tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51871998596172116702012-02-25T14:20:52.179-08:00“There is no such thing in anyone's life as an unimportant day. --Alexander Woolcott”Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.comBlogger3641100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-36853865047339524732012-02-25T10:12:00.000-08:002012-02-25T10:12:28.798-08:00

As I've mentioned before, I'm participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April.  Part of the challenge is just doing the blogging itself, but the other part is reading the blogs of all the other participants.  It's about building community within the blogosphere and developing a deeper follower base (both for yourself and to become a part of others' follower bases).  To that end, I

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-87885957474298832922012-02-24T10:19:00.000-08:002012-02-24T10:20:15.792-08:00

Not Our House I've just returned home from a week-long vacation at my mom's house.  My husband has been "home alone,"  and when I walked in the door last night, it's possible that my first thought was "Oh dear God."  The chaos just seemed a bit overpowering.  This is not, however, intended to be a husband-slam.  In his defense, I had left him with our rather-rambunctious young beagle who is

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-19215029605449111922012-02-23T08:01:00.000-08:002012-02-23T08:01:50.307-08:00

I don't think I do Lent the way you're supposed to do Lent. The line of Christianity that I've always been a believer in has never really made a big deal over Lent, so it's really never been something I've done.  My sense is that you're supposed to give up something you like, something it would be, at minimum, an inconvenience to give up, something you have to fight your inner self a little

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-11294290769686434442012-02-22T11:00:00.000-08:002012-02-22T11:30:10.746-08:00

Hey, you know those times that you see something and it makes you laugh?  And then you see a copy of it and it makes you chuckle.  And then you see another copy of it and it makes you smile.  And then you see another copy of it and you think, "I swear, if I see another copy of this freaking thing, I am going to shove a metal stake through the heart of whoever shared it!" I feel that way about

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-86149122158313930202012-02-21T11:58:00.003-08:002012-02-21T11:58:58.771-08:00

My mom is, quite simply, the smartest woman alive. "Oh! What happened to your smoke alarm?" I asked my mom the other day.  It was gone. She has a living room with very high vaulted ceilings, and for some reason, there is a smoke alarm WAAAAAAY up at the top.  This seems like a great place to detect smoke, I admit. But, for heavens sake, how is anyone supposed to change the battery? Actually,

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-37506900996448074332012-02-20T11:29:00.000-08:002012-02-20T11:29:23.155-08:00

Some people are smart and space their children out in nice, even intervals. I wasn't smart. For some reason, I decided it would work better to have them all at once.  Actually, I didn't DECIDE that, but that's the way it worked.  Twins, and then 15 months later, Baby #3.  Be forewarned, Newly Marrieds.  I don't technically recommend this method.  To be honest, it didn't go very well, and when

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-60826795702664363552012-02-19T10:30:00.000-08:002012-02-19T10:35:47.898-08:00

"Mom, how long has Grandma had that?" Alicia gestured to a painting on the wall. "Oh, years and years.  We used to go and visit it at the mall.  You know, we didn't have a lot of money when I was growing up, but Grandma LOVED that picture.  It just wasn't something we could afford.  Every time we went to the mall for something, we'd have to go upstairs at JCPenneys and visit it." I couldn't

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-57191069374666845732012-02-18T12:24:00.000-08:002012-02-18T12:24:40.768-08:00

The last time my headlight went out, I was determined to "do it myself."  Joel was going to be so proud of me!  I went to the auto parts store and bought the headlight.  I came home and searched up the directions.  I went into the garage and found all the tools I needed and I set to work.  But there was this one part where you're supposed to stick a screwdriver in this little hole and PRY the

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-11077930166794472142012-02-17T10:10:00.000-08:002012-02-17T10:21:42.465-08:00

On the offchance you've been living under a rock, don't watch TV, or think that fairy tales are just for insipid little girls, let me tell you about "Once Upon a Time."  This is a new-this-year drama on ABC that freshens up every fairy tale you've ever known.  The basic underlying premise is that the Evil Queen has put an appropriately-evil curse on all of Fairy Tale Land.  The curse?  

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-55091905974737741262012-02-16T09:24:00.000-08:002012-02-16T09:25:51.418-08:00

I've been reading a lot of quotes about learning from your mistakes that have resonated deep inside me. Like this: "Remember that life's best lessons are usually learned at the worst times and from the worst mistakes." And this: "Remember that every mistake will teach us what NOT to do next time." And this: "Choose your relationships wisely. Being alone will never cause as much

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-28794219989540785802012-02-15T09:33:00.000-08:002012-02-15T09:33:07.502-08:00

How do you take off your band-aids?  Do you do it one agonizing millimeter at a time?  Or do you grit your teeth and wrench the whole thing off in one agonizing swipe? When it comes to my emotional band-aids, I'm a "millimeter at a time" kind of girl.  The full in-your-face pains are hard and I want to avoid them at all costs, so I take a bazillion passes at the band-aid.  I peel it off

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-72289522218924448842012-02-14T09:11:00.002-08:002012-02-14T09:11:21.151-08:00

Let's see if I can get all this coding right...  :) In the month of April (and I know, yes, that's still six weeks off), I will be participating in a blog challenge called...  I know, this is a tough one to figure out...  the "Blogging from A to Z April Challenge."  10 points if you got it before I said it.   I'm not sure how I stumbled across this, but I'm looking forward to doing it.  

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-83854760775929744572012-02-13T10:24:00.000-08:002012-02-13T10:24:29.718-08:00

It happens every time a celebrity dies. My Facebook and Twitter feed absolutely BLOW UP, and I think, "Huh. That's really weird." Please don't misunderstand... Just as I would with the death of anyone I don't know, I feel sympathy for their friends and their families.  Losing someone is hard. Grief is real and ugly and painful, and I absolutely feel badly for those people. But for the rest of

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-42106314780792693842012-02-12T16:19:00.000-08:002012-02-12T17:43:21.808-08:00

This was my evening last night.  As previously mentioned, Brad Paisley is my favorite country artist.  Actually, he's my favorite artist, period.  And it was a night of pure magic. I always buy my tickets through his fan club.  It's a $18 investment to join, but it pays off in big ways when it's time for concert tickets.  The only drawback to it is that you don't know where you're sitting

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-49875795822240405952012-02-11T11:27:00.000-08:002012-02-11T11:27:12.435-08:00

Happy Saturday! Ok, first, go read this and then come back:  Blog Like a Honey Badger I read this a day or so ago, and it really resonated with me.  It's been on my mind ever since.  Do you ever find yourself swimming in not-honeybadger-ness? It means being yourself and saying what you mean – what you want to say – not what you think you should say. It's not even that I find myself saying

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-50610923023242236752012-02-10T09:57:00.000-08:002012-02-10T10:10:12.706-08:00

In high school, I was briefly into country, and by "into," I mean "just barely."  I don't think we had more than the Garth Brooks CD that "Friends in Low Places" is on.  But it didn't do much to take over my then-affair with musicals.  Years passed, I dated and married a man who thinks country rots your speakers, and we lived in Southern California which was not rife with country music stations.

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-17388634770494546782012-02-09T09:00:00.000-08:002012-02-09T09:00:14.783-08:00

I can get dressed. I can wash my hair. I can button my jeans and tie my shoes. I can eat a sandwich. I can kiss. I can type a letter, but not write one. I can't put on make-up. I can pet my dog. I can listen to music. I can think. I can practice making babies. I can smell vanilla and citrus in the air. I can play the flute... just don't ask me to play anything specific. I can enjoy a cup of

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-19565925138104350032012-02-08T09:02:00.000-08:002012-02-08T09:02:13.500-08:00

Let go. Do you have hatreds filling up your heart? Let them go. Do you hold onto anger at someone just because it feels good to be able to feel something toward them? Let it go. Do you miss someone so much that it hurts? Let that go. Do you play conversations over and over in your head, wondering how things could have gone differently? Let them go. Do you have grudges that won't let you

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-46811444249629856642012-02-07T09:07:00.000-08:002012-02-07T09:07:29.930-08:00

Dear Mr General Dentist, Thank you for referring me to the endodontist so that I could get my root canal done and so my tooth can get closer to not making me want to hit things.  Could I possibly request something from you? The next time you refer me to a specialist, could you just make some little notation on the referral to inform me that the person you are referring me to is really

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-56049224325119707402012-02-06T09:13:00.000-08:002012-02-06T09:13:57.213-08:00

I said I was going somewhere that looked like this: That wasn't entirely true.  I went somewhere that looked like this: And this: And this: My best friend and I have been going to the beach at Westport for about two years. And for two years, we have been WAITING to be there at sunset.  But something always happens.  I think we had to leave early once because our kids were

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-8361118022093625492012-02-05T12:54:00.001-08:002012-02-05T12:54:07.769-08:00

I live in the Seattle area. In the winter, it usually looks very much like this: But, every winter, for just a few days in February, it looks rather more like this:  and on some of those days, I go to somewhere with my best friend that looks quite a lot like this:  And that's where I'm going today. Hope whoever you like in the Superbowl wins! Go Football People!

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-59254024542513955482012-02-04T14:18:00.000-08:002012-02-04T14:18:32.629-08:00

Have you ever noticed how few phone booths exist?  We all have cell phones, they're no longer needed.  In fact, since moving to Washington, I think I can think of a grand total of THREE that I've seen.  There's one on Vashon Island across from the bike in the tree.  There's one in... Monroe, I think.  And there's one in the Crossroads Mall in Bellevue, but I can't be sure it actually works.  

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-18504080740716779612012-02-03T09:39:00.000-08:002012-02-03T09:39:55.185-08:00

I was born in Tillamook, Oregon, which is a little funny when you consider that cheese makes me vomit.  But, perhaps we can attribute it to too much fetal injestion or simply that I didn't spend long in the city.  When I was just 2 weeks old, my parents moved from there back to Eugene, Oregon. I can only be grateful that we did...  I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up in Tillamook,

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-74968342050948809492012-02-02T09:18:00.000-08:002012-02-02T09:18:07.764-08:00

Defeat. No one likes to encounter it.  Personally, I like to admit it even less than I like encountering it.  There is something about admitting that I've lost or failed that grates on every single nerve in my body and soul.  Admitting that I wasn't good enough is a hard thing to do.  It hurts my self-esteem, my confidence, and my pride (which is, perhaps, not always a bad thing).  But, I'm not

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-71432323716799305972012-02-01T09:34:00.000-08:002012-02-01T09:34:00.581-08:00

Books I Read The Swan Thieves, by Elizabeth Kostova The Peach Keeper, by Sarah Allison Allen Room, by Emma Donoghue Before I Go To Sleep, by SJ Watson The Story of Beautiful Girl, by Rachel Simon Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, by Beth Hoffman The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green Movies and TV I Watched Once Upon a Time The Muppets Sherlock Raising Hope Music I Added Lindsay Stirling Walk Off

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-19914582747919168762012-01-31T07:00:00.000-08:002012-01-31T07:00:07.773-08:00

I don't normally write book reviews, and there are reasons for that... mainly that I suck at them.  When I read, I don't read to review.  I read to absorb and feel and live the characters.  Then, when I sit down to tell you how awesome it is, all I've got is "It was amazing!"  And I'm terribly at knowing how much to spoil.  So I just don't do it.  But I'm going to today, anyway. I first was

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-9697419291375259842012-01-30T09:36:00.000-08:002012-01-30T09:36:07.052-08:00

One of my longtime friends is pregnant for the first time.  She's adorable.  She posted on her Facebook yesterday, asking if anyone else had gotten a "push gift" from their husbands when they'd had kids.  Now... it's been awhile since I was pregnant, so I'd never heard of this before. Apparently, a "push gift" is one your husband gives you after you've "pushed" out yonder child.  You know

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-74581748952147769482012-01-29T14:20:00.000-08:002012-01-29T14:20:05.582-08:00

The simple truth is that I have an unhealthy, albeit intimate, relationship with my stats and traffic pages.   I know it's stupid.  I know it shouldn't matter.  But I'm addicted to looking at it.  I like seeing who's coming and when, how they got to this site, what they were looking for.  I like to know what they read and what I wrote that people found read-worthy. I like the idea that I'm

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-34697783137259637402012-01-28T11:53:00.000-08:002012-01-28T11:53:56.656-08:00

Yesterday was a Non-Student Day for my kids' school.  So, as promised, I went in search of creating some quality time with my daughters.  This consisted of pulling up the map of the Northwest Washington area and scanning for patches of green that we haven't explored yet.  Last spring and summer, we visited the Olympic Pensinsula a good deal, but this time I decided to go up and over a little

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-12728023501213235222012-01-27T09:04:00.000-08:002012-01-27T09:04:07.885-08:00

"The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry." I had plans for January... for 2012, really.  They weren't lofty, or at least I didn't think they were.  At the crux, I just wanted to make this a year in which we created opportunities for good memories.  I wanted to worry about the housework less, and about the time spent with our kids more. I wanted to be more organized and less "fly by the

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-20151669125853287062012-01-26T09:40:00.000-08:002012-01-26T09:42:00.621-08:00

Stole this from Kathy at That's What She Said: 1:Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? Open.  I don't think the door to our closet is EVER closed... except at Christmastime when it becomes the dumping ground for the yet-unwrapped mountain of kid-gifts. 2:Do you take the shampoos and conditioner bottles from hotel? Nope... I don't use shampoo at all, and I definitely

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-89735946146400080282012-01-25T09:29:00.000-08:002012-01-25T09:29:01.428-08:00

We have this discount card.  It allows us to enjoy discounts on a number of attractions in the area, discounts on car rentals, vacation planning, home services, local restaurants, etc, etc.  Most often, I use it to get us more cheaply into the local attractions: the zoo, the science museum, things like that. Yesterday, I received a monthly email telling me that they had new partners in the

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-56987853154516912952012-01-24T09:00:00.000-08:002012-01-24T09:00:16.896-08:00

"Hey Mom... did you know that you're almost 40?" came the possibly-innocent question from the backseat. "I most certainly am NOT!" was my indignant reply. And then in my head, I did the math...  "36... 37... 38... 39... 40. Holy crap, I'm almost 40.  That can't be right.  I'm not old enough to be 40." And here I am.  Almost-40.  It's like a clock above my head, ticking off the whisper.  "

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-30913514632650157982012-01-23T09:26:00.000-08:002012-01-23T09:26:44.267-08:00

I was at the beach, sitting by myself along the waterline. While watching my kids play, I slowly dug a hole next to me, carefully scooping out handful after handful of sand.  Eventually, I had a deep crevice, and a giant pile of damp sand.  What to do with the hole?  I had nothing to carry water from the ocean with.  I was far too comfortable in the afternoon sun to get up and go in search of

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-72858248666671351972012-01-22T09:26:00.000-08:002012-01-22T09:26:16.604-08:00

I thought I'd share with you how I go about planning our weekly meals. I had cookbooks everywhere.  But, I found that I wasn't USING them because I didn't know what was in them. I couldn't remember where to find which recipes.  I was doing Weight Watchers and I didn't know which recipes were points friendly, and which weren't.  So I embarked on a project to bring it all together.  It took me

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-67267465216865442902012-01-21T08:07:00.000-08:002012-01-21T08:07:31.534-08:00

Good morning! I'm trying to get back into being more proactive about eating healthier.  In that vein, I made my summertime chicken pasta salad for dinner last night.  It's relatively quick (but does need chilling time for best taste results), easy, and most importantly, the kids all love it.  My current vegetable selection was limited, but we did the best we could. Chicken Pasta Salad

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-16368931821402459612012-01-20T10:08:00.000-08:002012-01-20T10:08:09.664-08:00

Maybe we can blame it on post-PMS hormone crash or that I haven't left my house in six days, but yesterday I was mad at everything.  Frustrated, completely fed up with some people, beat down, allowing myself to indulge in a bad habit I've been putting behind me, focusing on things that I know only upset me. It wasn't my best day. I woke up this morning to pre-teen angst, and quickly pulled my

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-28265145076367407012012-01-19T09:30:00.000-08:002012-01-19T09:30:11.771-08:00

The fall of 1996.  I was 20 years old.  I had my first apartment. I was a junior in college. I was young and idealistic.  And I was a new wife, the ink barely dry on our marriage certificate. To say that I was a good cook would be stretching it.  A lot.  To be honest, I knew almost nothing.  I could make fishsticks and poptarts and ramen.  But, I was determined, with a young wife's zeal (if

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-78065706309846022182012-01-18T10:07:00.000-08:002012-01-18T10:10:38.616-08:00

I read this yesterday in a new book I'm reading: "'I wish you could, But that's not the way it's written in your Life Book. This is the beginning of a big adventure, and you won't want to miss it. Your Life Book is about to reveal a new chapter...Life is full of change, honey. That's how we learn and grow. When we're born, the Good Lord gives each of us a Life Book. Chapter by chapter, we live

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-57842271035219706792012-01-17T11:08:00.000-08:002012-01-17T11:08:29.464-08:00

I want to tell you something and I want you to really listen. You're special.  You're special just because you are you.  And at the risk of sounding like an old SNL sketch, you are good enough and smart enough and worth enough just because you are you. Don't let people convince you of anything less than this truth. What I've said is truth.  But, what they tell you can feel like truth. And once

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-37705276216373621302012-01-16T10:07:00.000-08:002012-01-16T10:07:12.237-08:00

I woke up this morning thinking about honesty and...  equality of analysis.  The differences in how we consider our own actions versus someone else's. I had a friendship that ended some time ago.  I couldn't tell you all the reasons it did, even if I knew them. But, in part, I know that they have always been angry because they feel I was dishonest with them.  And, in the interest of

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-39929455364532289212012-01-15T11:48:00.000-08:002012-01-15T11:48:37.975-08:00

Current Books: Oh, this has been a reading fest over the past few days, which I am loving.  I guess it's true that you do what you make time to do.  The last few days, I've read The Swan Thieves, The Peach Keeper, Room, and Before I Go To Sleep.  I wouldn't recommend the first, but all the others are good.  Last night, I started The Story of Beautiful Girl, but I'd taken some Nyquil and only

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-38551687163764164312012-01-14T09:17:00.000-08:002012-01-14T09:17:54.311-08:00

What a blissful day yesterday was!!  I've been sick all week, but have just been going about my life like normal (with one child home sick from school for the first three days of the week).  So...  I gave myself the day off yesterday.  I folded two loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen...  and then took my book with me and went to bed.  Read, napped, read some more, napped some more.  Finished my

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-32642412978782117802012-01-13T09:19:00.000-08:002012-01-13T09:19:40.934-08:00

Moments and experiences and people come into your life, and they live there with a song.  Sometimes they sing for you, sometimes they sing with you, sometimes you sing for them.  But when it all fades away, and they are gone, all that remains are the notes of those songs. They linger in the air and play a delicate haunting melody in your memory.  Sometimes you can't hardly even remember the song

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-23048793274023236492012-01-12T09:31:00.000-08:002012-01-12T09:31:27.592-08:00

I seem to have acquired a new addiction of late... Quotations. I've spent the last three days reading them, and filling up a notebook with ones I like.  Quotes that speak to me, quotes that make me say "YES," quotes that inspire me, quotes that make me want to be better.  I know myself.  I want to write about them.  They say one thing, and it sets off a stream of consciousness in my head, and

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-2951030470937291732012-01-11T09:13:00.000-08:002012-01-11T09:13:18.855-08:00

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 "No one sticks around very long around here," George muttered as he trudged along the path. Keith, Ryan, Damian, even Zara! "About a week, my FOOT," he continued. Zara sure didn't know her distances very well. He'd been travelling for three weeks and still no bridge in sight. And it was HOT here! There had been a pool on the cruise, you know. And they had Air conditioning!

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-34368837108151835172012-01-10T08:31:00.000-08:002012-01-11T10:50:43.363-08:00

Part 1 Part 2 "Last week, on CT and the Island... "... George's ears perked up and he scrambled to this feet as the narrator's voice boomed across the island.  "The handsome Scot, George, set off to find his own darn way off the island, seeing as Keith was no help at all..." George preened a bit at this. "He was momentarily 'rescued' by Ryan in bizarre attire, only for Ryan to be thrown off (

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-59829323969606071122012-01-09T09:05:00.000-08:002012-01-11T10:50:15.708-08:00

Part 1 George watched as Keith wandered off with his Island babes. He looked around the now-empty clearing and muttered to no one in particular, "Well, now what am I going to do??" He picked up the stick he'd been using to fend off the women... Not as a cane. Honest!!! Before the island warriors had shown up, he'd been trying to find some drinking water. Moored on the island after his cruise

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-71114981228492887412012-01-08T14:33:00.000-08:002012-01-11T10:49:29.482-08:00

The sun was shining brightly that day as the blond surfer paddled through the tropic island ocean and landed on the quiet beach. He dropped his surfboard to the sand and looked around, stretching lazily. The bright blue water glittered in the morning light. The breeze sifted through the palm trees as it blew his hair around his shoulders, dropping beads of water from the ocean mist to

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-72342278444556163982012-01-07T11:34:00.000-08:002012-01-07T12:24:58.913-08:00

"Taxi!" The yellow cab came to a stop outside the airport and I climbed into the backseat, pushing my carry-on onto the seat ahead of me.  The driver turned around to look at me and inquired, "Where to, Miss?" "Victor City, please," I replied in a tired voice, and we were off.  I leaned my head back against the headrest, and closed my eyes.  It had felt like a long trip, even though I'd only

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-2280643417019933882012-01-06T09:37:00.000-08:002012-01-06T09:37:47.909-08:00

Nothing like a short and concise title, eh? I started a new linedancing class yesterday at the Rockin' Horse Dance Barn. Come on, admit it, if you had a place with that name, you'd want to go there, too.  I liked the class I was taking before, but our instructor got a fulltime job and had to quit.  The ladies had kept running it, but it was just going downhill in regard to challenge level and I

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-59787069075102353052012-01-05T09:42:00.000-08:002012-01-05T09:42:41.679-08:00

"You have no power over me." It's one of my favorite moments from the Jim Henson movie, "Labyrinth."  In the final climactic scene, Sarah finds herself running through the monologue she recited at the beginning of the movie, again getting stuck on what that final line is supposed to be.  Finally, she looks up as her memory is triggered... but it's not just memory that is in her eyes, but

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-60115298869806767132012-01-04T09:37:00.000-08:002012-01-04T09:37:29.342-08:00

I sat down here at the computer today, not knowing what I wanted to write.  I've run through all the notes I'd written to myself as I wrapped up my year.  I was awake at 3am last night, with lyrics to a song my head decided to write.  And at 3am, I had convinced myself that a really awesome idea would be to finish writing it... and then RECORD it to POST here. By morning, it was gone...  which

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-58367216773769199892012-01-03T11:54:00.000-08:002012-01-03T11:55:13.274-08:00

When I read this sentiment a few weeks ago, it seemed to be given with an air of... defeat?  Sort of an "it's all been done before, so why even bother getting up and trying to do anything?"  I wasn't sure why, but it stuck in the back of my mind for occasional pondering.  I couldn't disagree with the statement, really.  There have been millions of lives that have come before mine, millions of

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-91963145770294563752012-01-02T11:33:00.000-08:002012-01-02T11:33:57.703-08:00

At the risk of over-generalizing, I think that it's relatively safe to say that no one (save for the most pessimistic and hopeless) ever goes into the new year thinking, "This is the year it falls apart!"  No...  we all enter our new years with hopes and dreams and plans and expectations for good things.  But, sometimes it falls apart anyway, doesn't it?  There is only so much that we can control

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-68623356237699256152012-01-01T00:23:00.000-08:002012-01-01T00:23:23.420-08:00

Yesterday, if I'd sat down to write my New Years Resolutions (plans, goals, themes, whatever), I would have simply said that I wanted to slow down.  This year, and this fall especially, has been so busy, and I feel like I've hardly taken a moment to breathe since the kids went back to school at the beginning of September.  If I wasn't going someplace, I was doing the laundry from going someplace

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-52927314148452455792011-12-31T11:58:00.000-08:002011-12-31T11:58:22.131-08:00

I'll be honest.  When I first started thinking of my year in 2011, I thought of a good deal of hurt.  Under the surface, I'm not sure this was the easiest year I've ever had.  There were lots of different "me"s fighting with each other over what was and what should be and what was to come.  A lot of onion-peeling, if you will.  So, when I first started thinking about the year, this is where my

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-32180964246233514082011-12-30T12:12:00.000-08:002011-12-30T12:12:04.591-08:00

Just a quick post today, as I'm just about out the door with things to do... After months of people telling me, "Read this read this read this," I finally bought, opened, read, and finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I liked it...    For the four people that haven't read it yet, I won't spoil it for you.  But I liked it.  I wouldn't call it a happy read...  it was hurtful to read.  It

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-9074198933608012392011-12-29T09:32:00.000-08:002011-12-29T09:32:53.790-08:00

New Year's Resolutions.  New Year Goals.  Plans, bucket lists, Thing to Do Before I Die.  May as well keep it un-morbid. Making plans for the new year, in one form or another, is something that will occupy many of us in the next week.  The very concept of a new year seems to lend us a time to figure out all the things we want to do better and try to fix them in one fell swoop, full of motivation

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-40668152326413408602011-12-28T14:04:00.000-08:002011-12-28T14:04:13.696-08:00

Last week, I took a trip to Wenatchee to pick some things up from my step-grandmother, Pat.  My girls sat in the house watching iCarly and not breaking anything, while I went out to the garage/office/thing to gather the things I'd come to pick up.  Maybe she's just old and lonely, I don't know.  But as we rifled through things, she was talking about things that happened in the past.  Years and

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-70039956837010173912011-12-27T09:34:00.000-08:002011-12-27T09:34:09.863-08:00

"Baby, would you like some pie?" My voice had suddenly dipped into a Southern drawl... sort of a mix of Forrest Gump, the ladies of Steel Magnolias, and all my Southern girlfriends. "Mom," Alicia looked at me with alarm.  "Mom, we're in public." "There is a pie place over there and I just bet you that we could find us some peach pie," I said as we turned in the direction of the pie stall at the

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-80561636922147254062011-12-26T10:13:00.000-08:002011-12-26T10:13:53.358-08:00

They say it's better to give than to receive. We bought a lot of presents this year. A soda-making machine, movies, video games, clothes, make-up, beer, software, computer equipment, music, plus a whole host of things for our extended families which are yet to be opened... Do you know which gift's response I'm happiest about? I'm delighted that the DOG has taken so well to the new cuddly bed

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-72443407474469949952011-12-25T02:03:00.000-08:002011-12-25T02:03:22.168-08:00

To the Haagenson girls... What a bounty of goodies you left for me and the reindeer!  First of all, thanks so much for the cookies.  I really liked the sprinkles you put in the milk... it was very Christmas-y!  Rudolph asked me to make sure you knew how much he liked the carrot cupcakes.  He gets so very tired of carrots at every house.  The change of pace, and the cream cheese frosting

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-6377443509558311812011-12-24T10:11:00.000-08:002011-12-24T10:11:29.349-08:00

"I have these presents to buy and I have to go to the grocery store and there's going to be lines out the door and I have to make cookies and I have to clean the house and... and I'm just so tired!!!" The weariness could be heard in my friend's voice as we talked on the phone. "Hey," I tried to console.  "It's going to be okay.  What is really important?" "What?" "You're going to be together,

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-23902801490843539132011-12-23T10:32:00.000-08:002011-12-23T10:32:20.239-08:00

I don't remember what the action was, but I remember what was said afterward.  Casey had done something which required stepping outside of her comfort zone. I took her aside and told her, "I want you to know that I'm really proud of you for what you did.  It was very brave, and that's a big deal." "Mom, I wasn't brave at all," she protested. "I was really scared to do it." "Baby, being brave

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-15017914609060288572011-12-22T10:44:00.000-08:002011-12-22T10:44:31.861-08:00

Or... selections of, anyway. Probably my favorite song from Lenka's debut album... While it's funny, Toby Keith's music video just doesn't do justice to this song. :) I just like this song.  Someday, I'll get the lyrics right when I sing along... I don't think this song was ever released as a single, but it's probably my favorite Brad Paisley song... beautiful. This is my favorite

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-61224107523978267852011-12-21T11:43:00.000-08:002011-12-23T21:45:39.554-08:00

This is going to be one of those blogs where my adjectives don't NEARLY do justice to what I mean. When my LA-based friend and I decided to meet somewhere to see a Celtic Thunder concert this year, we settled on Dallas as the weekend show that worked the best with our schedules and would be the easiest money-wise.  Plane tickets are no longer cheap, my dears.  It was several weeks after we

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-16053537502249821672011-12-19T13:26:00.000-08:002011-12-19T13:26:52.691-08:00

I once read an article, geared toward musicians, that said superfans could be an incredible asset-- they will fervently support you, promote you, fight for you, show up at any event you ask them to attend, buy every overpriced piece of merchandise you provide for sale-- but that they are also the fans that expect the most from you.  I can see how that's true. I had the opportunity this past

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-14513619295076766292011-12-17T07:00:00.000-08:002011-12-17T07:00:09.652-08:00

Kind Intelligent Thoughtful Funny Forthright Honest Wise Slow...er to act Generous Clever Spectacular

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-72184848499458870102011-12-16T04:37:00.000-08:002011-12-16T04:37:40.283-08:00

Life works in funny ways... There's nothing like observing someone who bugs the crap out of you to make you see the error of your own ways. It's really easy to look at them and gripe, gripe, gripe... and I daresay there's a good amount of satisfaction in that. But, you eventually have to listen to that little annoying voice inside of you that goes "Oh, but but but but but... can you really say

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-23303261101807219912011-12-15T09:23:00.000-08:002011-12-15T09:23:16.540-08:00

My kids are a little spoiled. Casey and Alicia like to go to the playground before school so I drop them off at the curb across the street from the upper half of the playground.  And on the days McKenzie wants to go to the library, I then drive through the school parking lot traffic to drop her off at the flagpole so she's closer to said room.  Today was one of those days. Or, at least, it was

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-90013535036838608172011-12-14T09:35:00.000-08:002011-12-14T09:35:19.388-08:00

"I just want to do something that counts." It was a sentiment I heard often when I was a teenager in high school, when the most important thing we ever did was study for today's history test.  Then, it was something I heard when I was in my 20s, and we were all caught up in the quest to fall in love and change the world.  Then, it was something I heard when I was in my 30s and we were all just a

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-90082156156023722092011-12-13T11:19:00.000-08:002011-12-13T11:19:28.446-08:00

"BARN FOR LEASE" In the practically-middle-of-nowhere, halfway between Duvall and Carnation, WA (6500 and 1700 population, respectively), there is a Chevron station.  Sharing the parking lot of said Chevron station, there sits a large red barn with this sign atop its roof. Not THE barn. I want it. The barn. I want the barn. I don't know why. I have no need for a barn. My largest

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-63398540845905445092011-12-12T10:05:00.000-08:002011-12-12T10:05:59.059-08:00

Something I've been thinking on with absolutely no conclusions...   Today is not a 'complete thought' sort of day, but you can come along while I think. Sometimes I feel pulled between two seemingly-conflicting mindsets: 1.  "It's not the people that stand by your side when you're at your best, but the ones who stand beside you when you're at your worse that are your true friends." 2.  "Life

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-82563368046806376562011-12-09T09:53:00.001-08:002011-12-09T10:05:26.340-08:00

It's a hard thing to feel used.  That moment when you take honest stock of the situation and realize you've been stupid and gullible?  Not a happy one.  Mostly, I think you just feel embarrassed at first.  In retrospect, it seems so clear... For awhile, the natural response, after the embarrassment fades, is one of anger.  How could they do that to you?  How dare they treat you that way, have so

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-15557283575891136292011-12-08T14:36:00.001-08:002011-12-08T14:40:05.889-08:00

Dear Starbucks, Last year, you sent me an email in which you detailed an upcoming delivery service that you were going to be testing in several select metropolitan areas. Given that you are based in my general area, I surmised that you would be testing in the locality I live in. This pleased me. This pleased me greatly. This pleased me greatly until I realized that the date of said email was

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-69809807470595704922011-12-07T09:29:00.001-08:002011-12-07T09:41:01.676-08:00

I almost forgot about this.  I was waiting for a sunny morning to take advantage of the shiny light, but alas, I think I'll be waiting till spring for that.  So, to finish up the meme... One photo. I'm not as slender as I'd like to be.  But I'm not as overweight as I've been before.  Sometimes it seems like I am forever on a journey to create the physical me that I envision

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-55113275419601916822011-12-06T09:09:00.001-08:002011-12-06T09:24:21.023-08:00

It started with the year my sister Carey couldn't come home for Christmas.  She lives in Alaska, and airfare isn't exactly cheap.  So, instead of shelling out big bucks for Christmastime prices where the whole visit would be rushed, she and her husband opted to come down the following summer instead, but stay for longer. We had Christmas as a family as normal, minus Carey and PK.  But, my mom

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-13803672854583166842011-12-05T09:06:00.001-08:002011-12-05T09:15:59.874-08:00

With the economy tanking more than usual lately, we see a lot more panhandlers on the street corners....  You know, the guys/girls with the "HOMELESS GOD BLESS PLEASE GIVE ME MONEY" signs as you drive off the freeway, or wherever there's a lot of steady traffic. My children have varied responses to these folks/signs.  McKenzie, who has the purest heart of gold of any person I've ever seen,

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-52987376985852449972011-12-03T10:58:00.001-08:002011-12-03T11:10:34.563-08:00

It was my first Christmas after getting married, and I was in the kitchen at my grandma's house.  I was there with all the women in our family for our then-traditional cookie-baking party.  My sisters were elsewhere, but I was settled in with my mom and my aunt...  I suppose it was my first time being part of the group as a "grown-up." And... as women do, the conversation eventually turned to

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-80138384159500796472011-12-02T11:52:00.001-08:002011-12-02T12:02:09.086-08:00

Sometimes traditions change a bit. When we lived in California, we couldn't help much with getting Mom's house ready for Christmas.  Instead, that began to fall to my youngest sister.  She, along with her boyfriend, would help my mom pick out the Christmas tree at the lot, get it home and set up and mostly decorated.  Then, when we got to town, we'd go over and I'd put my decorations on my tree.

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-35541216676985661252011-11-30T23:37:00.001-08:002011-11-30T23:51:41.402-08:00

I think it was the first Christmas after my parents divorced.  I was  9, and my sisters were 5 and 2.  My mom had been a stay-at-home mom during my parents' marriage, and I don't think she'd yet decided to go back to college.  Money was short.  But, she was determined to make Christmas special for us, even though our world had turned upside down. This was my first year with my own bedroom, and

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-64741114656231535582011-11-30T09:33:00.001-08:002011-11-30T09:45:30.523-08:00

"Congratulations on raising a geographically savvy kid! Your son/daughter recently participated in the preliminary classroom round of the 2012 National Geographic Geography Bee. In this competition, your child placed in the top 20 out of all 4th-6th grade students at our school and will be moving on to the 'semi-finals.'" This was the first paragraph of a letter that came home yesterday with one

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-47960846692660964792011-11-29T09:07:00.001-08:002011-11-29T09:17:18.836-08:00

Me too. I've been quiet over the weekend... part of that was just plain busy.  Thanksgiving is "my"holiday.  The grandparents all drive up from Oregon, and I make everything from top to bottom (except for the sweet potatoes my MIL brings).  Turkey, stuffing, potatoes and gravy, rolls, frozen cranberry salad, pumpkin pie... whatever else I've forgotten.  So, Wednesday and Thursday were spent

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-1819362430110589222011-11-28T09:51:00.001-08:002011-11-28T10:18:43.945-08:00

1.  "When you come to the end of all the light you know, and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things will happen: Either you will be given something solid to stand on or you will be taught to fly." --Edward Teller 2. "Heroes know that things must happen when it is time for them to happen. A quest may not simply be abandoned; unicorns may go

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-23509263472188988482011-11-24T00:36:00.001-08:002011-11-24T09:46:21.368-08:00

A year has passed and I find myself at another Thanksgiving.  Last year's Thanksgiving was one of the first posts I wrote on this blog, and so I look back on the last year and I'm thankful for the journey I've walked on with you. To be honest, it's been a weird year.  A lot of ups and downs, a lot of things I didn't expect to be or happen.  But, they did.  I've found such comfort and strength in

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-58818361750383045302011-11-21T22:30:00.001-08:002011-11-21T22:48:04.007-08:00

If you'll forgive me...  I've got more from football weekend. Many years ago, the Oregon Ducks really sucked.  This was mostly before the time that I'd become a Duck fan in 1994, coinciding with when Joel and I started getting serious and I figured I'd better learn something about the game if I was going to be stuck watching it every Saturday.  It didn't much bother me that they sucked...  my

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-6594074385302766922011-11-20T19:57:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:39:53.304-08:00

While riding home in the car from Oregon tonight... *Girls are playing A-Z... the wimpy way* Joel:  You're so cheating... you should play this game the REAL way. Casey: What's the real way? Joel: The way WE played it as kids, you couldn't just use any letter of the word.  It had to be the FIRST letter of the word or you couldn't claim it. Kids:  Oh... that sounds hard! Me: Ok, go! Joel:

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-11909345848203367792011-11-20T00:18:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:43:40.838-08:00

I'm a Celtic Thunder fan.  We know this, right?  Celtic Thunder concerts can require a little creative balancing.  On the one hand, the people at concerts come from a lot of different background and come with varying expectations.  Those from what we often call "the PBS crowd" expect a more sedate audience-feel, as if you're at the opera or some similar theatrical experience.... where you sit

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-19376556606842047332011-11-18T09:41:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:44:39.431-08:00

I was first introduced to Maureen Johnson when she guest-vlogged for John Green when he was... on paternity leave?  I thought she was fantastic... funny, down-to-earth, relatable.  I followed her on Twitter for awhile, and I always liked her attitude about things.  I keep my Twitter follow list pretty locked down...  I don't know how all you people with 1000+ people you follow do it.  My Twitter

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-20387455286100093512011-11-16T09:31:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:45:33.169-08:00

Take a turn around Target or Walmart or a host of any other retail store and you'll see it.  Christmas decorations everywhere...  Granted, they've been there since the 1st of September, but they're really starting to be prevalent now.  But, I'm not actually ready for that yet... Not because I'm a scrooge about listening to Christmas music before November 25th or anything, it's just that I have to

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-46494598738931567762011-11-15T10:41:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:45:59.505-08:00

Chapter 3 I stepped inside the cafe, letting my eyes adjust to the change in light from the day's sunshine. It was much like you'd expect any eatery in a town that time forgot to look like.  There was the long counter across from the kitchen, spinny stools at the ready.  Booths lined the walls, covered in shiny pink vinyl, though perhaps less shiny now. Countrified knickknacks and plaques lined

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-40973686627735362502011-11-14T09:09:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:46:22.042-08:00

Do you remember Super Mario Bros? No, not the new ones... the old one.  Before wireless controllers. Before Mario Kart and whatever else they have out now.  I mean the one that came with the original (I think) Nintendo gaming system and was packaged with the always-exciting Duck Hunt.  That one. I remember having that system for a long time...  Our game selection wasn't huge (albeit I don't

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-78013295671292709882011-11-13T16:42:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:50:33.859-08:00

Chapter 2 I grabbed my duffel bag from the back of my car while Kyle the Handsome Cowboy set his truck up for towing.  I really hoped it wasn't going to cost too much money.  Or time.  Surely I had things to do... like... okay, maybe I didn't have anything to do but cry and eat my mom's chocolate chip cookies. I watched from the side of the road as Kyle worked on attaching the chains, and then

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-85896166852135836662011-11-12T13:17:00.001-08:002011-11-12T13:54:22.541-08:00

Two Songs... How do you pick just two songs??  They should have made this for "9." Ok, I'm cheating on this one...  I got it narrowed down to four, and I can't narrow it any further.  Give me credit, I started with 15. The first few months I was writing this blog, I was consumed with some hurt I needed to process and get over.  Much of the writing I did then reflected that process.  Later,

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-33340914614064869742011-11-11T12:44:00.001-08:002011-11-21T09:51:00.260-08:00

"Kids don't have school Th and Fri. Do you have time in your schedule for lunch?" I texted. She texted back, "Volunteering in K class on Friday. Thursday work?" And thus yesterday's plans were made. Lunch with my little sister! Despite the day of no school, we all got up and got ready at normal times and packed into the car for the 3 hour drive to Portland.  A stop at Starbucks for breakfast(

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-76189869373673665132011-11-09T10:27:00.000-08:002011-11-21T09:51:13.001-08:00

Chapters 1 and 2 in the sidebar --->> Chapter 3.1 Terrance wasn't a huge town.  But, to be fair, you might have to blink at least twice to get through it.  It ran the length of the highway for a few blocks before the road picked back up into the great unknown ahead.  Along one side, I could see what must be Kyle's auto repair shop, with one gas pump sitting outside.  Next to it sat a pretty

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-67862516643917247612011-11-08T09:22:00.000-08:002011-11-21T09:51:54.750-08:00

When I was a young mom, I always heard the advice "Pick your battles."  That always sounded good, but I'm not sure I REALLY understood the advice until Alicia came along.  Smart, funny, realist and cynic... and quite possibly the most stubborn child ever born into existence. When she was younger, she had absolutely no desire for girl clothes. At all. I had this beautiful little girl...

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-25833506561024198512011-11-07T09:22:00.000-08:002011-11-21T09:52:30.657-08:00

My daughter, McKenzie, is what we call... flighty.  She's SO SWEET.  She literally has a heart of gold...  but she's just a little flighty.  Two of my kids really like the Chinese buffet near Microsoft.  But, it's a big place, and we always have to find some sort of point of reference so she can find her way back to the table.  "Ok... we're next to the Taurus sign."  And then one of the other

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5187199859617211670.post-75335344447471981682011-11-06T13:08:00.000-08:002011-11-21T09:58:51.761-08:00

The last few weeks have been...  whirlwind.  Roadtrips to Oregon for football games, Casey in the school play, two Celtic Thunder shows and all the extra-curriculars that go with that, Paul Byrom's solo show... even the flurry of excitement when Paul tweeted the blog entry I did here to review his show.  That was a bit fascinating to watch, actually.  My mom was here to see Casey's play and I

Johttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01575301575612665739noreply@blogger.com0