went to a place called Valentino's to get some cheese pizza before heading back to the library to drop him off, where he lent me a CD with Johan de Meij's "Lord of the Rings" symphony <i>(another random side story: I waited in the library reading a Fulton Sheen book - <u>Life of Christ</u> - which I checked out and, as of now, still haven't returned because I forgot and it kept getting boxed up and moved around. I'm kind of terrified as to how much the fine is going to be since it's been, oh, over 5 years)</i>.</div>
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Over the next few weeks, we hung out as friends, chatted, and exchanged emails (mostly because Nate was on a modified calendar at the time and took advantage of his 3 week long spring break to visit his brother in England). At some point, C. and I broke up, which was a bummer but clearly not unexpected. Nate finally got back and said that he had got something for me, so in early April we met up again. I picked him up at his apartment and we went to one of his school's playgrounds and goofed around, and he gave me 2 first editions Fulton Sheen books - <u>World's First Love</u> and <u>The Moral Universe</u> - that he'd picked up in a used book store in England for me <i>(apparently we also went to Auld Shebeen's to eat. I have no recollection of this, but that's what he says)</i>. We finally made our way back to his apartment complex and we sat, talking in my car in the parking lot, when Nate looked at me and got very serious.</div>
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<b>"I can see us having kids, </b><b>growing old together, sitting on a bench watching the sunset</b><b>..."</b></div>
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I was very flustered. I stammered out something about how I had just gotten out of a relationship and didn't want to just jump back into one and how I was going to be graduating and didn't know where I'd be getting a job. Truthfully, I was more than a little weirded out, but a small part of me said, <i>"It could work..."</i></div>
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<i><b>Next time, on Googly-Eyed Storytime: how does Nate handle Dorothy's less than enthusiastic response? Does Dorothy change her mind about dating? Why is this story taking so freaking long? You'll find out next time! Maybe!</b></i></div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-77549562927813229712013-10-30T15:34:00.001-04:002013-10-30T15:34:59.156-04:00Five Favorites: Facebook<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I'm just going to put it out there: I love creeping on my friends. I love knowing what people are up to and how their lives are going. Don't lie, you know you do, too <i>(as Miss Manners snarkily put it: "</i><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 18px;"><i>No, there is no polite way to tell someone that you want to know their personal business but don’t actually want to talk to them. This phenomenon used to be known as gossip, and in Miss Manners’s opinion, Facebook has ruined its fun for everyone.").</i> </span>But there are a few things that I really, really enjoy more than others.</span></div>
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<b>1. Wedding Pictures</b></div>
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There is nothing quite like seeing a couple glowing as they promise each other their hearts. And there are some super awesome hairstyles and dresses and flowers that I'd totally have used. Generally, when people get married, they get homes, which means we see...</div>
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<b>2. House Updates</b></div>
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I don't have cable anymore, so this is as HGTV/makeover show as I get. It's amazing to see what people can do, and I'm even more impressed if they do it themselves. My brother had a furry wall (seriously - the carpet, which was ugly, crawled up the wall on the basement stairs) that he took out and refinished, and another friend completely ripped out and replaced his kitchen. And once those things are taken care of, we usually see...</div>
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<b>3. Pregnancy Announcements</b></div>
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I have a list of literally 2 dozen couples who are expecting wee ones soon, and I am always so darn excited when I see someone sharing their happy news. Which inevitably leads to...</div>
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<b>4. Bump Photos</b></div>
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Baby bellies are adorable. I was horrible about taking bump pictures, but I really enjoy watching the transformation. And even better than those...</div>
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<b>5. Newborn Photos</b></div>
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Little balls of pudge and sleep that you just want to squeeze forever. Ermagherd.</div>
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And while there are generally seasons and cycles to each of these things, I will always love the one-liners that some people come up with.</div>
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Wow, I had to do this REALLY fast - got one baby down and the other one woke up sooner than I was expecting. Go check out more favorites at <a href="http://thismamaneedscoffee.blogspot.com/2013/10/5-favorites.html" target="_blank">Mama Needs Coffee</a>!</div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-86380832435092220282013-10-29T20:50:00.000-04:002013-11-03T23:46:56.509-05:00Adventures with Sleepy NateMy husband sleepwalks and talks <i>(fun fact: if you tell that to nurses, they will give you your own room in the hospital because they don't want you messing up your roommate's stuff).</i> The first time I experienced this was when we were dating. He had fallen asleep and I was considering heading home when all of a sudden he jumped up, grabbed some random clothes in his closet, threw them at me, and yelled, "Put these on! We gotta go!" I was more than a little freaked out and started asking what was wrong. He then shouted, "There's a bomb in the building! We have to get out!" I suppose he thought the clothes were some kind of special vests or something, but I managed to wake him up and he then profusely apologized.<br />
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Now that we actually share a home and a bed, I get a more frequent dose of sleepwalking episodes, and sometimes they're actually worth documenting.<br />
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Nate: [giggles in his sleep]<br />
me: What's so funny?<br />
Nate: [mumble mumble mumble] my prize [mumble] naked boobs<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: Your prize was naked boobs?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: [giggles and nods]</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: What did you win?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: [mumble mumble mumble]</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Sorry, that's all the detail I got. Wish I knew what kind of contest he was winning...</span><br />
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***<br />
Accidentally woke (if you can call it that) him up because I giggled at something I was reading. He looked at me, confused.<br />
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me: I was just laughing at something online. Go back to sleep.<br />
Nate: [chuckles to himself]<br />
me: What are you laughing at?<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate (in a Jamaican accent): Don't worry about the ticking.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: ...ticking?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Yes.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: What ticking?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: ...zzzzz...</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">I assumed there was no bomb about to explode.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">***</span><br />
Nate: [suddenly sticks his right arm out and starts rubbing his thumb and first finger together. Then, he turns his right hand into a fist and starts lightly tapping it with his left fist and makes a small circular motion, like he's trying to put shredded cheese on a dish]<br />
me: ...Nate?<br />
Nate: [stops the hand thing, snaps his head up at me, and half-opens his eyes]<br />
me: ...what are you d<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">oing?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Puppies.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: Puppies?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: [waves hands, snorts, and goes back to sleep]</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br />....well, ok then.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">***</span><br />
Nate: [sits up, squints, and starts pinching the blanket as if he's trying to find something underneath it]<br />
me: What's going on?<br />
Nate: I know how they're losing.<br />
me: ...Losing what? How are they losing?<br />
Nate: They keep falling out.<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: Falling out of what?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: [makes pinching motion] Little pockets.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Lilliputian wars, perhaps?</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">***</span><br />
Nate: [sits up and starts whistling a jaunty tune]<br />
me: What are you doing?<br />
Nate: Hmm? Nothing. Hey, Freya! [picks up dirty diaper bag, puts down dirty diaper bag, mumbles]<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: What? Are you ok?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Yeah.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: [picks up and zips closed the dirty diaper bag] You left this open.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: It happens. Well. [lies back down] deedly deedly diggidy </span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">End scene.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">***</span><br />
Nate: [sits up, whistles (again, with the jaunty tune well past midnight), pets Freya, and puts on his glasses]<br />
me: Why are you putting on your glasses?<br />
Nate: So I can see.<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: ...why?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Cookies? [blinks, looks around] Are we doing anything?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: ...no. Maybe you should take off your glasses and go back to sleep.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Ok.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">He then proceeded to pretty much take over the entire bed. I think he called it "snuggling" in the morning, but I'm pretty sure I was only still on the mattress because the co-sleeper served as a bumper.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">***</span><br />
Freya did one of her doggy shakes and the tag jingles stirred Nate.<br />
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Nate (to Freya): Come here. [pats her] Wolverine is mumble mumble...<br />
me: What?<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: [points to Freya] Wolverine is number one.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: Um. Wolverine?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Open and.</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">me: Open and what?</span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Nate: Sesame seeds. Mmm.</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">I couldn't tell, but I think he might have been trying to figure out what goes well with adamantium.</span><br />
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">***</span><br />
Nate: [moves arm so that it's almost in my face] [intense stare]<br />
me: ...<br />
Nate: [swoops arm around in a loop to the other side]<br />
me: What are you doing?<br />
Nate: Reading.<br />
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He glared at me when I laughed.<br />
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***<br />
And most recently, from last night:<br />
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Nate: [wakes with a start, gasps, jolts upright, and starts feeling around on my side of the bed (I was across the room)]<br />
me: Whoa, whoa, what's the matter?<br />
Nate: Sharp pointy yellow things.<br />
me: ...there are no bees, arrows, spears, or any other sharp things around.<br />
Nate: ...[blinks]...but I'm supposed to protect you.<br />
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Aww.Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-11387747983431397702013-10-28T02:12:00.001-04:002013-10-29T20:51:21.270-04:00Googly-Eyed Storytime: How We Met<div style="text-align: justify;">
My friend wrote her (very long, multiple installment) how-we-met-and-started-dating-and-now-we-have-4-kids story a little while back and it was actually one of those kicks in the butt to start documenting digitally (I mean, I could have and have written things physically, but there are pros and cons to it, just as with this blog). So, in a hopefully shorter amount of time than "How I Met Your Mother," here is part 1 of Nate's and my story.</div>
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<i>Back story 1: The last semester of a music ed degree is a student teaching practicum. Because you get a K-12 teaching certification, you have to do half of your student teaching at an elementary level and the other half at a secondary level - either middle or high. In Fairfax County, "elementary" is usually K-6, but I happened to be placed with a guy who was working with two of the three middle schools that have 6th grade. The spring student teachers spend the first half with elementary, partly because the middle and high schools are dealing with District Festival/Assessment preparations during that time and no teacher is going to want some college kid to come in and screw up their group right before they're performing for a grade.</i></div>
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<i>Back story 2: I went to high school and college (George Mason University, whaaaat!) in Fairfax County. It's so densely populated that there are 25 secondary/high schools in the county. When you add in the Arlington, Alexandria, and private schools, it makes sense that the state music educator's association would split this geographically small area into three separate districts; most of the other districts are county-sized or larger. I grew up in district 12, went to college in 11, and student taught in 10.</i></div>
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It was halfway through my last semester of college - student teaching. Specifically, it was March 3rd, and the only reason I know is because it was the day before my 23rd birthday. I was just starting my last week with the 5th and 6th graders and was very ready to be moving on to the high school. I had spent some of the previous semesters observing and helping out with the Falls Church band program, but due to a misunderstanding as to the necessary qualifications for a cooperating teacher (as well as a desire to spread my experiences), I was going to be at their rival, JEB Stuart. However, I still had a very fond attachment to the FCHS kids and director, and I knew that they would be having their last pre-concert and Festival rehearsal that afternoon, so I drove over after school let out so I could visit and listen to the kids.</div>
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I showed up to an empty band room. Apparently, they had an extraordinary rehearsal, and John (the director) let them out early as a reward and to not overwork them. So we sat in his office and chatted for a bit before I asked why he was still there if there were no kids. As it turned out, he hosted an area band every Monday evening for select 6th graders from surrounding schools. He handed me a program from their upcoming concert; as I looked through the names from the area band, I saw a handful of students from my 6th grade classes. I even recognized one of the directors since he was a saxophonist who had gotten his masters at Mason. As I wondered why I'd never heard of this group, a young, cute guy in jeans and a green polo with white horizontal stripes stuck his head in John's office and said he needed someone to take a picture for him. So I went and took a picture of Nate with a goofy expression sitting under a giant, empty t-shirt box so he could send it to some of his coworkers.</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/AVvXsEh2YJPgQWJPu8OWp0nPHIadteyqy3vhqFWBDItCWduSfGjBcuz5wmGUBEoBU95tfNAx26tn741jDk5T2rTyTOLruTRef2Sl_U9jD34J5FcNq3IRxSxbwXKxI8BIrGGt8pPAcMY_lRLnFAzr/s1600/Box+Fun.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2YJPgQWJPu8OWp0nPHIadteyqy3vhqFWBDItCWduSfGjBcuz5wmGUBEoBU95tfNAx26tn741jDk5T2rTyTOLruTRef2Sl_U9jD34J5FcNq3IRxSxbwXKxI8BIrGGt8pPAcMY_lRLnFAzr/s1600/Box+Fun.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And right there, you know he's an elementary school teacher. At the time, I thought it was kind of dumb, but I later found out that Nate just wanted to have an excuse to talk to me.</td></tr>
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As the time kept ticking closer to the start of rehearsal, I knew I should probably leave - I was librarian for an ensemble that rehearsed on Monday evenings and I generally <strike>wasted </strike>spent a few hours sitting in the music library just in case, but nobody ever needed anything. I decided that the experience of an area band rehearsal would be a little more practical, especially since it was going to dissolve for the year after the pyramid/pre-Festival concert on Thursday. So I sat and chatted and tried teaching 6th graders some marching basics when we all got kicked out because of a fire alarm and tried to be friendly but not flirty and hoped he wasn't Catholic but found out he was and went out as a group for drinks after rehearsal and exchanged numbers with both the area band directors so I could network and found out that of all days THAT was the one where nobody seemed to have what they needed for rehearsal and everyone was looking for me.</div>
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I made my way back to campus, put out any of the fires necessary, and prepped for an observation the next day (which, for the record, was awful - I'll tell that story if anyone has any desire whatsoever). I don't know what I was expecting, but on Wednesday, as I was walking through the halls of the performing arts building with my mom for some reason <i>(I wish I could remember why - I don't think it was a concert that I was performing in because we couldn't be in ensembles while student teaching, but I don't know why else my mom would be there)</i>, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and: Nate. I didn't know what to do other than let it go to voicemail, which I listened to later in the music library. </div>
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It was him asking me out on a date.</div>
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I called him back to turn him down.</div>
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Remember how I said that I was trying to be friendly but not flirty and how I was hoping he wasn't Catholic?</div>
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That's because even though we hit it off extremely well....I was dating someone else.</div>
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<b><i>Next time, on Googly-Eyed Storytime: What will the boyfriend say? Will Nate persist? Who does she choose (hint: it's the one I married)? Tune in next...whenever I update it!</i></b></div>
Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6149221610453460313.post-58049959752001736872013-10-26T12:29:00.000-04:002013-10-29T20:52:32.487-04:007QT: Media edition<div style="text-align: justify;">
So I normally don't put in too many pictures because, well, I'm lazy and either forget to take said pictures or just don't get around to uploading them from either my camera or my phone and all of a sudden it's been 2 months since I took that really cute picture/video. Well, not this time. Nosirree. We're gonna have stuff in here!</div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt1"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt1" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;"></a></strong><br />
<a name='more'></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt1" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 1 ---</a></strong></div>
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Rosie loves the Avicii song "Wake Me Up." Side note: I have a hard time referring to it that way because Avicii is a Swedish DJ and the singer is a Panamanian-American man by the name of Aloe Blacc. Side side note: Aloe Blacc is his stage name. His birth name is Egbert Nathaniel Dawkins III. EGBERT.</div>
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Anyway. As soon as that song comes on, Rosie is clapping and wiggling and stomping and...well, it's freaking adorable.</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzuvXqLrHvXKWgaQs98c5SzWa1GNqWg-LpUt0eUT7tMl3vpj85imueaW2MIRLWxUmYHfxtLVqY4jfvRioV1Iw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Also adorable: Rosie getting eaten by a bear.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyHOZTf9gtvP5pxviAQFoxVpQvYUK8FlQn0SFQilyu6xevEEig45xhrHeFfFYYWrii8UKkaFKJxg4wdZZMRVQ' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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(I can't rotate the video. Sorry. I'm bummed, too.)<br />
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Remember that thing I said about TJ Maxx being where I got Rosie's Halloween costume? And how she looks like she's been eaten by a stuffed animal? Well, here's proof:<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPI5Ghy0XgbqqoL75dfCCtA7qgqXB_sc1dk_Eh6x4jJeapubd6_5j2nFTn8ij4uZBhDSkaOW1vWUG9z3wSi2HOooY_X_G_P3pMCyL6HGiMOcb6YhYEq15Q8_3u-dT7tBi-lhIuf87dbwT/s1600/IMG_0192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRPI5Ghy0XgbqqoL75dfCCtA7qgqXB_sc1dk_Eh6x4jJeapubd6_5j2nFTn8ij4uZBhDSkaOW1vWUG9z3wSi2HOooY_X_G_P3pMCyL6HGiMOcb6YhYEq15Q8_3u-dT7tBi-lhIuf87dbwT/s1600/IMG_0192.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see one of my awesome boots in the background.</td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313" name="qt4"></a><strong><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6149221610453460313#qt4" style="color: black; text-decoration: none;">--- 4 ---</a></strong></div>
Freddy was in Rosie's costume from last year. We're on safari!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look at those cute boys!</td></tr>
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The reason we even got to dress them up was because one of Nate's schools (he teaches at 3) had a staff family Halloween hallway trick-or-treat and movie in the gym with cider and donuts party. It was a lot of fun to see all the different costumes. One 6-ft tall Bugs Bunny was actually a former student of Nate's - crazy!</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63jKpI1B-WZHAilFQx7rZYVzEpGdXPj0WZwAgIPxTuiv7ud9sDP71HDcVs4rdxW0YLMjpP81yrxALecXD57ldDzyrjXzFipNTPzHqr56NApWZX3i_4-Opt8e67xjd_TQMv9oF6t2gNJa1/s1600/IMG_0198.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi63jKpI1B-WZHAilFQx7rZYVzEpGdXPj0WZwAgIPxTuiv7ud9sDP71HDcVs4rdxW0YLMjpP81yrxALecXD57ldDzyrjXzFipNTPzHqr56NApWZX3i_4-Opt8e67xjd_TQMv9oF6t2gNJa1/s1600/IMG_0198.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
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I don't care too much about baseball. I mean, I know the rules of the game and could follow it if I wanted to, but unless I'm in a ballpark with other people, baseball is, in my opinion, pretty boring. However, I do like orchestras, and the brass sections of the Boston and St. Louis Symphonies got together to do some fun trash-talking.</div>
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And that video reminded me of this one from my childhood...</div>
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Featuring "world-renowned very good sport, Seiji Ozawa." I'm sure that's supposed to be "world-renowned, very good sport," but removing the first comma makes it funnier to me.</div>
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For more Quick Takes, visit Cari at <a href="http://www.clan-donaldson.com/2013/10/seven-quick-takes_25.html" target="_blank">Clan Donaldson!</a></div>
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Dorothyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00563218723690810959noreply@blogger.com0