tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89734323837072259172024-02-20T13:24:29.388-06:00Best Blog EverActually probably the worst blog ever, but I'll do what I canDenisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.comBlogger291125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-65269658651610797112011-05-25T21:45:00.033-05:002011-05-28T11:04:06.439-05:00Our May 22 in Joplin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe59qyACfgFJmOrKP8ezMywrFOg-mlWtc_jZUxRZ-1AXtqc3i4IJZDpZEOVuI2IxVvsbDtoVzI4Ph1kvTmQYvw17t8bmZ1onqRC_dMJ32ZIF2N6wm7d1uvbnunrVxD-ilCahzBmOgiBcDp/s1600/lexjoejack.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe59qyACfgFJmOrKP8ezMywrFOg-mlWtc_jZUxRZ-1AXtqc3i4IJZDpZEOVuI2IxVvsbDtoVzI4Ph1kvTmQYvw17t8bmZ1onqRC_dMJ32ZIF2N6wm7d1uvbnunrVxD-ilCahzBmOgiBcDp/s320/lexjoejack.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611752667588133922" border="0" /></a>Almost a week has passed since my family, Jaime and I found ourselves stuck on the literal edge of the deadly Joplin tornado. Jaime's ready to stop talking about it, and suppose I am too. But I decided that I wanted to gather all the pictures and video from that day and to create an archive of what happened, exactly, while I still remember. (Though I'm sure it'll be hard to forget.)<br /><br />I'm hoping it'll serve as a record of the event for me, as an explanation for those who might be interested and as something that Lexi can look back on once she's old enough to understand what actually happened. At the moment, she doesn't appear to, and for that I'm grateful.<br /><br />May 22 got off to a stressful start. Mom, my sister Annie and I rushed the kids the 25 miles from Carthage, where my parents live, to <a href="http://springhouseevents.blogspot.com/">Springhouse Gardens</a>, where my cousin on my mom's side, Taylor Anne, was supposed to get married at 6 p.m. Lexi, 6, was the flower girl. My nephews Joe, 7, and Jack, 5, were the ring bearers.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilAC1_3rtOa7KnKyA6j-AlvmAug_ybaCcDk-MWtBR9efMJe4sxSqUAVqsOu-xUVg3izHKDBwmbH-UuKGuI4SrbqDhl0tw3hv4Xgcwcli961iDXjgryX8650jP2EaXEi6rgVCumytmH8eLo/s1600/taylorbride.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilAC1_3rtOa7KnKyA6j-AlvmAug_ybaCcDk-MWtBR9efMJe4sxSqUAVqsOu-xUVg3izHKDBwmbH-UuKGuI4SrbqDhl0tw3hv4Xgcwcli961iDXjgryX8650jP2EaXEi6rgVCumytmH8eLo/s320/taylorbride.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611752303744982530" border="0" /></a><br />But when we arrived, Taylor and Annie started looking at the weather forecast, and it wasn't good.<br /><br />Storms were due to arrive exactly when the wedding was starting. Taylor made the bold decision to move the wedding forward four hours to 2 p.m., which sent those of us at the rehearsal scrambling.<br /><br />Mom and I rushed back to Carthage to change and to get the kids fed and in their wedding clothes. Annie, Joe and Jack's mom, stayed at the venue to help put the wedding together quickly.<br /><br />The wedding was awesome. Jaime had agreed to be the photographer, and she arrived in town just in time. Taylor and Steve were married by 3:30 p.m., and she and her friends <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FvBPiskidsY">danced and danced.</a><br /><br />At 5-ish, Lexi overheard my dad say that Joplin was under a tornado watch. Ever since hail broke the windows out of our house a couple of years ago, Lexi has had a lot of weather anxiety. She got pretty upset and begged to go back to Grammy's house, which was 25 miles northeast of the wedding venue.<br /><br />I decided we would go. Jaime, who'd just shot the newlyweds loading into their getaway car, said she'd follow me back to Carthage.<br /><br />We left the venue and it was only sprinkling. The sky didn't look bad, so I figured we'd make it back without a problem. Then, Travis, who was watching radar back in Wichita, started sending me text messages.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0b460n9mjqU1Wd-keVuCSg-HzZKqBXNEXzG-sopWCCCHlSM3z13qvLPBRwVrEEz-XVWU7C2dQEVW6X2uXdt-R3cnRY_1tXzx6YZbVGo8XP1slMjUbA5wx8JzR1dLTldEPf6PzKhW9cxNt/s1600/travis_text.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 233px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0b460n9mjqU1Wd-keVuCSg-HzZKqBXNEXzG-sopWCCCHlSM3z13qvLPBRwVrEEz-XVWU7C2dQEVW6X2uXdt-R3cnRY_1tXzx6YZbVGo8XP1slMjUbA5wx8JzR1dLTldEPf6PzKhW9cxNt/s320/travis_text.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610865860083566594" border="0" /></a><br />In my frenzy to get out of there, I hadn't noticed the tornado warning text. I'd only seen the one about hail. We'd driven about five miles toward Joplin, and thinking the only threat was hail (and reliving images of smashed Delano cars and windows) I decided I'd better find something to park underneath and wait it out. At that same moment, I heard a loud clunk on the top of my car which I thought was hail but now realize was probably debris.<br /><br />I turned onto McLelland and found a carport in a cluster of medical offices. Jaime pulled up beside me and I explained my plan. She drove around the corner and found another carport.<br /><br />Not long after, I realized we were in trouble. Travis was frantically demanding that I head south, but I was in an unfamiliar place, and I had no idea which way south was. I hung up and called Jaime, telling her we needed to get out of there<br /><br />But it was too late. The sirens began to wail and I noticed the rain moving completely horizontally in a way I'd never seen before. Panicked, I left my carport, pulled up behind Jaime, got out, grabbed Lexi in her flower girl dress from the back seat, and told Jaime that we couldn't stay in our cars during a tornado. That's a tornado rule hammered into Kansans' brains from birth. I now realize getting out of the cars was probably not a great idea. But I also now realize that, stuck in that moment with no time to act, there were no good ideas left.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JdM2w9K-p_0P_K8FJ8kziDSGy_pvKiPQlr5Ayjxm_GbBNPoc5BwsItFOq0pR2LUkGhcMSJMG2qkRGwo_2nw0dpwTjvBekSgbY9g_SF-NCSrLLokA3jj_256dmZpTD9N680Sz34LoYvLQ/s1600/shelter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4JdM2w9K-p_0P_K8FJ8kziDSGy_pvKiPQlr5Ayjxm_GbBNPoc5BwsItFOq0pR2LUkGhcMSJMG2qkRGwo_2nw0dpwTjvBekSgbY9g_SF-NCSrLLokA3jj_256dmZpTD9N680Sz34LoYvLQ/s320/shelter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611758108645463058" border="0" /></a>The wind started to blow so violently, it almost knocked us over, thwarting a brief idea Jaime and I had to throw a metal bench through the glass at the medical office so we could get inside. We dropped down in a spot along some rocky landscaping against the building and wrapped our arms around each other with Lexi completely covered in between us.<br /><br />We were being pelted with rain. The spot we sat was just under the B in the picture above. I remember thinking that we shouldn't stay between the building and Jaime's car in case the wind blew the car against us. I now realize that if the wind had blown the car against us, that would have been the least of our problems.<br /><br />It didn't take long for me to realize that we were in the tornado. As we huddled together, I watched two giant power poles fall over into the parking lot just in front of us. I watched the roof of the carport I had been under just minutes before lift up and blow away. A blue dumpster started skittering across the parking lot toward us as though it were on wheels.<br /><br />Lexi wasn't crying, just asking a million frantic questions a minute. "What's happening mommy?" "Is this a tornado?" "When will this be over?" "Are we going to die?" I can't remember what if anything I said to her. I remember Jaime saying she was scared, over and over. I remember thinking, "This cannot be happening right now." It was all so surreal, like watching a movie. I wondered a couple of times if we were going to make it. Jaime told me later that she did, too.<br /><br />After about a minute, I could feel the intensity lessening. The wind calmed and the rain picked up. A bolt of lighting struck so closely, we felt the electricity. We sat there, shivering against the building, for probably another 10 minutes, trying to decide what to do. We were freezing and confused but also incredibly relieved. Maybe even oddly giddy. At one point, I remember, I ridiculously tried to dial 911 on my soaking wet iPhone. Of course there was no service. And even if there had been, 911 had much bigger problems than three wet and scared Kansans who'd survived without a scratch.<br /><br />Finally, we decided to get back in the car. Afraid that the power lines would have filled the water in the parking lot with electricity, Jaime stretched her long legs from the rocks to her car door then pulled it closer to us. I put the soaking wet flower girl in the backseat, then got in the passenger's seat.<br /><br />From where we sat, we could see the top of St. John's hospital, and we could see that it was shredded. Things were silent around us for 10 or 15 minutes. Then, we started noticing headlights of cars driving around and around the edge of the hospital. People started driving into the parking lot where we were sitting, ignoring us and desperately searching for an alternative route into the hospital. Several just drove over the grass and curbs in their trucks, making their own path. At one point, we saw three young people in hospital gowns walk in front of our car. We later realized they were walking from St. John's, which was in front of us, to Freeman Hospital, which was directly behind us and hadn't been hit. But at the moment, it was very confusing.<br /><br />After we got in the car, Jaime's phone rang. It was Travis. It'd been 15 minutes since I'd hung up on him, and he was sitting in his apartment, helplessly watching the destruction on television, not being able to reach us. While we were on the phone with him, my mom got through to Jaime's phone. She insisted that we stay put. She and dad were on their way to save us from the power lines. We lost her before we could tell her exactly where we were.<br /><br />For the next hour, we stayed put, partially because mom had been so insistent and partially because we had no idea what we should do and were still in too much shock to make any decisions. Plus, a young man in a pickup truck who drove past us told us that the highway between Joplin and Carthage was covered in overturned semis and warned us we'd never make it back.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiKTrbpihUA0sjDmdeFTMaKUyF7Bc3dyf5Jac9ffzW1fFk_oH8TakV-Fo4EtZa7zMo5beIu7Ps-5F3AnDeqezmXsdwI6hc0NHMRKQI7g4NYXHBJpc3VzgXyUfwkyWvrKMsYqwYNIcMzhx/s1600/joplinstjohns.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 183px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUiKTrbpihUA0sjDmdeFTMaKUyF7Bc3dyf5Jac9ffzW1fFk_oH8TakV-Fo4EtZa7zMo5beIu7Ps-5F3AnDeqezmXsdwI6hc0NHMRKQI7g4NYXHBJpc3VzgXyUfwkyWvrKMsYqwYNIcMzhx/s320/joplinstjohns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611764525261288578" border="0" /></a><br />Cell phone service was in and out. When the water went down, Jaime got out and changed clothes and got her cameras out. We started getting text messages from Brian Corn, the Eagle's photo editor. He let us know where we were and what had happened and he urged Jaime to get whatever pictures she could. She and I talked and realized we were fine, the threat was gone and that she was on the very edge of a huge news event that likely no other media would be able to get to for a while. She hiked down a ways and shot the picture of St. John's that media outlets around the world used for much of the evening, until more dramatic and awful pictures started streaming out of Joplin.<br /><br />Here's a montage Jaime put together of moments before and after our experience. In the first clip, my headlights are visible under the carport in the distance. The roof of that carport, as you'll see in later before and after shots, is the one I watched blow away five minutes later. The powerlines I drive under are the ones I watched fall. The flashes of light in the background are transformers exploding.<br /><br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/v9KJMmjGc50" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="289" width="500"></iframe><br /><br />It was getting close to 7 p.m. and Jaime and I knew there wasn't a whole lot of daylight left. We were still trying to obey my mother, who we couldn't reach, but we knew we needed to start moving. We decided Jaime would take 30 minutes and walk down into the thick of it to take some pictures. She was getting out of the car to go when Brian texted and said the hospital might explode and that we should get out of there. That's all we needed to hear. I got Lexi in my car and Jaime and I both backed out and headed back for 32nd street, which borders Freeman hospital.<br /><br />As we pulled out, a lady in a pickup truck pulled in beside us crying. I asked her if she was okay and she said that her husband was a patient at St. John's and she was trying to get to him.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_hUjCIe2FE2SXyIzdGf6MDjVZ-ujQdHbOW6Hg7UXsmQZ1W3HN70AZuEUQ83Ofg9yLo_yzdYOiFnrqZo8pE9EGFI2A1qI8m2YQ_0_1SaYu_4gk7FwE8uLYkNMkV8pC6rMEiQdIOyYtW_4/s1600/joplinetruck.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 226px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_hUjCIe2FE2SXyIzdGf6MDjVZ-ujQdHbOW6Hg7UXsmQZ1W3HN70AZuEUQ83Ofg9yLo_yzdYOiFnrqZo8pE9EGFI2A1qI8m2YQ_0_1SaYu_4gk7FwE8uLYkNMkV8pC6rMEiQdIOyYtW_4/s320/joplinetruck.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611767813672487378" border="0" /></a>We drove away, and I could see Jaime behind me with her camera out the window shooting images of the awful things we were seeing -- mass confusion, citizens directing traffic, people violently honking at each other trying to get through, twisted and broken signs and buildings. We were still on the edge of the damage. The worst thing we saw were pickup trucks driving past with feet sticking out of the ends of the beds.<br /><br />Once we got moving, we found that our path back to Carthage was fairly clear. We pulled over on the highway once so that Jaime could shoot a picture of one of the several overturned semis along the side of the road.<br /><br />As we got further away from Joplin, our cell service improved. I finally reached my mom, who told me she and my dad had spent the last hour looking for us everywhere. They were headed back to Carthage, too.<br /><br />Mom and dad had left the wedding about 10 or 15 minutes after we had (the wedding venue was untouched.) They drove into Joplin just as everything had ended and encountered downed power lines everywhere. My sister and her boys were following my parents in her car, but when my sister saw the power lines, she turned around and went the other way. I later learned that her cell phone was in my purse the whole time. Annie later told us she took shelter in a stranger's house, but we couldn't reach her. My mom was panicked when she and dad arrived back at the house. "I just turned around and she was gone," she kept saying, over and over. After about 20 minutes, though, Annie's car came around the corner. We had a very happy reunion in the driveway, and Annie informed us she was getting the hell out of town. She left to go back to Kansas City about a half hour later.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsoglASh3z3J0BiSx3gCt42bpBxTDpP5_8qD_pP8eSdbcMIXM3epf5q71PMAqKIJpU2UH01gccgyRc2M7MniWAGTo1rA5lsZu2xDM43S93692ajhO24S0CUHt6epwLFu3qxwSxQIFmvpc/s1600/jaimeoncnn.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbsoglASh3z3J0BiSx3gCt42bpBxTDpP5_8qD_pP8eSdbcMIXM3epf5q71PMAqKIJpU2UH01gccgyRc2M7MniWAGTo1rA5lsZu2xDM43S93692ajhO24S0CUHt6epwLFu3qxwSxQIFmvpc/s320/jaimeoncnn.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611776844849965810" border="0" /></a>The next few hours were insane. Jaime sent her pictures back to the Eagle in from my mom's kitchen table. Travis tweeted a link to one as soon as it went on Kansas.com, and in no time, the Eagle was getting calls from major news networks requesting interviews with Jaime. She was on the phone with CNN Sunday night, as they showed her pictures. She did a live on-air interview with CNN on Monday morning when she returned to Joplin to take some more pictures. She also was on FOX News.<br /><br />I called Nick, who was on vacation in England (and asleep) and left him a message telling him what happened and that Lexi was okay. I then returned a call to my colleague Beccy Tanner back at the Eagle, and she <a href="http://www.kansas.com/2011/05/22/1860122/eagle-reporter-photographer-ride.html#storylink=misearch">wrote a story</a> about our experience. In the following hours, we found out that everyone from the wedding was fine, amazingly, even though everyone was leaving the wedding when the storm hit. The groom's 15 or so relatives visiting from Seattle, no doubt, are still traumatized.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkB7lHOfI1LxBpRpAzWMq4BydTox-XYZw3PuS2cDbtFxtz9wi8NjcLhPA7fHQo7FZ1idV3ZQK2iwo8Dv9cBWhNFzLPWoFwquxUc4c2znFCKTSFYCI-CtyfTlIZ1VGKU335b_qEM4XZiCeK/s1600/246980_658657313922_62103821_34602699_4853545_n.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkB7lHOfI1LxBpRpAzWMq4BydTox-XYZw3PuS2cDbtFxtz9wi8NjcLhPA7fHQo7FZ1idV3ZQK2iwo8Dv9cBWhNFzLPWoFwquxUc4c2znFCKTSFYCI-CtyfTlIZ1VGKU335b_qEM4XZiCeK/s320/246980_658657313922_62103821_34602699_4853545_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611771695699519634" border="0" /></a>My cousin Kendra, who is my dad's brother's daughter, was at home, and her house in Joplin was in the path of the tornado. She and her husband and two children rode out the storm in their laundry room. They are all fine, but the roof of her house is gone, as are all her windows. She has an amazing collection of pictures, including one of a blue X on her front door (apparently, that's the color X you want) and of two-by-fours stabbed through her siding. She and her husband have rented an apartment back in Joplin while the insurance company decides what to do about her house.<br /><br />When we got back home on Monday evening, I sat down and tried to figure out exactly where we'd been, how close we'd been.<br /><br />Jaime, who at this point was completely emotionally fried, reluctantly agreed to send me these before and after shots of the view from where we sat. In the first one, you see my headlights, the carport over my head, the powerlines, the dumpster. In the second shot, you see that all those things are gone.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6_YNwlXc-ABnICocBzeOWSYypZKBZLrZxSjW_0JfibBY_zUXFdOHl3mk0AznTM5aTj6KbG8ZJr1J_GKXNdXq0qki78ol0dqjin0hm8Q7kecREeeLUL0oyYtMZt5lbpGsB1FGqwiGerPV/s1600/joplinbefore.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 169px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh6_YNwlXc-ABnICocBzeOWSYypZKBZLrZxSjW_0JfibBY_zUXFdOHl3mk0AznTM5aTj6KbG8ZJr1J_GKXNdXq0qki78ol0dqjin0hm8Q7kecREeeLUL0oyYtMZt5lbpGsB1FGqwiGerPV/s320/joplinbefore.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611773280722476194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuL6XgUAQ4agmnRAljPc536ZdXVPeWauku9Sai5ad7fcrdkWKgJaxodvfaGeRf-1bH_uDoggxcjwXAsS2g7UvyUPcgPDvChkGwzxmMxogGDWDjjIKYnRYZ0y58e26hKTltFFe7pBbbODS/s1600/joplinafter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 171px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVuL6XgUAQ4agmnRAljPc536ZdXVPeWauku9Sai5ad7fcrdkWKgJaxodvfaGeRf-1bH_uDoggxcjwXAsS2g7UvyUPcgPDvChkGwzxmMxogGDWDjjIKYnRYZ0y58e26hKTltFFe7pBbbODS/s320/joplinafter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611773399546944050" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The map below shows where we were in relationship to the path of the storm. When the sirens sounded, it was already on top of us. We were at McLelland and 32nd street, which<br />appears to be about where the storm formed and, mercifully, moved away from us.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0drgqVmtKRAcodLrWyAQSW8JjYQOscVYCUClrFtn8l1NZO-Tn2qqKu2g_b8vT4sSjwy_6qMnxgRKVoW3AARUCnK8gM2tyIO_YmFWiJPAnM_dU1ZrogcS8OmilFZxWqpgVCKCvN-lPFR-/s1600/map.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 195px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit0drgqVmtKRAcodLrWyAQSW8JjYQOscVYCUClrFtn8l1NZO-Tn2qqKu2g_b8vT4sSjwy_6qMnxgRKVoW3AARUCnK8gM2tyIO_YmFWiJPAnM_dU1ZrogcS8OmilFZxWqpgVCKCvN-lPFR-/s320/map.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611775872487287378" border="0" /></a>The days since the storm have been surreal. I think about it all the time, and I have to stop myself from reading constantly about the aftermath.<br /><br />I have so many feelings. I'm overcome with what ifs. I see the horrible things that happened to people in Joplin during the exact moments that the three of us sat against that building, soaking wet and so happy we'd survived. I feel stupid that I didn't turn the radio on and that I didn't get us into a building when we still had a chance. I drove right past a McDonald's that survived the storm fine, but I thought I was just hiding from hail. I also feel guilty that I got Lexi out of the car and in the elements during a tornado. And I feel even guiltier thinking so much about my experience, when compared to what other people in Joplin went through, my experience was absolutely nothing.<br /><br />I also feel sad for Joplin, the town where my mother was born and raised and where I spent a good portion of my childhood holidays and summers. Amazingly, so far, mom hasn't personally known any of the victims. My cousin, Taylor, called me on Monday and said that she's devastated that she's lost the town she grew up in. The anniversary of her beautiful wedding in Joplin, May 22, 2011, will also go down on record as the most horrible day in Joplin history.<br /><br />I was encouraged by a friend who's a counselor to have Lexi draw a picture of our experience, from her perspective. Lexi's quite an artist, and I think her interpretation sums it all up perfectly.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bWpotEoCZ8iFRyDFx7YNw0TFeTHV2A5mLVYiG0KK1qwQ1SnSRBcZkDhDFvuIBzLc3Q1kszWRnrJ9uSG1X74VDHfRXj5M8PL2FmupfVAZRlntR5Sw2iNZkpX5H67ccnGDR273G7uqHlJs/s1600/lexiart.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7bWpotEoCZ8iFRyDFx7YNw0TFeTHV2A5mLVYiG0KK1qwQ1SnSRBcZkDhDFvuIBzLc3Q1kszWRnrJ9uSG1X74VDHfRXj5M8PL2FmupfVAZRlntR5Sw2iNZkpX5H67ccnGDR273G7uqHlJs/s320/lexiart.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611779167942067474" border="0" /></a>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com182tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-54918601043089515082010-02-24T19:05:00.001-06:002010-02-24T19:06:52.036-06:00Lil'Ro<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hPsRv2a6E6q_qKw-0Rylnkk68g839QjHOgr0OfhItTLzHigSvtm4fflczDNRqWeTonIC_YXy5UsUTFWjdYs13cfWAKVgISrUD5LSr9wsQ9CEITqyAK1z3GbRqshCDJ74PNisTXrXEC05/s1600-h/IMG_3589.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9hPsRv2a6E6q_qKw-0Rylnkk68g839QjHOgr0OfhItTLzHigSvtm4fflczDNRqWeTonIC_YXy5UsUTFWjdYs13cfWAKVgISrUD5LSr9wsQ9CEITqyAK1z3GbRqshCDJ74PNisTXrXEC05/s320/IMG_3589.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5441981094204557906" border="0" /></a>Jaime the showoff is not the only one who can take good pics of Lil'Ro. This one's mine-all-mine.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-33081932065225699042010-02-15T16:41:00.002-06:002010-02-15T16:45:28.043-06:00The photo editor liked this one<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GhyphenhypheniQKDiKXkSHMX0hXXAjl9fE3dsIPO8DyIgijDrsVTHlCT26iy0XhVmn7sLBW8YyubcRuHbIxpWFF0yrUSs41GobS8KTtPnRUtfjsWLn_GKWypKLcw8kzzwKTxaGiFr_mr_kVnvRVtY/s1600-h/froz.jpg+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9GhyphenhypheniQKDiKXkSHMX0hXXAjl9fE3dsIPO8DyIgijDrsVTHlCT26iy0XhVmn7sLBW8YyubcRuHbIxpWFF0yrUSs41GobS8KTtPnRUtfjsWLn_GKWypKLcw8kzzwKTxaGiFr_mr_kVnvRVtY/s320/froz.jpg+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438604105673059426" border="0" /></a><br />I've been toying with the idea of doing a photo-a-day, sorta like Jaime and Lori, but I do so hate to be a follower. I'll keep toying, probably, until it becomes only a six-month commitment (sometime in June?) then get started.<br /><br />But in the meantime, I thought I'd post this one, which I was sort of proud of and even prouder of when photo ed Brian Corn said he was proud of it. It's for a story I'm doing Friday about some new frozen yogurt shops in town. It will run in black and white in the paper, which is a culinary crime.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-47832444990908145502009-09-22T13:41:00.001-05:002009-09-22T13:42:58.726-05:00Big fun on the Ferris WheelThe highlight of our trip to the fair on Sunday.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Xvup2_EpcZc&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Xvup2_EpcZc&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-49978529334756920732009-09-13T15:25:00.012-05:002009-09-13T15:42:39.152-05:00Goin' back to CaliI'd like to. Soon. Here are some photos from our recent trip, a bachelorette party of sorts for Jaime.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAtBm41QpvSycQQT5NOn5AGNYvsxjG91gRe_Pds3HQ7F_QhoQWgx4JcMrcEcktaTkTyxz8kwD7XKfnRXhdEP-3vW5qcvlPfSyGIKg_k4m1MjlkcuD8WKgCxBmcX6SQeAeTJRLSALf6QWQP/s1600-h/laproseco.jpg+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAtBm41QpvSycQQT5NOn5AGNYvsxjG91gRe_Pds3HQ7F_QhoQWgx4JcMrcEcktaTkTyxz8kwD7XKfnRXhdEP-3vW5qcvlPfSyGIKg_k4m1MjlkcuD8WKgCxBmcX6SQeAeTJRLSALf6QWQP/s320/laproseco.jpg+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381052026611577186" border="0" /></a>We started the trip off right with some proseco by the pool. I'm in favor of any state where it's 78 and sunny all the time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d5dcxtN5yXsDmI2fTNOxRso-aFKA9ERSKggQxb_PmNZIKYkN__6TTZNsW_-mi6LTwNgSQBQ8xM_zDQWurGAUB9qGNBYn4e8tvZYo4MDD9zIgFvMAa4R84unm7EK4aF1LM_udttMvVjqs/s1600-h/labalconyview.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9d5dcxtN5yXsDmI2fTNOxRso-aFKA9ERSKggQxb_PmNZIKYkN__6TTZNsW_-mi6LTwNgSQBQ8xM_zDQWurGAUB9qGNBYn4e8tvZYo4MDD9zIgFvMAa4R84unm7EK4aF1LM_udttMvVjqs/s320/labalconyview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051945612996018" border="0" /></a>Jaime and I on our hotel balcony.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZhemR98Pl98qs1EDi7k8YCX0skYEktnEP-WXOYCtu1KWPmnY84xAW8KMGc4o9asd18N9Aq0RAuOoVxJXoOz-8lpg6VZJN7PoN6ZOURXM7mWSzZXpOzFYkR60MDpLTaSe9tWOV6FwBvFQ/s1600-h/laocean.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDZhemR98Pl98qs1EDi7k8YCX0skYEktnEP-WXOYCtu1KWPmnY84xAW8KMGc4o9asd18N9Aq0RAuOoVxJXoOz-8lpg6VZJN7PoN6ZOURXM7mWSzZXpOzFYkR60MDpLTaSe9tWOV6FwBvFQ/s320/laocean.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051866859186098" border="0" /></a>Walking on the beach, which was not nearly as swimming friendly as our hotel pool.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipCWjt3W1fitf9wLSuGVcNSO9nL8hiQkfeoGsa7jdCYpVU7QIZVlSR5pP38-mUSb3nbxsQgWTxK6NKg-uYotMdu-Y7-EmGSzK9zOgYXaGrj7OM7euYvLkF1Z8dOdONz7R1FRW-tTDVTI7d/s1600-h/lapinkberry.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipCWjt3W1fitf9wLSuGVcNSO9nL8hiQkfeoGsa7jdCYpVU7QIZVlSR5pP38-mUSb3nbxsQgWTxK6NKg-uYotMdu-Y7-EmGSzK9zOgYXaGrj7OM7euYvLkF1Z8dOdONz7R1FRW-tTDVTI7d/s320/lapinkberry.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051662011071522" border="0" /></a>Finally realized my lifelong (or monthslong, anyway) dream of sampling some Pinkberry. Jaime and I only drove about an hour through traffic to get it.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiT9bAJkHWJ9CulUSmlyur-60tpDEIQPx0JmfcmTN2UnwTiAJUqVB4m-R7Hog4uEzMOStpzvz0OftFD4gf1SjMi4HspEfvkx2KPDwcLv4CKYqw5I456YsNLpcy-ADxegLGQWHNEUbbE4Oo/s1600-h/latunasalad.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiT9bAJkHWJ9CulUSmlyur-60tpDEIQPx0JmfcmTN2UnwTiAJUqVB4m-R7Hog4uEzMOStpzvz0OftFD4gf1SjMi4HspEfvkx2KPDwcLv4CKYqw5I456YsNLpcy-ADxegLGQWHNEUbbE4Oo/s320/latunasalad.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051586094622162" border="0" /></a>Jaime's California cuisine, healthy and fresh.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0pFZ14SvQEiCr8xerflh78dNwQc5oGaylJYqWk9ju5Z35fbfLy2o7fCRmNMar5PN-aKec35TmANubBD4sscTED5U6LhwilQLdLVu5OeWHZC-2otwtZyAvIUJrguBQSjac4AEsW5BDMZ_S/s1600-h/laspaghetti.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0pFZ14SvQEiCr8xerflh78dNwQc5oGaylJYqWk9ju5Z35fbfLy2o7fCRmNMar5PN-aKec35TmANubBD4sscTED5U6LhwilQLdLVu5OeWHZC-2otwtZyAvIUJrguBQSjac4AEsW5BDMZ_S/s320/laspaghetti.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051513427557202" border="0" /></a>My California cuisine, carby and bacon loaded.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4dGLj4ZRZzAaYqLjmgATnz0vHxycm9pphjkGW0c9EpAxnQjir6qlpELoJrDr5fgze5M-FMBiSoqZw-IrW6ZgsZo1YGucaLcTUWDO7ciHKSLG5e0hTf2eXgEAKTuvJQNJXppgZuq_E16b/s1600-h/lafishtacos.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4dGLj4ZRZzAaYqLjmgATnz0vHxycm9pphjkGW0c9EpAxnQjir6qlpELoJrDr5fgze5M-FMBiSoqZw-IrW6ZgsZo1YGucaLcTUWDO7ciHKSLG5e0hTf2eXgEAKTuvJQNJXppgZuq_E16b/s320/lafishtacos.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051334376673922" border="0" /></a>Mmmmm. Fish tacos poolside.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSl05WHG7kClgJaQpBzQ4KEa2F7GgIcQ-S5l83r_ON7xsKN5GJCkjc5k0g561tEru4BxG0Z7PX_n3eHQgkv4pXBLYOrD3MiPUi0JTzVRTE9TaE7XnPxkfM8beGDIsR_GwZeCoP_M7fXhKz/s1600-h/lacrepe.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSl05WHG7kClgJaQpBzQ4KEa2F7GgIcQ-S5l83r_ON7xsKN5GJCkjc5k0g561tEru4BxG0Z7PX_n3eHQgkv4pXBLYOrD3MiPUi0JTzVRTE9TaE7XnPxkfM8beGDIsR_GwZeCoP_M7fXhKz/s320/lacrepe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051259342545794" border="0" /></a>Crepe stuffed with banana and Nutella. Went back to this place two mornings in a row.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OELLSi54RBw79eVkHCHf19_hYyknqdbldNwLcB05JlM9oPBS3Dh2lvhrChqxonSBMLr0ZQkzICeBpKrz-mySCBVH80Q5lFhQq8XfV-aWE0qpxSKe5t1ZnP5TZPNw0Wirfc6UEm9Y7lok/s1600-h/lachinesetheater.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_OELLSi54RBw79eVkHCHf19_hYyknqdbldNwLcB05JlM9oPBS3Dh2lvhrChqxonSBMLr0ZQkzICeBpKrz-mySCBVH80Q5lFhQq8XfV-aWE0qpxSKe5t1ZnP5TZPNw0Wirfc6UEm9Y7lok/s320/lachinesetheater.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051136453764242" border="0" /></a>In front of the Chinese Theatre on what would become the longest night of our lives. Our flight left at 6 a.m., so we decided to roam the streets of L.A. all night rather than check out of our<br />expensive hotel at 3 a.m.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidm42J7pX7BX7FWVO3GEtZI3CRvPaxg8aqaVVZFElkwP5nlIwyCh9W3xlRUIZhOEkC9vhEhITJssLjVQUdvDCiVj7w0YVj4KOH0jdeNkCvoFTaKcklUZrb0tFwx7iYkM59FN3qnJ7uVVpx/s1600-h/lainandout.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidm42J7pX7BX7FWVO3GEtZI3CRvPaxg8aqaVVZFElkwP5nlIwyCh9W3xlRUIZhOEkC9vhEhITJssLjVQUdvDCiVj7w0YVj4KOH0jdeNkCvoFTaKcklUZrb0tFwx7iYkM59FN3qnJ7uVVpx/s320/lainandout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381051042401166930" border="0" /></a>Sustenance for the long night ahead.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-71764297933220649812009-08-13T11:52:00.003-05:002009-08-13T14:33:59.261-05:00The CabinMy mom's family has a cabin in Ozark-land, out in the middle of nowhere, overlooking a crik (as they call it in Missoura.) I used to go there all the time as a kid but haven't been in probably ten years.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPY9upQZyMR5JNxruS6sAvRLtaxrJA_qKrWXqBpHY2ISFF8uIB1Onq1NZm-1ywJlQ9lpbCT9UBMCzs_ls8y0ztCit7znamNebDCxvx7K0q5pUf7ac_Wl5yeXKckyzcOU2Zvh0mS9IWPpB/s1600-h/cabinfromcrik.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAPY9upQZyMR5JNxruS6sAvRLtaxrJA_qKrWXqBpHY2ISFF8uIB1Onq1NZm-1ywJlQ9lpbCT9UBMCzs_ls8y0ztCit7znamNebDCxvx7K0q5pUf7ac_Wl5yeXKckyzcOU2Zvh0mS9IWPpB/s320/cabinfromcrik.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369492512189522930" border="0" /></a>Last weekend, Lexi and I went with my parents for the afternoon. That's the cabin up on the ledge. It's hardly fancy, but it's cozy. And has a great view. And, ya know, a crick.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJIswKUPvIDyOQ168Ek6wzaB_LdZ6-BTisGXUarvsL5FaFDEZS9iOT_iOAAmdEkxaf_JsrZv2vwOvzls4Gs33-6ADoa28pOX1LhLKir8aDYcd92bvyP9mXFM52UXj7FCmovfTglhXh-fu/s1600-h/cabinpersp+%28Medium%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcJIswKUPvIDyOQ168Ek6wzaB_LdZ6-BTisGXUarvsL5FaFDEZS9iOT_iOAAmdEkxaf_JsrZv2vwOvzls4Gs33-6ADoa28pOX1LhLKir8aDYcd92bvyP9mXFM52UXj7FCmovfTglhXh-fu/s320/cabinpersp+%28Medium%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369492596636230546" border="0" /></a>Mom and Lexi in the crick, under the cabin.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22l5F072uqDLmpQDVMckrbxUmVdwU4lcMYlDlQ8RiFdZlCNYNY4SJ5g4EjLjisSZOkFgjXwfZbzhwOG8WVvJUWe_xKTxZWFrCsKmsbqgk1zHyBdxuxtpWTYNdo_GCvA84JCqNeV9tw4hj/s1600-h/cabingroup+%28Medium%29.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi22l5F072uqDLmpQDVMckrbxUmVdwU4lcMYlDlQ8RiFdZlCNYNY4SJ5g4EjLjisSZOkFgjXwfZbzhwOG8WVvJUWe_xKTxZWFrCsKmsbqgk1zHyBdxuxtpWTYNdo_GCvA84JCqNeV9tw4hj/s320/cabingroup+%28Medium%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5369492402218545922" border="0" /></a>Crick swimmin' hole.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-49465096926712253822009-07-22T11:05:00.002-05:002009-07-22T11:07:39.982-05:00Susan Peters roast<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/meg9hj4pVR0&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/meg9hj4pVR0&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Was pleasantly surprised after stepping off stage to find that Lori had taped most of my roast of Susan Peters. (Thanks, LAL.) I think I could have slowed it down in a few spots. But thanks to a little Bombay Sapphire, I survived.<br /><br />It was fun, but I'm glad it's over.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-12358399397068722222009-06-08T10:53:00.001-05:002009-06-08T10:56:37.135-05:00Fish in training<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/fQD1wRyDz9I&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/fQD1wRyDz9I&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />We spent a few pre-storm hours on Sunday at our friends' backyard pool, and you will not BELIEVE what Lexi did. It's particularly amazing considering that when we first got in, she wouldn't let me let go of her. An hour later -- this.<br /><br />Of course, the life jacket is a bit of an issue because she does not understand now that she can sink without it. When I told her we'd better get her in swimming lessons, she said, "Mom, I don't need them. I already know how to swim."Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-60813091417568306682009-06-02T10:28:00.010-05:002009-06-02T10:38:45.884-05:00JitterbugLexi had a big moment in her life on Sunday. It was her first (but as you'll soon see, clearly not her last) time performing on a stage.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaXDnyb1m2hM9I8nhNbCniQ7qL2FYtpBOe7oU-b9a4VHVGEz4TSyaRVu_P8bMimiV9h21wtkf8l1tnkBA9a_Z94Yk97N-66i_ko8fAwvdBsEF1ZYV0wxYvt7HDrXYa-6NoA062mAGbYozB/s1600-h/boptothetop.jpg+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaXDnyb1m2hM9I8nhNbCniQ7qL2FYtpBOe7oU-b9a4VHVGEz4TSyaRVu_P8bMimiV9h21wtkf8l1tnkBA9a_Z94Yk97N-66i_ko8fAwvdBsEF1ZYV0wxYvt7HDrXYa-6NoA062mAGbYozB/s320/boptothetop.jpg+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342753214045863298" border="0" /></a>The show was put on by Jitterbugs, a little dance class they offer at pre-school. I was a little worried she'd be too shy and refuse to go on, but it was quite the opposite. Lex was the front-n-center star of the show.<br /><br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg26znqy96Vudl5VE2HkqilU3dVwlCEAdnJXPfHNAqmcGVN0IoFpMDFLLQsDVdKmJIi1ZAvPhMSvIREaqDE-iNLpH_ff-lLYPhVv1Ig4YsLIMosQtsTsl8W4WWbrH8a1Vh2gsEKMlMO1l0/s1600-h/boptothetop.jpg+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg26znqy96Vudl5VE2HkqilU3dVwlCEAdnJXPfHNAqmcGVN0IoFpMDFLLQsDVdKmJIi1ZAvPhMSvIREaqDE-iNLpH_ff-lLYPhVv1Ig4YsLIMosQtsTsl8W4WWbrH8a1Vh2gsEKMlMO1l0/s320/boptothetop.jpg+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342753140043431314" border="0" /></a>After this lethal Kung-Fu fighting kick, I'm not sure whether to enroll her in ballet or karate.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSycpo6aBxrYgCxdemjAtLmalY7JE9pbJvrGJ-zw6MrG3q_BO9cH0LgBnx_C2K8_o208s4jfjV0K4IGEP1nraWuKGDDsIYYenUXzd35nsoN2XQM0gz4wV57S6kwl_VfBtiu8ahPw2DdrMg/s1600-h/boptothetop.jpg+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSycpo6aBxrYgCxdemjAtLmalY7JE9pbJvrGJ-zw6MrG3q_BO9cH0LgBnx_C2K8_o208s4jfjV0K4IGEP1nraWuKGDDsIYYenUXzd35nsoN2XQM0gz4wV57S6kwl_VfBtiu8ahPw2DdrMg/s320/boptothetop.jpg+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342753080294887922" border="0" /></a>Mommy will be talking to Lexi soon about her feelings on cheerleading.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfLnj7s7PR8bAD104eQCgAO5cRtych5ln95QXENhX4N7gBhofBFVzQLVpAyXxrL2Nj2BYtfbxXhlPT2P8QaeV2yPeMzzkQmq24tAmsdrRupPhb7gqiYnGetlIFviP7P-CnwXrRpbI0OQ9/s1600-h/boptothetop.jpg+005.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfLnj7s7PR8bAD104eQCgAO5cRtych5ln95QXENhX4N7gBhofBFVzQLVpAyXxrL2Nj2BYtfbxXhlPT2P8QaeV2yPeMzzkQmq24tAmsdrRupPhb7gqiYnGetlIFviP7P-CnwXrRpbI0OQ9/s320/boptothetop.jpg+005.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5342753582595594866" border="0" /></a>Emma, Lexi's B.F.F. and co-star, offering her customary tackle hug after the show.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-67656861258900608822009-05-13T20:38:00.004-05:002009-05-13T20:42:03.648-05:00At least someone had a good raceMy 10k time was <a href="http://www.wichitariverfestival.com/pdf/10k09.pdf">abysmal</a> at this year's River Run. But enough about me. Lexi was a racing star, completing her first ever Tot Trot.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjg5_JmtbfSaceOkl6rjMynJbGtt35Cjf3bQX2JmjGmmLCXM7aKdaFhaFihi1-yOjfRuFKxzuDpmxixcn7eSMpiFUGLIVFq0DGrHB8gfhrsHOVIXp5jyHPP7jJPtnCKwbk6LEFJmWEukyz/s1600-h/lexirace.jpg+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjg5_JmtbfSaceOkl6rjMynJbGtt35Cjf3bQX2JmjGmmLCXM7aKdaFhaFihi1-yOjfRuFKxzuDpmxixcn7eSMpiFUGLIVFq0DGrHB8gfhrsHOVIXp5jyHPP7jJPtnCKwbk6LEFJmWEukyz/s320/lexirace.jpg+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335488152929658402" border="0" /></a>Run, Lexi, run!! Run those 20 meters!!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYH8imrG9vBlqvZ96C04CDpMFUkHtJfYNM8qt4cDuSkjVfJReM8vBqj7As5tQyzm8IE5OZQfqTujhgrUrCXEaq-dYAbfNksK7j5hyphenhyphenVdDWWiYYXskLBfmABNi8HHH1RA82aC646QrUMZo6/s1600-h/lexirace.jpg+002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOYH8imrG9vBlqvZ96C04CDpMFUkHtJfYNM8qt4cDuSkjVfJReM8vBqj7As5tQyzm8IE5OZQfqTujhgrUrCXEaq-dYAbfNksK7j5hyphenhyphenVdDWWiYYXskLBfmABNi8HHH1RA82aC646QrUMZo6/s320/lexirace.jpg+002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335488094957068786" border="0" /></a>I was actually surprised she did it because she can be pretty shy in unfamiliar situations. I think her running partner Harrison was the secret ingredient.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_s4QVtyWp3p8eYGLr-8yOqzN86-OCcXc-jxUHSU8ELdaijlF_Q2f5zcm0rdvIQJI3oJx3PMtkP2uWCY-fYsyikSp6RKebGGqzNtpJL6OMa2IOCQ4VUP7uDtPf_x0g7KDl6MbnqVg6fBmh/s1600-h/lexirace.jpg+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_s4QVtyWp3p8eYGLr-8yOqzN86-OCcXc-jxUHSU8ELdaijlF_Q2f5zcm0rdvIQJI3oJx3PMtkP2uWCY-fYsyikSp6RKebGGqzNtpJL6OMa2IOCQ4VUP7uDtPf_x0g7KDl6MbnqVg6fBmh/s320/lexirace.jpg+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335488035200827154" border="0" /></a>And look! They won medals!! Nothing abysmal about that.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-43258165167833081542009-05-04T11:41:00.006-05:002009-05-04T11:48:38.323-05:00Disturbing... yet adorably soI asked Lexi to pose for a pic this weekend and found out with great surprise that her Jitterbugs dance class has taught her how to pose for real. A tad JonBenet for my taste, but...<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSF8xpBlCPi_xrPasJKcT4HHiVpCq5JrYY7ITgUGZQc9vjlIZsXT_aLPe2rcQnhDvxmdteICESw2NYyA9ys1xAiaYeTX-DgMMkwJYjpAO2gP-Z9D5Wqx4AkMu2DwmlEV-_NGndTlCQQIfU/s1600-h/mudbugsetall.jpg+008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSF8xpBlCPi_xrPasJKcT4HHiVpCq5JrYY7ITgUGZQc9vjlIZsXT_aLPe2rcQnhDvxmdteICESw2NYyA9ys1xAiaYeTX-DgMMkwJYjpAO2gP-Z9D5Wqx4AkMu2DwmlEV-_NGndTlCQQIfU/s320/mudbugsetall.jpg+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332010585984132466" border="0" /></a>SupermodelWURK!<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginavEq-q1q_2lI3axIsQXMtVz2hwoMHWOFZ5qOglBK9tXPy14Y88DgHh0DxHZ8mqjRuxEa0R91ugIcUpkQB_8KqRujDAkLkyy4ve31zMmfBZIkzusZVWL_-DxLrYi6mmB-7XhheyoyECF/s1600-h/mudbugsetall.jpg+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEginavEq-q1q_2lI3axIsQXMtVz2hwoMHWOFZ5qOglBK9tXPy14Y88DgHh0DxHZ8mqjRuxEa0R91ugIcUpkQB_8KqRujDAkLkyy4ve31zMmfBZIkzusZVWL_-DxLrYi6mmB-7XhheyoyECF/s320/mudbugsetall.jpg+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332011167175608322" border="0" /></a>...WURK IT GIRL!<br /></div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-57532982311608444812009-03-29T10:31:00.003-05:002009-03-29T10:39:34.265-05:00Carrot nose, Twizzler mouthLexi really, really wanted to build a snowman yesterday. Or so she said. As it turns out, what she really wanted to do was throw snowballs at my head while I built her a snowman.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgTIQXS1lRy_8ncIjIascvSHWU4G8L0cA_oXiK8QHD8vRK3PXNOtyJGvHsTGz2fYpo_GXGJd5rGmz9d3uCYAI0JWPeC1omcFqbqBnWgmycmwXi2TD5FWMQcsfLnM92Md2frNaD32SpN9i/s1600-h/IMG_1154.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgTIQXS1lRy_8ncIjIascvSHWU4G8L0cA_oXiK8QHD8vRK3PXNOtyJGvHsTGz2fYpo_GXGJd5rGmz9d3uCYAI0JWPeC1omcFqbqBnWgmycmwXi2TD5FWMQcsfLnM92Md2frNaD32SpN9i/s320/IMG_1154.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318633264786956850" border="0" /></a>A spring snowman is an unusual creature because his mouth can be made out of Twizzlers colored for Easter.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGg3VxnwfzJpXYy4OTf1Z6OadjSPuF1UPvo6VDWPSXJ-EjnldV5ozk8M8Pk3aHb2bpxpTaAN61I-t3s5sYXl4s9ALMBw52610ruFlNGSA0MSMRN398hBLEJIF3gLHPK0IxZUckNLNeEP6/s1600-h/IMG_1146.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikGg3VxnwfzJpXYy4OTf1Z6OadjSPuF1UPvo6VDWPSXJ-EjnldV5ozk8M8Pk3aHb2bpxpTaAN61I-t3s5sYXl4s9ALMBw52610ruFlNGSA0MSMRN398hBLEJIF3gLHPK0IxZUckNLNeEP6/s320/IMG_1146.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318633146182891170" border="0" /></a>The weekend's snow also brought an opportunity for me impart an important life lesson: Never eat yellow snow.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFauX_ttgyTStUkQqiE4XyYv3Bx647dIMqlxQwWqxHJ4YB5DMl-E8-wBiYBpCaLL7QUoV3r94PzUZXmIvXbFWx6DF49pEPkw1XLiarPQv7rlGtXmlxbUdm4Js68WAn1gzTVtK6D8VC2PA/s1600-h/IMG_1162.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmFauX_ttgyTStUkQqiE4XyYv3Bx647dIMqlxQwWqxHJ4YB5DMl-E8-wBiYBpCaLL7QUoV3r94PzUZXmIvXbFWx6DF49pEPkw1XLiarPQv7rlGtXmlxbUdm4Js68WAn1gzTVtK6D8VC2PA/s320/IMG_1162.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318633026960423682" border="0" /></a>Yes, I know. She's a snow angel.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-17650589854201685022009-03-25T21:30:00.003-05:002009-03-25T21:41:01.307-05:00"Dream girl"Of course, on days when Miss Jessica sends home notes with words like "no listening ears" and "rough day," I tend to think she is uninformed and impatient.<br /><br />But when I get notes like this one, well, that's what I realize just how smart and intuitive Miss Jessica actually is.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibGappnMgxz0757hX3vE7nUNUetj-Q7udRNz2-XtJxiYRPQ9Egpu-9d3WG_nldM_jPXzN8EeaGTVvSB2IioKEuzBjXuHyTjsMif87U-NMGIwXTXexdML8zyaNs_Q21O_vD9chstZgoyK4u/s1600-h/IMG_1137.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibGappnMgxz0757hX3vE7nUNUetj-Q7udRNz2-XtJxiYRPQ9Egpu-9d3WG_nldM_jPXzN8EeaGTVvSB2IioKEuzBjXuHyTjsMif87U-NMGIwXTXexdML8zyaNs_Q21O_vD9chstZgoyK4u/s320/IMG_1137.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317319709001016258" border="0" /></a>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-37307396490135271992009-03-24T21:04:00.008-05:002009-03-24T21:37:32.266-05:00Three months of partiesYou wanna know why I haven't been blogging lately? It's not laziness or hecticness or utter depression. No. It's because I've been hauling Lexi all over town to birthday parties for the past three months.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmi7qBRvU80-VYkFDvc7H9ZcRWW6I8tg_w-MHbN6pc0QGJ_loV-g3K90UD0v8RACg14eC_c5Y5CFT2pGbDzjaUl6FiWGGG9xX1yVjsVuQIRhDZAw-YZ2FCHnuboGYPazMEwv4csDZDI1dD/s1600-h/IMG_0991.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmi7qBRvU80-VYkFDvc7H9ZcRWW6I8tg_w-MHbN6pc0QGJ_loV-g3K90UD0v8RACg14eC_c5Y5CFT2pGbDzjaUl6FiWGGG9xX1yVjsVuQIRhDZAw-YZ2FCHnuboGYPazMEwv4csDZDI1dD/s320/IMG_0991.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316945890202624834" border="0" /></a>The most exciting, naturally, was her own. And who wouldn't be excited with a gem of a cake like that?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnoQR8LArczg2t_jn5Ss2sQpiA1o4I3oUTfXfsGrLaMLwux2m4KtMVsReBgwLw8GJLv7wx1seVP10XGj7U6TaNTZaAQXSMXDvKWsfRcjC-RfXiVzJt6etzOZVTDNb_44O4JI7R87uywGN/s1600-h/IMG_0984.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPnoQR8LArczg2t_jn5Ss2sQpiA1o4I3oUTfXfsGrLaMLwux2m4KtMVsReBgwLw8GJLv7wx1seVP10XGj7U6TaNTZaAQXSMXDvKWsfRcjC-RfXiVzJt6etzOZVTDNb_44O4JI7R87uywGN/s320/IMG_0984.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316945715080085842" border="0" /></a>Lexi's birthday was on March 5, but the celebration went on for weeks. Above is a shot from her party at our house, at which she received Bendaroos and a whole stable of My Little Ponies.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieif_MqVC0WS_3bJaB9VJlRllE8ozD0yzzoLohQQt6vvF5DgYRF3x_OdC3F4CD6Ncjd1FmgPSL4q4VisFNpqGSb-dWcwQtGL2aBzbVPFkrDBR09-zPuZoi4Y33UoMFrdEJz33wtxbPzX12/s1600-h/IMG_1098.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieif_MqVC0WS_3bJaB9VJlRllE8ozD0yzzoLohQQt6vvF5DgYRF3x_OdC3F4CD6Ncjd1FmgPSL4q4VisFNpqGSb-dWcwQtGL2aBzbVPFkrDBR09-zPuZoi4Y33UoMFrdEJz33wtxbPzX12/s320/IMG_1098.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316945575643227010" border="0" /></a>The most recent party was Saturday at Lauryn's and included rosy cupcakes, little sammiches, dress-up and general girliness.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkDfvMqkHOtdQ78iz_Cn3WkfiHRWUq_yKvzB9FFoxav2tg-IWXgN5Djw9_jNA7u5x4DNJJ39ZHbjO_tsLoo_K_Notp4IntmowybtGsmKQ_5zJjXoYd3jT4M7KsXPiO_qqRZU5Pk9Wm6Qa/s1600-h/IMG_1040.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkDfvMqkHOtdQ78iz_Cn3WkfiHRWUq_yKvzB9FFoxav2tg-IWXgN5Djw9_jNA7u5x4DNJJ39ZHbjO_tsLoo_K_Notp4IntmowybtGsmKQ_5zJjXoYd3jT4M7KsXPiO_qqRZU5Pk9Wm6Qa/s320/IMG_1040.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316944677139418594" border="0" /></a>The previous party was the previous Saturday at McDonald's in honor of Lexi's B.F.F., Emma. It included cheeseburgers, sock feet and more Bendaroos.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir73oCcgtEl6MmgOtcxfyTTP2iHPNnxzn8yEKQsQOYWqEfk0VQdX-2UKbahsS3cJHbr6AD-BS7SSy1rQKdasEoo7CNIoQTwwjbLISKOioHUw8RBM-dOq_X1UUEDjCyR_moONTbqWWK9dlt/s1600-h/IMG_0878.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir73oCcgtEl6MmgOtcxfyTTP2iHPNnxzn8yEKQsQOYWqEfk0VQdX-2UKbahsS3cJHbr6AD-BS7SSy1rQKdasEoo7CNIoQTwwjbLISKOioHUw8RBM-dOq_X1UUEDjCyR_moONTbqWWK9dlt/s320/IMG_0878.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316945219771737874" border="0" /></a>Back in January, it was Kyle's birthday, which included a dog shape caked, dog bone shaped sammiches and a rockin' game of hot potato with a dog bone.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavMTYTg6hZls-1hl_4LFTZ7S5Zj27wvoY8Y4l4yE1uUDn6VtchoCqXKHMoRhbvA7wBGBw0diKbaV_7Ukq4KhiJm0WX-8sH3Ps-7sKwICTjwBatX3oIOQZ9nr6gpSYmneTY7_h9E1X6SUD/s1600-h/IMG_0920.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavMTYTg6hZls-1hl_4LFTZ7S5Zj27wvoY8Y4l4yE1uUDn6VtchoCqXKHMoRhbvA7wBGBw0diKbaV_7Ukq4KhiJm0WX-8sH3Ps-7sKwICTjwBatX3oIOQZ9nr6gpSYmneTY7_h9E1X6SUD/s320/IMG_0920.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316944453836610562" border="0" /></a>Brian's party had bowling. 'Nuff said.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisN8iPA0m93CDkXvqQybNzX4vuEID6DrzUAOXKgtggRr8GnCmTf_pF4XwifRqct8nb8LZekVOtm3U8VW-3I0vmeyNNZ0cOKO2ndrRHNhlMKcFYh8sM3gtfy8C-iyATev8mHZykKJUTQSq6/s1600-h/IMG_0770.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisN8iPA0m93CDkXvqQybNzX4vuEID6DrzUAOXKgtggRr8GnCmTf_pF4XwifRqct8nb8LZekVOtm3U8VW-3I0vmeyNNZ0cOKO2ndrRHNhlMKcFYh8sM3gtfy8C-iyATev8mHZykKJUTQSq6/s320/IMG_0770.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316944248493268850" border="0" /></a>And way back at the beginning of January was a party for Coop, who turned 4 first and with the greatest style. Cha cha cha.<br /><br />The party tour is over now. I think. Time to get back to blogging.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-19420912584677346552009-02-09T11:04:00.003-06:002009-02-09T11:08:38.921-06:00Gindi grubWe took Lexi along with us on Sunday to review Gindi Thai & Japanese diner, a new place at 7010 W. 21st St., where Backyard Burger used to be. (It was delicious -- look for details in Friday's paper.)<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja56m1D4gWtW6no7ZNoyCJfeOU3x2GyK7j8xpF8UnSRGv57MZ4bdy5amJYWdItEofiXG4CojkfINVF6Pk7MGkt9eWqDvGjxF8l0BqLgnnL3DlLBHzfAQ95k-PpcjXsx4Y10dnwKue2lG3s/s1600-h/gindi.jpg+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja56m1D4gWtW6no7ZNoyCJfeOU3x2GyK7j8xpF8UnSRGv57MZ4bdy5amJYWdItEofiXG4CojkfINVF6Pk7MGkt9eWqDvGjxF8l0BqLgnnL3DlLBHzfAQ95k-PpcjXsx4Y10dnwKue2lG3s/s320/gindi.jpg+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300844797863104306" border="0" /></a>I'm always a little hesitant to take Lexi to an Asian place because well, ya know, there aren't usually cheeseburgers on the menu. But she'd recently discovered a book about a little kitten who loved sushi and was pretty excited about going to a "sushi place."<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9blJf-GwRKeQK3fY1H6rjbxRptCDa6T28jAdkDJObyLFfwHcBYmnozJFSUCOMRadFVGbNBE53iT_hmR7xtfGIxNW3-Ai38AesWbpm3WtmDBigqWeDlXi6_rltWJKfV24vJkJf138SIJjY/s1600-h/gindi.jpg+007.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9blJf-GwRKeQK3fY1H6rjbxRptCDa6T28jAdkDJObyLFfwHcBYmnozJFSUCOMRadFVGbNBE53iT_hmR7xtfGIxNW3-Ai38AesWbpm3WtmDBigqWeDlXi6_rltWJKfV24vJkJf138SIJjY/s320/gindi.jpg+007.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5300844690245283170" border="0" /></a>She ended up burying her sushi deep in a bed of chicken fried rice (do you see it there, sorta in the middle??) But she could not scarf down the rice and Pad Thai fast enough. She loved it so much, in fact, that double-fisted eating became necessary.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-27817556663037426492009-01-18T20:21:00.003-06:002009-01-18T20:30:44.840-06:00Kid bowlingLexi fell a little bit in love on Saturday night when we attended Brian Buselt's 31st bowling birthday.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwZMFt9BqN8QS9yw3l78umOEKE_ksg51laCO3goUtyTmriguNhJP64syCsf6GUh_JFzhq4Hll-MrcaRioaGXh4gcVM3qPhCnHtuXmyoMOPQPMGEc7UNJbdi_jk1HzBvXiAYbanlfaYTsy/s1600-h/IMG_0919.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivwZMFt9BqN8QS9yw3l78umOEKE_ksg51laCO3goUtyTmriguNhJP64syCsf6GUh_JFzhq4Hll-MrcaRioaGXh4gcVM3qPhCnHtuXmyoMOPQPMGEc7UNJbdi_jk1HzBvXiAYbanlfaYTsy/s320/IMG_0919.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292825480690096962" border="0" /></a>Lexi had never bowled before, but Brian sacrificed his score to show her how it's done (even though I didn't see a whole lot of evidence that he knows exactly how it's done.)<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1zfYj3cyUIzxhrcMYch01W62ck2Dx0ntwVp8wICDyFF4Dx34PkFnRG5BH2yQuZKXDLxuNuElUsYeanQiiZtY9vYLNZ8r9O_XmpJ0CKMrG1kI-0yPS9mu4rv7KVh_cBB6j7zLulwq0q03/s1600-h/IMG_0920.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV1zfYj3cyUIzxhrcMYch01W62ck2Dx0ntwVp8wICDyFF4Dx34PkFnRG5BH2yQuZKXDLxuNuElUsYeanQiiZtY9vYLNZ8r9O_XmpJ0CKMrG1kI-0yPS9mu4rv7KVh_cBB6j7zLulwq0q03/s320/IMG_0920.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292825336502904194" border="0" /></a>Nevermind that. When the ball started rolling, Lexi was so excited she caught a little air.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqlMH-WP9Pg2YIx58owvmpmK3-LUa-vNFEO1QlJIJLickrncttboennSd2y08FpUfSdw2MT1hvjtHA3abceYIwgmB1uzk4bXXCTofg0uM0GkMYvZyt2KIEDguJASKtGkmwwVxMcpfBSvu/s1600-h/IMG_0922.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgqlMH-WP9Pg2YIx58owvmpmK3-LUa-vNFEO1QlJIJLickrncttboennSd2y08FpUfSdw2MT1hvjtHA3abceYIwgmB1uzk4bXXCTofg0uM0GkMYvZyt2KIEDguJASKtGkmwwVxMcpfBSvu/s320/IMG_0922.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5292825201269070962" border="0" /></a>This is the joy that can be felt only by two kids who managed to knock down one pin with a ball that was barely moving.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-88435990390082481942009-01-02T22:36:00.004-06:002009-01-02T22:49:04.325-06:00Grateful, grateful girlThis Christmas was the first one where Lexi seemed fully aware of what the proceedings meant. Santa brought her presents because she was good (mostly) and because she'd had the forethought to tell him exactly what she wanted. Or get her mom to, anyway.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9toRRJz7vPMBfL1Ltv_epY_DR1J295VOha_2XyFBxS9U-yxnfX4MS1FQkV3_wU1S8o1OAMnoh0heXnMqjTiOSoCTIwsB6BY8yn1KUHbCqSvmZy4MFDMH4Y5z9QAmKQ8g0NUEmWfLRvNd/s1600-h/IMG_0749.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9toRRJz7vPMBfL1Ltv_epY_DR1J295VOha_2XyFBxS9U-yxnfX4MS1FQkV3_wU1S8o1OAMnoh0heXnMqjTiOSoCTIwsB6BY8yn1KUHbCqSvmZy4MFDMH4Y5z9QAmKQ8g0NUEmWfLRvNd/s320/IMG_0749.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286922958999375858" border="0" /></a>One of the main items on her list was a "big-girl' kitchen. She was beyond thrilled. "How did Santa know EVERYTHING I wanted???" Um, because I told him for you when we saw him at the Eagle open house and you were too shy to speak REMEMBER???<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpkqdPmgBF46CB1J3cnp1Ohev0TzWbS9q032NhSfWzeSZd0c2ls3ChFUkjCvBvMJs1CZu16TEkhgvik0SXkcQJZcQEKstQj9Jtjk-zhKmn918eo0YWagmNMhbPer3bLFU7Fee14Wp2ke2/s1600-h/IMG_0748.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpkqdPmgBF46CB1J3cnp1Ohev0TzWbS9q032NhSfWzeSZd0c2ls3ChFUkjCvBvMJs1CZu16TEkhgvik0SXkcQJZcQEKstQj9Jtjk-zhKmn918eo0YWagmNMhbPer3bLFU7Fee14Wp2ke2/s320/IMG_0748.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286922721063742194" border="0" /></a>Parent tip of the week: Don't let your kids' watch commercials. If you do, they'll decide that they simply can't go on living with out the Swimming Water Baby™.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvlijlHdY-lMONw06DlKDdY2lR2ql_4HiTU9aowntPZSLAuW92E9q3XFk7U5A4eRG0nHfq2LWKciXdGSBv_CJ5SFdJdp0FOVtwTGkF3a5jrhXkHn30oi41GGFzyf-_dSV43VjSpMxyaT4/s1600-h/IMG_0744.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivvlijlHdY-lMONw06DlKDdY2lR2ql_4HiTU9aowntPZSLAuW92E9q3XFk7U5A4eRG0nHfq2LWKciXdGSBv_CJ5SFdJdp0FOVtwTGkF3a5jrhXkHn30oi41GGFzyf-_dSV43VjSpMxyaT4/s320/IMG_0744.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286922528044009426" border="0" /></a>She said her most favorite gift, however, was this easel complete with dry erase board. It was a cast-off from the Tobias family storage unit, emptied just before the big move. We cleaned it up a little and made it good as new. I predict hours of fun -- and dry erase marker clothing stains -- are in our future.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-91243275885527472192008-12-27T22:50:00.003-06:002008-12-27T22:54:15.432-06:00Bad mommyIt's one thing to lie, gently, about Santa to help promote and preserve the magic of childhood.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbz_2kws6vhKW2CuWadXCG5f-L-PQtzAsiIJoi6o85zOZRMqmD594lnwzIfBa2kDgofPYC1Gj2tgCSOwRecZMSVMLRDct2DU1swt44GDV-sOIkgDxiNJEQf86p3bFGY-xmKgncNQe9e4R/s1600-h/Santa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmbz_2kws6vhKW2CuWadXCG5f-L-PQtzAsiIJoi6o85zOZRMqmD594lnwzIfBa2kDgofPYC1Gj2tgCSOwRecZMSVMLRDct2DU1swt44GDV-sOIkgDxiNJEQf86p3bFGY-xmKgncNQe9e4R/s320/Santa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284699278333553138" border="0" /></a><br />But it's another thing entirely to fabricate photographic "proof" of that lie, just because you have a friend with Mad Photoshop Skillz. Many thanks to Jaime for the assist.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-1961897093586863532008-12-24T12:03:00.012-06:002008-12-24T12:22:11.515-06:00I do not ruleI do not blame the four readers I may or may not have left if they do not believe what I'm about to say.<br /><br />My plan for 2009 is to rediscover my blog mojo. I could list a gazillion excuses for why I've been so derelict lately, but we all know that the real reason is Twitter. DAMN TWITTER!!<br /><br />So I'm gonna finish out 2009 with one more roundup of all the stuff I shoulda coulda woulda been blogging about if Twitter were not such a time suck.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_XF01luFf2lU0Bb8Lx0Pfazb2CKT8bx-dvqXLNPHkj3UNKxa6fOt4NqQmXorkLKslLXMpjMJCPwCCH1DoUICJ8Spix5HXueJ-VLtz558eKA_zXKA2F2GLUkuROAJZDuuq306tr0CvTgJ/s1600-h/OpenHouse096.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO_XF01luFf2lU0Bb8Lx0Pfazb2CKT8bx-dvqXLNPHkj3UNKxa6fOt4NqQmXorkLKslLXMpjMJCPwCCH1DoUICJ8Spix5HXueJ-VLtz558eKA_zXKA2F2GLUkuROAJZDuuq306tr0CvTgJ/s320/OpenHouse096.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283421671807828002" border="0" /></a>When I last bothered to get my camera out of my purse, it was Open House night at the Eagle -- a little event my team and I organized that included cookies, music, good will and a Santa with a very forgiving lap.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pjaMRUy9PeMtoC3NidNhLvXqo70U0KZxZZVHIN95TfqDxYe-yebTue7lsH6ZQprmFVDbbocIzDj8MgPR72n6mpEOFzfH5IL3nl0MJWSY4_WnnvBhP8CdSt7siw7weZc49LwAvkQEUE4C/s1600-h/blogable+001.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8pjaMRUy9PeMtoC3NidNhLvXqo70U0KZxZZVHIN95TfqDxYe-yebTue7lsH6ZQprmFVDbbocIzDj8MgPR72n6mpEOFzfH5IL3nl0MJWSY4_WnnvBhP8CdSt7siw7weZc49LwAvkQEUE4C/s320/blogable+001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283421525148039890" border="0" /></a>Joe was, ahem, persuaded to provide some of the music. What a guy won't do for a free round of bowling.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OOlfe6b46IXkLrYHkBjDs_C3inpI47GtW8kUjvlU0dC2FCY2KJoMQUKQbYKXD2xuTUYgz3ITp2U7_Ac4A4CNR6kSfJ9BqtopMus4xvjhOG4Mw0TdW59YGNvI9lg44Iwlc2Wk5YquH9zI/s1600-h/blogable+006.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8OOlfe6b46IXkLrYHkBjDs_C3inpI47GtW8kUjvlU0dC2FCY2KJoMQUKQbYKXD2xuTUYgz3ITp2U7_Ac4A4CNR6kSfJ9BqtopMus4xvjhOG4Mw0TdW59YGNvI9lg44Iwlc2Wk5YquH9zI/s320/blogable+006.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283421133022726578" border="0" /></a>Last weekend, Maddy and Harrison joined us for some cookie decorating while their mom went for a run in the freezing temps.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_w1GBVHwtF3Zndl5xuRcyLGfr-yXBD_eBuX74Uy1Tait7FtA8bXU3MeC3wasao6rUTEOoyrQop1xO10onTfENHO_GmyYNj5Al3OwD3X65pvNKBdUriAb8TlrrOAzPdYM2T5MPO-wFR2h/s1600-h/blogable+004.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc_w1GBVHwtF3Zndl5xuRcyLGfr-yXBD_eBuX74Uy1Tait7FtA8bXU3MeC3wasao6rUTEOoyrQop1xO10onTfENHO_GmyYNj5Al3OwD3X65pvNKBdUriAb8TlrrOAzPdYM2T5MPO-wFR2h/s320/blogable+004.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283420740868834338" border="0" /></a>Lexi's artistry was fully realized on this Mickey Mouse palette.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_ws2hOShiLOuvGPWba246Luw4g3Q4f2aQQJEkf4l-yG4Z9hiINJlOCMSiuO-EkwzExZBCQKb4ex8IeDN9E4BvKnVoRXoZWG6Xch0PZmy6RoDqfZ17gw5S0IU6Hf6XaC1xQz5NumTf_46/s1600-h/blogable+003.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6_ws2hOShiLOuvGPWba246Luw4g3Q4f2aQQJEkf4l-yG4Z9hiINJlOCMSiuO-EkwzExZBCQKb4ex8IeDN9E4BvKnVoRXoZWG6Xch0PZmy6RoDqfZ17gw5S0IU6Hf6XaC1xQz5NumTf_46/s320/blogable+003.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283420435157468018" border="0" /></a>Sadly, more frosting went in the mouths than on the cookies. And more food coloring went on the floor than in the frosting.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7AUDGTqLBFkTJuPCPL1kgubTC3sGpils0ZF8cOxWQ7-alY73VRwQvOy04E8lVg4JIG0qUrbCz9how9z2f2dE39KvItASrOlAyndzaFVGmk9X_7jOLLWrx6nKyxlZYFq00sZ8my3046Hi/s1600-h/blogable+008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_7AUDGTqLBFkTJuPCPL1kgubTC3sGpils0ZF8cOxWQ7-alY73VRwQvOy04E8lVg4JIG0qUrbCz9how9z2f2dE39KvItASrOlAyndzaFVGmk9X_7jOLLWrx6nKyxlZYFq00sZ8my3046Hi/s320/blogable+008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283420259907402130" border="0" /></a>Last weekend also was the long-awaited trip to "The Nutcracker," during which Lexi loudly asked such probing questions as "Why did that big mouse do that?" and "Is that all? Is that all?"<br /><br />Next installment: Christmas.<br /><br />Coming soon.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-47315049303253739782008-12-07T21:43:00.009-06:002008-12-07T22:05:21.484-06:00Been busyI'm feeling bad for being such a delinquent blogger, but I've been busy folks. This weekend, it was getting the &%*# Christmas decorations up.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymZvm8cYVZCB_ZycU1Pyfnp-lfAVihCn8ypFvS80PAa47NVV65FR8YuvjE5l7Y3qeRi___H4tQlxZBgYXhOBj5oCIkMEvzkJRoMw5PV4OFMkRetx6PAvWj41j70X-MCeNOHhkHqxcRLGq/s1600-h/IMG_0576.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhymZvm8cYVZCB_ZycU1Pyfnp-lfAVihCn8ypFvS80PAa47NVV65FR8YuvjE5l7Y3qeRi___H4tQlxZBgYXhOBj5oCIkMEvzkJRoMw5PV4OFMkRetx6PAvWj41j70X-MCeNOHhkHqxcRLGq/s320/IMG_0576.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277261913836633538" border="0" /></a>Usually, getting the house ready for the holidays feels like a burden -- a chore that has to be done. But this year, Lexi is seriously in to decorating. She probably decorated, undecorated and re-decorated my mom's tree 12 times over Thanksgiving.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4t5qlxO-AA4sQH8X0djqW_XUA1QHfeIAD-C3R4km8HEZKDPV2AGffhrT9r4SwM0N1usSQa-WGnoGyHAsoUg0QDb8CcojxTrkzklCdcirokiLy9JKsIH8VQt94MrPT4oRfxGiYwL7biBo/s1600-h/IMG_0580.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQ4t5qlxO-AA4sQH8X0djqW_XUA1QHfeIAD-C3R4km8HEZKDPV2AGffhrT9r4SwM0N1usSQa-WGnoGyHAsoUg0QDb8CcojxTrkzklCdcirokiLy9JKsIH8VQt94MrPT4oRfxGiYwL7biBo/s320/IMG_0580.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277261716519160482" border="0" /></a>Here's the finished product in the front room -- the artificial, pre-lighted tree that didn't stay pre-lighted for more than one season -- that's visible from the street.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcSnilyYv29IPRQqu_VY9NVYMVjVYktzR1L8J-McTeQas3zFvwIy3bVb4fK_54N0AWCsbS6P9nsv8oD6-VVeDRkKK22sDmvdYDbagrtGxdTv8wmJxEiTuWmmlSny64EAuKGzwOvoKxmcY/s1600-h/IMG_0588.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlcSnilyYv29IPRQqu_VY9NVYMVjVYktzR1L8J-McTeQas3zFvwIy3bVb4fK_54N0AWCsbS6P9nsv8oD6-VVeDRkKK22sDmvdYDbagrtGxdTv8wmJxEiTuWmmlSny64EAuKGzwOvoKxmcY/s320/IMG_0588.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277261492049958018" border="0" /></a>We also put one up in the back room, where we do most of our hanging out. It's a real tree that I decorate with the far-superior colored lights.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1zCqSpZrqT-LwCKRYPZe4Qbi1blKWUvF1XXYpRCkk-R5d0pKJbxiOQWJoJCUH97U-X7SmnXOzsUpKFpSTdEttzZbQAnJb8Dnm_7LbDjw3lbWEs-8onirdygJk57lvnKLSKMnrkeuKJlt/s1600-h/IMG_0291.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS1zCqSpZrqT-LwCKRYPZe4Qbi1blKWUvF1XXYpRCkk-R5d0pKJbxiOQWJoJCUH97U-X7SmnXOzsUpKFpSTdEttzZbQAnJb8Dnm_7LbDjw3lbWEs-8onirdygJk57lvnKLSKMnrkeuKJlt/s320/IMG_0291.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277261235245989154" border="0" /></a>As for my excuses for why I have not been blogging... Well, for a few weeks I was recovering from my stint with the nephews.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkTvbzJ05KCLDAdvAJE2cspLLl-UplKJRVH90cD4gv1NIQkigckxSDKF0hyphenhyphentI6JIy58wcmVEkShUtkUJPDGylV_HHsZGzfN5k6YxGL38J3qEQkDDRu0FFfnMEiO7Z6QuzW-Tw9IEjEpot/s1600-h/IMG_0392.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitkTvbzJ05KCLDAdvAJE2cspLLl-UplKJRVH90cD4gv1NIQkigckxSDKF0hyphenhyphentI6JIy58wcmVEkShUtkUJPDGylV_HHsZGzfN5k6YxGL38J3qEQkDDRu0FFfnMEiO7Z6QuzW-Tw9IEjEpot/s320/IMG_0392.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277261007885116242" border="0" /></a>Then there was my birthday (and Mike's)...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nmPFN2Uays1UUCLtMsp0mqbY52KFQhu6FzcxAftVkN-pxYguZTUC4TSvg1Jr3LDVW2LyVUtg8OoX8qpsRZX-8iXZxYEyTdq3NUdZ8RnQvv_xvyBmzq1WPn_YsZVHsZHTN-3xJpuupbhM/s1600-h/IMG_0418.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nmPFN2Uays1UUCLtMsp0mqbY52KFQhu6FzcxAftVkN-pxYguZTUC4TSvg1Jr3LDVW2LyVUtg8OoX8qpsRZX-8iXZxYEyTdq3NUdZ8RnQvv_xvyBmzq1WPn_YsZVHsZHTN-3xJpuupbhM/s320/IMG_0418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277260821751825586" border="0" /></a>Then Gingerbread Village with Grandma Wendy, the Lovings and the Welches...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vlPvpLVlItP2LI6NUDAvoiQsAfx6NQcaSzgI-w2VR2t5ni0zuqXG6C01FCylHcot1uIDPcnv3YTR3aMz5VCwIroi_tFHzJQ1TOl-vfgbueKdddci3Jb8526rRwZ4aiglmZeWQDSmtV3J/s1600-h/IMG_0452.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-vlPvpLVlItP2LI6NUDAvoiQsAfx6NQcaSzgI-w2VR2t5ni0zuqXG6C01FCylHcot1uIDPcnv3YTR3aMz5VCwIroi_tFHzJQ1TOl-vfgbueKdddci3Jb8526rRwZ4aiglmZeWQDSmtV3J/s320/IMG_0452.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277260555328946050" border="0" /></a>Then Thanksgiving dinner...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSGGegwfjlfRkQB3q3kr-4boja3jSri6Bg4uEy-LHYH5HxAwr9oXWwAQYGcWYAiMOPFGVB9V6PsDIjamXYBAin4HNaXGArpRaaAG9ysig8udunGi7_dxzO6_hlK5lWX-s6PtoRgyyj9pm/s1600-h/IMG_0469.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGSGGegwfjlfRkQB3q3kr-4boja3jSri6Bg4uEy-LHYH5HxAwr9oXWwAQYGcWYAiMOPFGVB9V6PsDIjamXYBAin4HNaXGArpRaaAG9ysig8udunGi7_dxzO6_hlK5lWX-s6PtoRgyyj9pm/s320/IMG_0469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277260383661222962" border="0" /></a>Then my cousin's butt-kicking ninth place finish in the Galena half-marathon...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYINSVs44H2tY5nJbAeMyDesc8BML6HlUwO9-b6I9LIeBBGGTVNN1yJ34A4zXiy-58rbFVWr7UJMJapZD3T7PniGAx5ZmmJ4aPLtFOGQWcXr9xwtUMntNc0I1MW550_wUVeKjWufMtv5of/s1600-h/IMG_0520.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYINSVs44H2tY5nJbAeMyDesc8BML6HlUwO9-b6I9LIeBBGGTVNN1yJ34A4zXiy-58rbFVWr7UJMJapZD3T7PniGAx5ZmmJ4aPLtFOGQWcXr9xwtUMntNc0I1MW550_wUVeKjWufMtv5of/s320/IMG_0520.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5277260111289269170" border="0" /></a>And then the Pad Thai cookoff: Carrie v. Nick. Fortunately for the loser, I'll stop here -- but promise to be a better blogger from now on.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-65263407221280982872008-11-18T06:51:00.007-06:002008-11-18T22:05:36.582-06:00Four down, two to goThe nephews -- Jack, age 4 and Joe age 3 -- are staying with us this week while their poor parents vacation in Cabo San Lucas. We've had them since Saturday morning, and they leave on Friday morning.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlP9OK1KgKRAg1U9xJzgR7h3AHVokCq7lhwBOh_bb0m4VtFU6URhcvs95KYXxuoieww6puP-cRT-K0fIU2Ss_nAWfzSf5vl0iuABTzI0Dlx5sm4XB5eSKdW6tjdxqifLGBMm-Wa0C1vSu/s1600-h/IMG_0244.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHlP9OK1KgKRAg1U9xJzgR7h3AHVokCq7lhwBOh_bb0m4VtFU6URhcvs95KYXxuoieww6puP-cRT-K0fIU2Ss_nAWfzSf5vl0iuABTzI0Dlx5sm4XB5eSKdW6tjdxqifLGBMm-Wa0C1vSu/s320/IMG_0244.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269979918624379874" border="0" /></a>Thank goodness mom and Bowzer the Schnauzer are here to assist.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1IZsGTDXee6Mo97I4m-ltFqkOm9RrzTeQFIrt06NOx5GR5MZzzwWMM3TJWkIgWoqnm7IysVjlJplG1oOffyzBPTPxly0mtRvXE8hhQdtevEkVvTz9sgQR3gEcNEFcF6XK6CAGVCfsZGX2/s1600-h/IMG_0210.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1IZsGTDXee6Mo97I4m-ltFqkOm9RrzTeQFIrt06NOx5GR5MZzzwWMM3TJWkIgWoqnm7IysVjlJplG1oOffyzBPTPxly0mtRvXE8hhQdtevEkVvTz9sgQR3gEcNEFcF6XK6CAGVCfsZGX2/s320/IMG_0210.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269979766802329282" border="0" /></a>Lessons learned: Boys are different from girls, and three kids are much more difficult to tame than one.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLHQxFUn46FSns2X774DJs8PGUal0R-6D3J-b4LZUCh41728ZGOPWVZaXfBOEyfa9X-4U2m-CXzyKGYCVtFz3VNGFRJ8aHlkWsxu-UGD4Ioe97S_s5RCM_n6jVJVemXfSK3pqeDTu9D5QJ/s1600-h/IMG_0234.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLHQxFUn46FSns2X774DJs8PGUal0R-6D3J-b4LZUCh41728ZGOPWVZaXfBOEyfa9X-4U2m-CXzyKGYCVtFz3VNGFRJ8aHlkWsxu-UGD4Ioe97S_s5RCM_n6jVJVemXfSK3pqeDTu9D5QJ/s320/IMG_0234.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269979584257554642" border="0" /></a>They're lucky they're so cute.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-73734438718635927042008-11-16T21:37:00.010-06:002008-11-16T21:51:57.145-06:00What we've done since election day<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cTGedISDXJIQivYPETULv3XjeLlaJ-a3-I5PdSxOZvHGY6ZAU9F6gG0U5R4HhdIOABFmkE9q0i1XYPSUKUkNEurNJITKI7bZG86W-yGap97Q19-RdQMGNXzsaGcepem2ExWHQvmRqhR7/s1600-h/IMG_0028.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cTGedISDXJIQivYPETULv3XjeLlaJ-a3-I5PdSxOZvHGY6ZAU9F6gG0U5R4HhdIOABFmkE9q0i1XYPSUKUkNEurNJITKI7bZG86W-yGap97Q19-RdQMGNXzsaGcepem2ExWHQvmRqhR7/s320/IMG_0028.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466990332156530" border="0" /></a>Played dressup with big bag of crowns and tutus generously provided by Bon.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Kis0zsKy4IpYRO-0n-T0CTA6vM9qS5ggOpQFLegIXuYPtG9iqStv1OyOukKXUmGqGHhiYE1pmm-GLg_wghf8GEaaxi6LW8l6zwXwiC_8yRjxgL0mE0tjfM3dmK6pzwCKW_eeH0xH8-C5/s1600-h/IMG_0055.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4Kis0zsKy4IpYRO-0n-T0CTA6vM9qS5ggOpQFLegIXuYPtG9iqStv1OyOukKXUmGqGHhiYE1pmm-GLg_wghf8GEaaxi6LW8l6zwXwiC_8yRjxgL0mE0tjfM3dmK6pzwCKW_eeH0xH8-C5/s320/IMG_0055.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466683269827778" border="0" /></a>Ate a chicken fried steak at Stroud's, for research purposes...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7z-UgkaCUU1-QFyhydsmThmzqb78-dehCvif2yMuVQ3M_qZ_QqGtTkfNo1y7w3wl9Y6_obMW_FYn1dvI05Oy-NlSX3Ey3G65S8PTAFdGSFHkF8qv-CrLNAUraf5fJfNhgiuk_dcJYh3_S/s1600-h/IMG_0050.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7z-UgkaCUU1-QFyhydsmThmzqb78-dehCvif2yMuVQ3M_qZ_QqGtTkfNo1y7w3wl9Y6_obMW_FYn1dvI05Oy-NlSX3Ey3G65S8PTAFdGSFHkF8qv-CrLNAUraf5fJfNhgiuk_dcJYh3_S/s320/IMG_0050.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466848353733570" border="0" /></a>...with Molly, Lori and Joe, the head researcher.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpw3T25FSRAfmseeIllfjB4dB0EevCoYKE_TUFYJA4V6faBN7kXJDSMzy34p3zNIO1rOYqYdUhCGQ6pvphQuOSUUQou9GxXUpkghvYWMOyvkbfRuQrXmyTeao7nyC_d59hHghny1rcymxI/s1600-h/IMG_0061.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpw3T25FSRAfmseeIllfjB4dB0EevCoYKE_TUFYJA4V6faBN7kXJDSMzy34p3zNIO1rOYqYdUhCGQ6pvphQuOSUUQou9GxXUpkghvYWMOyvkbfRuQrXmyTeao7nyC_d59hHghny1rcymxI/s320/IMG_0061.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466515798348786" border="0" /></a>Attended nephew Jack's 3rd birthday party in Lenexa...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwCypTaURVnxXAEg-1xPjo1AQqqvRwnVg8taItUfzKx3yIDVh0wNnbhi3AZPOaNi2ljUA7hyfN5oCYbbWvTmheFi-BwicGZjVTNGQlDZWH8h4uNH-B-iEenBR9cwgNMQjGGeoFWl3TeyEE/s1600-h/IMG_0066.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwCypTaURVnxXAEg-1xPjo1AQqqvRwnVg8taItUfzKx3yIDVh0wNnbhi3AZPOaNi2ljUA7hyfN5oCYbbWvTmheFi-BwicGZjVTNGQlDZWH8h4uNH-B-iEenBR9cwgNMQjGGeoFWl3TeyEE/s320/IMG_0066.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466346272310850" border="0" /></a>...which had a blue theme for kids and grownups both.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhBeME5SQHbENjtiMc2w4K0T78C36j54idlKrD4FOqmqNxRG6xljYTsoVhDHd5cOmTtK9GIDQTF6h0WFyyxT-iwPIieCSUrfJPjGfdpASg1Pes6cnNfYy3n83KNvn7KMd_kwCshaJxkHw/s1600-h/IMG_0176.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmhBeME5SQHbENjtiMc2w4K0T78C36j54idlKrD4FOqmqNxRG6xljYTsoVhDHd5cOmTtK9GIDQTF6h0WFyyxT-iwPIieCSUrfJPjGfdpASg1Pes6cnNfYy3n83KNvn7KMd_kwCshaJxkHw/s320/IMG_0176.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466226308569122" border="0" /></a>Took pictures of mom's squirmy new puppy, Bowzer the Schnauzer.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5LmI0JXBZuRAqh86CkAwXQDC9WIuh7LPlHpqXA6Bo4yHR7_4yaVnMY4Fwd7tLxU5ILiG-tHPPuVmCWKoOoSPUAgLDk4T0mtV-SCqSMgsjHowUS9Itb85v738I6OfZEY9Rey3QKNwsBQe/s1600-h/IMG_0197.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5LmI0JXBZuRAqh86CkAwXQDC9WIuh7LPlHpqXA6Bo4yHR7_4yaVnMY4Fwd7tLxU5ILiG-tHPPuVmCWKoOoSPUAgLDk4T0mtV-SCqSMgsjHowUS9Itb85v738I6OfZEY9Rey3QKNwsBQe/s320/IMG_0197.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269466103176445154" border="0" /></a>At a country fried steak, this one at Fat Ernie's, with Lori, Bonnie, and head researcher Joe, who declared we'd have to do Fat Ernie's over after learning that country fried steak is not exactly the same thing as chicken fried steak. No More. White. Gravy.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCDELRGkNybOk0r-GvB2KUO3grn3EyXwhAk982Eo5cgiAlguMTQQkVLPces7qkf52cM3cIg3NC2-vR3ZHLNznGCfOQ-7I68O7rp8KS9FYJ0lNWU5VfYWTHrWS3hMSgNy8-8olWakRLwjN/s1600-h/IMG_0200.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxCDELRGkNybOk0r-GvB2KUO3grn3EyXwhAk982Eo5cgiAlguMTQQkVLPces7qkf52cM3cIg3NC2-vR3ZHLNznGCfOQ-7I68O7rp8KS9FYJ0lNWU5VfYWTHrWS3hMSgNy8-8olWakRLwjN/s320/IMG_0200.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269465964310581970" border="0" /></a>And, at Fat Ernie's, met a guy named Nunie who wears a Fun Meter...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8ehpU2Sx5RnOvBlTke9d0ZTS5x5b3IgPCDF3mkANYlPWuWs9YjqKjfB1T16EMnc_yJfO83s5RX_WABA8thqMWcqn8VlTTi9lNTDNyGpNUc7-qxysjxpSB1sMOYbANvkNsf7PBxtO7XhW/s1600-h/IMG_0201.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8ehpU2Sx5RnOvBlTke9d0ZTS5x5b3IgPCDF3mkANYlPWuWs9YjqKjfB1T16EMnc_yJfO83s5RX_WABA8thqMWcqn8VlTTi9lNTDNyGpNUc7-qxysjxpSB1sMOYbANvkNsf7PBxtO7XhW/s320/IMG_0201.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269465798895862546" border="0" /></a>...dialed to high, every day.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-25080545717744596992008-11-13T14:04:00.001-06:002008-11-13T14:04:28.359-06:00Lunch at Fat Ernie's<object width="425" height="350"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/dyppTFQjuBw"> </param> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/dyppTFQjuBw" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"></embed> </object><br /><br />I'm so sorry. My attention just wandered away from what Lori was saying.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-81938529395760340532008-11-12T16:44:00.004-06:002008-11-12T17:24:34.032-06:00Well, he DID ask<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs79c24Bzvyl2V4O0_fDcz9q6XpZIvB-0rrXKcOAkTDH6Uzeu0D4nJ-hlj9nvOqky-3ZwGrCIMVB48cFBPaOxJP1mQoXHnhoSARaUxzsdIPHTnO0onfeNte66PFga3U3-RrJlQmcmpkF7_/s1600-h/denisenose.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs79c24Bzvyl2V4O0_fDcz9q6XpZIvB-0rrXKcOAkTDH6Uzeu0D4nJ-hlj9nvOqky-3ZwGrCIMVB48cFBPaOxJP1mQoXHnhoSARaUxzsdIPHTnO0onfeNte66PFga3U3-RrJlQmcmpkF7_/s320/denisenose.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267915964360138498" border="0" /></a><br />Because talking about myself is one of my favorite pastimes and all, at least according to some jerkwad sports columnists, and because Bobby Rozzell is such a swell fellow (unrelated), I am participating in this blog tag game that has developed over the past couple of days.<br /><br /><a href="http://bobbyrozzell.com/?p=97">Bobby</a>, the creator of the very cool <a href="http://douglasandmain.wordpress.com/">Douglas and Main</a> blog, is the one who tagged me.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span>Here are the rules: <div class="post-entry"><ul><li>Link to the person who tagged you.</li><li>Post the rules on your blog.</li><li>Write 6 random things about yourself.</li><li>Tag 6-ish people at the end of your post.</li><li>Let each person know he/she has been tagged.</li><li>Let the tagger know when your entry is up.</li></ul> <p>Six random things about me:</p> <p>1. I was adopted. Most people who know me very well at all know this, and it's not a topic I'm particularly sensitive about. In fact, amazingly, I rarely think about it and have never been seriously tempted to go looking for my birth parents. Maybe it's because my actual parents are all the parents anyone could ever want and more. I do, however, wish I had my medical history. Especially now that I'm getting old and falling apart.<br /></p> <p>2. I'm left handed, but I think I was supposed to be right-handed because I do everything with my right hand except write and bat, not that I bat often or well. Many of the coolest people I've known also are lefties.<br /></p> <p>3. I was on "Who Wants to Be A Millionaire." Well, sort of. My husband, Nick, was a contestant the month after we got married six years ago. They showed me in the audience, and Meredith, that bitch, asked me some sort of embarrassing/awkward question. Nick ended up winning $125,000 (you'd be amazed how far that does NOT go after taxes.) Our all-expenses paid five-day visit to NYC felt like an even bigger prize.</p><p>4. My over-publicized pug, Norton, is named after county commissioner Tim Norton. He was a stray in our neighborhood (the dog, not the commissioner) and he followed Tim Norton into our house during a Gridiron scriptwriter's meeting on a freezing cold January night.</p><p>5. I worked from my sophomore year in high school until my sophomore year in college as a "teammate" at the Brass Buckle in Dodge City and then in Lawrence, hawking Pepe Jeans and Z. Cavaricci's on commission. I still occasionally have nightmares about working retail. And about Z Cavaricci's.<br /></p> <p>6. My journalism career started in earnest in high school in Dodge City, when I won lots of awards and scholarships for reporting the story about my principal being arrested on charges of lewd and lascivious conduct in an adult theater in Wichita. Thank you, Mr. Fox, wherever you are.</p><br /><p></p>I tag:<br /><br /><a href="http://suzannetobias.blogspot.com/">Suzanne</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.lifeisgolden.blogspot.com/">Lori B.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.itslorisworld.blogspot.com/">Lori L.</a><br /><br /><a href="http://wichitawelches.blogspot.com/">Kathryn</a><br /><br /><a href="http://www.heyingblog.blogspot.com/">Travis</a><br /><br /></div>Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8973432383707225917.post-84432366457673714952008-11-02T16:06:00.002-06:002008-11-02T16:08:57.351-06:00Viva La Vida<object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/M3DXgQWe4oo&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/M3DXgQWe4oo&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Joe and Ben do a darn decent version of "Viva La Vida," in my opinion, and I captured a bit of it on video at Oeno on Friday night. Carrie says the hotness of it is diminished by Joe's arm scratching, but I say it just adds to it.Denisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14695348912255942108noreply@blogger.com0