tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53179276096378415772024-03-07T18:33:35.334-05:003 CarrsKimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.comBlogger588125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-26958550809771954902012-05-21T20:28:00.001-04:002012-05-21T20:28:22.200-04:00On the Horizon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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Big things are on the horizon for little pirate. She only has 5 more days of kindergarten left! When she gets off the bus next Tuesday she'll know who her first grade teacher is going to be. FIRST GRADE people! They have tests in first grade! I foresee another period of morning coming on in August for this mama. </div>
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And those kids getting off the bus don't know it yet, but they will be ambushed with water balloon, silly string, and super soakers as soon as the bus has rolled away. The "Last Day of School" celebration will begin! Who doesn't want to get off the bus to a surprise ice cream party! </div>
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Unfortunately, 2 days after the last day of school, Soph goes in for a hernia repair surgery. Bummer. I hate it so much for her. My typically brave girl will be so scared on Thursday morning. Keeping her down for recovery is going to be so hard on her. The doctor says that she should only be down for a few days. We shall see. I hope she is right because no one wants to start summer being bed ridden. No swimming for a few weeks is definitely going to be the hardest part. </div>
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Just like last year she is going to have a babysitter 2 days a week and go to summer camp at her old pre-school 3 days a week. This year she gets a super sweet teenage babysitter. I've only met her once and talked to her a few times but I already really like her. And I LOVE that there is a week that she can't watch Soph b/c she has animals in the county fair that she has to be with the entire week. I.love.farm.girls. There is something to be said about a girl who isn't afraid to get dirty and can waltz a cow around. </div>
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And speaking of farm girls, Little Bit is all signed up for horse came for the end of July. Giddy up! Steven is going to have to pick her up though or I'll be driving down the interstate going into anaphylactic shock because my girl will be covered in horse hair. I think I'm more allergic to horses than Soph is allergic to peanuts!</div>
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This guy is doing really well and he puts up with a lot. </div>
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Except for the fact that he will NOT leave my side. And I'M NOT THE DOG PERSON in this house! He is keeping me at the vet though. He had a skin issue so he's been on meds for over a month now. Even the girl at the vets office admitted that she felt sorry for me. </div>
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Check out the world's tiniest acolyte. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxON4IKUZEofwmCcjlywnBoNvYHvGvnuJaoNIIfuoVs-TwPWioMeec0x6CQILvzvM4kE5vNpRJH6hDbsaIJFcipujrBZhZ0wzaoJ73CVnXH7J6wx80Jv1ithKt3p4IInnmCQJMUxD0kc/s1600/Acolyte+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhxON4IKUZEofwmCcjlywnBoNvYHvGvnuJaoNIIfuoVs-TwPWioMeec0x6CQILvzvM4kE5vNpRJH6hDbsaIJFcipujrBZhZ0wzaoJ73CVnXH7J6wx80Jv1ithKt3p4IInnmCQJMUxD0kc/s320/Acolyte+.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
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CUTE. Ignore the weird face. She was eating a doughnut. She's a little on the obsessed side though. She thinks she could get to be an acolyte every Sunday.<br />
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<br />Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com170tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-86280547435582632782012-04-18T19:30:00.006-04:002012-04-18T19:58:55.917-04:00Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow<div><br /></div><div>See this long lovely pony tail? Well it's GONE. Hacked right off :(</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HqwwG573GOQKxVP4aRls2-o9KLh5OHY7Wp5Cni5Yi5Yd-SVUe2RsCUUGcctKWaRBn9ieYOI2I4uoWR9ORRORM2uDAHWIrW9CVebQCKayHxgcpKsbDJFkcAU9-M8MJUQH7jZmQ_lanYE/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2HqwwG573GOQKxVP4aRls2-o9KLh5OHY7Wp5Cni5Yi5Yd-SVUe2RsCUUGcctKWaRBn9ieYOI2I4uoWR9ORRORM2uDAHWIrW9CVebQCKayHxgcpKsbDJFkcAU9-M8MJUQH7jZmQ_lanYE/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732888270999218002" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">She's been asking for a hair cut for quite sometime but I've been putting her off. I'm not sure why. Maybe because my hair can't grow very long. It starts to look like poo after it hits a certain length. Not that it looks that great right now. It's currently in a state of disgrace. I got this bright idea that I was going to grow my hair out to its original color and start anew once all of the processed crap had been chopped off. It's a lovely striped mess right now. A little gray on top, followed by my natural mousey brown, tipped in lovely brassy dye job. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Anyway, back to little bit. I guess she got tired of me putting her off because a few days ago she walked down to our neighbor's house (who is a hair dresser) and asked if she had any scissors and if she would cut her hair! Nice. I guess that's one way to get your hair cut! Stacy didn't have her scissors with her on that night but the next night she brought them home. Obviously, the kid was serious that she wanted rid of her long hair. Apparently, she was getting tired of her hair getting caught in buttons. Seriously, that was her reasoning. But whatever, by that point, I had relented. So Soph and Ms. Stacy had a hair cutting session on her back porch. </div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">I don't have any pictures of the new do yet. So for now, I'll just enjoy pics with the old do. </div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJSdSEYC-YeA9SPIrfi6H5b4vlsDr9ylEA_Q4rSabhXIY5P-wXOs76MmnwHwy1AeyKNZjE8vxyLVy3Ok2Em_JlgpWtSVZjIkH7BoGP6XNju1UMKSQCH90eK07tlQQhnMNCnSmldOthbs/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 282px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVJSdSEYC-YeA9SPIrfi6H5b4vlsDr9ylEA_Q4rSabhXIY5P-wXOs76MmnwHwy1AeyKNZjE8vxyLVy3Ok2Em_JlgpWtSVZjIkH7BoGP6XNju1UMKSQCH90eK07tlQQhnMNCnSmldOthbs/s400/DSC_0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732888150573239618" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgOFXondX6t5lJB1pyf6q3GaMPdrj0ssVVmm_f0She8zz6nRc-h3O3Phvocc3QE9zFmJzJ1TIgGm4e02H1Nnd97IujxiaM6_d0XLNwKHSHaHnHJVBvtlG9jzvQi7Q7_FcNgNpFdvSGI4/s1600/DSC_0011.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrgOFXondX6t5lJB1pyf6q3GaMPdrj0ssVVmm_f0She8zz6nRc-h3O3Phvocc3QE9zFmJzJ1TIgGm4e02H1Nnd97IujxiaM6_d0XLNwKHSHaHnHJVBvtlG9jzvQi7Q7_FcNgNpFdvSGI4/s400/DSC_0011.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5732888021497255234" /></a><br /><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-82480201139978867712012-04-14T07:59:00.009-04:002012-04-14T09:11:44.914-04:00A Holy Day<div>Warning: Long and rambling blog post ahead :)</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6a_9ltD-rbSrsKB1bvNItlPclMVe-L7n3byH2JwNan_A8KDeHydGPrzZgLZnYgBDQ16fifzy5WarYaUKrFUM5xvvXCXwMLEstukO8rzxU7KWIlGaHOMvN33eJqGZTchn9B5TghpGngo/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY6a_9ltD-rbSrsKB1bvNItlPclMVe-L7n3byH2JwNan_A8KDeHydGPrzZgLZnYgBDQ16fifzy5WarYaUKrFUM5xvvXCXwMLEstukO8rzxU7KWIlGaHOMvN33eJqGZTchn9B5TghpGngo/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731240040703556914" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">For more than 5 years, I (and Steven too) had been failing our family. We put so much effort into making our lives comfortable with new houses and cars and things. We've made sure that Little Bit's childhood has been as wonderful and magical as we could make it. Living in the suburbs with friends everywhere you look, trips for no reason what so ever, and mythical creatures and people who come to our house to visit in the middle of the night, sometimes bearing gifts. I plan Halloween costumes months and months in advance. I attempt to create family time at our house. I have always believed that if everyone is home, dinner should be around the dinner table. Family outings sometimes need to be just that, family outings, without other friends along. I worried about her smarts. Little Bit has been read to every single night since we brought her home from the hospital. I'm even conscience of what she watches on TV. Granted, sometimes I find it odd that she's content still watching Max and Ruby and episodes of Little Bear. But other times, I'm glad that she has no clue what's happening on Icarly.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But it hit me that we were failing big time in her spiritual happiness and well being and in our own. This has crept into my mind on numerous occasions. I would even think about the future and think about when the day comes that Little Bit wants to get married. When you are currently nothing, where do you get married if you want a church wedding?! Every summer, Little Bit would go to VBS with friends. I loved it so much as a kid. It really hit me when Oscar the Boxer died and I had to explain for the first time about death. She had no grounding. My heart of hearts knew that we needed to find a church. Some Sunday mornings Little Bit would want to go outside and play and I would have to tell her that so and so isn't home, she's at church. That's when Soph would say to us, "why don't we go to church?" Good question my dear.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhItZBZCTcJY248xuiIv54htZW-_QOzUSoscanfBk-SShB9Aq_rCti_ERC2N4CF1U-Gh3-OmV_ZQVNXxfp8v_1vcJT7DBXtFg31L1lTNvJCpF37zWdha0-tV5AZu1PelyJuTTQ7wR5Hjxw/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhItZBZCTcJY248xuiIv54htZW-_QOzUSoscanfBk-SShB9Aq_rCti_ERC2N4CF1U-Gh3-OmV_ZQVNXxfp8v_1vcJT7DBXtFg31L1lTNvJCpF37zWdha0-tV5AZu1PelyJuTTQ7wR5Hjxw/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731239890478090034" /></a><div style="text-align: justify; ">Over the years we had hit the church circuit. I remember going to one in Winfield and there were like zero other kids around, so we marked it off the list without even a second thought. There there was another giant one where there were PLENTY of kids, but as we sat listening, I realized I wasn't buying what that particular church was selling and I couldn't raise my daughter believing in certain things. And really, that was the problem. What I was raised, and the person that I had become today weren't meshing. So I felt stuck. I felt the familiarity in the type of churches that I went to as a kid but inevitably as I would sit in the pew a voice inside my head would say, "this is not you, this is oil and water trying to mix."</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">So I talked to friends. Because in your thirties this is the type of stuff you talk about. You don't talk about which bars are the coolest or what you are going to wear next week. You talk about your kids, your husbands, what you are going to cook for dinner, and bigger issues, like God.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">I would go home and think and Steven and I would talk. And I kept coming back to Jackson's baptism two years prior at the Episcopal church. Jenny and Jared had asked me to be his godmother. I remembered the calmness I felt during the service. The beautiful rituals. And the overall feeling of happiness as he was baptized. So 2 years later, we walked back in there not knowing a soul or how things worked. And it felt right. It felt like that was where we were suppose to be. It didn't matter that we were raised differently. What mattered was that we were there. And I looked around at all of the different people and it felt good. Sunday at 10am in America is the most segregated hour of the week. Yet, I looked around me and there so many different people from all walks of life coming together. But that was it, they were just people. People there for the same reason.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvSqsQdS7fvKBRiNB0rQIRslNgF8K9vALOhrubVjQnfwlLQbo8SE_lOrH4oiSxQhfQgBR_vv9K5BNS0v4KNTxU543EkGKQFPSuta3GB69aJPNYfbT3xXhHe8DpDO2SJUPtkKXIc8jSpk/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjvSqsQdS7fvKBRiNB0rQIRslNgF8K9vALOhrubVjQnfwlLQbo8SE_lOrH4oiSxQhfQgBR_vv9K5BNS0v4KNTxU543EkGKQFPSuta3GB69aJPNYfbT3xXhHe8DpDO2SJUPtkKXIc8jSpk/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731239653199712930" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify; ">It's been going on 8 months now. And we LOVE it. We are involved. I never thought I would be baking a cake to take to a church dinner. And I guarantee that Steven never thought he would be cutting grass for his church. I think I've missed 1 or 2 Sundays in all that time. Steven, on the other hand, had this little thing called "tax season" creep up, so he's missed more than 1 or 2.But we all went on Easter. The most important holiday in the christian world has now become even more special to us. For along with remembering that Jesus arose from the tomb we can also mark it as the day that Sophie and Steven were baptized. Sophia Carr was BEYOND excited about it. She would tell everyone coming and going what was going to go down on Easter. She would even run into our bedroom the week before an announce "guess what!? 3 more days until I get baptized!" I'm sure other kids were probably saying, "guess what?! 3 more days until the Easter Bunny comes!"</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">The service was beautiful and perfect. I was so nervous that she would say something totally off the wall to get a laugh. When she didn't I just combusted with pure joy and the tears came. She was beaming. Easter has now moved up the hierarchy in my memorable holiday list. So that's the story.</div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuApNnp5Ea4ul5Qcx7S0pOMjCIYDL34n1fJN9vXKMeHetY3cQpKRwR112SMMTsbPhw1LQ0K2UiJ7PuYTnw_8ArNVo0VEBrEA5KBgjkRuATB6FuTvJmX09LJMDAgijnhZH3Pwj5cOwdeQ/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuApNnp5Ea4ul5Qcx7S0pOMjCIYDL34n1fJN9vXKMeHetY3cQpKRwR112SMMTsbPhw1LQ0K2UiJ7PuYTnw_8ArNVo0VEBrEA5KBgjkRuATB6FuTvJmX09LJMDAgijnhZH3Pwj5cOwdeQ/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731239503505240274" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Here's a quick pic of the beautiful silver box from Jenny and Jared that Soph styled with her cross necklace from Aunt Paula and Uncle Humpar. Jenny also got her gorgeous cross earrings, but don't you know, girlfriend will be able to swap out earrings soon. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAkMBLpj1ojKWpyK3D-k1Nv1NAj2FIj6USttCuJQv_B_EwK58LF85RpEklONk_umEG1eVlCo0MOX0R-z1XM3eTlKOkQ2JaNudj85809bQDxESxXMLstekX4eXxcAsW5RzEedJwNTE6kM/s1600/DSC_0034.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAkMBLpj1ojKWpyK3D-k1Nv1NAj2FIj6USttCuJQv_B_EwK58LF85RpEklONk_umEG1eVlCo0MOX0R-z1XM3eTlKOkQ2JaNudj85809bQDxESxXMLstekX4eXxcAsW5RzEedJwNTE6kM/s400/DSC_0034.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731239259533874050" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And as an aside (if you have made it reading this far), if you have this tugging feeling about your church situation, as we did, that little voice, that's the Holy Spirit pulling on your heart. He's trying to tell you to get up off your bum and do something about it. It just took me awhile to answer. It doesn't matter what you were, what you think you are, or what you want to be. Just go. Just walk on in somewhere.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Oh and finally, we got a certificate to prove it ;o) </div></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJamMx3Lu7BreGzzKyUbvv-SA0KWcnVZiMmUK8S9H9-HIoFKTArapzf7laKWvCK_ETqJX-SikgXVqwqpnvNqxPI596F7KLJoaiJaxcCxYEjwwU8mN0-afquPLAg0c3RbvbnDyEork4sks/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJamMx3Lu7BreGzzKyUbvv-SA0KWcnVZiMmUK8S9H9-HIoFKTArapzf7laKWvCK_ETqJX-SikgXVqwqpnvNqxPI596F7KLJoaiJaxcCxYEjwwU8mN0-afquPLAg0c3RbvbnDyEork4sks/s400/DSC_0038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731239256309956786" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-31295821567348535652012-03-28T19:11:00.006-04:002012-03-28T20:49:14.568-04:00Wednesday Randomness<div><div>1. Random conversation with the hubster:</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: I took Louie on a walk up the hill today. I don't know, the more see him around the neighbor's dogs, the more and more I think he looks like a pitbull.</div><div>Steven: Maybe, he's a mix. We'll really never know.</div><div>Me: Maybe it's because he's black that I'm thinking he looks like a pit.</div><div>Steven: I think you just racial profiled our dog.</div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmoKeVBDDDdEzyPa0Y-50ujRTOY9ohvpy8TJP9t2Z-Wu5X5Fi7mVCmNx43niJ25oJBpVRP1MbeTpHDuSLtCNt9rtzjLjpXy23zYLvvr7SX5Gu5fTdOIcYps88AsemadDXQeXlIusgHzlU/s1600/Louie.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmoKeVBDDDdEzyPa0Y-50ujRTOY9ohvpy8TJP9t2Z-Wu5X5Fi7mVCmNx43niJ25oJBpVRP1MbeTpHDuSLtCNt9rtzjLjpXy23zYLvvr7SX5Gu5fTdOIcYps88AsemadDXQeXlIusgHzlU/s400/Louie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725112514808258770" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify;">And is that dog bed not a hoot?! Sophie and a friend lugged it home from a neighbor's house (thank you Tammy ;). Obviously, it was purchased for a toy poodle and not a big dog. Louie fit in it for approximately 2 days. It's now a cat bed/baby doll bed. </div><div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>2. Random text with a friend regarding Sophie and Steven getting baptized on Easter:</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: So Sophie is definitely going to need god parents to stand up.</div><div>Friend: No problem! And hubby says he'll be Steven's godfather. And he can refer to him as "The Don." Really, it's an offer he can't refuse.</div><div><br /></div><div>3. Random text with a neighbor regarding Louie:</div><div>Neighbor: you know, ever since you got a dog, we text about poop a lot.</div><div>Me: I know, sad isn't it.</div><div><br /></div><div>4. Random phone conversation with my mom:</div><div>Mom: Just so you know, I am NEVER going to your house again during the day and doing you a favor if you don't have toilet paper in the bathroom. </div><div>Me: Sorry. We know to look first, then do your business. </div><div>Mom: You are getting a giant economy sized thing of TP for your birthday. Just like you got for Christmas!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>5. . Random note found in our house:</div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLHK9_6kjsjLHYfLCpQ8SoL5vFMq_FJ1OF0zpzzE50d5TAlxrFZM39l5MFDLqNg0ZMaNuBenkqsptiTvmofXqNyEWFHpfj7_VUBm5gA-GuAZWUO6JqkkbWVD4SjiUpDKKOJZ-B8x99FU/s1600/photo-21.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 334px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLHK9_6kjsjLHYfLCpQ8SoL5vFMq_FJ1OF0zpzzE50d5TAlxrFZM39l5MFDLqNg0ZMaNuBenkqsptiTvmofXqNyEWFHpfj7_VUBm5gA-GuAZWUO6JqkkbWVD4SjiUpDKKOJZ-B8x99FU/s400/photo-21.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725111481132862994" /></a><div><br /></div><div>Truer words have never been spoken! Inspiration for this board came from <a href="http://www.lifeinmotionphotography.com/photoblog/?p=6506">here</a>. The giant piece of notebook paper was found at the parent/teacher store. The frame is an 11x14 from Michaels. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-27914277255114026962012-03-21T19:55:00.011-04:002012-03-21T20:23:06.380-04:00Someone Got Her Ears Pierced<div style="text-align: justify;">Sunday was a big day. After Grammy and PapPap headed back to PA we loaded up the 200 pounds of dog food to drop it off at <a href="http://littlevictories.org/">Little Victories</a>. The same no kill shelter that Louie came from. They greatly appreciated all of the donations. Anywho, on the way there, Little Bit announced that now that she was 6, she was ready to get her ears pierced. Now this is not the first time she's said that she was ready to get her ears pierced. Two or three Christmases ago she asked Aunt Amy to take her to get her ears pierced. Off we went to the mall. They put the earrings in the guns and she chickened out. However, that still cost $40 thank you very much b/c the earrings had been open. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The next time she was 5 and she woke up one morning and asked her daddy to take her to the mall. She was all set to go until she watched a 16 year old boy get his ear pierced and he made a face that said basically said, "OUCH!" At that point, Little Bit announced that she would wait until she was either 6 or 7. But last week, a friend came bopping across the street showing off her newly pierced ears. I think it lit a fire and created a fierce determination. So this time, she swore that she was ready. All three of us looked on the rough side and really shouldn't have been seen in public. But off we went. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She climbed right up in the chair. </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrXAxR5R0YaDzIwIDy_8YShVawnVKz3wfoPpsR93VZUehh9GapljojeyiMz3iscU-pqthAVwhqQ4ADgUDLSajMYW4s7tJnSOwvzDrxDsT2dfOLvhYVW0_grmqzM73MAukHsYzRxHrIwY/s1600/DSC_0001.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUrXAxR5R0YaDzIwIDy_8YShVawnVKz3wfoPpsR93VZUehh9GapljojeyiMz3iscU-pqthAVwhqQ4ADgUDLSajMYW4s7tJnSOwvzDrxDsT2dfOLvhYVW0_grmqzM73MAukHsYzRxHrIwY/s400/DSC_0001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722505290767146530" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>She held still when the lady marked her ears. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj424uUmd1pa6J5EqkOKTZm7afwjjzAeSdISHzw7kthsSHPqrF4UplelsG0RL9Me_A_MP9SA4a_APjTkzk3g0aJYccyg8TsR_mgplJyJFrIV16OvWIgc9lNQnPDIybuubp7tw14IM9Q3Q/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj424uUmd1pa6J5EqkOKTZm7afwjjzAeSdISHzw7kthsSHPqrF4UplelsG0RL9Me_A_MP9SA4a_APjTkzk3g0aJYccyg8TsR_mgplJyJFrIV16OvWIgc9lNQnPDIybuubp7tw14IM9Q3Q/s400/DSC_0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722505165556326482" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">She asked me to stand in front of her and hold her hands while it all went down. And without even really flinching....</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6CiFXq1YyAJn-mJHLx68DPF5Po6s9J80pzIKEAe2StDJCKNvs0F1JJQxhPHV77SOqtGjkDnl08-JfLoWnOg_i9SZf8nv6HewvUDxC38ltzRndhdbKxptwPkkceQ5G_FqAkY0RhSt2fU/s1600/DSC_0010.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd6CiFXq1YyAJn-mJHLx68DPF5Po6s9J80pzIKEAe2StDJCKNvs0F1JJQxhPHV77SOqtGjkDnl08-JfLoWnOg_i9SZf8nv6HewvUDxC38ltzRndhdbKxptwPkkceQ5G_FqAkY0RhSt2fU/s400/DSC_0010.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722504872208390418" /></a><br /></div><div>her ears were pierced! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeNWUEDnrlWjJSlT2Elp_CzT-hFMFMEVEOq5lDlo-BCN4cAWNYezvg8rOR5bMng5Yb76xRDUBXLzxIo2l-5gmirB1gkba-r_5yUGFKyBRw15sx9udblzPhUMeeFDNqQDKsNkyYdkO_5A/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPeNWUEDnrlWjJSlT2Elp_CzT-hFMFMEVEOq5lDlo-BCN4cAWNYezvg8rOR5bMng5Yb76xRDUBXLzxIo2l-5gmirB1gkba-r_5yUGFKyBRw15sx9udblzPhUMeeFDNqQDKsNkyYdkO_5A/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722504581692027250" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydBS2Ya9OUf36RMRaKkbqQswnEOZf-wAax0xvgF_eSaSfa-IxEdCDsGB-o2YVxNn5G0ZvNQyuqrIrzne8tq_aqVFReRzD7Bp2Inxt4SV7VKBLCXIICI9XaJ9Dk11v0Cp9lKm3Ja53loM/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhydBS2Ya9OUf36RMRaKkbqQswnEOZf-wAax0xvgF_eSaSfa-IxEdCDsGB-o2YVxNn5G0ZvNQyuqrIrzne8tq_aqVFReRzD7Bp2Inxt4SV7VKBLCXIICI9XaJ9Dk11v0Cp9lKm3Ja53loM/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722504343961979074" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And she was so happy! Thrilled actually. And for some reason, I was sad. Even though I'm the one who had asked her on multiple occasions if she wanted to get her ears pierced, when it actually came down to it, part of me wanted to grab her and run out of there. I wanted to keep her perfectly cute ears holeless for a little while longer. But there is no changing her mind when she has it set on something. And girlfriend wasn't leaving that mall without pierced ears.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzD6uASOKIXKrLXa1MP3ySHxkpzhLeuYteZtvLG9ME2EOSuYuAzyvJk-VfatlOH6-JQ_KZFs0bl1Fls0-iwku52pXARRClk8SeR8qRyNvJhM8yryFhln2D9mcxWzEG2a6yWpcahckw694/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzD6uASOKIXKrLXa1MP3ySHxkpzhLeuYteZtvLG9ME2EOSuYuAzyvJk-VfatlOH6-JQ_KZFs0bl1Fls0-iwku52pXARRClk8SeR8qRyNvJhM8yryFhln2D9mcxWzEG2a6yWpcahckw694/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722503968254208242" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">She looks so stinking cute. We had to call everyone on the way back home to tell them the news. Especially Aunt Amy. </div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-31704144499903321692012-03-20T21:04:00.003-04:002012-03-20T21:11:27.125-04:00What...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3kDxsHYDrBuwheqT3IXjGLpx_WGX884W0_H0lJdEHD9A0B1TFq11zXn1AKKj3aeJ-srFSP4jeTSU-KiXkYHNJmt_PnC0AfKJqjak5hQkRREs2rbmEWKgK0QAM8kNKJ7jzshWr9r9kXc/s1600/DSC_0066.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG3kDxsHYDrBuwheqT3IXjGLpx_WGX884W0_H0lJdEHD9A0B1TFq11zXn1AKKj3aeJ-srFSP4jeTSU-KiXkYHNJmt_PnC0AfKJqjak5hQkRREs2rbmEWKgK0QAM8kNKJ7jzshWr9r9kXc/s400/DSC_0066.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722151398272177090" /></a><br /><div>You didn't think that she just got dog food for her birthday did you?</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkQI1B4TDQLpF6Px0DOtd9rCQIVb46y62HfqW8402kiBv8Xam-bcxvhkq66dxkMFDwJDrxqPITNC4LF8Milta4cogWqT3YqAXrZ9ghb3VF39gFLoLo2P8ZZauyb8kD7B4V8ab4nWP8ko/s1600/DSC_0061.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHkQI1B4TDQLpF6Px0DOtd9rCQIVb46y62HfqW8402kiBv8Xam-bcxvhkq66dxkMFDwJDrxqPITNC4LF8Milta4cogWqT3YqAXrZ9ghb3VF39gFLoLo2P8ZZauyb8kD7B4V8ab4nWP8ko/s400/DSC_0061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722151391830432050" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Now she has the <a href="http://3carrs.blogspot.com/2010_04_01_archive.html">second coolest bike</a> in the neighborhood. We rock. Both courtesy of the Gi and Papa. </div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-45733696475755521902012-03-19T19:45:00.007-04:002012-03-19T20:18:18.520-04:006 Years<div>Dear Sophie,<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">You turned six on Friday. I can't really make my mind wrap around that fact. But six you turned, six you are, and six you will be for a whole year. We started celebrating your birthday on Friday morning. We loaded your room up with balloons while you slept so that you could wake up knowing that it was "your day." And girlfriend, we didn't stop celebrating until Sunday. Once the the weekend was over, I looked at daddy and just smiled. We both smiled. This was the most memorable, most awesome birthday ever. Celebrating six was something special. I can think back over all of your birthday and remember something special about each one. But thus far, six as taken the cake. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it will go down in my history of you one of my all time favorites.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqezkdYy_oK5rW-5A6GHHzPje6FK4vvglgEoVl73RQEembO76J8gk8NIuX-QCU_mzqbHRR5yXYwUS1vhvO1J5viuK_6qgHxCwZcZWeiRkbL5uTsQveYiMOingIBMTmUOceWbwi-Mvnl9o/s1600/DSC_0006.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqezkdYy_oK5rW-5A6GHHzPje6FK4vvglgEoVl73RQEembO76J8gk8NIuX-QCU_mzqbHRR5yXYwUS1vhvO1J5viuK_6qgHxCwZcZWeiRkbL5uTsQveYiMOingIBMTmUOceWbwi-Mvnl9o/s400/DSC_0006.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721766543907876130" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>We celebrated you quietly with GiGi and Papa on Friday evening with dinner at your favorite restaurant. No one loves an asian hibachi quite like you. On Saturday, Grammy and PapPap drove down with your cousin Tyler to join in the celebration.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6O8hItjsBwEGGGuDPyOv1yrPS3KkHVSTzLn4nSOap8l3HQqSViTizoeaMz1_EL_CEudKJPvn5VO01jqNhrLZ3JLV2k2yfjSiMhjMIMXlQg_gva4UnfHPGpCdoMKnrdsNfntaFMdlULo/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiG6O8hItjsBwEGGGuDPyOv1yrPS3KkHVSTzLn4nSOap8l3HQqSViTizoeaMz1_EL_CEudKJPvn5VO01jqNhrLZ3JLV2k2yfjSiMhjMIMXlQg_gva4UnfHPGpCdoMKnrdsNfntaFMdlULo/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721766253364895890" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcCQ0ePUdVlvxT0_nxLi0JCTZ8cRvEBYfe5D44YZusPrfy3FkgzAfPyWUyC_pfGT2MKDs50WSz9655xCNw0bkJ0iNdrLzZCnb6vOoAd1rM6KzTAWa8ni5zu8W4Y76b-OFkOLjbfkCeAE/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlcCQ0ePUdVlvxT0_nxLi0JCTZ8cRvEBYfe5D44YZusPrfy3FkgzAfPyWUyC_pfGT2MKDs50WSz9655xCNw0bkJ0iNdrLzZCnb6vOoAd1rM6KzTAWa8ni5zu8W4Y76b-OFkOLjbfkCeAE/s400/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721766247097684354" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">And Saturday evening we had one blow out of a party at the YMCA pool. So many people came to celebrate you! A sea of kids splashing and laughing and there because of you.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkfEQsS83zkEySRTtRpoPjKikAXhgU3N5FoyqsaIi0Ny2tBwa_ps23gyE5Dcb87cr7E1EdYYZj-c2k2m6yZoIVEG8ohmnQAbauCWCaNpJHTOb5E3B6nfTYanbu3_XmEacUm8DBHJ8nYg/s1600/DSC_0032.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkfEQsS83zkEySRTtRpoPjKikAXhgU3N5FoyqsaIi0Ny2tBwa_ps23gyE5Dcb87cr7E1EdYYZj-c2k2m6yZoIVEG8ohmnQAbauCWCaNpJHTOb5E3B6nfTYanbu3_XmEacUm8DBHJ8nYg/s400/DSC_0032.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721765587173736562" /></a><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ucfew4Y8uSioHUNtFlOad9xjCOCx4lkL191l3s23BWPenfptjakVwCuAxand3CQL9M-akYwnbkqFo9nBQCS6t_3L0tUrKOsGGEjjwxF7wic3817NoCG4DCH-pHmUXOzFruxoPB8G29w/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_ucfew4Y8uSioHUNtFlOad9xjCOCx4lkL191l3s23BWPenfptjakVwCuAxand3CQL9M-akYwnbkqFo9nBQCS6t_3L0tUrKOsGGEjjwxF7wic3817NoCG4DCH-pHmUXOzFruxoPB8G29w/s400/DSC_0027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721765320955566418" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIPTmMCLrTsdeKa0GhNCKd6WgTRDiVir-hyae2hLJ4ao_AwENWMhvaRcMdTEsS-IbJVY6e9EVu1_6nZmPxezCeBpcLKRbTObUbOscUQ_v5ORbZMUE_M0Q1e62TzhWz2o6Szds2ewnt2E/s1600/DSC_0029.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqIPTmMCLrTsdeKa0GhNCKd6WgTRDiVir-hyae2hLJ4ao_AwENWMhvaRcMdTEsS-IbJVY6e9EVu1_6nZmPxezCeBpcLKRbTObUbOscUQ_v5ORbZMUE_M0Q1e62TzhWz2o6Szds2ewnt2E/s400/DSC_0029.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721765317170936178" /></a><br /><div><br /><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">And as each kid came to your party lugging bags of dog food, cat food, dog/cat toys, treats, cleaning supplies instead of gifts for you my heart grew about 10 sizes. 200 pounds of food all together. 25 bags and boxes of treats. 15 toys and tons of cleaning supplies. Only a few simple gift from friends.</div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSdA_9Buw95VthE9Mnj04mqznU_cE-U8KEXNnmzkkgsfqz9vHCdea-NqxkikcJ_FdTds8xMBZPwJL9lIVc_4TqmhWO_cuC3VyYQN1HGL77WCzm85Et-G9ttzr47Bt_YlnKk2ureQh5JI/s1600/DSC_0068.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVSdA_9Buw95VthE9Mnj04mqznU_cE-U8KEXNnmzkkgsfqz9vHCdea-NqxkikcJ_FdTds8xMBZPwJL9lIVc_4TqmhWO_cuC3VyYQN1HGL77WCzm85Et-G9ttzr47Bt_YlnKk2ureQh5JI/s400/DSC_0068.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721764658525856018" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMULk_Q0Uc3qBBuEXnVHtESn9M3mOAd4VC4bVy7S8pnhar9IQCXgU2jynQRSUVkoXJfDWqRbfj8zAJzoUhTFtYmiZzmD7Gh82cMLIwIY_ZxCGmL8fGtqUnSgBU1jC5dqnt-QjxqzAkUE/s1600/DSC_0071.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 293px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJMULk_Q0Uc3qBBuEXnVHtESn9M3mOAd4VC4bVy7S8pnhar9IQCXgU2jynQRSUVkoXJfDWqRbfj8zAJzoUhTFtYmiZzmD7Gh82cMLIwIY_ZxCGmL8fGtqUnSgBU1jC5dqnt-QjxqzAkUE/s400/DSC_0071.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721764654038762002" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is something about you that is so over the top special. Maybe it's that you are over the top. I mean, who else starts their own Birthday Song at their party by yelling, "one, two, three, HAPPY....!?" All weekend we told you how proud we were of you and how awesome it is for a six year old to collect so many items for homeless dogs and cats. You kind of just shrugged your shoulders. It wasn't a big deal to you. But my love it was a big deal. Just another way you showed how over the top special you are to us.</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqkjdZgBVea3UT_oSuXc0AW-XXzXQ8EpOsqUuzNIZaa52QBz3Ubnb_ekTGXcvdxpdqU9AF5c-6MXs_FbXye1SeVwye5C3pzHq7PjZmnse_FE8vlljzIUv9pwDLp7MIyj4O2ulweIeLOYI/s1600/DSC_0082.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqkjdZgBVea3UT_oSuXc0AW-XXzXQ8EpOsqUuzNIZaa52QBz3Ubnb_ekTGXcvdxpdqU9AF5c-6MXs_FbXye1SeVwye5C3pzHq7PjZmnse_FE8vlljzIUv9pwDLp7MIyj4O2ulweIeLOYI/s400/DSC_0082.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721764648773721666" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Love Mama </div></div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-66466344276294096882012-03-13T18:48:00.006-04:002012-03-13T19:46:44.400-04:00Abracadabra<div style="text-align: justify;">It was 10 kinds of crazy up in kindergarten today. So Little Bit is "star of the week" and I wanted to do something different. I suck at crafts. I can usually recreate something that I have seen someone else make and make it look someone decent. But I fully admit that I would have no patience or tolerance to craft with 23 kindergarten kids. No desire what so ever. Plus, I know what I do with 90% of the crafts that Soph brings home. When she's not looking, right into the trash they go. So I wanted to create an experience. Something that would make kids talk. Ta-da, enter the magician. Because really, who doesn't love a magician?! Just ask <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siegfried_%26_Roy">Roy Horn</a>, they taste great :-) The kids loved it. Like crazy loved it. They were literally jumping out of their seats to "assist." Being that she's the star of the week, the Soph got to be the "special" assistant and help out a little more than the others. To say she was on cloud nine is an understatement.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the big show!</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiC2MjijnQzaR5lU1pZx_P6Xnro0r6xbe6IPl5RhYUCLwSL1AbxJnC6S9bkL9GW5Xh5u32ZNo_6eI14EFFXIorqTJcgtXWklBkILaEuO1Lan6WMRhaHSonlqwy65piaLAPNcjnDSB5FVU/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiC2MjijnQzaR5lU1pZx_P6Xnro0r6xbe6IPl5RhYUCLwSL1AbxJnC6S9bkL9GW5Xh5u32ZNo_6eI14EFFXIorqTJcgtXWklBkILaEuO1Lan6WMRhaHSonlqwy65piaLAPNcjnDSB5FVU/s400/DSC_0019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719518472841069218" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Presenting the amazing <a href="http://www.facebook.com/joeysteppmagic">Joey Stepp</a> and his lovely assistant. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoL83peJICRVorH_k34eVxjlDVjYAE9blMRxBaNQEw5y6CaY9UZPCU34fk0ClE6UqhmAt7G2DZRKB9H5SAp9wttZ-P_YnaCmdFIP-aLqt3w2elLIpAWm32w7pVTl0ao-e7_j6Jb6Wga4Y/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoL83peJICRVorH_k34eVxjlDVjYAE9blMRxBaNQEw5y6CaY9UZPCU34fk0ClE6UqhmAt7G2DZRKB9H5SAp9wttZ-P_YnaCmdFIP-aLqt3w2elLIpAWm32w7pVTl0ao-e7_j6Jb6Wga4Y/s400/DSC_0020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719518334750419602" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">This trick made it sound as if quarters were pouring out of your ears. And kids could "toss" change in from across the room and it sounded as though quarters landed in the bucket. Crowd fav. </div><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHPotKs5dSWBN_mRF72weO3vxKWbHgjCBEseHEGkcJIEC2-LmhVArNXweih2PXvs6nKNFADFyD5V63UgTnbEJXwOmXSYPB3ADmwNe793UiawRFPRkoUELfHT-v1-LF6WNJIo6QlG-EC-c/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHPotKs5dSWBN_mRF72weO3vxKWbHgjCBEseHEGkcJIEC2-LmhVArNXweih2PXvs6nKNFADFyD5V63UgTnbEJXwOmXSYPB3ADmwNe793UiawRFPRkoUELfHT-v1-LF6WNJIo6QlG-EC-c/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719518176104028226" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The ole straight rope trick. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2sM2LQ3uyqChCoVmu-qzSBEAXcPdGRU3ZKHp19TIS6KFe2GCbayGjPG4arG9vOue86_n2R6mRjqJo0RsfW3SCG7DVw52hB_v9jXftIzmQtpyGTsR8kBGHWGGRfAUVRJmZqGzhS9Lgic/s1600/DSC_0035.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG2sM2LQ3uyqChCoVmu-qzSBEAXcPdGRU3ZKHp19TIS6KFe2GCbayGjPG4arG9vOue86_n2R6mRjqJo0RsfW3SCG7DVw52hB_v9jXftIzmQtpyGTsR8kBGHWGGRfAUVRJmZqGzhS9Lgic/s400/DSC_0035.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719518030187747922" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">What's a magician without a rabbit? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZTLq4YRMiv8RtjMJq2y5kLJ-T7muS_kIjr01Fx1SG9R4ulCCR6TBu9i5B0EqXh514eCEZso5MxxvzZ7Xxc2lmp6B4GpBxyShfWBmKLu0j3uG6T14WqygNQATiPG90NSmN8wuvZy2CcY/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 262px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxZTLq4YRMiv8RtjMJq2y5kLJ-T7muS_kIjr01Fx1SG9R4ulCCR6TBu9i5B0EqXh514eCEZso5MxxvzZ7Xxc2lmp6B4GpBxyShfWBmKLu0j3uG6T14WqygNQATiPG90NSmN8wuvZy2CcY/s400/DSC_0031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719518027140442770" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And look, he turned Mrs. Jett into this guy!? Ha! Actually, this guy just cracks me up because it was the class sub for the day. Mr. Bush has been around the block a few times! The aide mentioned that he was her old junior high science teacher. And the aide is in her 60s! I wonder if he was tired this evening? </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCffpf2G2rLfosbaRJnF7kmeRAgnfVVMkpC2WldUG6C0ZqX3CsoF-4AQbviUgTrSZNVovlDqZsUyNK1ywUJROAzGT9LLW5GnN_F1OX6vGr2Ow2IfDLvnrzbqX-Zibvkr8vHy-GB-EOd2s/s1600/DSC_0039.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCffpf2G2rLfosbaRJnF7kmeRAgnfVVMkpC2WldUG6C0ZqX3CsoF-4AQbviUgTrSZNVovlDqZsUyNK1ywUJROAzGT9LLW5GnN_F1OX6vGr2Ow2IfDLvnrzbqX-Zibvkr8vHy-GB-EOd2s/s400/DSC_0039.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719517780676314466" /></a><br /></div><div>Thanks again Joey! And to anyone looking for fun entertainment, I HIGHLY recommend him. Everyone, young (and old, see above) had a smile on their faces! </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-78785540978509343612012-03-12T18:53:00.003-04:002012-03-12T19:12:18.942-04:00Green Eggs and Ham<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY32_cVG1G5OL3XRjonQBCrMeki7XgkoT3551omn9VinoHmInLEt8DVR8F0vOqNAkzu1Zy_3vCtpJo2vUw5o5p0VQe7B0hv7QxKvGp8Tr3kz1aC_1e_gjdvO-X8GIujCPNQ6qh1zcL_FM/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY32_cVG1G5OL3XRjonQBCrMeki7XgkoT3551omn9VinoHmInLEt8DVR8F0vOqNAkzu1Zy_3vCtpJo2vUw5o5p0VQe7B0hv7QxKvGp8Tr3kz1aC_1e_gjdvO-X8GIujCPNQ6qh1zcL_FM/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719152272104076770" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Do those not look narsty? Last Friday was Dr. Seuss' birthday so Soph's school celebrated Dr. Seuss week. Being the over achiever that I am, I woke up on Friday morning and made green eggs and ham for breakfast. Unfortunately, the green food coloring kind of poured right out of the bottle so the eggs were this ultra green color. Gag. Soph ate them right up and asked for seconds. Steven kind of choked them down. He has learned not to make any comments in the food department around here! But even I admit that green eggs are kind of hard to swallow. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We are now into Day 11 with our new four legged pal, Louie. I would say that things are going beautifully. However, they are not. The two of us are having some major issues in the potty training department. Despite the fact that we are lucky and blessed to have a team of people helping us with this dog throughout the day, he still feels the need to poop in his crate! And cover himself in it. And.I.Am.Doing.Everything.Right. Actually, one could even make the argument that he is even being let out too much. Anyway, regardless, he's pooping in between let outs and I'm coming home to a hot, stinking, dog shit mess. And mama is not happy. And when mama ain't happy, you know what that means. And it's tax season, so no one is really happy around here. So you might as well take some gasoline and douse it right on the explosive inferno that is the Carr house. I do, however, have the cleanest dog around seeing as he gets a bath almost EVERY DAY. On the other hand, at this rate, he isn't going to have any fur left because of all of the baths. Other than that major flaw of his, we love him. And for now, we'll keep him. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Miss thing has a birthday coming up on Friday. She's star of the week at school this week. She's been waiting all year for this week and it's finally here. Tomorrow, I have a magician coming to her class. Yes, a magician. Why? B/c it's over the top, and absurd, and money that I'm throwing away because I'm irked about this whole "star of the week" thing anyway. Although my daughter may be walking on sunshine, it's nothing but a pain in my arse. Sorry, but sometimes, schools want a little too much parent involvement. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-25590323628541079112012-03-04T18:20:00.004-05:002012-03-04T18:28:00.516-05:00Third Time's a Charm<div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGP0gCwaM5jRBhiOl7VurkKYhEGo0yQzTt14XZLkB58wrBPRalZMoadV7S79PkA53uMwnXrDlFokiyc2n69_HJD1K7uNHAX8-pAN-qQRIREQUDSEbKUpU3ah-ddgbTxbxY0MdvoCdPmM/s1600/DSC_0062.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxGP0gCwaM5jRBhiOl7VurkKYhEGo0yQzTt14XZLkB58wrBPRalZMoadV7S79PkA53uMwnXrDlFokiyc2n69_HJD1K7uNHAX8-pAN-qQRIREQUDSEbKUpU3ah-ddgbTxbxY0MdvoCdPmM/s400/DSC_0062.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716187099326675234" /></a>At least we hope!<div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I can't BELIEVE we are going down this road again! Seriously, I question my sanity. But then you look at this little face and you just melt and you find your self taking a dog outside in the snow every hour on the hour.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">His name is Louie. He's a West Virginia mutt who we rescued from <a href="http://littlevictories.org/">Little Victories</a>. He is suppose to be a boxer/lab mix. But ya just never know! And there is a certain little girl who is over the moon happy. Although, he's an early birthday present, I have a feeling that in two weeks she'll "forget" that he's a present and mom and dad are still on the hook for a few gifts!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">He seems to be a hit with everyone :) </div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhJbRCA3W9350iYWxo6K2VmGesBTJtXNaDaY-yJsSpmIp9XLLlaj_G5Qn6Nws_OIaH9pko5X2uHS05E3QtjphG47SSsXoOPT2S8NoAmG0Mos_jE8_l9YanHn3poPMJlPqicMX-y-4zCI/s1600/DSC_0034.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwhJbRCA3W9350iYWxo6K2VmGesBTJtXNaDaY-yJsSpmIp9XLLlaj_G5Qn6Nws_OIaH9pko5X2uHS05E3QtjphG47SSsXoOPT2S8NoAmG0Mos_jE8_l9YanHn3poPMJlPqicMX-y-4zCI/s400/DSC_0034.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5716186992341176354" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-27447947406589541462012-02-15T16:47:00.005-05:002012-02-15T17:24:49.347-05:00Valentine's Edition<div>A day late :) </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy15JeLGXbzcZfzHUnhx-kghYKVeTdQfL6rpEguAD3IiTaL_UiS1VGqGvBCcKXXyWwbnpwtkYG99zjmlGAGe0rlFg2ofBPmEs_rdQdT7otNf4PZxfrcSqAJvouDzuh62VdlHs5qRvEyDk/s1600/New4x6.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy15JeLGXbzcZfzHUnhx-kghYKVeTdQfL6rpEguAD3IiTaL_UiS1VGqGvBCcKXXyWwbnpwtkYG99zjmlGAGe0rlFg2ofBPmEs_rdQdT7otNf4PZxfrcSqAJvouDzuh62VdlHs5qRvEyDk/s400/New4x6.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5709489851152188898" /></a><br /><div>These were the Valentine's Little Bit gave out at school. We attached sticky back felt mustaches to the card so that every kid got a fake stache as a gift. Because really, fake mustaches on 5 and 6 year olds rock. Oh and Sophie "claims" that she had a special "Valentine." I shall not divulge his name because I don't think that he is aware that he was dubbed her "Valentine." HA! </div><div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I love making big deals out of smaller Holidays. Pre-kids I didn't really see the big deal in celebrating every holiday that came our way. Valentine's day was nice IF you had someone to spend it with. But I remember spending quite a few Valentine's days with two of the most awesome dudes on the planet, Ben and Jerry. St. Patrick's day was an excuse to find a pseudo Irish bar in Morgantown and drink green beer. And Mardi Gras was yet another excuse to go out! Except with beads! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now I look at holidays in a whole new light! And I LOVE IT! I loved waking Sophie up on Tuesday morning with a heart shaped doughnut with sprinkles on top. And I loved giving her her a few gifts sprinkled through out the day. A new <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Junie-Jones-Mushy-Gushy-Valentime/dp/0375800395/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1329344110&sr=8-1">Junie B. Jones book</a>, a Hello Kitty candy watch, and the p<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(34, 34, 34); line-height: 16px; "><em style="font-style: normal; color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">ièce de résistance</em></span>,</span> a</span> kid sized bath robe. Steven gave me the best gift ever, cash! HA! Some may find cash as a thoughtless gift but trust me, he knows the way right to my heart. I'm debating on buying some Born boots that I've had my eye on or waiting and buying something fun for spring!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Next up, Mardi Gras. We usually don't do anything for this one because I never really thought about it. But Little Bit always liked getting beads from the Mardi Gras display at the Walmarts! the beads and masks were always cool looking having up at walmart. This year church has a Mardi Gras dinner and I am ALL OVER it. I think I need to find a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_cake">King Cake </a>complete with a baby inside. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Then comes St. Patrick's day and you know how I love me some St. Patrick's day! I have a feeling that the pesky leprechauns will be back in action again this year! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-23566511324682180132012-02-13T20:11:00.005-05:002012-02-13T20:31:45.018-05:00Skateland<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4t10y6OdoLuPdBboujbMgPurRjKoQN75FNaCSTluTtiNqrwUAC9drYd7DHuIDZrMjqID-25_0SfQBhX9afOZWutSZsQCGIGwWLTuKJPCUzmlFYZ1BgtYGtjEhpt4s7tgsl4IyTfr2xYM/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 256px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4t10y6OdoLuPdBboujbMgPurRjKoQN75FNaCSTluTtiNqrwUAC9drYd7DHuIDZrMjqID-25_0SfQBhX9afOZWutSZsQCGIGwWLTuKJPCUzmlFYZ1BgtYGtjEhpt4s7tgsl4IyTfr2xYM/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708797608309140386" /></a><br /><div>Guess who has been itching to go roller staking?<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Nope, wrong choice. Me! I've been dying take Little Bit skating since she got roller skates for Christmas. I use to love love love roller skating. But I never had my own stakes. I always had the lovely orange and brown rentals. And guess what? I think that Skateland of Huntington has the same exact orange and brown skates that they had back in 1986! In fact, I can guarantee you that the skates are exactly the same. As is the carpet on the walls, the lockers, and the bathroom stalls with no doors!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Gracie got some skates for Christmas too so the girls got to break them in together. Ever cautious Gracie slowly and steadily made her way around the rink. She did awesome! Soph was more of a crazed lunatic and had I not held her by the hand or made her hug the wall we would have had a detour to Scott orthopedics!</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYT7RSbxa5VqAfJmbcWzrGxT83g_eYX_oa3LjnoQo8DrrvY-Dz5xgjsOzfmDVCIPUWrNVnFGAFyEiAeZ3Er44dvY7BGA9GT3YoTcxU6UWWazbc8OBWnVWBYaRwf516zyr7JzNANB_epLI/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYT7RSbxa5VqAfJmbcWzrGxT83g_eYX_oa3LjnoQo8DrrvY-Dz5xgjsOzfmDVCIPUWrNVnFGAFyEiAeZ3Er44dvY7BGA9GT3YoTcxU6UWWazbc8OBWnVWBYaRwf516zyr7JzNANB_epLI/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708797404277857314" /></a><br /><div><br /><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">And me? All.Over.It. I admit it, I parked Soph down with some Cheetos and a drink and told her that "mama would be right back after taking a few laps!" HA! And they still play the same games that they played back in the 80's! Four corners, red light/green light, Ghost Busters! Remember that one? Every time the song says, "Ghost Busters!" you have to turn and go the other direction. Ah, good times.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Anywho, we shall return. </div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqrO0lW38BSDHvfGuZTHk2d-XW7LS6LcM3h4Ulh5-ZxK3U0dayb5kdN8SRzcEwHDS4wXvutaKpCoKHliogRCeZblVaWU57RKAdLT3e98rTHENDt1D6fEWKqto4q6NgbokLhUdL_2nRzM/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 251px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoqrO0lW38BSDHvfGuZTHk2d-XW7LS6LcM3h4Ulh5-ZxK3U0dayb5kdN8SRzcEwHDS4wXvutaKpCoKHliogRCeZblVaWU57RKAdLT3e98rTHENDt1D6fEWKqto4q6NgbokLhUdL_2nRzM/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5708797129042524642" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-11909252267481105242012-02-08T19:48:00.006-05:002012-02-08T20:15:16.926-05:00Class is in session<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgavnPP8Y_vzsoKzquc1OMRyakf9O_bJP114lYytmXJm2ivE0Z5NvoCAFVJk4Pfrpsi6ARkutcwTCBrDVEb_7EkaxlFZCKQOqY544_2oz1eTY9JnH-DC5TytuEBwpYqfLX5mHK039mZk/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmgavnPP8Y_vzsoKzquc1OMRyakf9O_bJP114lYytmXJm2ivE0Z5NvoCAFVJk4Pfrpsi6ARkutcwTCBrDVEb_7EkaxlFZCKQOqY544_2oz1eTY9JnH-DC5TytuEBwpYqfLX5mHK039mZk/s400/DSC_0008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706937448347479330" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; ">So we played school today. This is the down side of not having any younger siblings/minions to play with. I get forced into being the student. I so loved playing school when I was her age. --Tangent--Come to think of it, I really wish I would have continued loving to play school and taken it all the way to becoming a teacher rather than a lawyer. Hello, summers off?! But I lasted 2 days as an education major at WVU. I went to my first "education" class and they told me that I would have to keep these big giant journals and binders about student teaching and different group projects I said, "peace out." I packed up my transcripts and walked them back over to Woodburn Hall where I would remain a political science major and try out law school. What kind of warped person ditches a teaching degree and chooses 3 years of law school as the easier route? Someone morbidly twisted, that's who! Me!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Anyway, I didn't have any minions either so my stuffed animals and cabbage patch dolls became my minions. I think we need to work on this because I can guarantee that they would be much better students. I' m constantly running off to put laundry into the dryer or answer the phone. But it is cute to see her standing at her little chalk board. And using one of the TWO finger pointers that we now have. We were learning about the word and number "one." </div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKzO4isqSFVAWVjYRV1DjmfjKO_QuwW8bNcITG3kMzlmbNQ3ZneAkHxK7rIVhCIQ45BJgIOWOevqP6eJcpBsF86tlOF4JoCzOGEL6Pv9j0KFXp-zqSMTqyD_hOnD6SGw6AsyHwgukM_I/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZKzO4isqSFVAWVjYRV1DjmfjKO_QuwW8bNcITG3kMzlmbNQ3ZneAkHxK7rIVhCIQ45BJgIOWOevqP6eJcpBsF86tlOF4JoCzOGEL6Pv9j0KFXp-zqSMTqyD_hOnD6SGw6AsyHwgukM_I/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706936966530434802" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Oh and we got a new game called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Spin-Master-Games-6014346-Hedbanz/dp/B003AIM52A/ref=sr_1_1?s=toys-and-games&ie=UTF8&qid=1328749212&sr=1-1">Hedbandz</a>. </div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0wzcDORCEjiFrunzxIN8whbsOjgYUB23EjtDYNLTIKv9kiXxs46iBmEW1nZiP2oK3ml1gVDIKTWIp1Bnyes4FbdPb1RkcUOQiAL-EQsy0rQL2NjtFjqWqOxOu9doT0CKm53vo2caOo0/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0wzcDORCEjiFrunzxIN8whbsOjgYUB23EjtDYNLTIKv9kiXxs46iBmEW1nZiP2oK3ml1gVDIKTWIp1Bnyes4FbdPb1RkcUOQiAL-EQsy0rQL2NjtFjqWqOxOu9doT0CKm53vo2caOo0/s400/DSC_0022.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706936116146690498" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">I shall say it again, I.Love.Board.Games. I can't wait until we can actually play Life, and Clue, and dare I say, Monopoly! The game that never ends! Would you like to hear about the lamest dorkiest game of Monopoly EVER played? That would be the game of Monopoly played by a bunch of 2nd year law students. A game that involved beer, mergers and acquisitions. Good god. I can't even believe that I just admitted to playing that game like that on the world wide web! Maybe we won't play monopoly. Like EVER.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-48815865390804570152012-02-07T17:30:00.005-05:002012-02-07T18:14:45.876-05:00Back in Business<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepw7lgEhTXWXTN6pbRKBV-xiLP9kMNFRLY_mJiDrEX6AXCQkBQotlN65iU6UyToZvq7N7YlBdLOCAI4J6UarUyG3iRCEnD-MLLWNMCkCZDwEYL0LwgKNz37c088wZdM5lLu8OoAjnnjw/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhepw7lgEhTXWXTN6pbRKBV-xiLP9kMNFRLY_mJiDrEX6AXCQkBQotlN65iU6UyToZvq7N7YlBdLOCAI4J6UarUyG3iRCEnD-MLLWNMCkCZDwEYL0LwgKNz37c088wZdM5lLu8OoAjnnjw/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706536020569032114" /></a><br />1. $80 later and I'm back in business! But with no pictures :( This is now my 3rd power cord for my computer. Perhaps this <a href="https://www.adaptersettlement.com/">law suit</a> is on to something. I filed one claim already but now I'm thinking that I should file another! But I don't care how many power cords I have to buy, it will not change my love affair with Apple products. I must see to it that Steve Jobs' heirs are taken care of. <div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. So Soph had an ultrasound on Friday if see if she had a hernia. I waited all day on Friday for her doctor to call with the results but didn't hear a word. Then around 4:30 one ding dong husband of mine called and said, "I had a call on my phone from an odd number so I didn't answer but I'm pretty sure it was the doctor's office." Husband FAIL! I called around and tracked her doctor down and it turns out that the ultrasound was inconclusive. So she is going to see a surgeon to see what she thinks. Boo. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. In other bright news, $1011.58 cents was stolen from our checking account yesterday. Grrrrrr. I'm telling myself that the thieves in California who went on a spending spree at a grocery store must have needed lots of diapers and formula to feed their hungry children. Otherwise, I might implode. We'll get the money back but it's still a huge headache. My friend got robbed too! Apparently, there is a rash of thefts! </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. Why has it taken me this long to discover the beauty of Red Box dvd rentals? Hello, awesome! Since it's tax season we've instituted Friday night movie night. Tons of blankets on the floor and food that is bad for you. Perfect. Last week we watched "Treasure Buddies." Steven kind of rolls his eyes at the movie selections. He's just gonna have to chill. It might be awhile before little bit is interested in Will Smith movies! (or Mark Walberg movies for me!)</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">5. Operation "find the Carrs a dog" has been put in motion. I was looking around at different rescue shelters and one site led to another and I some how landed on a boxer/labrador mix dubbed a "<a href="http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/boxador.htm">boxador</a>." Oh my. They have to be the world's most perfect mutt ever. If we could find one of those at a shelter locally, I would be all.over.it. Although, that is a little bigger than I initially said we would go. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">6. I REALLY need to work on what I tell my kid when it comes to other kids saying mean things to her. The other morning I put a dress on her and Little Bit made a sad face and said that "so and so will say this dress is ugly." Blind rage comes over me at comments like that. My advice, was not to turn the other cheek. Or to tell her that "so and so must put others down because they must be trying to make their own self feel better." No my advice, "well you tell so and so that their face is ugly, and unlike your dress, that can't be changed." Parent fail. Although, this is an even bigger parent fail b/c lately Soph has been starting every sentence off with, "my mommy said...." so it will probably come out as something like, "my mommy said your face is ugly, and my dress will change it." Which will make zero sense, but that doesn't matter because all that will stick is that "Sophie's mommy said I am ugly." In my defense, I've never laid eyes on this kid. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">7. I'm getting burned out on reading the Berenstain Bear books every single night. We have 50 of those babies! Was Sister and Brother never given "real" names? I am DYING to start reading Harry Potter with her. But is she too young? Anyone else read the first HP to their kindergartner. I so hope she loves those books as much as I do. Unfortunately, she'll probably take after Steven and will prefer watching the movies! That will rip my heart out. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">8. Our friends Joel and Shannon welcomed their 3rd little one to their family last week. I'm dying to meet her but I've had a cold so I don't want to get anywhere near her. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">9. I have a college friend/sorority sister who is going to be on House Hunters International on Friday, March 16 (Sophie's Bday)! HGTV followed them on their hunt for a vacation home in Spain! <i>Swoon</i>. One day, my friends, one day. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">10. Peace out! </div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-45806260278367245242012-01-31T20:58:00.002-05:002012-01-31T21:02:44.621-05:00Out of OrderJust when I get on a blogging roll, the cord to <span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "> charge my computer went kaput! So looks like I'll be out of commission for awhile because blogging on an IPhone is quite difficult! </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); ">Stay tuned! </span></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-72042931151432851442012-01-30T17:51:00.004-05:002012-01-30T17:58:51.867-05:00Sorry<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNX9F8kzM8nsmH8Y5rdEIIDlbVAzpXAy_UyBh3fQw4VOyaTjEKuBSsXRyqQeEzq6PkOxYkJRIn05JDabQ-X_kNp6jQrMEi9xq-PQYibSjbVNEwPVkQORay1f3zf4C3BT7pxGTcGGMvCM0/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNX9F8kzM8nsmH8Y5rdEIIDlbVAzpXAy_UyBh3fQw4VOyaTjEKuBSsXRyqQeEzq6PkOxYkJRIn05JDabQ-X_kNp6jQrMEi9xq-PQYibSjbVNEwPVkQORay1f3zf4C3BT7pxGTcGGMvCM0/s400/DSC_0020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703563212386769874" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">At our house, we've been having full blown wars. Sorry Wars! Since Christmas I think that every kid that has walked in this house has been subject to a game of Sorry. Sometimes, it's smooth sailing, as it was yesterday when Toby and Tanner came down. Other times, games end in tears when I open up a can and send their butts back to home over and over again. Mwhahahahaha. They don't call it the "game of sweet revenge" for nothing! I admit fully that sometimes, after we put Soph to bed, Steven and I battle one another. Best out of 3, or 5 if I'm down. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">In other news, the toe mole came back normal. I've just been hopping around with one shoe on and one shoe off for over a week. But I'll take it. Sophie goes to the doctor tomorrow. I've google diagnosed her with a hernia. I'm sure Dr. C can't wait to hear this one! But if I'm right, I might have people start referring to me as Dr. Carr, Google MD. :) </div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-71397232651433737652012-01-25T19:42:00.004-05:002012-01-25T19:53:49.610-05:00Spell Check<div>Apparently, we need to work on spelling too!</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnJwUuu_znqi5Dd5OufzOjFrQqq6azxKwFSkC2TIk5LgR-nkaON1xUNyeclwNqhcluiZeP9Eg44yj6Ien-1zzyIqIyxckH_YCTdVWtwkHWmhDgbQ42ToHHPHHnVK7wqhL1yMJlERRC4I/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 337px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTnJwUuu_znqi5Dd5OufzOjFrQqq6azxKwFSkC2TIk5LgR-nkaON1xUNyeclwNqhcluiZeP9Eg44yj6Ien-1zzyIqIyxckH_YCTdVWtwkHWmhDgbQ42ToHHPHHnVK7wqhL1yMJlERRC4I/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701736527361947042" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">And this is why I started a blog. To help me remember the little things that happen in our lives as well as the big things. Anywho, tonight we were sitting around the table eating dinner when Soph asked for a napkin. Steven got up and got her one but before handing it over he said, "What do you say?"</div><div>Soph, "Please, may I have a napkin?"</div><div>Daddy, "Yes you may. Do you know how to spell please?"</div><div>With a big bold voice and a stone sober face she says, "P-U-S-S-Y!" </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">At that point, daddy lost all composure. Thank goodness he hadn't taken a drink at that exact moment. I on the other hand, kept my cool, for once. Points for getting at least getting the P right my girl :0 </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-36225124758159773242012-01-24T19:45:00.004-05:002012-01-24T20:22:55.595-05:00Ten on Tuesday<div><div style="text-align: justify; ">1. Steven and I are addicted to American Pickers. Thanks to the History channel hooking us up with a few weekend marathons, I now think that we have seen every.single.episode. We are getting pretty good at guessing the value of junk too! Makes we want to drive around and go pickin' too!</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">2. Report cards came out today! Girlfriend did pretty good. She needs to work on vowel sounds and a few other reading things. I'll admit that I'm HORRIBLE about working with her. And she fights it to the death. I told my neighbor today that really you don't need to know how to read to sell coconut necklaces on a beach in Thailand. Not saying that that's where she's gonna end up, but really, ya never know!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">3. Who has their Valentine cards already made up and ready to go? This person! Woot woot! On the ball this year people. I'm loving some pinterest and all of the great ideas you can "pin." Now if I only had the time and $$ to make all of the things I have pinned!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">4. So I stumbled across this blog the other day called <a href="http://aninchofgray.blogspot.com/2011/10/bridge-one-terrible-night.html">An Inch of Gray</a>. Oh my. Saddest blog I have ever followed in my life but I just couldn't stop reading. Long story short, Anna, was the mama to 12 year old Jack and 10 year old Margaret. One extremely rainy afternoon after school when the electric was off, Jack's friends came over and invited Jack outside to play. As time passed it began to thunder. Jack's mom got in her car to pick up the kids, yet Jack was no where to be found. A creek behind a neighbor's house swept him away. :( Jack's was found about 2 hours later. This grief stricken mama did everything she could to protect her children. She worried constantly about M rated video games, and child molesters, and Internet predators. Yet, not once did she ever think to warn her children about the mere possibility of a rising creek with fast moving water. Her story has stuck with me for days now. The day before the accident she had just posted pictures of their first day of school. Here today and gone tomorrow. Hug your babies. I had a little talk with Little Bit about not ever playing in a creek.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">5. The Hunger Games movie comes out on March 23. I can't wait!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">6. Speaking of books, I got a kindle for Christmas and I puffy heart lurve it! I didn't get the kindle fire, just the basic kindle touch. I though that i would miss holding a book. Wrong. Could not be happier.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">7. 110 days remain until the Carr family hits Disney World. After this trip, I hope to never step foot in that place until my girl is all grown up, if ever! We are staying at the Wilderness Lodge. It was the closest to the Magic Kingdom we could get without paying 2 million dollars. Instead we are only paying 1 million.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">8. I'm itching to paint some rooms in this house and change some things up. We have lived here for going on 3 years and right now there is not one single thing hanging on Sophie's walls. But alas, I am lazy and I can never decide what I want to do. Then when I do decide what I want to do, I'm too cheap to buy anything!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">9. Friday night I have a dinner date with 3 of my favorite ladies. It's been too long since we've gotten together. Why do my friends and I stink so bad about getting together? Seriously. Totally, stink it up.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">10. Alright, I'm out. Storage Wars is on. Guess I forgot to mention that we are addicted to that one too!</div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">And here's a pic of our newest family member, Carly.</div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrEXtGutRcl2OBmJ7d7xTTxZqarx7v_S0szHC1DWX-3Xum-ma753SrclJv1v7nq34Exi1FCiPOpb6jP_KuTS9Ph5rPNWc0jNP8MH9UVUvgZ9SALynU8TWwW6aUh4Mu8sCbhu7W1rqvOI/s1600/DSC_0079.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrEXtGutRcl2OBmJ7d7xTTxZqarx7v_S0szHC1DWX-3Xum-ma753SrclJv1v7nq34Exi1FCiPOpb6jP_KuTS9Ph5rPNWc0jNP8MH9UVUvgZ9SALynU8TWwW6aUh4Mu8sCbhu7W1rqvOI/s400/DSC_0079.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701373230408544562" /></a><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-82269564803269319392012-01-23T15:27:00.007-05:002012-01-23T16:57:48.991-05:00Monday Monday<div><div style="text-align: justify; ">I'm home from work a little early today. And it's quite! Sophie and her little pals had tumbling today and although I was home early enough to take them, my neighbor volunteered to be the kid shuffler. I had to hit up the dermatologist's office this afternoon to have yet another mole taken off. This is probably the 8th mole since the 2010 Melanoma Affair. But this one, on the side of my pinky toe, has me all frazzled. It kind of appeared out of no where, just like the 2010 Melanoma Affair. And I feel like I have this dark cloud looming over. I'm kind of anxious, like I'm waiting for the other foot to fall. Could be that tax season is starting up. That brings quite a few dark clouds our way.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Anyway, I'm totally skeeved out about melanoma. Really, shouldn't be a biggie. Especially, if you are diligent and catch things early. Let me tell you though, it's a real slap in the face when you apply for a simple group life insurance policy at work and they send you a letter asking for you to submit all of your medical records relating to the 2010 Melanoma Affair. Then a few weeks later you get another letter from the same insurance company that basically says, "thanks, but we really don't feel like taking a chance on you." Might was well have said, "we feel that the probability of you croaking sooner rather than later because of that little mole of yours is just too risky for us." Nice. Up yours Minnesota Life!</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">On a happier note and rewinding a little bit, for the second year in a row we did neighborhood Christmas Caroling. It's so hard to pin down down a time so that every kid in the neighborhood can join in but we managed to round up 11 kids or so. It's even more difficult to keep the kids together from one house to the next! They are always racing off to the next house to be the kid who gets to ring the doorbell. I'm usually following them down the street screaming at the top of my lungs to "wait up!" or "it's so and so turn to ring the doorbell!" Very Merry Christmas like to hear a 33 year old woman screaming like some deranged lunatic.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPusB3-U4gU9rRurTf5ihvO2upsmys3w2loFF4E-hAKNqN3PN7fSGBq7UmRBX5k5ZQMksj3hupf_TvL0bnemJ75TkaZWrKXDzLEgmFOVmrtreoUaXqguh3uZkN8gbcoPG3ZBRF7i6Mz1g/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPusB3-U4gU9rRurTf5ihvO2upsmys3w2loFF4E-hAKNqN3PN7fSGBq7UmRBX5k5ZQMksj3hupf_TvL0bnemJ75TkaZWrKXDzLEgmFOVmrtreoUaXqguh3uZkN8gbcoPG3ZBRF7i6Mz1g/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700932413657675842" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Oh and I wanted to post this picture of Sophie with Santa. He's the best Santa around this neck of the woods. And what makes him even cooler is that I graduated high school with this Santa. No one ever believes me when I tell them that little fun fact, but it's true!</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEkuouM0oEWSjhxJLwlQ10ooNyjAc5WjcWW4ZA_Q1WNGq5cyoREG4Ga9NuKAEMjuTLQxfAEy0sbx9__E8Z6HRdtT8vzr53HyXTpvLkE9vSbW4nIJxYRfQusVYLVe0Gaxzq4_Cy4QiLXCM/s1600/DSC_0033.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEkuouM0oEWSjhxJLwlQ10ooNyjAc5WjcWW4ZA_Q1WNGq5cyoREG4Ga9NuKAEMjuTLQxfAEy0sbx9__E8Z6HRdtT8vzr53HyXTpvLkE9vSbW4nIJxYRfQusVYLVe0Gaxzq4_Cy4QiLXCM/s400/DSC_0033.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700931842238427490" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-6246782012821225842012-01-19T18:11:00.003-05:002012-01-19T18:44:30.652-05:00Doggy Dog...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslZp928vDn9_30g0EPOBZ3d6NFyhh1vPSbCY2J70hYf2nmfwRwnXnh0LajXeg1HFNhsVhge48f-_1LrW3F8PjWXRVesyZgng28LLbJ1pif2NCQc1naXZsTfGIyq9YR1ggEo7d_iRucbk/s1600/DSC_0078_2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 360px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjslZp928vDn9_30g0EPOBZ3d6NFyhh1vPSbCY2J70hYf2nmfwRwnXnh0LajXeg1HFNhsVhge48f-_1LrW3F8PjWXRVesyZgng28LLbJ1pif2NCQc1naXZsTfGIyq9YR1ggEo7d_iRucbk/s400/DSC_0078_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699492124599595314" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">So it's been well over a year since we lost Miss Stella the boxer. There are times that I find myself thinking how "nice" it is not to be tied down by an animal. There are other times that I find myself missing that tail waggle when you come home after only being gone 15 minutes. Then there was last night when Steven was out of town and I was certain that a serial killer was in my house. Again, one of those weird ones who keep you in a cage and feed you nothing but cheese slices until they decide to kill you. Oscar the boxer would have torn a serial killer's throat out. However, despite the fear of serial killers, usually the the joys of being dogless win out with me. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">For the last 18 months almost every single day Sophie asks for a dog. Steven follows right behind her. I've put them off and put them off with a million and one perfectly logical excuse. "We don't want to get a dog going into winter, who wants to stand outside with a dog in the snow!" "We don't want to get a dog during tax season because I'm the only one who will be home to take care of it." "The beginning of summer is hard because as soon as we get it, we'll have to leave it to go on vacation and we always want to go away in the summer." So really there never is a perfect time.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">But. Our girl is turning 6 in a few months. She begged for a dog for Christmas. We told her that Santa just wasn't able to put "live" cargo on his sleigh. She asked GiGi for a dog. Gi knew better. We came really close to getting one when our neighbors across the street got a super cute chocolate labradoodle and we found out that Charlie had a brother that needed a home. But we talked ourselves out of it. The time just wasn't right. And truthfully, we are a little gun shy in the dog department. We lost Oscar tragically. We lost Stella because she was terminal from the get-go. I wouldn't recommend anyone loose a dog a year. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The point is that we are thinking that all signs pointing to the "right time." I have my awesome friend "aunt Kim" on the case. She's a dog whisperer and the only kennel owner that I would trust to watch our furbaby. I know that with her help, we'll find "the one." </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">And do you know what our girl is willing to do to get a dog?! She is willing to forego birthday presents! Rather than presents at her birthday party, she's going to ask that everyone bring an item that can be donated to the local animal shelter. Cat food, dog food, kitty litter, bleach, leashes, treats. Girlfriend has it bad. So we shall see. Less than 2 months to go until the big 6! </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-33748080562584242822012-01-18T20:00:00.008-05:002012-01-18T21:06:16.245-05:00Trying again...<div><div style="text-align: justify; ">I have so got to get back into blogging. I've stepped away from face book some. I blame face book for the down fall of this blog. It became so easy to put a short little blurb on face book and slap a picture up rather than put forth extra time into blogging. The reason I started a blog oh so many years ago was to keep memories of my little family of three alive and kicking. In words and in pictures. It also doesn't help that I rarely pick up my camera anymore. I find my self just leaving my camera behind. I tell myself that "i can snap pics with my phone." Then I wonder why the pictures are horrible! So blog I must. Pictures or no pictures.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Lets see. It's now January. Since I last blogged we had Halloween. I had the cutest little gypsy on the planet. I love Halloween so much. I start thinking about costumes over the summer! And I know that my days are numbered in swaying Little Bit in her costume decision. It's just a matter of time until she insists on being icarly or some other commercial Halloween costume. Breaking my heart into a million pieces! </div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQ0tn_3F5PVJP4EcQeqk-3DOSusBkUfUsd21oQmnbeI17ZKD1PxHj_XYH-ucNpwvSEow6IhsSDJFh_QH4O_8ygNAsrlrwUIlq3-JDSM_h9w9vMwGriq7jgPQiUVNBXpt0WguufQLgT6Q/s1600/DSC_0018.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQ0tn_3F5PVJP4EcQeqk-3DOSusBkUfUsd21oQmnbeI17ZKD1PxHj_XYH-ucNpwvSEow6IhsSDJFh_QH4O_8ygNAsrlrwUIlq3-JDSM_h9w9vMwGriq7jgPQiUVNBXpt0WguufQLgT6Q/s400/DSC_0018.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699154606653624290" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ztKgxedtp1G9I-hv5q0fgD4ma7qjYHkWrMEhrBT9mjNP1lSE5geDDkEvWi1D-9lvByzsPbSA1Y2NTQsEfrCJduPtgnkG8xJ2fCMlU5G5NqJZ-TcesLbj2UASpll708Rtabd74aSkHcM/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ztKgxedtp1G9I-hv5q0fgD4ma7qjYHkWrMEhrBT9mjNP1lSE5geDDkEvWi1D-9lvByzsPbSA1Y2NTQsEfrCJduPtgnkG8xJ2fCMlU5G5NqJZ-TcesLbj2UASpll708Rtabd74aSkHcM/s400/DSC_0009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699154602955477010" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">We took a trip to the Great Wolf Lodge with some friends. These three got along so well. I would take them anywhere any time. And Toby (in the middle) looks like a 4 year old stud muffin with his arms around his peeps. But Sophie says she's going to marry the the Tanner, the tall one. He doesn't know this yet. Nor would he want to know this. I hope so. I would love her mother in law. Her father in law? Maybe not so much! HA! </div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXwOuu9XpTIag4DFWipmUR3k5-KBJFfCF4pVzejjGX52XVNxV5MmEKndaOtLPsKtvli3ee16sdy6XP66IHeB30-IAfrd2mTNpczAnXtepu7nC_HlrTQGKsco0ltORNHV6mF78HVjxzGY/s1600/DSC_0015.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXwOuu9XpTIag4DFWipmUR3k5-KBJFfCF4pVzejjGX52XVNxV5MmEKndaOtLPsKtvli3ee16sdy6XP66IHeB30-IAfrd2mTNpczAnXtepu7nC_HlrTQGKsco0ltORNHV6mF78HVjxzGY/s400/DSC_0015.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699153571842436610" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">We had Thanksgiving. (I don't have any pictures of that but we made the trek to PA.)</div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">We had the 3rd Annual Ugly Christmas Sweater Party.</div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">This was my outfit. I really have no words. Other than to say that I felt as though the stuffed cat tied the entire outfit together. And i have to give a special thank you to my friend Missy's mom for finding me a banana clip. </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3cVGYBvlQ_P9R12IBKN_NbWw-HTVDYOTKuyPGe5PyYDPxfAj_1OOvbqUBTfrtgANCNslM4Xq6Wwvm82jZmdF3ztgPdIoZ6T9aaGjNapXnZdGPrmkTV3fUk2rFQQ5r_gYAjswPjEaSEc/s1600/Carr+Christmas-8.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK3cVGYBvlQ_P9R12IBKN_NbWw-HTVDYOTKuyPGe5PyYDPxfAj_1OOvbqUBTfrtgANCNslM4Xq6Wwvm82jZmdF3ztgPdIoZ6T9aaGjNapXnZdGPrmkTV3fUk2rFQQ5r_gYAjswPjEaSEc/s400/Carr+Christmas-8.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699153109060260082" /></a>Steven tried pulling off the Cousin Eddy a la emptying out the crapper look. <div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1-xq8P3iGxNGahRdDHxJX8llwHIAmlv_iMmLgXdclPgcNvPG2HZstwI7hS8AgD9IJGGuBsfaOj0B-GDNrpn0K5ncxGwOGOKSPcQbnU8tFg7gjz75bl1WwVs84WuLhhjqkDWEG8UeL_I/s1600/DSC_0019.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY1-xq8P3iGxNGahRdDHxJX8llwHIAmlv_iMmLgXdclPgcNvPG2HZstwI7hS8AgD9IJGGuBsfaOj0B-GDNrpn0K5ncxGwOGOKSPcQbnU8tFg7gjz75bl1WwVs84WuLhhjqkDWEG8UeL_I/s400/DSC_0019.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699153101180355730" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; ">We had a Christmas play were Soph played Mary. It was hilarious. Oh yeah, and I found Jesus. Turns out he wasn't hiding in the couch cushions with the change. Actually, he wasn't really hiding, per se. He's always been there and I've always known that and I've always known that he thinks I rock. We just had to find the right place for our family. Found it. And now you'll sometimes find us with "church crowd" waiting for a table at the cracker barrel. Steven curses and says that we "use" to be able to beat the church crowd! </div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuLWNcyhEeD05Z5jY5IFWYVqTEYDZBLFIFHSEvMYXcnkMmXDmJpoR77HX29XdQ3Vk5hh0RjZ9tTnQqaJfjGGkfPbWmzCSkQpc6IcyeIIGBNU74EHi20tESpWF9BnzXrzNA1EG-8nVPrQ/s1600/photo-19.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTuLWNcyhEeD05Z5jY5IFWYVqTEYDZBLFIFHSEvMYXcnkMmXDmJpoR77HX29XdQ3Vk5hh0RjZ9tTnQqaJfjGGkfPbWmzCSkQpc6IcyeIIGBNU74EHi20tESpWF9BnzXrzNA1EG-8nVPrQ/s400/photo-19.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699152074482918034" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: justify; ">We celebrated Christmas. And it was a really awesome Christmas. Sophie didn't get too much nor too little. It was perfect. </div></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgBg48fBRqm5dUmHPxyMSvcXOk1vZFKgK9Gg-iTuu34zyNVTsuIWLJE5lP12AUWOktgtAnxppZnmoEy4_ocTO7Re1hOR3H4l3lgRvXR2dzB0sYlnKp0uFx3np34LgvpnC5cOEDbtnDsA/s1600/DSC_0058.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrgBg48fBRqm5dUmHPxyMSvcXOk1vZFKgK9Gg-iTuu34zyNVTsuIWLJE5lP12AUWOktgtAnxppZnmoEy4_ocTO7Re1hOR3H4l3lgRvXR2dzB0sYlnKp0uFx3np34LgvpnC5cOEDbtnDsA/s400/DSC_0058.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699151796739150402" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Perhaps tomorrow I'll blog more about kindergarten. Or the fact that in 2 months I'll have a 6 year old! ahhahahah! </div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-44125883201976111012011-10-23T20:20:00.008-04:002011-10-23T20:45:25.344-04:00Tap, tap, tap<div><div style="text-align: justify; ">Is this thing on? I am a HORRIBLE blogger! I use to blog every stinking trivial moment in Sophie's life. Now we have these huge monumental occasions and I just let them slip on by without as much as a tiny blurb on the ole blog. Something monumental like oh, starting kindergarten! Seesh! I blame facebook. It's so easy to post a quick status, a few pictures and call it a day. Sad.</div><br /><div style="text-align: justify; ">Anyway, the big day. It was big. Especially for me. I was distraught. A complete emotional mess. The day before I went to bed at 7 o'clock. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to grieve. How crazy is that!? Since she was 9 weeks old I left her every single day at day care. This was different. This was big. This was getting her going to real school. No more chatting it up with day care teachers after work. Worrying about whether or not she's "getting it." Mean kids. Nice kids. The bus. The lunch room. Peanuts. On and on and on.</div><br /><div style="text-align: justify; ">That morning I was 10 kinds of crazy. But we got up, got ready and headed out the door. And she did it. She walked into her room, sat in her seat and became a kindergartner. And we did it. We let our only one go. We held it together and walked out of the room.</div></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Eating Breakfast before the big day! </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCnvuduonoKP29xzlRYqa8F9hPmj0FPO_55pL0TXQjQZfBHYDVfPUxxDC8X-vvaEA4m5ggmociPzhrb6WsMpXqTHKTE72Twct2AfVcxeZ9I-OLbD4d_5sCX2VD4kXU7XHikCwco10vJQ/s1600/DSC_0005.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigCnvuduonoKP29xzlRYqa8F9hPmj0FPO_55pL0TXQjQZfBHYDVfPUxxDC8X-vvaEA4m5ggmociPzhrb6WsMpXqTHKTE72Twct2AfVcxeZ9I-OLbD4d_5sCX2VD4kXU7XHikCwco10vJQ/s400/DSC_0005.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666852681813497010" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">Mandatory Pictures</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNoYZv8wFfDqKVmd_smEPZEqAHByD7weBtnHcEZi4A_R2n6ZKlCv3-RpiR0qmez-qjquo82hNmZjCq6rLdmn8IUglfPsKp_4eGxM68tTKsHS8amKzjhkJT8CyAB76OwGXqWBosiuFAD_A/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNoYZv8wFfDqKVmd_smEPZEqAHByD7weBtnHcEZi4A_R2n6ZKlCv3-RpiR0qmez-qjquo82hNmZjCq6rLdmn8IUglfPsKp_4eGxM68tTKsHS8amKzjhkJT8CyAB76OwGXqWBosiuFAD_A/s400/DSC_0016.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666852546298808434" /></a><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">New Chucks</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IqP8qm_nkRZQOv_jRzt-_3eq2kkG0TRsHHtiwgQZayBkgzBA9U94T9ZIud-3Emxm5lgW1X169RzDUOE4BTBK7YesT7v_GvKlV1Wy8AQehF3ibP2jAxn-f30LrztyeFzs6vo9qEJs8R8/s1600/DSC_0030.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7IqP8qm_nkRZQOv_jRzt-_3eq2kkG0TRsHHtiwgQZayBkgzBA9U94T9ZIud-3Emxm5lgW1X169RzDUOE4BTBK7YesT7v_GvKlV1Wy8AQehF3ibP2jAxn-f30LrztyeFzs6vo9qEJs8R8/s400/DSC_0030.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666852541479494802" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Walking his little girl in :( </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxdOTEDK4bu9cmo2raJNembPReVNonQG-Thb0jvWGR0a4dHVD-8CI8xuTDlDP2-LHfqr0K44WvrEus-qi3zK915DupjGOz7et0nps6W80giWeeCaJ7z0A_20TDKcrx1ZoEFLoRThVn94/s1600/DSC_0036.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibxdOTEDK4bu9cmo2raJNembPReVNonQG-Thb0jvWGR0a4dHVD-8CI8xuTDlDP2-LHfqr0K44WvrEus-qi3zK915DupjGOz7et0nps6W80giWeeCaJ7z0A_20TDKcrx1ZoEFLoRThVn94/s400/DSC_0036.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666852176293447042" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The Scott Teays Tiger </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCmlK3c8gPZPCGDpgId_AIFQnRvQKBwxBX7zDVuoMPrXDJLA8Xt6tdXu5l4mcCexjkjHPIXeUneDuIYMxwZjFHPq4FaDoH5-HgtkXrrcn2rqv75Br_yh0cpD-wTNnDeA2GBo5WjJC47s/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCmlK3c8gPZPCGDpgId_AIFQnRvQKBwxBX7zDVuoMPrXDJLA8Xt6tdXu5l4mcCexjkjHPIXeUneDuIYMxwZjFHPq4FaDoH5-HgtkXrrcn2rqv75Br_yh0cpD-wTNnDeA2GBo5WjJC47s/s400/DSC_0038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666851804616918578" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPS33GTtFtqAkhiSGdmJ487GBM_zxjvMZ5dgJCfO9sE1WFiy-P0kznQPvT9lBk0VeuFtXg1_uTJdKac7Nd0bixCiw6hN7g0yMVURh6q4_wZGUXkgVlMR4IbNmLp11t7SDthcV_cYSt6E/s1600/DSC_0046.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPS33GTtFtqAkhiSGdmJ487GBM_zxjvMZ5dgJCfO9sE1WFiy-P0kznQPvT9lBk0VeuFtXg1_uTJdKac7Nd0bixCiw6hN7g0yMVURh6q4_wZGUXkgVlMR4IbNmLp11t7SDthcV_cYSt6E/s400/DSC_0046.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666851454987175506" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Getitng a little nervous</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLmgcudRmRytxH8adl1QJQXrHAHAXAlvSZGHYXCnEJAt8-5juyTUl4-l6wv0oS7UP9908xW5JWx-neUYcXNgC7cPmdVHuIItohcD0zmtWSiRgIcAyox2Gc-0kmrEV4pghYhK2EvvkerA/s1600/DSC_0048.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLmgcudRmRytxH8adl1QJQXrHAHAXAlvSZGHYXCnEJAt8-5juyTUl4-l6wv0oS7UP9908xW5JWx-neUYcXNgC7cPmdVHuIItohcD0zmtWSiRgIcAyox2Gc-0kmrEV4pghYhK2EvvkerA/s400/DSC_0048.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666851454094106706" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Not a good sign to start out the day!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhan8u1kLruuP6rLoUaJvDsddZIDW06e5sRxdux6OuOOYM7NbG9cTYRuiyk6mIXEup3P-B_fKNuP4jN5RCNWmJcw38WyVbpJstWJOyxNUJmb-hR1nv2UpihZ63Fsm4T6c3MsbwbIdXzyRU/s1600/DSC_0054.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhan8u1kLruuP6rLoUaJvDsddZIDW06e5sRxdux6OuOOYM7NbG9cTYRuiyk6mIXEup3P-B_fKNuP4jN5RCNWmJcw38WyVbpJstWJOyxNUJmb-hR1nv2UpihZ63Fsm4T6c3MsbwbIdXzyRU/s400/DSC_0054.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666851451632271682" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">One last look back :( </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuO4XX1xAg29hv4uMjnU5ksgCfEHW82yO3vEMN0Y4UVZKb3f4YPnNYXDMgtYS5jYnXdB5g2lx3z5lxOX_ZngBqAxmp0jLVBaP9lRvEgTS1J38qNpBPGf4dEejWaas1WYgWVA3Vn_6_X8/s1600/DSC_0061.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheuO4XX1xAg29hv4uMjnU5ksgCfEHW82yO3vEMN0Y4UVZKb3f4YPnNYXDMgtYS5jYnXdB5g2lx3z5lxOX_ZngBqAxmp0jLVBaP9lRvEgTS1J38qNpBPGf4dEejWaas1WYgWVA3Vn_6_X8/s400/DSC_0061.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666850926434844642" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">We are two months in now. Things are going good. Two yellow cards. She's made new friends. Loves her teacher and hates homework. We've got a long way to go with this school thing so I'm so glad that it has started off on the right foot :)</div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-53860444448081083862011-08-09T21:20:00.004-04:002011-08-09T21:24:28.116-04:00Learning to Fly</div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; ">It's happening. All at once this avalanche of growing up is happening and there is nothing that we can do to stop it. I find myself torn between two words. The world of wanting to hold on to your littleness and the world of beaming with pride as you grow and conquer new things. This was the summer of being 5. The start of summer came and we had a few battles. Some of the worst we have ever had. We worried about you. We couldn't figure out why our sweet Little Bit had all of the sudden become so angry and would fly into fits of rage. But we worked through it and eventually settled into a nice routine.</span></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">Things seemed to fall into place as though that was the plan all along. When one door closed and Ms. Susanna, one of your pre-k teachers at school, decided to change jobs another door open and she ended up keeping you two days a week. A nice happy medium was created. You got to be a kid for days a week and sleep in and have lazy days of summer. I can't thank her enough. The other 3 days you got to go to school and see your friends and prepare for big change that awaits you at the end of summer. Kindergarten.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In between all of this, your bottom teeth started wiggling. Not a lot but enough. Enough to know that sooner, rather than later you will loose your baby teeth. Another reminder that you are growing up. Your baby smile will change into something more grown up and permanent. Until we sink about three grand in braces, that is. I told the dentist that those your teeth would just have to wait until after kindergarten starts. I can't handle my baby going to school </span></span><i style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> the Tooth Fairy's inaugural visit</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">.</span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">Then one hot Sunday evening we were all outside. Our neighbor's daughter was visiting and her son was out riding his bike in the road and she said to you, "Sophie, I bet you can ride your bike. All you need is grass and a slope." Armed with the world's cutest cat helmet, Daddy by your side, your friend Ashlynn running behind you, me and Mary Beth sitting on the patio watching and cheering, and Carmen and Roger telling you what to do, you took off.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-indent: 0px !important; font-size:medium;">
<br /></span></div></span></div><div>
<br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqFD7YdqdMT3X3nBG7gYenodOaSU0BcmTIzMfUNv5uaMVW0wgZPW0XycDaXPoQ0A0-LjAi5QFMwgRW9ExkzuA8fWcrsYc0kP2PDszghLjScO8ge9MY_8syahmYCVll0yTv4gqVDilpbg/s1600/DSC_0002.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLqFD7YdqdMT3X3nBG7gYenodOaSU0BcmTIzMfUNv5uaMVW0wgZPW0XycDaXPoQ0A0-LjAi5QFMwgRW9ExkzuA8fWcrsYc0kP2PDszghLjScO8ge9MY_8syahmYCVll0yTv4gqVDilpbg/s400/DSC_0002.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639031468969510866" /></a>
<br /><div>And you haven't looked back.</div><div>
<br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjBeQkXhTh7wQMgP_8eOFACAiVMNWO8q3h5_HtPFpigv8dI2SRxUIJh5BMZ5yrncJ7Ox219_A4_vjv34IsukCU0N7YG4ZBTXWWMUG_TM_DiNO5UeMGTZFlStwUoXLJ94S6iyFR8Ruu2E/s1600/DSC_0003.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPjBeQkXhTh7wQMgP_8eOFACAiVMNWO8q3h5_HtPFpigv8dI2SRxUIJh5BMZ5yrncJ7Ox219_A4_vjv34IsukCU0N7YG4ZBTXWWMUG_TM_DiNO5UeMGTZFlStwUoXLJ94S6iyFR8Ruu2E/s400/DSC_0003.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639031209801498370" /></a><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; ">
<br /></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; ">I don't think we have ever been more proud of you. That night I walked past the pile of discarded training wheels in the garage. It hit me that you are checking things off your kid list left and right. I can understand why some people have more than one kid. They get to relive things over and over again. There's always another one to have a "first" time. With us, we get one go round. It's no wonder you think the the world revolves around you. And sometimes, I find myself thinking, why shouldn't it? Let it. For this short span of time, until you really grow up and discover that life sucks and you find yourself revolving around everyone else, maybe you should feel as though you are the most important thing on the planet. You are to us.</div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "> </div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; ">So in 10 days from now, when we walk you into your kindergarten classroom, lord help me. There's no going back. Everything changes from that point. Not that I think for one second that you'd turn back.</div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; ">
<br /></div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; "> </div><div style="text-indent: 0px !important; text-align: justify; ">Love Mama</div></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-34409442430587293962011-07-27T19:55:00.005-04:002011-07-27T21:00:43.608-04:00Life's a Beach<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFrRuv8Bi-y5TWPX-mxtTxzoHLKtwhjrTWns3Yl1lmV04fQdEUVKozTwEkLJubNLa49zuME-ZZWPHpAcDaFAnGG4BJwHz4K8oPSDsX0o198EUpBqsCDib_Ao9pTLk-fENYcoA5R1kDhE/s1600/DSC_0037.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZFrRuv8Bi-y5TWPX-mxtTxzoHLKtwhjrTWns3Yl1lmV04fQdEUVKozTwEkLJubNLa49zuME-ZZWPHpAcDaFAnGG4BJwHz4K8oPSDsX0o198EUpBqsCDib_Ao9pTLk-fENYcoA5R1kDhE/s400/DSC_0037.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634194833186160018" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">In no particular order, here's a few shot from our annual beach trip with the fam. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Madi and Tyler. And I know it's Madi thanks to the purple bow and earrings. :) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRwBTWFts-5nxQTF-5PaE-GPC0uJnnrkKjMH6oq-5iO9gxAPE9YYLx95Gui4ckl1fXyc_YGGZpb69vOKFcMtay-ZVZOeZMfoX3iPdNgVtOuIdlJgGe3Dk03-qCkBeyXsWlCACxhyphenhyphenvMCU/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHRwBTWFts-5nxQTF-5PaE-GPC0uJnnrkKjMH6oq-5iO9gxAPE9YYLx95Gui4ckl1fXyc_YGGZpb69vOKFcMtay-ZVZOeZMfoX3iPdNgVtOuIdlJgGe3Dk03-qCkBeyXsWlCACxhyphenhyphenvMCU/s400/DSC_0009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634186649142732354" /></a><br /><div>The whole gang attempting a pyramid. Almost a success!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7maSLUoqwf5W9L8YCBMjMn_XF067sqzctAuaNFbNi_w4WE_Ezza-kpC9SksAllcQhXfm8wm_x4-pSLHV18hobG9zqJjV6otC5P-2zB0oAhRNMWxpUQvKFyor6niVp4SAOuUTdYYNvhOc/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7maSLUoqwf5W9L8YCBMjMn_XF067sqzctAuaNFbNi_w4WE_Ezza-kpC9SksAllcQhXfm8wm_x4-pSLHV18hobG9zqJjV6otC5P-2zB0oAhRNMWxpUQvKFyor6niVp4SAOuUTdYYNvhOc/s400/DSC_0090.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634186643097201826" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1w61NpKmTGLyVlyn5cli6KNa3sJgtNqE85j33_KRB14ROhwKFJ5dGL6I8i2UE0xvPmoCDqtI5n4kGkn9CFvkodWvWoT3vKv0D2UrUHOlnWFd8t70qHlzXHNCd1E__QeJMHT53gOy6vwg/s1600/DSC_0038.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1w61NpKmTGLyVlyn5cli6KNa3sJgtNqE85j33_KRB14ROhwKFJ5dGL6I8i2UE0xvPmoCDqtI5n4kGkn9CFvkodWvWoT3vKv0D2UrUHOlnWFd8t70qHlzXHNCd1E__QeJMHT53gOy6vwg/s400/DSC_0038.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634186640139718866" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1KP7Su_O29hiZNQFO9GErtHJ2LTJnRbsVACa7yGRDXEhkcS0rOG16j8w2Q5t-vqxsYtc3EnIdrASP4rp7a2n0hTyb_6hxUdlCie9vOf_rGG-43ks04M7J4u9B0qd72-iRTx1K69YC6U/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX1KP7Su_O29hiZNQFO9GErtHJ2LTJnRbsVACa7yGRDXEhkcS0rOG16j8w2Q5t-vqxsYtc3EnIdrASP4rp7a2n0hTyb_6hxUdlCie9vOf_rGG-43ks04M7J4u9B0qd72-iRTx1K69YC6U/s400/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634185338639056850" /></a>Singing the Beib on karaoke. Funniest thing evah and I am kicking myself that I don't have it on video. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_oXXsvQK89MQdnpWnbWOyB7OYvwiURtw-Ot1VogMGpp7ZxIYZmg17L3ReDxpmafepMQ0X9l-YCA2NtlMKWKv9POxHsMF0l8Ltq_saGdOLf-itoidcUDztqZCywbbHEpQkxKwJNMSad4/s1600/232323232%257Ffp-%253B-%253Enu%253D3237%253E35-%253E-9-%253EWSNRCG%253D3495365%253B%253B833-nu0mrj.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_oXXsvQK89MQdnpWnbWOyB7OYvwiURtw-Ot1VogMGpp7ZxIYZmg17L3ReDxpmafepMQ0X9l-YCA2NtlMKWKv9POxHsMF0l8Ltq_saGdOLf-itoidcUDztqZCywbbHEpQkxKwJNMSad4/s400/232323232%257Ffp-%253B-%253Enu%253D3237%253E35-%253E-9-%253EWSNRCG%253D3495365%253B%253B833-nu0mrj.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634185332253762546" /></a><br /></div><div>Mini golf with Daddy and the boys. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImfO0ViETNCI0H_9M6BrrYfX6zCUoug8ycohw8yyOngvVBmeyhZvx2SYKgnxghu_fSWkm9f0_9nhFtpalCT3GcYtsA9VFioshspj4lWmlxqNuQ1Og2YOy4NTZkj_69dXwpYCuRxo6BCM/s1600/232323232%257Ffp-%253B-%253Enu%253D3237%253E35-%253E-9-%253EWSNRCG%253D349535-%253B3933-nu0mrj.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhImfO0ViETNCI0H_9M6BrrYfX6zCUoug8ycohw8yyOngvVBmeyhZvx2SYKgnxghu_fSWkm9f0_9nhFtpalCT3GcYtsA9VFioshspj4lWmlxqNuQ1Og2YOy4NTZkj_69dXwpYCuRxo6BCM/s400/232323232%257Ffp-%253B-%253Enu%253D3237%253E35-%253E-9-%253EWSNRCG%253D349535-%253B3933-nu0mrj.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634185326664869010" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Sand castle building. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBBABPRZfSwF49Fj2AUztOf3x-1wAbyt31c1j-ECR6S6mwHkOkuORXgEPDB5Deplu61wCTY3LeCLABO0N4EO8Bprv69MeCnLmAVj9AvU6heed3w66nmfY4USfVcTcNVAOnUxVUQ5RFBo/s400/232323232%257Ffp-%253C8%253Enu%253D3237%253E35-%253E-9-%253EWSNRCG%253D3495355%253B7433-nu0mrj.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634185323756154050" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 278px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div>He's thinking about his vacation in September, sans 7 grandkids and kids :) </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkf3SKd4TBPYAUjkr2UhG4BfqI6U-4yyn6QXMFvTf3-4Y7sDr4MxATBVOfDuznQP1l4Pxf58GU7jHcoBDvC5tkQI-x69PAMJF9u0jnhavB3uM_puVJCj2F5EFQBN2UCyH06nE118LWRI0/s400/DSC_0129_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634186650674277474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBBABPRZfSwF49Fj2AUztOf3x-1wAbyt31c1j-ECR6S6mwHkOkuORXgEPDB5Deplu61wCTY3LeCLABO0N4EO8Bprv69MeCnLmAVj9AvU6heed3w66nmfY4USfVcTcNVAOnUxVUQ5RFBo/s1600/232323232%257Ffp-%253C8%253Enu%253D3237%253E35-%253E-9-%253EWSNRCG%253D3495355%253B7433-nu0mrj.jpeg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5317927609637841577.post-53477556883685254162011-07-23T08:44:00.006-04:002011-07-23T09:14:45.562-04:00The 4th<div>Playing a little catch up here. This year we did something a little different over 4th of July week end. We hit the New River with some of our most favorite people. What it is about having a body of water around that makes things extra special?</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">These 3 were choping at the bit to jump in. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMq5RiHZnFimbv1GBKw_fSp0iqr7P78-190YJMnGuPa0hyF2o4MQc_MxHSaw3c0GTpdBthNsZByX6WGOSydDKEN74WjgAN55uIX0jXwpAbKrAQZo9xua-A5Y00wNmCP3M7mIYVSO_XNg/s1600/DSC_0008.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivMq5RiHZnFimbv1GBKw_fSp0iqr7P78-190YJMnGuPa0hyF2o4MQc_MxHSaw3c0GTpdBthNsZByX6WGOSydDKEN74WjgAN55uIX0jXwpAbKrAQZo9xua-A5Y00wNmCP3M7mIYVSO_XNg/s400/DSC_0008.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530796211634066" /></a><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">This one could hardly take the wait. River swimming is something new for her!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oFBT4ROXDGjSKgaraVdkFm04fY9y0GR8rv0y1AC4AZB1Ul9zvI-_hQAVvi33TR7V_nj4Sq2n_GsXzORFp_Ib_nwB4e-ZaUGEEVPlQx0RXb_qGtepBjSgC7FX9i5ZsaRfAUkmnGaM-D8/s1600/DSC_0009.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2oFBT4ROXDGjSKgaraVdkFm04fY9y0GR8rv0y1AC4AZB1Ul9zvI-_hQAVvi33TR7V_nj4Sq2n_GsXzORFp_Ib_nwB4e-ZaUGEEVPlQx0RXb_qGtepBjSgC7FX9i5ZsaRfAUkmnGaM-D8/s400/DSC_0009.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530794967475170" /></a><br /></div><div>They were patiently waiting on this:</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjdgnsQwxJswnhU22qdEWgyb0lK4pt-6zUxjHm3PWYJ0iC8dZLGOd4cy566GElYL_v_TiHUzS12aEUxHtDbmvZxf9Ya-jLL8eR6AucofLEth9LoB7q4ZdoeTew9ilzwcHoiDCc_Iki9Q/s1600/DSC_0014.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQjdgnsQwxJswnhU22qdEWgyb0lK4pt-6zUxjHm3PWYJ0iC8dZLGOd4cy566GElYL_v_TiHUzS12aEUxHtDbmvZxf9Ya-jLL8eR6AucofLEth9LoB7q4ZdoeTew9ilzwcHoiDCc_Iki9Q/s400/DSC_0014.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530786264928562" /></a><div style="text-align: justify;">Inflatable island. So so fun! And I have to admit to my self that this inflatable island would be so so fun without the kiddos too. A good book, margrita and an inflatable island all day long would = awesomeness. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">There was lots o food too. Allow me to present the <a href="http://thepioneerwoman.com/cooking/2007/06/fourth_of_july_/">Pioneer Woman's Flag Cak</a>e. The thing probably weighs 10 pounds but it is 10 pounds of deliciousness! If you make it, prepare to feed an army and eat on it for 2-3 days. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScIavK1KrB6omlescB1_b6KowpIkz5Bd_Yix1kTBlk1OgcZ1n3UYmV1j7C2ac2wARLyWwPwRpBwyS5KnqRZr_zj2m_UGSJ9RWH8IXHDV-gE2CP0aX9vEIjZAzXPyrV30Vt_nQNSGYUH4/s1600/DSC_0027.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgScIavK1KrB6omlescB1_b6KowpIkz5Bd_Yix1kTBlk1OgcZ1n3UYmV1j7C2ac2wARLyWwPwRpBwyS5KnqRZr_zj2m_UGSJ9RWH8IXHDV-gE2CP0aX9vEIjZAzXPyrV30Vt_nQNSGYUH4/s400/DSC_0027.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530245886587074" /></a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I think he was a fan :)<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQU2ZqSMkdDj5Jv1fkdbHZfPQDRj6qRBD1R4CsQg9YIODo-qmBz6dbfOIfhzw52nODpearWXZVDxMBjrldXVk-hYZmPT_wcGEhcDjTXCK6sfxtcad_5KmYqSTZBBkLsmaCM5w3wjawqg/s1600/DSC_0028.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQU2ZqSMkdDj5Jv1fkdbHZfPQDRj6qRBD1R4CsQg9YIODo-qmBz6dbfOIfhzw52nODpearWXZVDxMBjrldXVk-hYZmPT_wcGEhcDjTXCK6sfxtcad_5KmYqSTZBBkLsmaCM5w3wjawqg/s400/DSC_0028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530242654270722" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5UI7tjiQw43yV1sBNdGKYrNlRW7MNaxF5mPjI94-mmcVibjW0y-NlFgPLNLFjf5yWJnO5g_pLvEyJo2XbeFGJIgonX_gD15e0FVuoRt5iM-lWfBMDPA2umPenlzzuO1Wckrp6cpBnU8/s1600/DSC_0024.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ5UI7tjiQw43yV1sBNdGKYrNlRW7MNaxF5mPjI94-mmcVibjW0y-NlFgPLNLFjf5yWJnO5g_pLvEyJo2XbeFGJIgonX_gD15e0FVuoRt5iM-lWfBMDPA2umPenlzzuO1Wckrp6cpBnU8/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632530237565141538" /></a><br /></div><div>His first trip to the river trip too!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKW-lwwG8CyeMdU6jz7UoJrbu6qm61l4ZDmqEU5MnZqpeq-FHhXhKORd-TacUcte9drqrBFO4v7ZBARvStwRaYWmBQD4Vo3b_TqBszeQIQcIQKiZ3SvPrklHRmyxn9nLfh71eU6aYT80/s1600/DSC_0020.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 294px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheKW-lwwG8CyeMdU6jz7UoJrbu6qm61l4ZDmqEU5MnZqpeq-FHhXhKORd-TacUcte9drqrBFO4v7ZBARvStwRaYWmBQD4Vo3b_TqBszeQIQcIQKiZ3SvPrklHRmyxn9nLfh71eU6aYT80/s400/DSC_0020.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632529717542948850" /></a><br /></div><div>We also did a little of this.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW6yKRQjyQ1DgGvsS6W_K7F4zH33jgbns5lJd4bzlTo93ZFxxP1Iz9be-_Wg3PT6Kx-WWRRps2MYDvWhOu_TNa16FV7cDysMeSDl4cfvlKay1J2cPvvTiMAMMsQdn0VACM8MKVKP6Kb0/s1600/DSC_0051.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW6yKRQjyQ1DgGvsS6W_K7F4zH33jgbns5lJd4bzlTo93ZFxxP1Iz9be-_Wg3PT6Kx-WWRRps2MYDvWhOu_TNa16FV7cDysMeSDl4cfvlKay1J2cPvvTiMAMMsQdn0VACM8MKVKP6Kb0/s400/DSC_0051.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632529712077785794" /></a>But we didn't catch anything. However, Soph announced to everyone that Mike did manage to catch a snag.Wasn't even trying to be a smart ass when she said it, ha!</div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KoWjRA5P_YrTLNhpDhasRRMaCU23RwHH_bxEuMLwnHomG9v3JkctLtPu2A1ljsbL2RXYn83oKCwTBsItLkRrd0k3VdBnOeD6pXyaepH43ip-ii0q_7Xtxkut9rLV40sk1__nWYyc_4Q/s1600/DSC_0031.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3KoWjRA5P_YrTLNhpDhasRRMaCU23RwHH_bxEuMLwnHomG9v3JkctLtPu2A1ljsbL2RXYn83oKCwTBsItLkRrd0k3VdBnOeD6pXyaepH43ip-ii0q_7Xtxkut9rLV40sk1__nWYyc_4Q/s400/DSC_0031.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632529708298538898" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We packed up in the car on Sunday and had an early dinner at my favorite, <a href="http://www.piesandpints.net/locations/fayetteville-wv">Pies and Pints</a>. Complete with a playground and the most delicious pizza, it pretty much rocks. </div><div><br /></div><div>Last stop was <a href="http://www.babcocksp.com/">Babcock State Park</a>. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43h0mv2qiFRClsV43f7dq2ptKXdXsMKnrmUl1seeJTeqV6jGgNZGr7J-8XKG6Vlz5y6DWhYYRBsns3qHAYKJxA6rWupmbE3L5xE4rizYoxrrjfOQzJFPW7bsJTu8cTey2pX1-M2cNWBY/s1600/DSC_0059.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj43h0mv2qiFRClsV43f7dq2ptKXdXsMKnrmUl1seeJTeqV6jGgNZGr7J-8XKG6Vlz5y6DWhYYRBsns3qHAYKJxA6rWupmbE3L5xE4rizYoxrrjfOQzJFPW7bsJTu8cTey2pX1-M2cNWBY/s400/DSC_0059.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632529038454344866" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlYUny1ikI_9xQZzbBemN9AT6t2tCmyudHq-sRaBT9XSwhv-fbwib1Wk30SUo_UGoXSJKKq5zMY030TA7at32yKmcuEoJFa7t7H1moe3AgcJwSyB9PsMJHqL7UCN37uQkv9dKhcjZXPI/s1600/DSC_0069.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvlYUny1ikI_9xQZzbBemN9AT6t2tCmyudHq-sRaBT9XSwhv-fbwib1Wk30SUo_UGoXSJKKq5zMY030TA7at32yKmcuEoJFa7t7H1moe3AgcJwSyB9PsMJHqL7UCN37uQkv9dKhcjZXPI/s400/DSC_0069.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632529037572023106" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The Captain </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkuoWmlLbBzSkUeYxmuJ2ba0nl3YlxGoaeF-TxSPcMMJxnAgQwy3BIFOCQzC3xk7g9YmIl4tX53vdkePG63mxFDqhyphenhyphenQ9aCRSvHjRCrReH2Q4YSpuWvMruZCREc_dhztZvrPxghsYx9_0/s1600/DSC_0063.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 265px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjkuoWmlLbBzSkUeYxmuJ2ba0nl3YlxGoaeF-TxSPcMMJxnAgQwy3BIFOCQzC3xk7g9YmIl4tX53vdkePG63mxFDqhyphenhyphenQ9aCRSvHjRCrReH2Q4YSpuWvMruZCREc_dhztZvrPxghsYx9_0/s400/DSC_0063.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632528409265411266" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphZrXW_7eBy_h8RBPjma4IBc1yOkDSPWL9HfkREz_DsT-GXTO_UqbtlfFs69Nlt8vCdHJsERIo19-lJSxVQZupfFYtvGwvbG1M6gI7NPEcgSVVg5Kd8vV0Cd_8fl5dOgT0Qk2iOnHS3Y/s1600/DSC_0057.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiphZrXW_7eBy_h8RBPjma4IBc1yOkDSPWL9HfkREz_DsT-GXTO_UqbtlfFs69Nlt8vCdHJsERIo19-lJSxVQZupfFYtvGwvbG1M6gI7NPEcgSVVg5Kd8vV0Cd_8fl5dOgT0Qk2iOnHS3Y/s400/DSC_0057.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632528401432852946" /></a><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">We ended the evening with our very own firework show over the river. By far the BEST little private show evah. Thank you Mike and Mary Beth for sharing the Camp with us. We had a blast (we'll just forget the part about Little Bit screaming that she would walk home when it was bed time :>)</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Kimberlyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17996535157755174991noreply@blogger.com0